NOT JUST A PRETTY GIRL

CHAPTER THREE: The One Where Uraraka Snaps

AUTHOR:

A huge thank you to my friend iBloo for being my beta for this chapter yet again.

It had been two days since Uraraka's run-in with the media and things had gone downhill. Before she could even call her publicist, news had spread like wildfire across the nation, accompanied by that wretched photo of Bakugo flicking off the media; his arm casually resting on her shoulder while she looked up at him, laughing out of pure unadulterated stress. In short, it was a PR disaster.

Since then, things were worse, much worse. From the media constantly camping out the front of the building to a few gutsy individuals using their quirks to try and peek into her apartment via the balcony. It just did not stop. The most maddening part of it all was that Bakugo's actions had derailed her entire conversation with the media. Her proud moment of standing up for herself was completely ignored in every article. Instead, they opted to focus on frivolous topics surrounding their non-existent relationship, including the fact she was supposedly sleeping with him. It was so frustrating, she wanted to scream.

All it had taken was under half an hour for Bakugo to turn her life upside down. This wasn't what was supposed to happen when she made her move home. It was meant to be nerve-wracking but exciting, filled with cheeky escapades wearing her wig and slipping out of the grasp of the paparazzi who would have more notable heroes to harass. But now they were both the hot topic across all the tabloids. How could one person bring so much misfortune into her life in such a short period of time? It was a skill in itself.

Huffing, the brunette pouts and kicks the half-empty box resting on the floor before her. Bright eyes scanning across her open planned living space, hands planted firmly on her hips as she surveyed her progress. Only a few boxes were remaining. For the most part, the apartment had been reclaimed. Over forty-eight hours of her life completely wasted inside the confines of her apartment. Sure, she unpacked most of her belongings, but organising her home was hardly a priority. There were innocent people needing help on the streets, and she spent that time sorting her kitchenware into the cupboard and packing away clothing according to their purpose.

To say she had cabin fever would be an understatement. But she wasn't about to go outside and invoke the wrath of her kind-hearted publicist who was desperately trying to rectify the situation. No siree. Besides, it was a zoo out there at present. Getting into an entanglement with the press yet again was not on her to-do list, despite how desperately she yearned to spread her wings and enjoy what little freedom she did have.

If he had just left well enough alone in that elevator or just, I don't know. Acted like a civilised human being, we wouldn't be in this mess! Uraraka's mind screams out, her body itching to vocalise her inner torment or better yet, to take her grievances up with the pest in question. Was there any real point though? He wouldn't listen or care about anything she had to say on the matter. No, definitely not. But would she feel a little better for venting? Most likely. Would he make a scene? Probably.

News of her move back to Tokyo did come with some positive occurrences however, two in particular. Shocked phone calls from Mina and Momo, and although the primary subject at hand was less than pleasant due to the frustrating headlines in the tabloids, it was comforting to reconnect with them once more. The pair did little to sate her frustration, however, with both encouraging her to confront the number two hero and devise a plan to nip the rumour mill in the bud. But would anything really put an end to the wheel that had been set into motion? Unlikely. But she had to try, right?

The concept of getting into a heated argument with the resident hothead was not a fun one. She had confidence in spades when she was outside the public eye, a far cry from her former self, but he was on a completely different level. He was a lifelong resident of the 'I don't give a fuck zone'. Although she had her doubts this was actually the case, that didn't stop him from perpetuating such an image in the face of others, particularly anyone foolish enough to go head to head with him in an argument. Acting arrogant was basically his brand at this point, and based on what she witnessed days prior, even the reporters were cautious around him. Most likely due to previous run-ins with his explosive personality.

Fuck it! Uraraka curses silently, twisting her lips as she storms out of her apartment, grabbing her keys from the hallway table. Her fingertips tracing across the back of the door handle, clicking the lock in and proceeding to swing it open and stride out into the hallway, a bang sounding behind her as it proceeds to slam shut. She didn't know for sure what apartment he was in, but she could hazard a guess. After all, only one location made sense. The penthouse. Where else would the proudest individual she had ever encountered reside? At the top of course. He had the cash, there was no doubt that he could afford it.

Sneakers squeak as Uraraka storms down the hallway, fists clenching as honey eyes narrow; her chest rising and falling rapidly as adrenaline rushes through her. He was going to get a piece of her mind. She was prepared to deal with the odd inconvenience here and there and unsavoury comments that came with her public profile; hell, she could even handle the odd run-in with him in passing. But nothing could prepare her for the frustration that came from being caught in the crosshairs of his chaotic nature clashing with the media.

Uraraka punches her fist into the up button, lips twisting as she proceeds to cross her arms under her bosom. I am not leaving until I get the apology I deserve, and he agrees to make a statement to clear up the misunderstanding he caused, she notes stubbornly to herself, the elevator doors flicking open to reveal an empty vessel as she proceeds to enter and press the button for level twenty-four. She'd be damned if he got away with this just because of who he is and his aggressive tendencies.

If he wasn't apologetic, God help him.

Yawning loudly, Bakugo scratches the back of his neck, sweaty biceps bulging as his eyes flutter shut momentarily. Rising early was ingrained into who he was at this point, an absolutely essential element of his routine. But there was nothing enjoyable about it, he wasn't a psychopath. There simply weren't enough hours in the day to get everything done. Even if that wasn't the case, the distraction that the public posed during the day made it next to impossible to do something as simple as going for a run.

The last few days had been different. Unsettlingly different. The longstanding, unofficial 'agreement' he had with the media went out the window. What was supposed to be a relaxing morning run was yet another paparazzi frenzy and had been that way every morning since Uraraka moved in two days prior. It was starting to really piss him off, but it wasn't as if it was something he couldn't handle. Nothing fell into that category.

Smiling somewhat contently, the hero leans forward on the breakfast counter. A calloused hand lifting his reusable cup of coffee to his lips, the heavenly aroma tickling his senses as he takes yet another sip of the heavenly substance before planting it back on the countertop. A soft hum sounds from beside him causing his gaze flicking to his illuminated phone screen as it vibrated erratically on his benchtop. A plethora of notifications streaming across his screen. What the fuck do they all want? He curses silently, eyes narrowing as he seized the object in question, eyeing the screen unsurely. The notifications from his group chat with Kirishima and the others weren't a surprise, but 100+ notifications on Twitter, that was highly unusual.

A frown settles across his lips as he unlocks his phone and proceeds to open Twitter's notifications. An onslaught of tagged posts from news outlets assaulting his eyeballs instantly, all linking to preposterously titled articles from 'Ground Zero Disrespects Media Yet Again!" through to 'Grovity: The Hot New Couple!'. "Don't these idiots have anything better to do?" he growls, slamming his phone down on the counter in an attempt to think before he reacts impulsively. A project he had been silently working on to little avail.

Being in such a position was difficult in ways unlike which he ever knew. For starters, he had to rethink his attitude, something he saw no issue with at all. But given the shock value, his candid comment yielded, his publicist forced him into a three-month-long anger management program, blackmailing him into both attending and trying his best to maintain the management strategies he acquired. It was an admirable attempt, but there was no way anyone could force him to do something against his will. Blackmail, schmackmail; he had nothing to hide. But that didn't mean he had no desire to improve his behaviour just a little. But he'd just rather die before such a statement left his lips.

Grimacing he twisted his lips, lifting the steaming cup of coffee up to his mouth once more and proceeding to take a sip. Instant satisfaction washing over him. What the heck am I meant to say to all this? Nothing? He notes silently, head throbbing as he fought to contain himself for once. Anything he said or did at this point would only further their narrative. They needed to suffer in a way his verbal assault couldn't make them. They needed to starve. To wither in pain as he refused to partake in their wicked little mind games. He refused to be anyone's pawn.

A loud series of bangs echo through his apartment, emanating from the front door; catching him completely off guard. Visitors were rare, especially at eight o'clock in the morning and without security ringing from the ground floor to confirm he had a visitor requesting building access. Brows knit together as the blond strides from the kitchen, a quizzical look enveloping his features as he grips his cup of coffee and makes his way down the hallway. The banging growing louder and more irritating by the second until he unlocked it and swung it open, insults at the ready.

Uraraka stares up at him, her cheeks puffed out as she punches him lightly in the chest. So you do live here!

There was no doubt about it, she was annoyed. Beyond annoyed even. But why the heck was it somehow his problem? Sighing irritably, Bakugo presses his left forearm against the doorframe and peers down at her; "Don't start something you won't finish, Cheeks." Did she think he wouldn't fight back just because she was a woman? No, she had to know him better than that. Gender was just a label. What mattered was strength and strength alone.

There he was, standing in front of her in all his irritated glory. Taut muscly arms on show as he stood before her casually, a black tank top saturated in perspiration clinging to his chest. His trademark hair dishevelled by what she could only assume was the wind rushing through it after venturing outside. Meanwhile, she was essentially under house arrest by her publicist. Heck, even if she hadn't been ordered to stay inside, the paparazzi's sheer presence would've served to deter her. To top it all off, he looked like 'that'. By comparison, she was a stinking, splotchy mess post-workout. Not something that was undeniably comparable to a sculpture, paired with the delirious scent of pheromones.

The brunette's brows pinch together, heat rushing to her head as her gaze fails to focus on his face for a few moments; struggling to remain somewhat level-headed. "Do you realise how much harder you made everything for me?" Uraraka growls, her throat tightening as she jabbed him square in the chest again, pulling her punch a fraction. "They are saying stupid things about us online and I can't even leave this godforsaken building! My publicist thinks I'll get swarmed, accidentally float the paparazzi and end up with a lawsuit!"

Bakugo raises a brow, his eyes narrowing as he pushes off the door frame. Did she come all the way upstairs just to give me an earful? Seriously? Bakugo wonders somewhat bitterly, his gaze fixed on her displeased expression. "It's not like they wouldn't deserve it," he responds dismissively, harsh as always; "Also, how is this all suddenly my fucking fault? Sounds to me like you are thin-skinned."

"Take some accountability!" Uraraka fights back, fists clenched at her sides as she quirks the left side of her mouth upwards. "Did you not hear what you said to them or are you actually stupid?" she retorts feistily. Is he not taking this seriously, this might not cause him to stay inside out of fear of the press but surely he understands this is an issue!

Excuse me? He muses irritably, lifting his chin in the air as his glare intensified; She's actually serious! Huffing, he slips his free hand into his pocket, "Listen here short stuff, you have no business strutting up to my front door and talking to me like that!" It was clear as day that she wanted to annoy him, to get under her skin as some kind of vengeful plot. She was a woman on a mission. "I haven't got the fuckin' patience for this crap!" he explodes, turning to look back into his apartment, free hand pressed up against the door. "I'm not taking the blame for this crap, you caused this as much as I did! Besides, it's part of being a celebrity in Tokyo. We both signed up for this shit," he adds as he looks back over his shoulder at her.

Uraraka lunges forward, one hand pushing the door open further while the other extends threateningly in his direction. "I am not done!" she argues boldly, spirited eyes clashing with his irked ruby gaze. He was planning to slam the door in her face, she was sure of it. Since when was he a coward? She grits her teeth, eyes narrowing daringly. You are not escaping this conversation! I will float you again if I have to.

"Since when did you get this persistent!" Bakugo groans inwardly, rolling his head backwards as he fights the everpresent urge to flare his temper. Controlling it in the past was next to nonexistent, but he did try to hold back in the presence of those he had a little respect for. Well, it was a work in progress anyway. To top it off, it was difficult to truly understand why she wouldn't just give up. Scaring the press into submission was one thing, easily done too. But fixing the issue at hand, and arguing about it all was completely and utterly pointless.

"I refuse to go back to that grim apartment until I at least I get an honest apology from you," Uraraka retorts as she ducks under his arm and proceeds to make her way down his hallway. She couldn't say it wasn't unexpected, his desire to end the conversation in one way or another. The fact he wasn't spewing insults and flaring his quirk was a surprising development, it at least pertained to some form of emotional growth or dare she say it, the desire to become a more tolerant person.

"You will die in my apartment then, better make some calls and arrange for a casket to be sent here asap. I'll make it short and sweet for you, Cheeks," Bakugo growls as he yanks the collar of her jacket, preventing her from continuing further down his hallway. Honey eyes flicking in his direction immediately, bearing a resemblance to the determined as he recalled from all those years ago. There was no doubt about it, she would argue until she was blue in the face, a new facet to her intriguing personality. You don't know when to pick your battles, do you? Where was this pain in the ass nature of yours the other day?

"Not funny!" Uraraka fights back feistily, "I am not intimidated by you anymore. I just want my apology and a plan to make this blow over faster." It was hard to not get worked up, his constant dismissive behaviour was hardly constructive, particularly given the frustration she was experiencing. If he thinks otherwise he is out of his mind!

She was intimidated by me? Interesting, Bakugo notes to himself, a sly smirk crossing his lips as he released his grip on her jacket. "I refuse," he states matter-of-factly, hand slipping from the door and slamming shut behind them as he proceeds to stride past her. Slippers tap across his tiled floor as he turns the corner into his open plan kitchen and lounge area, the brunette in hot pursuit. "You are ridiculous for caring what they think. Who gives a shit?"

It was difficult to relate to such a concern. Sure, he cared a little despite how much as he hated to admit it. But he would be damned if he ever even so much as breathed such a thought out loud. Exposing his insecurities in such a manner was beyond mortifying. Death seemed less excruciating by comparison.

Huffing, Ochako storms up the hallway and into the kitchen, her hands slamming down on the stone island benchtop as she glares at him. "Just because you don't give a crap doesn't mean I am ridiculous for caring about this! I have a right to feel respected!" she states boldly, her heart rate skyrocketing as he turns to shoot her yet another menacing glare. But she didn't care. She'd had enough. "I just wanted a cup of coffee that day. That's all! That shouldn't be hard!" she explains, her voice cracking as she felt her lips quiver.

It was her breaking point. His actions and the actions of the media serving as the last straw atop of the pile that was weighing down upon her. She was projecting on him. That was unquestionable. But she needed someone to listen. To realise what she had been struggling with. It was about more than coffee and lewd gossip. She was hurting and had no method of handling or coping with the celebrity status that had been thrust upon her for simply pursuing the career of her dreams.

He wasn't stupid, there was clearly more to the situation than met the eye. But why should he care? They had little to no relationship prior to this. They were former classmates and had mutual friends. That's it. End of story. Sure she had earned his respect, but she meant nothing to him. So why did seeing her crumble feel somewhat uncomfortable? He didn't owe her his sympathy. It was confusing. She was confusing.

So instead he did the only thing he knew how to. "That's rich coming from someone who's been fucking avoiding me for three whole frickin' years," he states hotly as he snatches his phone off the counter, shoving it deep into the depths of his pockets so as to prevent her from viewing his never-ending stream of notifications. The source of his earlier frustration prior to her untimely arrival.

Uraraka swallows hard, her chest constricting as he calls her out. It was going to come up at some point, but he wanted to play that card now. Had she gotten under his skin? To be frank, she never considered the fact he would even notice. Lips twist as she considers her options, they were few and far between. Evidence of a guilty conscience if there ever was one. "No, I haven't been," she states simply, her mind abuzz as she tries to gather her thoughts to construct a semi witty remark to match the incoming aggressive discourse she was positive would follow.

"How dumb do you think I fucking am?" He fires back instantly, placing his cup of cold coffee on the counter. Did she think he was blind to her behaviour in his presence over the years? It was nothing short of insulting. "You raced off every time I even breathed in your direction!"

"I was avoiding Deku not you," Uraraka quips, her chest constricting further as the name of her former crush passes the threshold of her lips. "As shocking as it might be, not everything is about you," she adds after a significant pause, a frown gripping her full lips as she relaxed her shoulders.

The hairs on the back of the blond's neck prick up at the mention of his lifelong rival's name. Sure, he had proven himself to be a worthy opponent and rival, but the obsession everyone had with him would never cease to be infuriating. He wasn't that special. "That fucking loser again," he breathes, hands slipping into the depths of his pockets as he frowns. What a ridiculous reason. It's always all about that idiot.

"He's not a loser!" she fires back, brows pinching together as she glares him down. After all this time he's still got a bee in his bonnet about Deku? I guess I shouldn't be surprised.

"He's a waste of your time. No point protecting him," Bakugo counters, carefully choosing his words so as to not come across as the bad guy she clearly believed he was. If she has an issue she knows where the door is. My house, my rules.

"It's not that at all! I just hate when you bully others!" She retorts firmly as she storms up to him. He'd said much worse in the past, but that didn't make his current statement okay by any means.

She always was overly righteous, to the point where she was blinded by the truth at times. How naive. "Whatever," Bakugo mutters passively, averting his gaze as he exhaled loudly. The conversation couldn't be over fast enough. When is she going home again?

Slightly taken back by his unargumentative answer Uraraka's gazes softens. Her lips part and then press together as she loses herself deep in thought, struggling to identify how to respond to such an unforeseen response. "Good," she mutters at last; Well, that was unexpected.

"I'll bully you instead," he states flatly, smirking as he pushes his half-finished cup of coffee into her hands; "There, now you have that hit of caffeine you can shut up and leave, Floaty."

It was too good to be true, she knew it. A tiger doesn't change its stripes. This is basically an indirect kiss and it's cold! He's out of his mind! Flushed, Uraraka peels the silicone lid off the top of the reusable coffee cup he had thrust into her hands; eyeing the pitiful amount of coffee left at the bottom. "I'm not drinking this. Most of it is gone, it's cold and I doubt it was made with skim milk," she replies flatly, placing the cup back on the counter alongside its lid. "Also, don't call me that. It sounds like you are calling me a poop," she adds somewhat reluctantly.

"Perfect. Because half of what you just rambled on about just now was complete and utter crap anyway," Bakugo fires back, snatching his coffee cup and sculling the lukewarm contents and proceeding to walk over to the sink, placing it in amongst the embarrassingly sizable tower of unwashed dishes. Of course, she is one of those annoying coffee snobs.

Uraraka clicks her tongue in annoyance, hands gripping her hips firmly and her brows knit together; "You're rude by default, you can't even help yourself can you?"

"Why stop something when you're good at it?" Bakugo confesses, with a laugh; handsome lips curving upwards into a smirk. "Pissing people off, killing assholes, blowing shit up, drinking my body weight in alcohol, fucking women. Just a few of my many talents," he states boldly, his back pressed up against the counter as he eyed her displeased expression.

Uraraka rolls her eyes, strolling around to the opposite side of the benchtop and hopping up onto a stool up against the counter. "I have no idea how women kiss you with that vulgar mouth of yours," she confesses, her lips twisting as she recalled his openly lewd remark. Sure, he was easy on the eyes, but his overwhelmingly confident personality and brash nature left much to be desired.

That's the first thing that came to her mind? Was she a prude or just inexperienced? It was laughable. "Who says we kiss?" Bakugo teases, gaze locked on her striking visage, a faint pink tinge marking her alabaster skin. "Are you five years old?" He adds with a laugh. Surely she wasn't a virgin still. Not with all the attention she garnered in the press, there was simply no way she hadn't dipped her feet into the dating scene.

Huffing, the heroine averts her gaze, her line of vision drifting down the hallway to her right; absentmindedly snooping into the room at the end of the corridor, a mountain of clothes piled chaotically near the doorway. This rude attitude is getting old. Why say anything if you haven't got something nice to say anyway? Uraraka muses silently. "Anyway, what are we going to do about the press? Should we issue a statement?" she enquires with a sigh, shoulders rolling backwards a touch as she straightened her posture, hands slipping into her lap.

"Nope, waste of time," Bakugo states bluntly, scratching the nape of his neck as he smirks wickedly; "Learned that after I hospitalised a reporter who rammed a camera in my face years back." Ah, the good old days.

You really are ruthless, Uraraka notes silently, bright eyes widening as she leans forward, edging towards the lip of the seat she was perched upon. "Then what are we supposed to do?" she asks at last, fingertips tapping her lap absentmindedly as she bit down on her bottom lip, her mind drawing a blank. Following the orders of her publicist clearly weren't going to work at this point but it was all she knew.

Bakugo flinches, his gaze instantly flicking to her teeth pressing into her plump lips. She was distracting. Clearly using her female prowess as a weapon. He snickers internally, an eyebrow quirking upwards as he stares her down; What a feeble attempt to disarm me. Got to do better than that. "Nothing. We starve them of what they want most, headlines," he responds at last, his throat tightening despite his inner critic's assumptions.

"How are we meant to do that? I've been staying inside for days, it's not working!" Uraraka states, her voice wavering as she frowns. Surely that is the most basic trick in the book?

Bakugo rolls his eyes, arms plaiting across his chest; muscles bulging as he snickers in amusement. "Idiot, that just makes them think you have something to hide. The thrill of the chase and all that crap," he states flatly, "You just gotta brush them off or fight back they are the only options we have."

He pauses, realisation set in as his words replay through his mind. Since when did I agree to be her frickin' PR advisor or some shit? He notes as he eyed the innocent looking woman. Her frown quickly evolving into a charming smile as he stared back at her unsurely. It was all a ploy to get her way, he was sure of it and he'd be damned if he knew how, but she was winning. Looks were definitely deceiving, yet again she had surprised him. She was not to be underestimated.

"Fine, you are going to teach me a thing or two about being an asshole then," Uraraka states flatly, her sincere grin broadening as she rose to her feet and pressed her palms down on the benchtop laid out before her. "You owe me and it is your speciality after all!"

"Fucking rude. That's a matter of opinion Twerp," the blonde huffs in response, gaze averting as he struggles to gather his thoughts; "You've become a real brat, you know that?"

She smirks proudly, arching a thick brow as she stares back at the unsettled hero before her; "Takes one to know one."

"God, you're annoying. Go and get dressed," He responds dismissively, eyes rolling as he started to walk down the hallway, towards the front door. She could not leave soon enough.

Uraraka stares at him blankly, eyes fluttering unsurely as she tries to decipher his unusual request. "I am dressed though? What are you going on about?" Surely he wasn't kicking her out now. Things had calmed down and there was no reason to believe he was offended.

"Look, you're the one that wants me to teach you a thing or two!" he barks at her, throat tightening as he noted her somewhat taken back expression. After years of dealing with an emotional basket case otherwise known as Deku, he had picked up a few tips and tricks for handling situations such as this. The primary learning, tough love works. "Get that little ass of yours back to your apartment, and get changed into something you're happy for those hyenas to photograph you in. You are getting that weird ass coffee you are after so you can shut up about it," he growls, a hand gesturing towards the front door.

Eyes widen as she peers up at the unruly blond. Did she mishear him? She had never imagined he would agree to such a thing. "Oh! Okay!" she whispers in disbelief, eyes lighting up as she smiles broadly; He actually agreed to this? I was just teasing him. Well at this point I'll basically try anything. Perhaps she was mistaken and he had changed a little. But only a little.

Bakugo swallows hard, her bright smile beaming from across the room. Something about her made him feel somewhat uncomfortable, the cause was difficult to identify however. Perhaps it was her overwhelmingly positive nature, or her gutsy attitude? Who knows. "If you're not downstairs in the foyer in ten minutes I'm leaving without you and I owe you fuck all, got it?" he blurts out quickly, his anxiety rising as he gestures towards the front door rudely; "Go and don't bring that useless fucking wig!"

What had he gotten himself into?

AUTHOR:
I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Thank you for taking the time to read my content. It means so much to me.

If you have a moment please consider leaving a review as I'd love to hear your feedback and thoughts on this story.