Chapter Text
So many things in this world, in a person’s life, don’t go as expected. You knew that better than anyone.
You had always been fascinated by heroes and the way they saved people, but as soon as you developed that useless quirk of yours, you decided to shift your focus to more practical pursuits. A quirk that allows you to calm others— balance their hormones— through touch. Any use the ability could possibly have in a physical battle would be minimized by the potential risks of fighting without a physically powerful quirk.
Plus, it wasn’t flashy.
Which was fine. Most aspiring heroes ended up as minor sidekicks anyway, or, in the worst case scenario, at the local McDonald’s. As it turned out, a degree in heroism isn’t very useful if you’re not actually a hero.
However, none of the numerous possibilities for your future you had been imagining as a kid had involved being an exhausted, overworked, and underpaid office employee at the Dynamight agency.
One would assume that working at a renowned hero agency would allow you to meet a lot of popular heroes and lead a life of luxury, but sadly, that was far from the truth. Most days, you left the office so late and so tired, you didn’t even eat dinner before going to bed. And forget meeting other heroes, it had been over a year and you hadn’t even run into Dynamight yet.
The popular 25-year-old hero was only a few years older than you and someone you had admired ever since you were a little kid watching the news of a middle school boy surviving a sludge villain attack. Admittedly, you romanticized the thought of working at his agency a bit too much because the reality sucked ass.
It was mostly just documentation, organizing case logs, cross-agency coordination emails, and a hellish amount of paperwork.
The whole place was chaotic.
Interns rushing from one end of the building to the other, phones ringing, assistants juggling reports and damage assessments (which is a lot when the main hero has a knack for blowing things up), and the marketing department constantly arguing over which media appearances would be the most beneficial.
You were just another cog in the machine.
“Hey, y/n,” one of your colleagues whispered from the next cubicle, effectively dragging you from your train of thoughts back to reality.
“What’s up?” You didn’t even bother looking up from your computer screen.
“Did you hear? Apparently Dynamight got into it with his manager this morning.”
That got your attention. Barely.
“Seriously. Again?” You rolled your eyes knowing that it was a pretty common occurrence for the volatile hero to fight with his employees.
“Yeah, apparently it was about his approval ratings this time.”
Of course it was.
Even you, as busy as you were with your head buried under paperwork all day, had seen the headlines over the course of the year. Dynamight— insanely effective, unmatched in combat efficiency, constantly taking down high level threats.
And consistently ranked lower than expected on the Japanese hero billboard charts.
Everyone knew the reason. Dynamight was known for being a good fighter, sure, but he was equally known for his explosive personality. There were always reports of him shouting at the very victims he saved, or of calling other heroes extras and telling them to get out of his way during collaborative cases. The public found his behavior to be harsh and abrasive, and public opinion mattered more for a hero's billboard rank than people liked to admit.
This explained why powerful, but much more amicable heroes, like Shoto, Lemillion, and Deku, often dominated the top positions on the chart.
“I had the pleasure of meeting him once,” your coworker continued. “He’s not exactly the most… approachable person.”
You snorted. “That’s one way to put it.”
“There are literally no other words.”
You allowed yourself a small smile before turning back to your screen.
You had watched him for years, back when he was still a student at UA. And even then he was… a lot. Always loud, aggressive, and intense.
But also driven.
Uncompromising and competitive, but that probably stemmed from his innate desire to be number one.
Or at least, that’s what you thought. You didn’t know him.
Honestly, you never bought into the narrative that he needed to “soften”. If anything, it felt like people simply didn’t know what to do with someone who was so unapologetically himself.
Still…
You figured threatening to blow up reporters probably didn’t help.
— — —
By the time you finally checked the clock again it was 10:03 PM.
You stared at the numbers.
You’ve got to be kidding me…
Your shoulders sag as the reality set in. Another late night, yet again. Almost everyone else had already left. Your stomach growled faintly, reminding you that you hadn’t eaten since lunch? Maybe earlier? You couldn’t even remember.
“Hey,” your coworker called, already packing their things up. “You coming? We could get something to eat, I’m starving.”
“Go ahead without me,” you replied. “I still have to finish this before I leave.”
They gave you a sympathetic look. “Alright, don’t stay too late.”
You almost laughed. Almost.
Another 45 minutes passed and the office was completely empty now. Even the lights had turned off, so the only light was coming from your screen. By the time you finally finished up, your vision was so blurry and your brain was so dysfunctional you didn’t know if that last email you sent was even coherent.
But that was up to the recipient to decode.
You pushed your chair back, groaning while stretching out your limbs. “I’m done. That’s enough for today…”
You saved your work, shut everything down, closed your laptop, and packed everything up as fast as humanely possible before stepping out into the hallway.
Your footsteps echoed faintly in the empty hallways as you walked, slower than usual, your sleeplessness catching up to you all at once.
You sighed.
A whole year and practically nothing to show for it. Not a single encounter or run-in. Not even a glimpse of any of the heroes you looked up to so much because of the incessant work that always seemed to pile up. Heroes were the face of an agency, but no one really thought about all the people in the background needed to keep things running.
You had built up this whole fantasy in your head– that working here would somehow bring you closer to the world that you admired so much. That even though you yourself couldn’t be a hero, helping heroes from the sidelines would garner just as much praise and recognition. Instead, you felt further away from your dream than ever.
You huffed softly.
“At this rate, I’ll quit before I get anywhere.”
As you got off the elevator on the first floor, you suddenly heard a door slam somewhere nearby. You started walking faster towards the exit. Was it a ghost perhaps? You didn’t even want to think about it. You weren’t the type to believe in the occult, but being alone in a dark, empty office building, late at night, with random doors slamming would spook even the most stubborn of skeptics.
You walked as fast as your exhausted legs would carry you while looking back to make sure you weren’t being chased, and immediately bumped straight into something solid.
Or someone.
A hand shot out, gripping your arm to steady you before you fell flat on your face and embarrassed yourself.
“Watch where you’re going, extra–”
The last of your functioning brain cells decided to skip out after the long day and your brain went completely blank.
Very slowly, you looked up.
Spiky ash-blond hair and sharp crimson eyes that were currently looking incredibly annoyed at you. A scowl was plastered across his face as he waited for you to speak, or move, or do anything really.
The Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight was right in front of you, in the flesh, and instead of saying something or introducing yourself, you stared at him like a fucking idiot.
He let go of your arm and sighed. “Hey kid, I’m really not in the mood for this right now, so if you just give me a thumbs up or something to let me know you’re good I can get out of here.”
You looked at him, still dumbfounded. “I’m not a kid. I’m 22.”
Really? Out of all the things you could’ve said to him, the first thing that came out of your mouth just had to be “I’m not a kid”. You were so close to just digging a deep hole and crawling into it forever.
He narrowed his eyes. “Name.”
You blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Your name. What is it? You work here don’t you?”
“Oh. Yeah I do,” you said, giving him your name.
He studied you for a second. “Damn, they must be working the fuck out of you guys. You look like crap.”
You scoffed in disbelief. “Excuse me?”
He was proving the tabloids right with every word that came out of his mouth. Your idea of him was shattering by the millisecond. He really was just an asshole.
“Why am I even wasting my time here,” he muttered as he started to walk away. “Make sure you get home, and don’t let them work you this late.”
You shook yourself out of whatever trance you were in and caught up with him. The fact that he was seeming less and less like your ideal hero and more like some idiot coworker with every word he spoke, made it much easier for you to talk to him.
“For your information,” you started sternly, “the only reason we’re forced to stay so late completing paper work is because you insist on destroying every building in your path while fighting.”
“Tch. Don’t act like you know me. If you looked at any footage at all you would know that I never destroy anything. I’m smart enough to keep destruction to a minimum. It’s those incompetent heroes from other agencies and their sidekicks that run around without a plan,” he rambled.
You rolled your eyes. “Whatever you say.”
Even though he had quite the sharp tongue, you supposed he was nice in his own way. He at least had the decency to call you a cab instead of leaving you alone on the street at such a late hour. He didn’t say goodbye or anything, which made sense considering the two of you were basically strangers.
As you got to your apartment and collapsed on your bed, you didn’t even have time to ponder the short conversation, as sleep found you swiftly after the lengthy day.
— — —
You woke up the next morning feeling like you got hit by a truck. Actually, scratch that. At least getting hit by a truck would’ve knocked you out long enough to feel rested.
Your alarm blared obnoxiously from your nightstand, and you groaned— more from the pain you felt mentally than physically— before blindly reaching out to silence it. Your limbs felt heavy, your brain was foggy, and in a brief moment of weakness, you considered calling in sick. It wasn’t that far from the truth, considering you had body pains and a headache. You could definitely play up having the flu.
Yeah, right. That wasn’t happening. If nothing else, the thought of a paycheck would keep you going.
Dragging yourself out of bed felt like a full-body workout. You barely had the energy to get ready, settling for the bare minimum before heading out the door with a piece of toast you didn’t even finish.
As you sat on the crowded train, the events from last night lingered somewhere in the back of your mind.
You had met Dynamight. Spoken to him, argued with him even. Unfortunately, he was exactly as you, and the rest of the world, expected. He had called you ugly, after all.
You frowned slightly.
Well, maybe ugly wasn’t the exact word, but “you look like crap” wasn't much better.
What an asshole.
The agency was just as chaotic as ever when you arrived. You dropped your bag at your desk and powered on your computer, already giving yourself a mental pep talk to get through another long day, until your positive affirmations were promptly interrupted by your supervisor calling your name.
You looked up. “Yes?’
“Come with me. You’re needed elsewhere.”
Your stomach dropped. That tone. You had never heard it before but it was not a good tone. Other coworkers had been called the same way in the past, and they were never to be seen again.
It was wraps. You were getting fired. And after all those grueling hours of hard work you put in…
“Am I in trouble…?” You asked cautiously.
“They will explain everything once we head up to the executive office.”
The executive office? There was no way that could possibly mean anything other than bad news.
As you stood up, your coworker leaned over the cubicle divider, eyes wide.
“Wait, why are they calling you?” She whispered.
“I don’t know,” you whispered back. “If I don’t come back, delete my browser history.”
“Shut up,” she snorted. “Hold on… what if you’re finally getting promoted! You do the job of like ten people. If anyone deserves it, it’s you.”
You hesitated. A promotion? The idea felt foreign. Could this finally be the first step towards the dreams you chased after so desperately?
You shook your head.
“I doubt it,” you said, “but if it is, I’ll buy you lunch.”
“Deal.”
The walk to the upper floors felt longer than usual. You were never really up here much since you had no reason to be. The upper floors housed the offices of all the agency executives, sidekicks, and, of course, Katsuki Bakugo himself.
Your nerves built with every step, your mind running through every probable scenario.
Did you mess something up? Was there an error in your reports? Did someone complain?
Your supervisor stopped in front of a large door. The main office. You had never once stepped foot inside it before.
You heard the loud arguing coming from inside the room before you even had the chance to knock.
“Go ahead and go inside,” your supervisor spoke.
You nodded and pushed the door open tentatively. You stepped inside and immediately froze because he was sitting right in front of you. Dynamight, Katsuki Bakugo, whatever. He was leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed like he owned the place, which, you supposed, he kind of did. He was somehow more intimidating in broad daylight.
The atmosphere felt incredibly tense for some reason.
“Um, hello?” You introduced yourself properly to both Bakugo and his manager, sure that the former didn’t remember you, even though you had just met the night before.
Although, to your surprise, you could see him make the connection in his head.
“It’s you, again.” He frowned.
“You two already know each other? That makes this all the more easier,” the manager said and gestured towards you. “Have a seat.”
You sat quickly in the seat next to Bakugo.
“So… why exactly was I called up here?” You questioned.
“I’ll get straight to the point,” the manager declared. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but Dynamight’s approval ratings are suffering.”
You nodded. You already knew that, but, “what does that have to do with me?”
“Well, I believe you’re the solution.”
You blinked. Twice.
“Wait– what?”
The manager sighed as if this should have been the most obvious thing in the world. “We’re proposing a public-facing relationship between you and Dynamight, or Katsuki Bakugo rather, since we’re trying to humanize him a bit.”
You stared, then turned to Bakugo and laughed. “This is a joke right? I’m being pranked because absolutely the fuck not, I’m not acting as someone’s pretend girlfriend–”
Bakugo snorted, “see, I told you.”
“What do you mean ‘I told you’? You people already discussed this without me?!”
“Let me explain,” the manager continued smoothly. “This would be a contractual agreement. Appearances at events, occasional public outings, coordinated media exposure. Nothing beyond agreed boundaries.”
“So like I said… a pretend girlfriend.” You quipped.
“Well, yes.”
You turned to Bakugo. “You’re okay with this? Why not just get a real girlfriend? Why me? And how would having a girlfriend help boost approval ratings in the first place?”
“Shut up and let him finish, you idiot.” Bakugo snapped.
You frowned but stayed silent.
“It’s only fair that we answer your questions,” the manager started. “First off, our young hero here was not immediately on board. It took plenty of convincing and arguing as you’ve probably heard in the rumors circulating the office. Second, I think you can understand why he can’t get a real girlfriend just by speaking to him once.”
You smirked at that.
“Third, the reason Dynamight’s approval ratings are so low is because of his unruly public personality, as I’m sure you’re aware. The citizens are more receptive to heroes that are warm and kind, regardless of how many villains they’ve defeated. As of right now, people only know the angry Katsuki Bakugo, we need a way to show them a soft and caring Katsuki Bakugo. And the quickest way to show that is through a girlfriend that he seemingly loves and cares for. Do you understand me?”
You sighed and nodded. There was no way you could argue against such sound logic.
“You still haven’t answered why you need me though.”
The manager contemplated. “There are multiple reasons really. But the main one is your quirk. Your files say you have the ability to calm people down with just a touch of your fingers.”
“It’s a little more complex than that, but essentially, yes.” You then continued, “if I’m understanding you correctly, you think my quirk could be effective in stopping Bakugo from acting rashly in public by making him calm?”
His manager nodded. “Precisely.”
You glanced at Bakugo, just to see him rolling his eyes.
“If you want more reasons, I’ve noticed you have a way with people,” the manager continued. “You seem to have a charming personality, you get along with your peers, and everyone around you seems to like you. Additionally, you’re completely unknown and uninvolved with hero politics. You have no prior scandals and no media presence, so your reputation would have no negative effect on the hero Dynamight’s public image. And lastly, you already work here and have already interacted with him naturally. Does that answer your questions?”
You pondered this. Everything the manager was saying made complete sense. In fact, it was so sensible you felt like you would be stupid to disagree, which was a very irritating feeling. One glance over at Bakugo and it was obvious he was feeling the same way. He grumbled a string of obscenities under his breath that his manager pretended not to hear.
Still, there was one thing that was bothering you. “You’ve explained why I benefit you, but what would I be getting out of this? I have a full-time job, I barely have time to eat or sleep, let alone date— or pretend to date— a famous pro. And don’t even get me started on–”
“You would be relieved of all your duties,” the manager interrupted.
You froze. “...what?”
“Your position would be reassigned. Your new role would be this arrangement. And you’d be generously compensated of course.”
You perked up at the mention of money. “How much are we talking?”
Bakugo shot you a look as if to say, are you fucking serious?
You glared back, you wouldn’t understand you rich asshole.
The manager slid a paper across the table with a number on it and your eyes widened. This was way over your usual yearly salary. It was honestly kind of overkill to pay someone this much just to fake date a pro hero.
Bakugo leaned forward slightly, watching your reaction. “Don’t tell me you’re actually considering this for the money, dumbass.”
You stared at him. “I’m getting paid three times my yearly salary, just to sit around and be seen with you in public occasionally. I’d be a dumbass if I didn’t take the job.”
He scoffed, “unbelievable.”
“Now, since it looks like we’re all in agreement…” the manager slid two copies of what looked like a never ending list of terms and conditions and various stipulation clauses towards you and Bakugo. “We’ll go over these as you both sign.”
And just like that, the negotiations had begun.
By the time you stepped out of the office, your brain was thoroughly scrambled. Bakugo didn’t even spare you a second glance as he grumpily stomped off somewhere. You still weren’t entirely sure what happened, only that you had, for some reason, agreed to it.
When you got back to your cubicle, your colleague was practically bouncing in her seat. “Well, what happened? Did you get promoted??”
You opened your mouth, then paused.
“Um…” you laughed nervously.
Then, after a beat–
“Looks like lunch is on me.”