⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺‧₊☽
⬆️ this is how i imagine Bakugou would play video games lmao
Notes: Gamer!Student!Bakugo x Gamer!Student! FemReader. Set in College AU. lowkey kinda long lmao sorry gang. vvv slow burn. mix of smau + headcanons + dual pov idk. enemies to friends to lovers.
brief synopsis i forgot to add: IRL, they’re sworn enemies with a mutually-assured-destruction pact of competitiveness. Online, they’re an inseparable anonymous duo destroying ranked lobbies at 2AM. When suspicion over their identities turns into a secret race to unmask each other, both end up losing in the funniest way possible: by falling first.
or: this is what happens when you accidentally befriend your IRL arch-nemesis online.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺‧₊☽
Bakugou only gets into gaming because apparently punching walls is "property damage" and therapy is too expensive for a broke ass college student like himself
Kaminari introduces him to a tactical shooter game and Bakugou gets addicted to winning within like, two days. He insists it's "just a stress outlet" and that no, this does NOT mean he will be joining the Saturday night gaming club Sero runs on campus
He refuses to play anything involving a mic and teamwork — that is, until Kirishima gets him to play a tactical-shooter-meets-Battle-Royale-style game by framing it as "training reflexes and situational awareness"
Bakugou gets scarily good because strategy + quick hands + spite = cracked gamer
lowkey plays under a username that is either aggressively edgy or stupidly literal, like "GroundZero" (and insists that usernames like Kirishima's 'Girthquake69' and Kaminari’s ‘Obiwancanblowme’ make no sense)
He's the type of player who screams into voice chat with the full conviction of a battle hardened general, even though it's 1 AM and friendly fire exists. His comms are genuine crimes against humanity.
You get into gaming because you're busy procrastinating an essay you're already three weeks late submitting.
You like to use gaming the way some people use knitting — as background noise for your brain, because "silently eliminating digital opponents and bathing in their virtual pixelated blood" is soothing after a long day
You tend to like games where:
Being quiet is an advantage
You can win without saying a single word
You only end up in the same ranked pool as Bakugou simply because your playtimes overlap (late night to early AM because you both live solely on caffeine and adrenaline)
You never talk. Never even type. Your username is something calm and mocking which obviously enrages Bakugou on a molecular level.
The Meet Cute (Or: World War III)
The first time you encounter each other in game is completely random. Bakugou doesn't notice you at first because you don't talk or rage or emote — you just play.
He's queued into a server with Sero, Kaminari, and Kirishima. They've been playing for nearly three hours, and Bakugou, obviously, is the only one still playing to win.
"MOVE!" he barks into the mic, raging forward across the map, weapon equipped, firing shots over the crest. “WHY ARE YOU ALL JUST STANDING THERE?”
Someone laughs nervously. Someone else dies immediately.
“BRO,” Kirishima yells across the channel, “COVER MY LEFT. COVER MY LEFT. COVER MY LEFT!!!!!”
Bakugou snarls, jaw tight, explosions lighting up the screen as he blasts through a choke point like a force of online nature. He spins, ignoring Kirishima, throws another grenade, before switching back to an assault rifle. He sprints up the nearest ridge and crouches behind a log, reloading.
Next to him, Kirishima’s avatar appears. His health bar, as usual, is red and ominous and decaying rapidly.
“Please,” Kirishima begs, avatar repeatedly slamming into Bakugou’s. “FEED ME. FEED ME. FEED ME!!!!!!!!!!”
“OI!” Bakugou yells into his headset, avatar moving away, the hand around his mouse tightening as Kirishima continues ramming into him. “STOP THAT.”
Somewhere else across the channel, Kaminari is screaming.
“PLEASE. JUST ONE BAR. I LOST MY ENERGY TAKING DOWN THE EAST QUADRANT—”
“NOT MY FUCKING PROBLEM.”
Kirishima’s avatar begins to dance.
He shoots Kirishima in the shoulder. Kirishima begins shrieking. Bakugou sprints off.
He's good at this game. He's been playing long enough to have ranked first over 244 times. Tonight will mark 245. He just needs to make it to the centre, snipe one more enemy unit—
And that's when it happens.
A blip on the mini map that spawns into existence only when Bakugou spins, his cursor snagging on an enemy unit — the last unit he needs — as it drops from above. It's fast, clean, surgical — a precise strike that takes out Kaminari and Sero with a final screech from the pair, their pixelated avatars collapsing to the ground before Bakugou even had a chance to react.
Tch. Whatever. Lucky shot. He turns, recalibrating, pivoting direction.
Not even a minute later, the mini map wavers again. Another blip. Bakugou frowns, movement faltering slightly out of time as it lands. Another teammate's name flashes across the screen in defeat.
He narrows his eyes as the kill feed updates, a new username —[Your User]— flashing on the screen. One he hadn't noticed before.
"Who the hell—" he mutters beneath his breath, tracking their movement now. There's 45 seconds left. The final zone is closing in, the battlefield shrinking, tension coiling tight.
It hits him then — a perfectly timed ambush. His health drops in controlled chunks.
Bakugou swears, slamming the keys, punching his space bar, detonating the area in a last-ditch blast that would've wiped out anyone else. He launches another attack — it's met and redirected. He speeds forward, shooting ahead at your avatar, but you don't even try to duck — instead, you pull what appears to be an iron shield from your inventory.
He doesn't realise until it's too late — his bullets hit your shield and ricochet back into him before he has time to pull out his own, sending his health bar down to a pathetic 0%. His screen flashes red: DEFEAT.
Bakugou, for a long, long moment, just stares. Mouth open, jaw halfway to the ground.
The scoreboard loads: he's at #2.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺‧₊☽
The Cold War (Or: The Four Days Bakugou Spends Obsessing Over an Online Stranger)
from then on, Bakugou is on edge. The next night, you're there. That same user glares back at him tauntingly until he's forced to acknowledge it, eyes snagging on the gamertag before he freezes mid-scream and just mutters to himself, "no way."
It's his personal mission now to destroy you.
You, however, don't notice. You're too busy one-tapping enemy players and chugging your fourth energy drink for the night.
However: you do notice when Bakugou loses AGAIN. Mostly because he screams loud enough to wake the dead.
"Dude, who hurt you?" his teammates ask weakly into the channel. Bakugou doesn't even miss a beat, answering without hesitation:
"[Your Username]."
Night after night, you two end up in queue together. After the fourth or fifth coincidence, Bakugou becomes CONVINCED you're targeting him. He's also convinced you're a 40-something-year-old unemployed basement dweller — you're convinced he's a 14-year-old boy who drinks too much Red Bull and is in need of anger management classes.
Your rivalry starts without a single spoken word and consists solely of kill-stealing, clutching rounds, baiting traps, and shredding scoreboards
You begin to pick up patterns in Bakugou's playing style. He's loud, aggressive, and explosive. He rushes objectives. Takes fights solely to assert dominance. He spams voice comms loudly and routinely (and regularly gets muted by teammates):
"COVER ME— WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!"
"SOMEONE PUSH LEFT YOU USELESS—"
He begins to take note of yours as well. You're quiet, surgical, unnervingly patient. You wait for mistakes and then punish hard. You're virtually unreadable because you never react. You never speak. Never type. You just ping objectives and land headshots like a ghost.
Bakugou ends up taking pictures of the scoreboard after each round. HE'S NOT OBSESSED OKAY. It's just for proof that he CAN beat you one day. It'll make his victory all the more glorious when he can look back on his climbing stats.
Meanwhile, when you see his name on the board, you never think about it beyond tactical adaptation — things to change, new strats to manoeuvre your way to victory again, while Bakugou may or may not be journaling your score difference as personal war crimes.
after a week or two, it becomes a strange, weird, online, nocturnal ritual you two have. It goes a little something like:
Scoreboard heartbreak for Bakugou
Silent satisfaction for you
If he logs on and you're NOT in queue? He's irritated. If you log on and he's not there? You keep queuing until you find someone else worth playing against.
Neither of you knows the other is waiting for the other — and neither of you will ever admit the quiet, mutual respect slowly building for each other's gameplay.
You two start logging off at the same time, accidentally syncing sleep schedules with how late into the night you both rage against each other. Bakugou logs off with a quiet "tomorrow I'm wiping that smug silent freak", and you log off with "He's getting better. Hm."
You start showing up at the same times without consciously planning it, like the matchmaking gods keep throwing you together. Your rivalry becomes familiar. Consistent. Something you both look forward to every day.
Bakugou becomes obsessed with your silence:
"If you're gonna be that good at the game, at least talk trash!"
"Say SOMETHING GOD DAMN IT, what are you, a ghost?!"
he tries muting voice chat one time out of spite. He hates it. Unmutes immediately. Needs to hear himself win (or lose)
You don't add each other. You definitely don't DM. But after about two weeks, Bakugou realises something terrifying: if you're not in the lobby, he's BORED. The game feels too quiet. Winning doesn't feel earned. Victory screens feel incomplete.
At this point, you are emotionally invested strangers with synced sleep schedules, mutual grudges, and absolutely no idea how much space you've taken inside each other's heads
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺‧₊☽
One night, everything changes.
at this point, Bakugou has accepted one humiliating truth: his favourite part of the day is fighting this faceless gremlin online.
He refuses to admit any of this out loud, but the way he sprints home after lectures to log on says everything.
His friends make it worse because they start asking:
"Dude, are you on already? It's like, only 9, we usually don't play 'til 11."
"Shut up, I'm warming up," Bakugou lies
(he's not warming up. He's hunting).
Tonight, however, the matchmaking gods do something despicable — because, for the first time ever, you two are on the same team. Bakugou sees your user join squad and he freezes mid-spawn.
"Holy shit it's the sniper"
"Carry us pls"
"GroundZero don't scare them off"
(Bakugou says nothing but everyone can FEEL the offended silence)
when the match starts, it's silent synchronicity
Bakugou rushes choke point — you're there rotating and covering him without a word. He pushes forward — you disable traps ahead of him. He throws himself into chaos — you clean up the mess like a digital surgeon.
By the end of the match, you're still ranked first, Bakugou in second — but for the first time, it feels like you won together instead of against.
Someone on comms laughs, muttering something about wanting to know what you actually sound like. Someone else chimes in to support Bakugou's theory that you're probably a 40 year old Reddit Moderator with a beard. Another insists that you must be a bot, because you're silent AND cracked. Bakugou tells himself he does not care (he does)
You queue up for the next match, and that's when someone tries to order you around in comms
"Uh, can you rotate left? No— left, [Your User], LEFT—"
Then you speak. Calm and quiet and so utterly unbothered it makes Bakugou's eye twitch.
"I heard you. I'm already there."
the whole lobby goes silent.
Bakugou's brain immediately short circuits itself. Because oh. It's a girl. Wait— you're a girl. The thought is immediately followed by self-directed screaming because that should not matter, and yet—
Out loud, he blurts: "Tch. 'Bout time you talked."
He's not sure what he's expecting as a response. But then you speak again, tone entirely deadpan you almost sound bored: "Didn't need to before."
Kaminari wheezes in chat.
"DUDE, SHE JUST OUT-ALPHAD YOU."
Bakugou mutes him instantly.
after that, something shifts. Bakugou stops yelling at the mic, and starts yelling into it, like he's talking to someone who might actually be listening now.
You start speaking in short bursts, razor-precise callouts like, "three on your right," or "trap head"
Bakugou listens to you without realising he's listening. His friends absolutely notice. At one point, Sero whispers to Kaminari, horrified:
"He's... taking directions..."
"We should clip this," Kaminari whispers back.
the post-game lobby becomes your new battlefield where Bakugou talks trash and you respond calmly with facts that make him more mad.
"Could've won faster if you rotated mid."
"Statistically your odds of survival mid are 18%."
"WHO CARES ABOUT STATS—"
days later, somebody in your usual queue finally asks for Discord adds to form a regular squad. Bakugou refuses on principle — you refuse on instinct. Kaminari does not refuse anything and sends the link to a new server anyway.
you call it curiosity. that's the ONLY reason why, a few hours after Kaminari drops the server link, you find yourself staring at your laptop as the server loads and your inbox is immediately spammed with GIFs from some of Bakugou's usual teammates.
When Kirishima reports to Bakugou that you've joined, he doesn't care. totally. it's cool. y'know. whatever.
(he is definitely NOT scrambling to log in and join as well)
Kaminari immediately sets your names next to each other in the active user list because he can okay.
You and Bakugou start DM-ing not on purpose, but because arguing in general channel is inefficient, okay? THAT'S ALL. IT'S JUST EFFICIENT. (you're not convincing anyone, let's be fr)
You start sending match strats back and forth. You share weapon builds, sending texts at 2 AM like, "why did you push that?" which he responds to with "because I knew you'd cover it."
You send him screenshots of his bad positioning. He sends you screenshots of your death stats.
It's like texting foreplay for competitive people.
Some nights, you queue without speaking, just silent gameplay and mutual rage breathing. Other nights, you end up on VC for hours, never talking about real life, instead opting for back and forth banter and the kind of razor sharp sarcasm you both share.
Bakugou starts recognising your laugh through static. You start recognising the sound of Bakugou's keyboard patterns because he doesn't know how to not slam keys.
One night around 3 AM, half-dead with exhaustion, you mutter into your mic:
to which Bakugou scoffs, offended but awake again.
You just hum. Bakugou re-queues immediately.
Weeks pass. Discord calls have just become normal for the two of you. You ping each other to queue. You roast each other with affection, forcing each other to hydrate at 2 AM. Sometimes you fall asleep on call with Discord still open.
Voice chat becomes comfort background noise. There are lowkey moments where you both genuinely forget the other is real, with a real life and a real name and real friends and real interests. For instance, you once heard the clatter of Bakugou making dinner at 11 PM one night and remembered that he's human. The first time he heard your laugh he forgot to respond for five seconds straight because sometimes he forgets that there's someone warm and real and alive and unfamiliar but also so incredibly familiar now on the other side of the screen.
You still fight for first place, but now you've switched to playing more duo games. Bakugou may or may not still take photos of the scoreboard. You both scream "NICE" at each other during matches when one of you lands a crit hit, and cuss each other out over misses. Your playing styles are still dramatically different and deathly competitive, but they honestly complement each other.
"LEFT SIDE— FUCKIN' HELL. HELLO? LEFT? DO YOU PEOPLE NOT KNOW YOUR LEFT FROM YOUR RIGHT?!"
"IF SOMEONE DOESN'T COVER MID, I'M GONNA—"
The kill feed loops your username while Bakugou slams his desk in the background like it's a drum solo and continues to yell at random users you have to remind him could be twelve year old kids playing for fun.
You have routine late-night snack breaks mid-match and inside jokes no one else understands.
When you get trash talked by some random in the lobby, you best BELIEVE Bakugou becomes your attack dog while you just stare at your screen blankly because it really isn't that deep:
"WHO SAID THAT— OI. COME HERE. SAY IT AGAIN WITH YOUR WHOLE CHEST, I SWEAR—"
Your DMs slowly go from war declarations and reluctant strategising to something that, to Bakugou's horror, almost resembles... friendship???
Still, neither of you reveal any personal info beyond:
You're both definitely in college
You both have idiots for classmates
It has never occurred to either of you to ask which college you attend or which major either of you study because online logic = blind trust and shared rage.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺‧₊☽
Online You May Know Peace... But What About IRL?
cut to real life. Would you believe it if I said that you and Bakugou attend the same university?? (what a coincidence)
it doesn't stop there: because you're in the same program. With the same core classes. And, believe it or not, have had the same unhinged competitive energy since your first semester. You are, in real life, academic rivals.
It's honestly one of those rivalries that professors find "concerning but spirited". He has NO idea that you are [Your User] and you have NO idea that he is GroundZero — neither of you have the slightest clue that, although you may be committed academic rivals for life IRL, you are best friends online.
IRL, you're just as strategic, clever, sharp, and precise.
IRL, Bakugou is loud, brilliant, aggressively smart, and his ideas have teeth.
Every class you share consists of Bakugou raising a hand before the question is finished, pointedly followed by you dissecting his argument with surgical precision while classmates sit between you two like it's the demilitarised zone as you launch insults at each other.
However, professors do genuinely love you two because you lowkey raise the room's IQ with your constant debates. But also "please stop glaring at each other during presentations" is a common thing you two hear.
absolutely FORGET interactive activities like Kahoot during compulsory group study/tutor sessions. You two absolutely will be going for each other's throats to land first place on the podium.
Online, you two send each other memes about "that annoying, overachieving classmate" without realising you are literally sending memes about EACH OTHER
Over comms while waiting for the queue to reshuffle, you say things like: "this loud guy in my seminar keeps challenging everyone."
He responds: "sounds like a nerd, tell him to shut up."
(he is literally that loud guy).
He says things like "some girl keeps correcting me like she thinks she's a genius."
You respond: "lol who does she think she is"
(you are absolutely that girl)
If the universe and matchmaking gods weren't pushing you two together enough already, they absolutely are in smaller, less noticeable ways:
for example, you both order the same iced coffee from the same corner-cafe on campus only fifteen minutes after each other.
you both chug the same brand of energy drink at 9 AM because sleep is for the weak
you both use the same study room (just at different times)
Your discord chats go something like:
(you both were in the same lecture hall)
in fact, IRL, you both sit on opposite sides of the room and radiate "if you breathe too loudly I will academically destroy you" energy. You'd think one of you would recognise each other's voices, but honestly, you don't. Though sometimes there are moments on VC where he thinks he recognises your voice and you think you recognise his, but then the garble and static of your mics makes it harder to pinpoint exactly where you've heard each other's voices before.
Despite actively praying on each other's downfall IRL, online, your friendship is pretty great:
TWO WORDS: GROUP. PROJECTS.
You get randomly assigned to a group project together once. the entire group is already terrified.
You immediately claim the essay section. Bakugou handles the data, while the rest of the group sits there in silence and passes with near perfect marks without lifting a finger
you do NOT speak to each other during, or even after your respective parts are finished
that same night on discord:
VC becomes your mutual decompression zone for ranting about life:
"These classes are killing me."
"This assignment makes no sense."
"If my professor emails me one more rubric—"
"Queue?"
You two have so many almost-reveal moments™
for example, you pass each other on campus while both holding water bottles plastered with stickers of avatars and items from the game you two 'met' on
he's mentioned once or twice a professor's weird grading system and you almost asked "wait, are you in [Professor's] class?" but you decide last minute not to pry
at a campus event, you could've sworn you heard his laugh
at the corner-cafe on campus, he could've sworn he heard one of your usual go-to one liners he's grown so used to you saying repeatedly over VC
you both frequently pull all-nighters for the same exam and wind up on Discord, messaging every so often:
You are literally sitting on opposite floors of the same library
SPEAKING OF LIBRARIES: there is an ongoing war for the same window seat. The first one there silently claims the spot while the other arrives later and glares daggers across the room.
it's the same dynamic in exams. You always finish mini quizzes early and walk out quietly. Bakugou ALWAYS clocks you leaving, clenches his jaw, and accidentally breaks his pencil. He finishes two minutes after. You two continue racing through exams, you finishing first one day, him finishing first the next, until a professor genuinely asks one day, "Are you two trying to speedrun my exam?"
after a particularly long and difficult exam, exhausted yet still competing for first, you both nearly run into each other trying to be the first out of the lecture hall — and promptly glare at each other before storming off in opposite directions.
Your gaming styles slowly begin to merge more as the weeks go on:
"I'm on. Queue up."
"Let's bomb the centre."
"FUCK— COVER MY RIGHT."
Bakugou screams at every jump-scare flank while you give silent assassin callouts
(opposing players genuinely think you guys are like a pre-made Esports duo or something)
Over time, you both start slipping tiny, intentional, personal details. Neither of you are willing to admit that it's on purpose, let alone that you're curious about who the other might be.
it starts small, with little hints dropped by Bakugou:
"Sorry, had a seminar."
"My professor is a fossil."
"Guy next to me wouldn't shut up."
then you drop a few here and there too, like:
" I had a lab today."
"Campus wifi died again."
"Someone took my favourite study desk."
you never ask for specifics. it's forbidden, like some kind of invisible line you've both drawn and simultaneously silently agreed to respect. but you both start wondering...
Internally, Bakugou tries to piece it together, trying to guess your major: "College... lectures... lab... probably STEM??"
You do the same: "Seminars... fossil professor... humanities?"
one day during a campus debate you say something in your signature tone that makes Bakugou pause and do a double take because what.
later that night in VC, queuing up for a match, you join and say "hey" in the exact same tone. Bakugou freezes for half a second before his brain goes "no fucking way, impossible, too cursed, ignore, reject reality," and he forces himself to forget.
you guys don't even realise how soft you've become for each other, but Bakugou waits for you to log on and you save memes for him specifically and you share playlists during late night study breaks and send photos of your desks to show off gaming set ups and recommend different energy drink brands.
You tried to get his name once, but he skilfully evaded the conversation by shooting your avatar. He followed it up later that night though, over DMs.
you never ask for specifics. it's forbidden, like some kind of invisible line you've both drawn and simultaneously silently agreed to respect. but you both start wondering...
Internally, Bakugou tries to piece it together, trying to guess your major: "College... lectures... lab... probably STEM??"
You do the same: "Seminars... fossil professor... humanities?"
one day during a campus debate you say something in your signature tone that makes Bakugou pause and do a double take because what.
later that night in VC, queuing up for a match, you join and say "hey" in the exact same tone. Bakugou freezes for half a second before his brain goes "no fucking way, impossible, too cursed, ignore, reject reality," and he forces himself to forget.
you guys don't even realise how soft you've become for each other, but Bakugou waits for you to log on and you save memes for him specifically and you share playlists during late night study breaks and send photos of your desks to show off gaming set ups and recommend different energy drink brands.
You tried to get his name once, but he skilfully evaded the conversation by shooting your avatar. He followed it up later that night though, over DMs.
a few hours after that call, as you about to log off for the night, he messages again.
it's not a big deal, but it feels like something's changed — like the two of you have finally acknowledged a world beyond the bubble you've created. it's terrifying, the confirmation that he exists. it's exhilarating. but you don't know anyone by the name of Katsuki, because in class, you know him only as Bakugou (or Bakuslow, as you've fondly named him) and he only knows you by your last name. logically, neither of you has any reason to be suspicious.... yet.
a few nights later, you say to him over VC after yet another victory, just before the call ends at 3:45 AM:
"You're my favourite teammate, Katsuki."
Bakugou thinks his chest might explode. He's quiet for a moment before he clears his throat, already smiling like a fool at his screen.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺‧₊☽
The Great Corner-Cafe Incident of 2025
you love caffeine. how could you not? Gamer meets college student = inbred caffeine addiction. your mini fridge back in your dorm, stocked FULL of energy drinks is proof enough. it's tragic, you know it is, but that does not stop you from frequently visiting the corner-cafe on campus at 7 AM sharp every. single. day.
would it be embarrassing if someone noticed? sure. and yes, it would be pathetic if your close friend, Kaminari, wasn't the one serving you every day behind the counter. But luckily for you, he is the one who serves you every morning, on the dot, with zero judgement and a lopsided grin and way too many puns for a man in as much college debt as you are.
Kaminari loves you because you're a daily source of gossip and you share not only his love for video games, but also caffeine-fuelled existentialism. you've known each other for months.
this morning is no different. you're up early despite only having gotten three or so hours of sleep. You blame the thirteen matches Katsuki insisted on last night before you both logged off around 4 AM.
you open the cafe door, the small bell jingling. you are running on the holy trinity of fumes and spite and the need to burn your academic rival into the ground today. You've got three lectures today — all of them with Bakugou.
Kaminari sees you and his reaction is the same as always — a dramatic gasp, followed by a finger he points at you like you're the prophecy he's been promised, before he's bouncing over to the register, leaning across the counter with his chin in his hands, elbows propped up on the tile. You duck around him, helping yourself to a free muffin.
"BROOOOO you look DEAD. Want your usual?"
you grunt affirmatively because you cannot form syllables right now and you're half way into demolishing your muffin to think about witty quips you could throw back at him. Kaminari's quick to whisk you back to the front of the counter before his manage, for the fifteenth time this month, can catch you behind it
that's when someone appears right beside you in the virtually non-existent line — tall, broad shouldered, dressed in a half-rumpled hoodie that suggests a very late night, hair messy, radiating the same exhaustion you feel wedged deep in your bones this morning
you don't turn to look fully, because that's weird. you're too busy pretending to look like you're listening to Kaminari, who is rattling off new campaign ideas he had for some game he's introducing tonight at Sero's gaming club.
HOWEVER: you do hear his order, because he rattles it off to the pink-haired barista beside Kaminari in a low bark like he's reciting a declaration before a jury:
"Iced quad shot americano. No water. Two pumps vanilla."
you turn immediately because you KNOW that voice.
you have got to be kidding.
it's Bakuslow — sorry, Bakugou. Arch nemesis #1. Most annoying classmate you've ever encountered, because he DOES NOT SHUT UP. He thinks he's so smart. Thinks he's sooo quick. Probably thinks he's sooo much better than you—
you're fuming. you don't even realise you're glaring holes into the side of his face while crushing the muffin in your hand into crumbs until his gaze snaps towards yours and he raises a single eyebrow at you and you blink, slowly, immediately turning away, cheeks heating in a way you refuse to acknowledge.
but. you are a polite resident of this campus. and Kaminari is staring at you like this is the best thing to have happened since slice bread, so you will yourself to be nice. pleasant. maybe offer a greeting, because not acknowledging his presence at all would be rude and you refuse to sink to his level of moral inferiority
"Hello," you manage to grit out beneath your breath. You can practically feel the heat of his scowl, even though you're glaring at your shoes and he's staring at the register.
"Hi." is his response, just as rough, just as painfully forced.
Kaminari's stopped talking now, staring at the two of you with less excitement and more... confusion
"Wha— wait. Do you two know each other? Bakubro, how do you know her?? [Your Name], you didn't tell me you knew BAKUGOU? I WAS ABOUT TO INTRODUCE THE TWO OF YOU—"
His confusion is quick to melt into excitement, because then Kaminari's smiling again, shaking your shoulders over the counter.
"OH MY GOD, THIS IS SO FUN. YOU TWO KNOW EACH OTHER?? WHEN WORLD'S COLLIDE, AMIRITE?! My two buddies are also buddies! WHO WOULD'VE THOUGHT?!"
you are visibly shaking with rage (and also because Kaminari is still shaking you by the shoulders) because Bakugou has the NERVE to stare at you like you're the reason Kaminari is practically screaming behind the counter in excitement this early in the morning. What is he even doing here right now?? it's 7 AM. this is your cafe. it's your usual time. WHY IS HE HERE, already ruining your day before classes have even started???
you force a tight smile as Kaminari hands you your drink, watching as he rounds onto Bakugou excitedly, eyeing his order the pink-haired barista serves up on the counter.
you try not to look like you're eavesdropping as you stir your coffee, tearing into another sugar packet.
you watch out of the corner of your eye as Kaminari shrugs, rings him up, and, very casually, proceeds to drop the line that unintentionally makes your whole morning — and life, for that matter — implode:
"Cool. That'll be 6.50, Kitty Kat."
you go still for just a second too long, which Bakugou knows means you heard that. You try not to snort, but Bakugou looks furious, and before you can stop yourself, you blurt out loud: "Kitty Kat?"
Bakugou's head immediately whips towards you and his glare is intense enough to have you genuinely considering whether or not you have time to flee the cafe before he blows the place to smithereens
Kaminari, however, just laughs. Oblivious as ever.
"Yeah. Old nickname. Cute though, right? Kitty Kat. Fits him nicely, don't you think?" He nudges Bakugou over the counter. Bakugou seethes.
"Can we get a meow, Bakubro?"
"STOP CALLIN' ME THAT, DUMBASS."
"What, Bakubro or Kitty Kat?"
"IT ADDS POSITIVE VIBES TO THE MORNING!"
you stare a little too hard now, brows furrowed in interest.
not in a creepy way. at least, you hope it's not in a creepy way.
you've heard Bakugou talk before, of course you have. you've heard him talk your ear off in every class you've had with him for the past two semesters. What you haven't heard before, is him yelling, which is strange considering how passionate he gets during debates and arguing with you. it shouldn't be unusual. people yell. Bakugou naturally has a loud voice, so he's never had to yell before in lectures.
Bakugou yelling isn't what interests you — it's why it reminds you of a certain somebody you befriended online — that happens to be called KATsuki — that gets your attention.
your brain — the stupid, traitorous, caffeinated, delusional thing that it is — immediately begins to theorise.
you don't have time to dwell on it though, because then you notice Bakugou's been staring at you and you've been stirring your coffee for the past five minutes staring at the counter and you're in the way of the door and now he's shoving past you and—
you scoff, watching him retreat out the cafe door.
your day is off to a fantastic start.
later that night, Bakugou gets online. You log on too. you're both tired, as usual, queuing in your usual lobby together anyway, when he pings you from Discord:
you stare at your laptop.
okay. that's fine. normal, even, for a college student. you have early classes all the time.
but coffee run? on the same day arch-nemesis-Bakugou who is most definitely not part of the usual 7 AM herd at the corner-cafe just happens to appear, looking sleep deprived, dishevelled, AND radiating the same energy GroundZero — or Katsuki, as he told you his real name was — does when he's yelling?
you swallow, and stare even more intensely at your laptop.
on the other side of the screen, Bakugou is ALSO staring — just not at your chat messages. instead, he's staring at the open google doc on his screen, titled: 'Reasons Why [Your User] MIGHT actually be My Greatest Enemy of All Time'
it is 10 pages long. it has bullet points. it has time stamps. it has charts.
he scrolls down to the latest entry, past the weeks worth of notes he's been taking since the day you first spoke on comms, to where he's written beneath today's date: suspicious overlap in sleep deprivation patterns — investigate further.
he takes a sip of his energy drink, clicking back onto Discord, and sighs like a detective in a crime drama. he watches as the typing indicator appears, waiting for your next message. he leans forward, grinning at his screen.
and just like that: the race begins.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺‧₊☽
the thing no one tells you about having an academic rival is that they are your rival in all aspects of life.
you race to the elevator. you compete for the last bagel in the cafe on busy afternoons. you once got kicked out of a record store because you both happened to run into each other and start fighting over the last vinyl copy of an album you both wanted.
so it makes sense... in a deeply cursed way, of course, that this rivalry has now extended to:
glaring at each other suspiciously across lecture rooms
analysing caffeine consumption habits
potential secret double lives on Discord
but here's the thing: neither of you know the other is suspicious. you both REFUSE to ask directly. so the resulting behaviour looks absolutely insane to normal outsiders.
in a lecture a few days later, the professor asks a question
Bakugou immediately counters with a different angle, just to hear you retort so he can analyse your speech patterns and compare them with [Your User's]
predictably, you counter his counter. you fall right into his trip.
but he also falls right into your trap by countering your counter-counter, because you are also analysing his speech patterns
(the professor just sighs deeply and moves on)
meanwhile, Bakugou spends his time staring at you across the room, thinking: "does [Your User] speak like that too, or am I delusional?" (he may or may not write down notes on your cadence in the margins of his textbook that he absolutely will be transferring to his google doc when he gets back to his dorm).
you stare back, thinking: "Bakugou has the exact same brand of energy drink Katsuki drinks. Coincidence??" (probably).
it's totally normal. healthy, even. adult behaviour.
you don't have a google doc. instead, you have a notes app entry titled: "Suspicious — is Online Katsuki/GroundZero Actually My Arch Nemesis Bakugou?
inside it, you have the following notes:
same energy drink preferences
same aggressive competence
blonde????? (uncertain if Katsuki is blonde. Never seen his face. However, his avatar is blonde).
uses big words when pissed off
Katsuki calls people "extras" before bombing their bases. Bakugou calls classmates "extras". Coincidence??
Katsuki plays games with scary intensity. Bakugou takes notes with scary intensity.
beneath that, in bold, you've added: "NEED VOICE AND FACIAL CONFIRMATION."
because until you get that, this could all be an elaborate coincidence and you refuse to be wrong. you have PRIDE.
but also: if Katsuki is Bakugou, you WILL find out first.
Bakugou, meanwhile, has expanded the google doc into a PowerPoint presentation titled: "WHO THE FUCK IS MY ONLINE FRIEND AND COULD THEY POSSIBLY BE MY SWORN ENEMY? A scientific analysis"
slide 1 consists of your username, in size 32 font and a pixelated screenshot of your Discord profile, your in-game avatar, and the very first photo he took of the scoreboard the first night you annihilated him months ago, before the Discord DMs, the late night VCs, before the friendship, before... whatever this feeling in his chest, all soft and fluttery and warm is. before the suspicion.
slide 2 shows a pie chart of "probable suspects" — it is 97% photos of you posed during different campus events he stole from the university's Facebook page, 1% random goblin photos, and 2% very unflattering selfies of Kaminari because anyone could be [Your User], and Kaminari is unhinged enough to do something like that.
he refuses to commit to a confrontation with any suspects until he has iron-clad evidence because he, like you, has PRIDE.
but also: if YOU are [Your User], he WILL find out first.
you two are basically now competing to see who can dox the other first
things start to get messy when Bakugou begins trying to make you talk in class more.
He says things like, "Oi. What's your take on that?"
The first time, you were startled — since when does Bakugou ask for your opinion? Your dynamic consists solely of back and forth quips, counter arguments, and roasts. regardless, you shrugged it off, launching into an explanation. when you started to respond, internally, Bakugou began taking notes, because YOU HAVE THE SAME VOCAL INFLECTION, PHASE ONE COMPLETE, TEST CONFIRMED.
you begin hovering in Discord VC hoping he will slip and say something suspicious without realising it, but you're both oddly quiet over these days, saying nothing unless forced, because you are both waiting for the other to start talking to confirm your respective theories
the result is two extremely competitive chronically online gremlins sitting in silence typing, deleting, typing again, deleting again, until one of you finally breaks and says something.
"I'm getting coffee."
"Same."
(the silence that followed was deafening. you both immediately left the VC in a frantic scramble only to stare at your conspiracy theories (Bakugou now has a cork board complete with red thread and hand-drawn graphs. He's employed the assistance of Todoroki after seeing his Pinterest mood boards).
you end up taking your observation to new levels, watching his hands with concerning amounts of dedication in lectures, searching for gamer calluses™.
over Discord chats, you casually mention the band name of that album you once fought Bakugou over, watching carefully for Katsuki's reaction (he responds with a GIF that does not relate to the topic of conversation. You make note of that in your phone, AVOIDANT??? written in all caps)
you even ask him "hypothetically, what colour do you think your major would be lmao. also like. what is ur major. haha." (his response is strangely cryptic: "probably red. my major is painful.")
you start TRACKING log in times vs. your class schedule, mapping his activity.
Bakugou, meanwhile, starts asking you on Discord if you "hate anyone in your classes" because he KNOWS that if [Your User] is actually you from his classes, he will be at the top of your to-kill list
he watches your Discord status like a hawk as well. he even starts evaluating your mouse DPI settings because he's insane.
a week passes. the coincidences start to pile up. or maybe they've always been there, piling up, and you two have just been too stupid to notice.
The evidence you have collected so far is as follows:
online Katsuki (potentially arch nemesis Bakugou) logged off at 7:02 PM last Tuesday.
Bakugou then walked into the campus library at 7:09 PM looking like he sprinted. If Katsuki is Bakugou, it would explain shared similarities in their observed routines.
online Katsuki (MAYBE arch nemesis Bakugou) mentioned at 4:12 AM last Thursday that he was "sore as hell from" from his last work out and that's why he couldn't game that night (in reality, he was too busy researching your user name across social media platforms looking for identity hints and the 'muscle pain' just happened to be a totally amazing excuse)
however, you KNOW Bakugou from class had been at the campus gym the previous afternoon because you may or may not have walked past just to gather potential evidence — so apparently, Bakugou and Katsuki work out on the same days for them to presumably share the same muscle pain...
every new piece of data raises the percentage in both your confirmation charts:
because here is the unspoken mutual decision: if you can figure it out before he can, you win. but if HE can figure it out before you, you lose.
it's no longer about identity. it's about competition. it's about BRAGGING RIGHTS. it's about SUPERIORITY. it's about VICTORY. (it's about drive, it's about power, we stay hungry we devour 🪨)
Bakugou's pride is on the line. yours is too.
and you're both on the verge of uncovering who is really behind the screen.
honestly... you both secretly hope you're right. and not just because you want to win.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺‧₊☽
The Day You Figure It Out
the next day, you are both on edge.
you're in the lecture hall, as usual, this time for tutorial classes, not lectures. You steal very stealthy (very obvious) glances at one another. Bakugou is updating his latest pie chart, brightness on his laptop turned down so low he has to squint to make out the digits he's typing in. You're busy glaring at the Discord feed on your laptop that says Katsuki is online, which makes no sense, because the person you suspect to be Katsuki is currently sitting here, in class.
today's a project day — assigned, of course, and obviously, you two happen to be paired together
when your names are called, Bakugou turns, locks eyes with you like a cat spotting another cat in its territory, and you stare back, like someone just unplugged your brain
you move into one of the smaller study rooms shortly after, both dragging your chairs over like you're preparing for a hostage negotiation
"Don't get in my way."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
"Good."
"Great."
"Fantastic."
"Excellent."
you both simultaneously reach for the same textbook, bump hands, glare, snatch back, and then promptly reach for it again, hands bumping once more. you glare harder. he pretends his whole body didn't just short-circuit Kaminari style for 0.3 seconds.
20 minutes of actual peace passes.
you're scribbling ideas. Bakugou is typing like his keyboard insulted him personally.
in a moment of uncharacteristic mercy, Bakugou offers to show you a template for the assignment. you nod, because what else are you supposed to do?
he switches tabs without thinking, shutting his browser to open another, and in the process, there — literally front and centre on the screen — his Discord app remains open to a chat.
not just any chat. YOUR DMS ARE OPEN. HIS DMS. KATSUKI'S DMS. WAIT— BAKUGOU'S, APPARENTLY. ON DISPLAY. the usernames are visible. the messages are visible. the timestamps are visible.
both of you go deadly still.
your eyes lock on the screen. Bakuguo's eyes lock on the screen.
then he slams the laptop shut so fast the desk rattles.
you both sit in horrified silence for about 0.8 seconds that feel like a year because shit.
your theory was right. Online Katsuki is Bakugou, also known as your sworn enemy who's full name is apparently not 'son of satan' and is actually 'Bakugou Katsuki'.
(meanwhile, Bakugou still doesn't have official confirmation you are [Your User] — but based off of your reaction to the DMs, and off the data he's spent months collecting... he's 98% certain it's you). and thus, it is now extremely awkward.
"That wasn't— It's not— that was just. like. research."
you nod like someone being interrogated.
"Yeah. no, absolutely. cool. awesome. research is— great."
you both don't speak for the rest of the session. you refuse to make eye contact. he refuses to make eye contact. he asks for the stapler without looking at you and you pass it to him like you're exchanging nuclear launch codes.
but here's the thing. either one of you could win the unspoken race right now.
you could lean forward, and say something like, "Hey, are you GroundZero on Discord?"
Bakugou could ask, "Are you really [Your User]? You know, the anonymous girl I've been playing games with till 4 AM for the past few months and who might genuinely be my best friend that I may or may not have intense feelings for?"
both of you could obliterate the mystery, right now. you could WIN. he could win.
but for the first time in your academic and online rivalry history... neither of you want to.
because this whole time, right or wrong, neither of you was ever going to win. because either way, something gets ruined. he knows now that you are [Your User]. You know now that he is GroundZero. and you're both just now realising that all your prying, your shared race to figure out the secret, to discover each other's identity... has inadvertently jeopardised your online friendship, because what kind of "enemies" finds out they're actually friends online and decides to stay being friends?
Bakugou realises, with terrifying clarity, that now it will be different. you know who he is. will you still want to be friends? will you still want to call? will you still want to tell him about your day, about your classes, about the "arrogant ass" who always argues with you in lectures that he's just now realising was you unknowingly referring to him.
You feel the same dawning dread.
but neither of you speak.
later that night, you both get online.
the chat window sits open for ten minutes. no one types. you both have no idea what to say. you stare at your screen. he stares at his screen.
three seconds later, he replies.
okay. this is cool. this is fine. normal. casual, even. everything is fine, you both tell yourselves. but you both know who is behind the screen now. the truth sits there heavy and unwavering, no matter how much you try to dance around it. your hands are shaking. his cursor blinks at him like it's judging him, leg bouncing beneath his desk.
the translation is obvious: I was paired with my sworn nemesis today and I think they might be you in fact I'm now 98% certain it's you and I accidentally flashed our DMs and now you probably know it's me and I want to scream into a pillow.
you stare at your screen, chewing your lip.
there's a pause. you can FEEL him debating his next move.
you freeze. because that's loaded. that is so loaded. you can practically picture him scowling at his laptop, waiting for your response while you two keep avoiding the confrontation that desperately needs to happen, dangling over the two of you like a massive neon question mark.
oh. that message punches you in the chest.
he knows — you KNOW that he knows and he KNOWS that you know, so what are you even doing right now? SAY SOMETHING. ANYTHING.
you hesitate. you think about saying something along the lines of "I know this is you Bakugou, but let's not stop being friends anyway. you're not half bad. I don't want to hate you anymore."
you stare at your screen. you back space about 9 different drafts before settling on one word.
you type. then you immediately regret it. you rush to send three other messages after it.
on the other side of the screen, Bakugou stares at that one word for a stupidly long time, because he's thinking: "not a good partner? I'm a GREAT partner, you little—"
he's cut off by the next three messages you send.
he stares. thinks. weighs his options.
he should just say it. just say "I know you know it's me lol hey". something normal. simple. chill enough to just thaw the ice, melt the tension, not shatter it entirely because he doesn't want to think about what happens when you two finally confront the truth — do you stay friends, like you have been in the safety of this online, anonymous bubble? or do the past few months get obliterated by your stupid, pointless IRL rivalry?
he thought he wanted to win. he'd been so focused on uncovering who you were, being RIGHT about his theory to even think about what would happen if he was right.
he doesn't want to be the first to cave. doesn't want to be the one to address the elephant in the room because then, surely, this will end. being right doesn't feel like victory, this time. it feels like surrendering something important. something fragile. something he's treasured all along but has only just started to acknowledge how much it truly means.
you stare at his response. Then you exhale, leaning back in your chair. across campus, Bakugou sits in his, running a hand through his hair hard enough to sting.
he closes his eyes. groans loudly, then punches his keyboard with his fingers as he types as fast as he can before he chickens out.
you blink. then you laugh a little, rolling your eyes, because it's a stupid question to ask given that the cat's out of the bag now and you both know that your project partners are the same person sat behind each other's screens. you consider telling the truth. you settle on a half truth.
Bakugou feels his brain reboot. Smart? Fun? FUN???
you smile to yourself. Bakugou has to physically stand up and do a lap around his apartment, pacing, muttering possible responses to himself.
because the thing is: you both like your online friend. like, like like them.
but you hate Bakugou. and he hates you.
you LIKE hating him though. you weren't lying when you said it's fun. he's half the reason you get up in the morning. your rivalry is half the motivation behind your performance in class. it's stupid, yes, but it means something. it's your constant. it makes sense. it's your thing.
but for the first time ever, those feelings — hate, and something more than friendship — look too alike. so alike, in fact, you're not sure you can tell them apart any longer.
so both of you do the only thing that makes any sense: you hesitate.
you could win tonight. you could lose tonight. but neither of you are ready for either.
you take a breath, and then, just because you can — just because you know that he knows that you know who he is, and you know that he knows who you are — you send your final message for the night, smiling at your phone.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺‧₊☽
it's been 48 hours since The Reveal.
48 hours of weird post-reveal limbo where you see him across campus and immediately look away. he sees you looking away and immediately pretends he wasn't staring. you then both show online on Discord at the same time — and immediately go offline again like cowards. you've even stopped yelling at each other in lectures, opting instead to sit quietly, staring out of the hall's windows like depressed Victorian wives in mourning.
despite the fact that YOU KNOW your online friend is Bakugou and HE KNOWS that it's you now — and despite the fact that you actively avoid acknowledging each other's existence in public —you still text each other.
it's confusing. it makes you want to slam your head through a wall, because is this how it's going to be forever?
it's a stalemate of epic cowardice, and NO ONE seems to be willing to bring it up first.
you both miss the way it used to be.
today, you're bored. it's a Saturday. you're caught up on assignments. studied late into the night, because you didn't VC last night for reasons™ that totally do not have to do with both you and Bakugou actively avoiding sitting on call with each other because at least over text you can pretend nothing's changed and you can pretend you're both still anonymous gaming rivals turned best friends who may or may not be yearning for each other
you have nothing to do. so you start your PC, slide on your headset, and launch the game. you do not open Discord. you do not check if Katsuki is online.
(you doubt he would be. it's sacred daylight time. for chores. errands. pretending to be a functioning adult).
across campus, however: Bakugou sits at his desk pretending to do homework but he’s really just staring at his screen saver because he's also bored and he’s also going insane and he also can't stop thinking about you and—
he finally snaps, muttering beneath his breath:
(he already knows it's a lie).
he DOES NOT check to see if you're online. he knows he'll combust if he does.
neither of you queue together, like usual. neither of you invite each other to join, like usual. neither of you even think about the possibility of crossing paths, because what are the chances of that happening?? there are thousands of players loading into lobbies daily. besides: you both already know each other's schedules and gaming patterns, and you know he doesn't log on till 7, and he knows you don't log on until 8.
the universe has other plans, however.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺‧₊☽
you spawn into the map and try not to think about how empty the comms feel without Bakugou's running commentary. instead, you move forward, checking the mini map every few minutes for enemy units as you scale the closest ridge, nearing the map's cornucopia.
it's there that you immediately notice some idiot trying to bunny-hop near a loot crate like a feral dog. you raise an eyebrow, hoisting binoculars from your inventory.
they have the same outfit as yours. the exact same character skin, except additional add-ons that tell you they take this game serious enough to have spent real money on weapons.
it reminds you of Katsuki. you briefly debate inviting him to the server as you sprint toward the crate at the same time the bunny-hopping stranger reaches it
you both grab it simultaneously. your avatars turn and collide head-on.
because there. on your screen. the username 'GroundZero' stares back at you, right above the bunny-hopper's avatar.
meanwhile, in his dorm, Bakugou is staring at the name tag above your avatar like it personally committed war crimes. he nearly falls out of his chair in shock.
he hesitates. you're not speaking. your comms are turned off, as usual, and his are too because he couldn't bring himself to yell at extras when you're not there to laugh at his jokes and sharp insults.
neither of you leave the lobby. neither of you shoot. neither of you MOVE. you just stare at each other like pixelated idiots while the rest of the match descends into chaos around you
his first thought is: AKSDJAHFKEHJJFJHSFADJDADJASD
his second thought is: I THOUGHT IT WAS SAFE, WHY IS SHE ONLINE AT 1 PM?!
finally — FINALLY — you cave and type in party chat:
[Your User]: this is weird
[GroundZero] shut up i was gonna say that
[Your User]: oh so we're doing this?
[GroundZero]: what
[Your User]: being weird together?? is this just like. our thing now?
Bakugou actually chokes. like, physically chokes.
but instead of shooting him, you just... walk off?? Bakugou stares at the screen. then he scowls, avatar immediately chasing after you.
[GroundZero]: oi. where are you going
[Your User]: idk
[GroundZero]: ...can i come
you laugh. you genuinely laugh, because the GroundZero — professional psychopath, also apparently known as Bakugou Katsuki — is more interested in walking with you than shooting people and winning???
you don't bother typing back a response, because he's already walking beside you.
you two end up wandering the map together, looting like awkward divorced parents on a forced family outing. you don't turn on comms. neither does he. your messages in the party chat quickly roll back as new messages from other players fill it fast.
halfway through the match, however, you both get ambushed
you're only half paying attention, half wondering what Bakugou's thinking right now. he's barely paying attention, mostly thinking about whether or not he should say something else, like "I don't want things to change, I like being your friend, even if you did turn out to be some annoying student from my lecture hall. I don't think I even hated you there in the first place."
you both jump when alarms start blaring, bullets flying, and absolute digital warfare sweeps over the quiet.
your instinct kicks in, and then you're flipping comms on, yelling into your mic.
"LEFT— GET OVER. MOVE— MOVE!"
Bakugou reacts on muscle memory, diving in front of your avatar like he's taking a virtual bullet for you. the two of you rotate between shooting and coverage as your avatars meet back-to-back, edging closer to a broken down building for shelter
he's yelling insults now and you're laughing between directions, your voices cutting over top of one another in a loud and messy and all too familiar tangle that makes your chest both ache and soften at the same time because it feels like it's 2 AM again and GroundZero is just GroundZero, a stranger you met online who happened to end up meaning a lot more to you than you're willing to admit.
when the chaos settles and your characters are crouched behind a wall and you're both laughing into your mics, you say, almost breathless:
and Bakugou, barely audible, replies:
it lands with the weight of a confession.
you swallow. your hands are sweating and his heart is racing.
you clear your throat, and decide to push your luck.
"so... we're like. friends, now. right?"
"Tch. we were always friends, loser."
you laugh, punching his avatar once. he punches you back. you can't see it, but you know he's grinning behind the screen.
"No, dumb ass. I mean in real life." you hesitate for a second. then, you say quietly, "I don't want to be friends with you online and pretend to hate you again in person."
Bakugou goes quiet. in his dorm, he stares blankly at his screen. he can hear you waiting. he swallows thickly, fidgeting with the cord of his headset. he takes a breath and physically forces himself to say the words.
"yeah. we can be friends. or something. you know."
he winces at the silence that follows. it's a full 3 second pause.
Bakugou genuinely debates exiting the game and pretending his wifi crashed. he fidgets harder. then punches your avatar again because he doesn't know what else to do. he doesn't even mean to open his mouth — but then he's saying three stupid, stupid words that fall from his mouth rushed and jumbled in one messy blurted line:
your heart short circuits. then, very slowly, a grin spreads across your face. your heart lurches. you laugh into your mic and hear the way Bakugou bristles in offence.
you don't get a chance to respond, because suddenly, you're being shot at again. a third-party squad absolutely annihilates both of you mid-confession like they do not care about your character development because they are here to win
Bakugou reacts instantly. he shoots. doesn't even realise you're in the way.
your screen flashes red: DEFEAT.
your jaw drops. you stare at it for a long, long minute. Bakugou stares at your name in the party chat, expression mimicking your own surprise as you both watch the chat load it's latest update after one final, deciding kill shot:
[Your User] was killed by GroundZero.
for the first time ever — for the first time since all of this started — Bakugou beats you.
it's unnaturally quiet in the lobby. you hear something muffled through Bakugou's mic, almost like a poorly concealed laugh
he's full on laughing now, the sound coming through in warm, familiar, static waves, and despite yourself, you're grinning ear to ear.
"IT WAS AN ACCIDENT—"
"THAT WAS NOT AN ACCIDENT."
"IT WAS. AND IT WAS ABOUT TIME YOU ADMITTED DEFEAT."
"YOU KILLED ME MID CONFESSION OF YOUR LOVE—"
"IT WAS NOT A CONFESSION OF LOVE—"
you both break off into another fit of laughter, even as the game reloads. even as the game descends into chaos as the next match begins.
for once, neither of you care about it. neither of you care about one upping the other.
because you've already won.
you end up on Discord instead. you don't play anything. don't fight. you just talk, cameras on for the first time ever.
you talk about school. about dumb professors. about Kaminari. about how all this started, and how stupidly inevitable it feels now.
and somewhere in the middle of all that, he says:
"This means we're dating, right?"
you splutter, cheeks heating, and Bakugou laughs, screenshotting your face. You immediately flip him off.
"WHAT— that's not— that's not how that works—"
Bakugou just smirks through the mic. He leans closer to his screen, eyes dangerously alive with something that makes your heart race all over again.
"Fine. Rematch? But if I win, I get to take you on a date."
you try to glare at him, but you can't help the smile you have to half-duck your head to hide from the camera.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺‧₊☽
