☆Friends to lovers☆
a Bakugo Katsuki x reader fanfic
You vote, i deliver ;-) enjoyyyy
Word count: Alot, lots of words. Maybe too many words lol
Keywords: fluff, slow burn, friends to lovers
Anyone else find it hard to edit in tumblr😔 Im too tired to proofread.
Lunch. Finally. You'd been running on fumes and the mere thought of this moment all morning. You let your feet carry you, focusing on the hypnotic rhythm of the walk—left, right, left, right—a steady mantra that drowned out the rest of the world. You were vaguely aware of Sero's millionth retelling of some class disaster from the other side of the group, but it was just white noise. A gentle, steady presence at your side kept you from drifting into a slower walker. You didn't need to look. Bakugo. A near-permanent fixture at your side, as familiar as your own heartbeat.
But then you noticed it—the fluid ease of his steps. Effortless. Controlled. Irritatingly perfect. Without thinking, you adjusted your pace, pushing just a fraction faster. A test. A challenge. He noticed immediately—of course he did—his jaw tightening in that telltale way that meant you'd just flipped a switch. His stride lengthened to match yours. You sped up again. So did he.
Neither of you said a word. Neither of you had to. Before you could register what was happening, you were both sprinting flat-out down the hallway toward the cafeteria, a blur of passing classrooms and startled second-years, absolutely refusing to lose a race that technically didn't exist.
You hit the cafeteria doors first. By a millisecond. Maybe less. But first is first.
"HOW DARE YOU RUN IN FRONT OF ME?!" His voice ricocheted off the cafeteria walls, echoing across the lunch line and earning exactly zero attention, because everyone was, in fact, used to this by now.
"You CHEATER!" Bakugo's hand shot out, grabbing the back of your collar before you could fully revel in your victory. His face was pulled into that familiar scowl, teeth bared, cheeks flushed—whether from the sprint or the fury, you could never quite tell.
You feigned a deeply offended look, hand dramatically pressed to your chest. "Me?! Dude, you're such a sore loser." You stuck your tongue out at him. "At least you lost to someone pretty."
For a split second, something flickered across his face. Something that definitely wasn't anger. His grip on your collar loosened just slightly, the tips of his ears going red to match his cheeks.
"The hell does that have to do with anything?!" he snapped, but the usual bite was missing from his voice. He released you like you'd suddenly become hot to the touch, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. "Whatever. Just—shut up and get in line before I blow your tray to bits."
It was exactly then that the rest of the Bakusquad finally caught up, jogging to a halt behind you both, slightly breathless from the effort of keeping you in sight.
Behind him, Kirishima was absolutely losing it, face buried in his elbow. Sero gave you a look—half amused, half exhausted—and mouthed, "Smooth."
You just grinned, falling into step beside Bakugo as the line shuffled forward. His shoulder brushed yours, deliberate or accidental you couldn't say. But he didn't move away.
"I demand a rematch."
The words came from beside you, low and gruff, and you felt the heat of him before you saw him close the distance.
"Hmmm..." You pretended to consider this while grabbing your lunch tray, taking your sweet time sliding it onto the rails. "No."
"Hah?" He was right behind you in the lunch line now, closer than necessary—so close you could feel the warmth radiating off his chest at your back. "Scared you'll lo~se?"
You bit back a smile, grabbing a carton of milk just to have something to do with your hands. The line shuffled forward. You found seats next to each other like you always did—had for months now—and settled in with your food. It was automatic at this point. Him to your left, Kiri across from him, you across from Sero, Mina next to Kirishima and Kaminari on your right. A formation as practiced as any hero exercise.
"As if," you said, finally answering his taunt. You picked up your chopsticks, meeting his gaze across the table. The flush on his ears hadn't quite faded. Interesting. "I just think you need to sit with your loss for a while. Process it. Grow as a person."
Kaminari snorted into his juice box.
Bakugo's eye twitched. "Process—" He slammed his palms on the table, rattling the trays. "I'LL PROCESS YOU INTO NEXT WEEK, YOU—"
"Katsuki." Kirishima said his name calmly, evenly, around a bite of rice. "We talked about this. Eat your lunch."
He froze. Glared. Opened his mouth. Closed it.
You didn't notice the way Bakugo stared as you gathered your hair up, twisting it into a weird, scraggly-looking bun-ponytail...thing. Your focus was on your chopsticks, on the food, on absolutely not thinking about the heat still radiating from the boy beside you.
"Tch."
Before you could process it, his hand was in your hair, yanking the scrunchie free with zero warning. You flinched more from surprise than pain, already reaching to retrieve your hair tie."
He held the scrunchie just out of reach, ignoring your grabby hands. "You'll damage your follicles. Split ends. Breakage." He said it like he was listing villain weaknesses.
"I'll go bald if you keep you keep ripping my hair out." You rolled your eyes, but something in your chest went soft at the way he'd remembered—actually remembered—a throwaway complaint you'd made weeks ago about your hair breaking.
"Sit still, idiot."
His rough hands, calloused from training and littered with tiny scars you'd memorized without meaning to, handled your hair with surprising care. Gentle tugs as he worked through the tangles you'd created. Patient fingers smoothing down the flyaways. He gathered it properly, efficiently, pulling it into a high ponytail that actually sat where it was supposed to—sleek and neat in a way you could never quite manage yourself.
Then, because he was Bakugo, he tugged the ponytail down playfully, forcing your head back, making you break your neck to look up at him.
You grinned up at his scowling face, heart doing something annoyingly gymnastic in your chest. "Thank youuuuu."
"What would you do without me," he muttered, but there was something satisfied in his expression—something almost soft around the edges—as he finally, finally grabbed his chopsticks and started his own (now cold) lunch.
The rest of the squad, thankfully, had already commandeered the conversation. Somehow—and you still weren't sure how—the topic devolved from protein powders (Kirishima's contribution) into a game of Truth or Dare (Kaminari's contribution, obviously).
"Y/N!" Kaminari pointed at you with his chopsticks, grinning like he'd been waiting for this moment his entire life. "Truth or dare?"
You didn't even hesitate. "Dare."
Kaminari's grin widened into something dangerous. "What's your type? And be honest."
"That's truth, not dare, you idiot," Bakugo grumbled from beside you, not looking up from his food.
"Eh, close enough!" Kaminari waved him off, eyes fixed on you.
You tilted your head, considering. You didn't even hesitate that long—there was no point in lying, and besides, you'd never been good at it anyway. Lying required caring what people thought, and you'd long since stopped worrying about that.
"Hmm... I don't know, I guess someone like Bakugo?" The words came out casually, like you were describing your favorite flavor of ice cream or the weather outside. "Strong, ambitious, big-brained, honest, and—" you glanced at him briefly, just a flicker, "—super good looking."
The table went silent.
Then absolute chaos erupted.
"Oh my god, and here I thought you liked soft guys!" Mina's voice hit an octave you didn't know she could reach.
"I thought she had that thing for the idol from the agency presentation last month—" Kaminari started.
"Bakugo is quite handsome when he doesn't talk, I must say," Sero added, stroking his chin thoughtfully like he was making a scientific observation.
Kirishima just kept whipping his head between you and Bakugo, eyes wide, mouth opening and closing without sound.
Through all of it, you watched Bakugo.
His ears went red first—always the tell. Then the flush spread to his neck. Then his entire face was painted in a shade of crimson that would make a fire hydrant jealous. You could see his fingers fiddling with his chopsticks, rotating them between his thumb and forefinger in a nervous rhythm he'd never admit to.
He clicked his tongue. Jaw tightened. Looked away and crossed his arms so fast it was almost a defensive flinch.
"Ha!" The laugh was sharp, forced, too loud. "Well that's damn obvious. You're the only one here with impeccable taste. I'm gonna be the number one hero after all."
He said it arrogantly, chin lifting, voice dripping with his usual confidence. But his face was currently the color of a fire extinguisher, and he was meticulously, deliberately avoiding your eyes.
"So!" Kirishima cleared his throat so loudly it echoed off the cafeteria walls. His face was almost as red as Bakugo's now. "My turn—"
"Oh no you don't!" Mina cut him off, slamming her palms on the table. "We are NOT moving on from that. Y/N, explain yourself. Right now. Full presentation. PowerPoint optional but encouraged."
"There's nothing to explain," you said mildly, taking a bite of rice. "He asked. I answered."
"You just—in front of him—while he's RIGHT THERE—" Mina gestured wildly at Bakugo, who was suddenly very interested in dissecting his fish with surgical precision.
"He's always right there." you pointed out.
Bakugo's chopsticks paused mid-motion. Just for a second. So brief you almost missed it.
Then he muttered something unintelligible and went back to eating.
The bell rang eventually, as bells do, dragging you reluctantly from the warm chaos of lunch. You gathered your tray, falling into step beside Mina as the boys—for some reason involving a bet you'd only caught half of about who could get to class fastest—sprinted ahead, Kaminari's war cry echoing off the walls as they disappeared around a corner.
You didn't miss the way Bakugo glanced back before he ran. Just once. Quick. Like he wasn't doing it at all.
The moment they were gone, Mina latched onto your arm like a vice, her voice dropping to a dramatic whisper-yell. "What the HECK was that?!"
"What was what?" You played dumb, because you were an excellent actor, actually.
"That!" She shook your arm for emphasis. "The hair thing! The 'someone like Bakugo' thing! The way he turned into a human tomato! Do you have a crush on Bakugo?!"
"Oh my god, Mina, that's ridiculous." You waved her off, aiming for casual and hopefully landing somewhere in its vicinity. "We're just friends. Besides, I have bigger things to worry about."
Mina squinted at you, clearly not buying a single word. "Oh really? Like what?"
You wiggled your eyebrows, grateful for the perfect escape route. "Like what movie you and I are watching tonight."
Her entire face lit up, the interrogation momentarily forgotten. "OMG, there's this horror movie I've been dying to watch!" She was already pulling out her phone, scrolling through something with intense focus. "It's about this haunted doll, but like, not a creepy porcelain one—wait, no, all dolls are creepy—but this one is like, aggressively creepy. The trailer alone made Kaminari scream."
You laughed, the sound easy and real. "Sounds perfect. Your room or mine?"
"Yours. I have the good snacks, so I'llbring those bad boys over. Ashido Midnight Movie Marathon is a GO!" She bumped her shoulder against yours. "Get ready to hold my hand."
"Pretty sure you'll be holding mine."
"Shh, same thing."
You walked the rest of the way in comfortable silence, Mina still scrolling through facts about the movie, occasionally gasping and telling you facts about the cast and movie. You let her talk, let her excitement wash over you, her energy infectious.
When you reached the classroom, the boys were already at their desks, slightly breathless. Kaminari was claiming victory. Kirishima was graciously accepting second place. Sero was pointing out that technically, he'd gotten there first because Kaminari had tripped and slid the last few feet on his knees.
You made your way to your seat—completely opposite from Bakugo, a backseat near the window.
'Do you like Bakugo?'
The thought slid into your brain uninvited as you pulled out your notebook.
There's no way. He's just a really good friend. Sure, your heart does flips every time he grins at you—that rare, genuine smile he only gives when he's actually pleased about something, the one that transforms his whole face from intimidating to something almost soft. And yeah, maybe you notice the way his eyes crinkle when he's laughing at children falling. And maybe you've memorized the specific way he says your name when he's annoyed, when he's worried and when he's actually amused.
But that's normal friend stuff, right?
Even if I did like him, isn't everyone a little bit in love with their best friend?
'Focus!' You shook your head slightly, a tiny movement meant to rattle the thoughts loose.
'Don't let him distract you with his manly wiles and seductions. Education over everything else. Education over everything else. Education over—'
Your eyes betrayed you.
They slid, traitorous and uncontrollable, to where Bakugo sat three rows ahead and to the left. His uniform sleeves were rolled up to his elbows—when had that happened?—showing off forearms that had absolutely no business being that distracting during calculus. The way the muscles shifted when he wrote. The—
'SHUT UP!' you mentally screamed at yourself. 'This is what he wants. He wants you to focus only on him. He wants you to let your guard down so that he wins. It's all part of his master plan to—'
'Wait.'
You blinked.
'Maybe he's the one with a crush on ME.'
The thought landed like a grenade in your chest.
No. No, that's—that's ridiculous. He's Katsuki Bakugo. He doesn't have crushes. He has explosions and protein and extremely strong opinions about curry and excellentgrades. He doesn't do feelings. He doesn't—
'Stop. Stop! SHUT UP!'
Over the next couple of weeks, something shifted.
You and Bakugo fought and competed a lot more than usual. Which was really saying something, because you'd always been competitive with each other. But this was different. There was an edge to it now, something electric and frustrating that you couldn't quite name.
"Oh my god, Bakugo, this is a LIBRARY—stop breathing so loud!" you shout-whispered across the table during a study session, earning a sharp glare from a third-year two tables over.
"I'm breathing normally, you're just—"
"Abnormally aware of your respiratory patterns? Yeah, maybe!" You weren't even sure what you were arguing about anymore. Something about the way he turned pages too aggressively. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except winning.
He'd leaned closer across the table, eyes narrowed. "You're being ridiculous."
"I'm being ridiculous? You're the one who—"
"Shut up."
"You shut up."
"Both of you SHUT UP," the third-year hissed, and you both sank back into your chairs, glaring at each other over your textbooks.
The next morning, he walked past you in the common room and paused. Sniffed. Made a face like he'd smelled something offensive.
"Are you trying to kill us all? Did you spray the entire bottle of perfume this morning?"
You looked up from your cereal, offended. "It's ONE spray! Maybe your nose is just overly sensitive!"
"Or maybe you need to learn what 'subtle' means!" He dropped onto the couch across from you, but his eyes kept flicking back in your direction. "It's distracting."
"Good," you said, because you had no idea what else to say.
___
You found yourselves meeting eyes across the classroom and it turned into an impromptu staring contest, both of you refusing to lose. Aizawa's voice droned on about hero law while you and Bakugo waged a silent war, neither blinking, neither backing down.
You lost when Kaminari sneezed.
Bakugo's smirk was insufferable for the rest of the period.
You competed over everything. Who woke up earlier (him, by six minutes, the smug bastard—he'd taken to texting you "good morning" at 5:47 just to prove it). Who made the better side dish for dinner (you, surprisingly, though he'd never admit it, even as he went back for thirds). Who could do the dishes faster (tie, but only because you splashed him with water and he retaliated with a perfectly aimed soap bubble to your face, and then you were both laughing and shoving and—)
Your friends were going insane.
The dorm had never been cleaner—you two kept one-upping each other on chores, leaving the common room spotless and the kitchen organized by color and the bathroom actually sanitized for once. Kirishima mentioned once that it was nice, genuinely nice, and Kaminari followed up with, "Yeah, but at what cost? My ears can't take much more of their arguing."
Because that was the thing: despite all the fighting, you both still gravitated to each other constantly. You argued in close proximity, getting in each other's faces, neither willing to back down or back away.
Everyone in your friend group could see it. Why couldn't you?
"He's gonna explode," Kaminari announced one evening, flopping dramatically onto the common room couch. "Like, actually. Genuinely. His quirk is gonna go off and it's gonna be our fault for not intervening."
"Intervene how?" Sero didn't look up from his phone. "They're both adults. They can figure out their own feelings."
"Can they, though?" Mina was perched on the arm of the couch, legs swinging. "Can they really? Because from where I'm sitting, they're both being insufferably dense."
Kirishima looked up from his protein shake, brow furrowed. "Wait, what are we talking about?"
"Bakugo and Y/N," Mina said, like it was obvious.
"Oh!" Kirishima's face lit up. "Yeah, they're gonna get married someday. It's gonna be so manly."
Kaminari stared at him. "That's... not the intervention I was picturing, but okay."
"I'm just saying what we're all thinking man."
Mina sighed, sinking lower on the couch. "The question is, what do we do about it?"
"Nothing," Sero said calmly. "We do nothing. We watch. We wait. We let nature take its course."
"And if nature takes too long?"
Sero finally looked up, a small smile on his face. "Then we nudge. But only a little. Gotta make it look accidental."
Across the room, you and Bakugo walked through the door at the same time, arguing about something trivial and gravitating toward the same spot on the couch without even seeming to notice.
You sat down. He sat down. Your knees touched. Neither of you moved. Both of you pretending not to notice.
Mina caught Sero's eye and mouthed, "Nature is taking forever."
Sero just shrugged and went back to his phone.
That night, Mina knocked on your door.
"Oh hey, Mina! What's up? Here for our movie?" You were already in your pajamas, face washed, ready to veg out and watch something scary.
She ignored the question entirely, making a beeline for your bed and flopping down dramatically, face-first into your pillows. Her legs dangled off the edge.
"You like him!" Her voice was muffled by the pillow. She turned her head just enough to look at you, one eye visible, accusatory. "ADMIT ITTTT!"
You felt your face heat. "I do NOT like him! He's just a friend!"
"Notice how I didn't say names but you knew exactly who I was talking about." She wiggled her eyebrows at you, somehow managing it even while half-smushed into your bedding.
You opened your mouth. Closed it. Sat down on the bed next to her, suddenly feeling very aware of the Bakugo-shaped hole in your defense.
"...Even if I did," you said slowly, picking at a loose thread on your pajama pants, "so what? I don't want to ruin our friendship. He probably doesn't even like me back."
Mina shot up so fast she nearly gave you whiplash. "LIAR!" She grabbed your shoulders, eyes blazing with the intensity of a woman on a mission. "I know he likes you back. You guys would make a mega power couple! You with your passionate passion and charm, him with..." She paused, searching for words. "...whatever good traits you see in him."
You snorted.
"I'm serious!" She shook you gently. "I can picture it already. You'd be unstoppable. The arguing would just be, like, foreplay. You'd dominate the hero rankings and couple's counseling."
You laughed despite yourself, the tension in your chest loosening just a little.
Somehow—and you were still not entirely sure how this happened—Mina spent the next two hours convincing you to confess your feelings. She deployed every argument in her arsenal: what's the worst that could happen ("uh, everything?" was your counter-argument, which she shot down immediately), "you miss 100% of the shots you don't take" (thanks, Mina, very inspiring, did you get that off a poster??), and, most convincingly of all:
"I can't watch you two dance around this anymore, I'm literally aging in dog years from the stress." She clutched her chest dramatically. "My heart can't take it. I'm developing wrinkles. Wrinkles, Y/N. Do you want that on your conscience?"
"You're seventeen."
"Seventeen going on seventy because of you two!"
By the time she left—after approximately forty-seven more minutes of reasoning, pleading, and one very aggressive PowerPoint she'd apparently prepared in advance on her phone—you'd somehow been talked into it.
You were going to tell him.
You stared at your ceiling for a long time after she left, heart hammering against your ribs.
You're going to tell him.
The thought was terrifying. Exhilarating. Absolutely, completely insane.
You rolled over and screamed into your pillow.
The next morning, you woke up with approximately three hours of sleep and a plan.
Step one: Find Bakugo.
Step two: Don't throw up.
Step three: Say the words. Actual words. Coherent words, ideally.
Step four: Deal with consequences (positive or negative) with dignity.
You could do this. You could do this.
You walked into the common room and immediately locked eyes with him. He was on the couch, hair still messy from sleep, wearing that black tank top that made your brain short-circuit. He was drinking coffee, his features soft. He was really pretty when he wasn't scrunching his face up.
Your stomach flipped.
He looked up. Frowned.
"You look like crap," he said. "Did you sleep at all?"
Step two failing already.
"Couldn't sleep," you managed. "Too much on my mind."
Something flickered in his expression. Concern? Curiosity? It was gone before you could name it.
"Yeah? What kind of stuff?"
You opened your mouth. Closed it. Say the words. Say the actual words.
"Don't really wanna talk about it right now."
He stared at you for a long moment. Then, slowly, nodded. "Fine. But you're telling me later. You look too zombie to argue with right now."
It was almost gentle. Almost.
You nodded, grabbed a protein bar, and fled before you could lose your nerve completely.
After training that day, you found yourself sitting on a bench overlookingthe school grounds, still catching your breath. The sun was starting to set, painting everything in shades of orange and gold, and you were seriously reconsidering this whole confession thing because what if—what if he laughed? What if he got weird? What if he never looked at you the same way again? What if—
Something cold pressed against your cheek.
You flinched, jerking away, and looked up to find Bakugo standing there, holding a canned drink against your face. He wasn't looking at you—his eyes were fixed on orange pink horizon.
"You looked hot," he muttered.
Your brain short-circuited. Every coherent thought evacuated your skull at once. "W-what?!"
"From training, dumbass." His ears were going pink. "You're overheated. Dehydration's a real thing. Didn't they teach you basic hero survival skills?" He shoved the drink at you—hard enough that you had to grab it or get hit in the face—and sat down beside you on the steps. Close enough that your shoulders almost touched.
You took the drink. Cracked it open. The cold liquid slid down your throat, but it did nothing to cool the heat blooming in your chest. The silence stretched between you, comfortable and terrifying at the same time, filled with the sounds of distant birds and your own racing heartbeat.
Now or never.
"I like you."
The words tumbled out before you could stop them—casual and sudden and very, very much out there now. No taking them back. No rewind button.
Bakugo didn't move. Didn't look at you. Just stared straight ahead at the empty training field, his profile sharp against the golden light.
"...Okay."
Okay?!
You turned to face him more fully, heart hammering. "I really, really... rea~lly like you."
The red started at his ears. You watched it spread down his neck in real-time, a slow crawl of color that reached his cheeks and kept going. His jaw clenched, working, as he continued to absolutely refuse to look at you.
"The hell are you telling me for?!" His voice came out rougher than usual—strained, almost. "Take that garbage to your grave!"
You couldn't help the smile that broke across your face. It was impossible not to smile, watching him fall apart like this, watching the cracks in his armor. "Go out with me."
"No."
That made you blink. "...No?"
"Hah? Never been told no before? Get your head in the game." He stood up abruptly, still not looking at you, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. "Wasn't your average in the 80s on the midterms? You have better things to think about. Priorities. Goals. Hero rankings. Actual important stuff."
And then he just... walked away. Stormed off, really, mumbling something under his breath that you couldn't quite make out—something about timing and distractions and 'why now' and focus and other fragments that didn't quite form a complete sentence.
You sat there for a moment, processing. The drink was cold in your hands. The sunset was still beautiful. Your heart was still racing.
He hadn't said no.
I mean, he'd said no. But he hadn't meant no. Not the way his ears turned red. Not the way he couldn't look at you. Not the way his voice cracked on the word "important."
You cupped your hands around your mouth and shouted after his retreating figure:
"BYE, BAKUGO! I'll see you later! Have a good day Bakugo!" You say before cackling.
He flipped you off over his shoulder without turning around. His ears, even from this distance, were still blazing red.
You have better things to think about.
Funny. You couldn't think about anything else but him in that moment.
───
It's 8:30 PM.
Bakugo was in his room, homework completed and packed away with military precision, room spotless, ready for bed because he kept a strict schedule and—
Tap. Tap. Tap.
He tried to ignore it. He was good at ignoring things. He'd ignored Deku for years. He could ignore whatever kept tapping at his window.
Tap. Tap. Tap-tap-tap.
His eye twitches.
He yanks open his balcony door, ready to explode at whatever bird or insect has a death wish—
And stopped.
You were standing in the courtyard below. A rose clenched between your teeth. You were down on one knee.
You waved up at him with a handful of pebbles.
He stared at you for a long moment. Blinked. Took in the rose, the knee, the absolutely unhinged grin on your face.
Then he closed the balcony door with a decisive click.
Another pebble hit the door. Harder this time.
He yanked it open again. "You're going to break my window!"
"Go out with me!" The rose was still in your mouth, wobbling as you spoke. You were grinning around it, eyes bright even in the dim courtyard lighting.
"Go to SLEEP!"
"Is that a no?"
"It's a GO TO SLEEP!"
"Okay!" You were already picking up another pebble. "Same time tomorrow?"
He slammed the balcony door hard enough that you're genuinely impressed it doesn't shatter.
From inside his room, muffled but still audible, came a string of creative swearing that lasted approximately forty-five seconds.
A few lights flicked on in neighboring windows. Kirishima's curtain twitched. You waved at him too.
He gave you a thumbs up.
You walked away, still grinning, rose still between your teeth like some kind of romantic comedy protagonist.
───
The next morning, you slipped a note onto his desk before class started.
Just a small piece of paper, folded once, placed carefully where he'd see it the moment he sat down. You were already in your seat—opposite side of the room, back row, innocent expression firmly in place—when he walked in.
He sat down. Noticed the note. Glanced around suspiciously, like it might be a trap.
Then he unfolded it.
'i like you' it read, in your chaotic, barely-legible handwriting. 'go out with me'
You watched his ears go pink from across the room. Watched him read it once. Twice. Three times. Watched his jaw tighten.
Then he stood up so fast his chair scraped against the floor.
He stormed over to your desk—stomped, really, like he was trying to intimidate the floor tiles—and slapped the note down in front of you hard enough to make your pencil jump.
"This sentence doesn't even have a PERIOD!" His voice was too loud for a classroom, but class hadn't started yet, so whatever. "And what the hell is this lowercase bullshit?! Have some standards! Did you even go to elementary school? Do you know what grammar is?!"
You bit back a smile, looking up at him through your lashes. He was flushed—really flushed, all the way down his neck—and his hands were sparking faintly.
"Is that a yes?"
"It's a GRAMMAR LESSON!" He jabbed a finger at the note. "Pay attention in class for once! Learn what a capital letter is! Respect the rules of language!"
You nodded seriously, reaching for the note. "Okay. I'll take notes."
But before you could pick it up, Bakugo shoved it into his pocket and immediately stormed off.
You dragged yourself to the gym at 5:27 AM, positioned yourself casually against the wall like you just happened to be there, and waited. Your hair was a mess. Your eyes were barely open. You'd forgotten to brush your teeth. But you were here, dammit, and that counted for something.
You see the angry blonde joghing in the distance
Bakugo stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you.
"Oh, Bakugo!" You went for 'pleasantly surprised' but you were pretty sure you just looked half-dead. "Fancy seeing you here."
His eyes narrowed, suspicion written all over his face. "What are you doing here. You hate mornings."
"Just wanted to... look around." You gestured vaguely at the gym equipment, as if that explained anything.
"There's nothing to see here. Go back to bed."
"There's you." You shot him what you hoped was a winning smile, but was probably more of a sleepy grimace.
His face went red. Instantly. Spectacularly. He walked faster toward the equipment, like he could outrun the situation.
You matched his pace easily, falling into step beside him. "Go out with me."
"You're incredibly annoying."
"I know."
"This is a terrible idea."
"Probably."
He stopped walking. Turned to look at you—really look at you—for a long moment. The gym was quiet around you, nothing but the hum of lights and your own pounding heart. You could see him thinking, jaw working like he was chewing on words he didn't want to say.
"Fine."
Then he started walking again.
You almost tripped over your own feet. "Fine as in...?"
"Fine as in—" He ground his teeth together, sparks popping at his palms. "Don't make me repeat myself."
"Fine as in yes?"
"I SAID DON'T MAKE ME REPEAT MYSELF!"
"You have to actually say it."
"You're the WORST—"
"Bakugo~" You drew out his name in a way you knew drove him crazy, all sing-song and teasing.
"...Yes." The word came out strangled, ripped from somewhere deep in his chest. "Fine. Yes. Are you happy? Disgusting. There. I said it."
You punched him in the shoulder—hard enough that he actually staggered a step, his hand coming up to rub the spot with a scowl.
"You're not just agreeing because I'm persistent, right?" The words came out quieter now, more vulnerable than you intended. "You like me too, right?"
He stared at you like you'd grown a second head. Then he dragged both hands down his face, groaning like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.
"...you're such an idiot," he muttered through his fingers. "So stupid. But I guess that's what I'm into." He dropped his hands, finally meeting your eyes. His face was red—really red, all the way to his hairline—but he held your gaze. "I like you. Okay? Happy now? I like your stupid face and your stupid persistence and the way you never back down. There. That's what you wanted, right?"
You were grinning so wide your face hurt. You were delighted.
"Cool. We're going somewhere good this weekend. I'm choosing."
"Like hell you are."
"I just asked you out three times and went down on one knee. I deserveto choose."
He glared at you. You raised your eyebrows expectantly.
"...Fine."
You were definitely still grinning like an idiot. "Did you even do the math homework we got yesterday?"
He blinked. "Heh? What homework?"
He flicked your forehead—not hard, but enough to make you blink.
"Idiot." The word was almost soft this time. "If we're going to do this, you better do a lot better than you do now." But there was something almost fond in his scowl, something warm underneath the usual bite. "You've got it in you. You just need to apply yourself. Now get the hell outta my way, I'm gonna go train."
He shoved your head aside—gently, for him—and walked to one of the machines.
You stood there for a second, face warm, heart doing acrobatics in your chest.
Then you sprinted back to the dorms to finish that math homework before class.
You burst through the common room door at 6:15, breathless and glowing.
Mina was on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, clearly having camped out waiting for you. She took one look at your face and screamed.
"HE SAID YES?!"
"HE SAID YES!"
She launched herself at you so hard you both fell onto the floor.
"HE SAID YES!" Mina shrieked again, shaking you by the shoulders.
"Wait, for real?!" Kirishima's face split into the biggest grin you'd ever seen. "BAKUGO?! BAKUGO SAID YES?!"
"HE SAID YES AND THEN HE TOLD ME TO DO MY MATH HOMEWORK!"
Kaminari stared. "That's... actually really sweet? In a Bakugo way?"
"IT'S SO SWEET!" Mina was crying. Actual tears. "MY CHILDREN ARE GROWING UP!"
Sero lowered his phone, a rare genuine smile on his face. "Told you. One week. Someone owes me moneh now."
You laughed, surrounded by your friends, still warm, still buzzing, still unable to wipe the grin off your face.
And then you woke up. What a dream! Im kidding, don't stone me😂