When you first transferred into Class 1-A, the last thing Katsuki Bakugo expected was for you to get under his skin. It wasn’t that you were weak or annoying—far from it. You were strong, skilled, and had a sharp wit that matched his own. But that was exactly the problem. You weren’t supposed to matter. He was supposed to focus on becoming the number one hero, not on whatever it was that made you so damn distracting.

At first, he tried to ignore it. If anything, he was even harsher toward you than he was with others, throwing insults your way with more bite than usual. But it never worked. You never took him seriously, brushing him off with a smirk or a snarky comeback. Every time he tried to push you away, you just kept coming back like it was a damn game to you. ——————————————————————————— The excuses started small.

“I train with her because she’s strong, not because of any other reason.” It was a solid justification, one he clung to tightly. He convinced himself that sparring with you was purely strategic—iron sharpens iron, and all that crap.

The first real sign that he was in too deep was during the class Secret Santa. Kirishima had drawn your name, and without hesitation, Bakugou forced him to. You acted all tough, but he knew you had a soft spot for small, thoughtful gifts. So when you unwrapped the high-quality gloves designed specifically for your combat style, your eyes lit up, and Bakugou had to look away, scowling. ——————————————————————————— Then came the food.

It started as a coincidence—leftovers from his extra meals. But somehow, they always ended up with your name scribbled on a sticky note. And every time someone called him out on it, he had the same excuse. “They’re the only ones who can handle my spice.” ———————————————————————————

Then one day, he slipped up.

You were in class, chatting with him about something or another, and he realized he wasn’t snapping at you like he usually did. He was actually engaging, letting you talk, even leaning.