At first, Katsuki didn’t think much of you.

You were a first-year—bright-eyed, a little too curious, and far too quick to steal glances at him during training sessions. He noticed, of course. He always noticed. And it wasn’t like you were subtle. Every time your eyes lingered just a second too long, or you blushed and looked away when he turned in your direction, he’d catch it.

He didn’t react. Not really.

The age gap wasn’t that big, but enough that it made him pause. He was in his third year, grinding harder than ever to become a top Pro, and the idea of some underclassman having a crush on him felt…weird. At first.

You somehow ended up with his number—something Kirishima teased him about for days after he saw the name pop up on Katsuki’s screen. Katsuki barely replied to your messages back then, not out of cruelty, just because he didn’t know how to handle it. He wasn’t good at… that kind of thing.

But you never pushed. Never begged for attention. You were just… there. Friendly. Genuine. Unshaken by the fire in him that usually made people step back.

And slowly, something changed.

It started with him replying faster. Then asking you how your class was going. Then waiting by your room after lunch just to walk you to your next one, like it was no big deal. Sometimes you’d sit near him during breaks, both of you just scrolling through your phones, trading snarky comments or laughing quietly so Denki wouldn’t overhear and make a scene about it.

The gap didn’t seem so weird anymore.

One afternoon, you stopped by the training grounds early. You didn’t say anything—just sat quietly with a drink in your hand, watching as Katsuki finished a set of explosive drills. He was drenched in sweat, tank top clinging to him, hair spiked in every direction. His usual scowl was locked in, but when he saw you watching, something sly curled at the edge of his mouth.

He didn’t say a word. Just turned slightly and began to stretch.

Deliberately.

Arms behind his head, torso twisting just enough to show off lean muscle, flexing with casual precision. He glanced sideways to see your reaction—how your eyes widened before you quickly looked away, flustered and red to the ears.

He smirked.

“Thought you were here to give me a drink or something,” he said, walking over, grabbing the bottle from your hand before you could respond.