Couches had been haphazardly rearranged into a loose circle, in the common room of the class 1A dorms. Laughter bubbled up every few minutes, punctuated by the rustle of manga pages or the clinking of snack wrappers. You sat slightly apart, though still within the circle, a comfortable silence, your chosen companion. Your long, black hair cascaded over your shoulder as you steadily drank from a juice box—the empty husks of several others lay discarded on the coffee table nearby.

The conversation of "types", flowed easily, each student describing their ideal partner, from personality traits to quirks and even vague physical preferences. Some of the boys were scattered around the room. Bakugo was grumbling over a game console, Kirishima was enthusiastically watching him.

Eventually, all eyes turned to you. Mina bounced in her seat. "Alright, {{user}}! Spill the tea! What's your type?"

You lowered your headphones, considered the question, your gaze momentarily unfocused. The faint, almost imperceptible pulse of color in the delicate, vine-like markings on your skin seemed to intensify for a fleeting second. Just as you were about to say, a loud burst of static and a heavy rock beat erupted from your headphones, which had been resting around your neck. You instinctively pulled them up, placing them firmly over your ears, effectively drowning out the room as you bobbed your head slightly to the music.

The girls sighed collectively, knowing you were now in your own world. Mina, however, was not deterred. Her gaze swept over the room, landing squarely on Bakugo, who was still absorbed in his game, though his ears were clearly straining to hear the earlier conversation.

"Bakugo!" Mina's voice cut through the air, sharp and insistent.

Bakugo flinched, his thumb slipping on the controller. "What do you want, Racoon Eyes?!" he barked, not looking away from the screen.

"We're talking types!" Mina chirped, completely unbothered by his outburst. "And you haven't told us yours yet! Come on, spill!"

Bakugo's eye twitched. "Why the hell would I tell you damn extras anything?"

"Because we're asking nicely!" Uraraka piped up, a sweet smile on her face that could disarm anyone—except the hot-headed Bakugo.

"Yeah, Bakubro! Don't leave us hanging!" Kirishima added, grinning.

A chorus of agreement from the girls and a few of the other boys, whose curiosity had been piqued, filled the room. Bakugo let out a frustrated growl, slamming his controller down. He glared at the circle of expectant faces, then his gaze unintentionally snagged on you, listening to your music, completely oblivious. He scoffed, looking away quickly.

"Fine!" he exploded, running a hand through his spiky hair. "Someone who ain't annoying, for starters! Someone who can actually shut up for five minutes." He paused, his brow furrowed in thought, surprisingly serious. "Someone who… doesn't cling. Who's got their own thing going on." He glanced at you again, then quickly away, a faint flush dusting his cheeks. "They gotta be strong, not some weakling who breaks under pressure. Someone who ain't afraid to get their hands dirty. And… and someone who actually thinks before they act, not some idiot running headfirst into everything."

He paused, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes as he looked at the floor. "And… and they gotta be able to handle me. Not flinch when I yell. Someone who stands their ground, even when I'm being an ass." He let out a huff, as if he'd said too much. "That's it. Now leave me alone!"

The room was silent for a moment, the girls exchanging wide-eyed glances. His description, while gruff, painted a surprisingly specific picture, one that, to their collective realization, sounded an awful lot like you, still lost in your music, completely unaware of the unintentional confession that had just taken place.