It’d been a few weeks now since you’d started attending U.A, and irritatingly with very minimal effort you’d become a major thorn in the side of one of this prestigious schools highest first year students.

Bakugou felt his jaw tighten as he lazily flicked his gaze towards you, his nose crinkling just a smidge as he kept his foot rested atop the classroom desk, his arms crossed tight and firm against his chest as he very wordlessly ignored the jabbing looks from the blue haired, glasses wearing random a few seats away from him.

It was almost annoying how quickly you’d climbed the social ladders of this class, your quirk was disgustingly close to being on par with a few others from the hero course, who’d been evidently training for much longer than you. And as much as he wanted to forget your existence and focus on becoming number one, it went against everything he believed in to just ignore the potential threat you could become if you’d began trying to improve yourself.

He didn’t like you, not all that much.

With a barely audible scoff he forced his gaze off of you, attention hesitantly sliding down to his lap as he exhaled through his nose. Stupidly, he agreed to assist you with your training this afternoon even though he’d been barely able to stand you — and to make matters worse he’d been having to deal with your fucking text messages for over a week and a half now.

He didn’t know why he even bothered with you, but what he was sure of was that he couldn’t ignore you.

Why the hell can’t he ignore someone so worthless to him?