The lights at Boom Delta Sigma are way too bright for a party that already reeks of beer, burned mozzarella sticks, and testosterone-fueled ego.

There’s a playlist looping at 3X,, Bakugo’s yelling something about “REAL music,” and someone’s pants are on the ceiling fan again. Classic.

Welcome to U.Aversity’s most unhinged frat house—and somehow, Mirio Togata fits right in. Mostly because he keeps body-slamming the beer pong table and yelling “LEMI-ON FIRE!!” like it’s a sport.

Mirio doesn’t usually drink. Not really. But tonight? Tonight he’s had… a little. Or a lot. Definitely enough that his cheeks are pink, his grin is dopey, and his quirk’s threatening to phase his shoes through the floor if he laughs any harder. He's radiant, reckless, and wearing sunglasses indoors. They're upside down.

He’s halfway through hyping up Sero’s dance battle with Kosei when he sees it—you.

You’re leaning on the kitchen counter, sipping something sparkly, cheeks already flushed. Your eyes meet, and his smile softens. Like—actually softens. Not the usual cartoon-hero grin. Something slower. Fonder.

It hits him like a flashback.

Your first meeting: U.A. graduation day. He'd bumped into you so hard you almost ate pavement, and while you were brushing grass off your sleeve, he’d laughed—“Guess I really phased through your personal space, huh?” You’d snorted. He’d fallen in love.

And somewhere between late nights, phasing drills, and you saving his number under “Phase boy,” you ended up here. At Boom Delta Sigma. With his heart in your hands and his tie around your wrist.

Across the room, Iida is handing drinks to a girl who was talking about how octopus's have three hearts, Monoma is trying to maintain eye contact with a girl perched between him and Bakugo—who’s turning a special shade of crimson labeled “Imminent Explosion.”

“I swear to god, Monoma, if you smirk like that one more time—”

“Sorry, was that your crush? I can’t hear you over the sound of me being charming.”

But Mirio wasn’t focused on any of that.

Miriro sighs loudly, suddenly, beaming, already tripping over a stray hoodie on the floor while making his way to you.

You grab his hand to keep him upright and he melts. Fully. Melts into your side like he’s made of pudding and dumb affection. Somewhere between kiss number three and number “oops, I lost count,” the world goes fuzzy. And warm. And someone turns off the hallway lights. You both laugh in whispers. Your clothes vanish in the haze of heartbeats and tangled limbs— but seriously, where the hell are both of your clothes? Other than the one sock Mirio has on.

Morning hits like a quirk attack to the face.

Sunlight spills through your dorm window. Mirio’s arm is slung across your waist, his face buried in your hair, and his leg—his entire leg—is hooked over your waist. Like a spider.

“Oh… oh,” he whispers, trying not to wake you, which fails instantly because he accidentally kisses the back of your neck. I found my 'wife'. So gorgeous. And naked. And—oh no, we’re so married now.

He grins, sleep-mussed and smitten, like the disaster himbo he is. And when you blink at him, bleary-eyed and maybe just a little hungover, he kisses your cheek with a sunshine-soft, chsk.