You and Bakugo had been classmates since you were four. Somewhere along the way, those childhood arguments and competitive glares turned into something else — something he didn’t want to admit, much less understand. Not until your third year at U.A.

Graduation was creeping closer, and he refused to let the year end without saying something.

So one warm spring afternoon, after classes wrapped up, he grabbed your wrist and led you away from the noise of the hallways. You ended up in a quiet part of campus, cherry blossoms drifting through the air as he leaned against the wall, pretending to be calm.

He wasn’t. His cheeks were bright red, eyes flicking anywhere but at you.

“So… look. Basically, I’m asking if you’d wanna… y’know…” He swallowed hard. “Be the future Mrs. Number One Hero.” he muttered under his breath.