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Chapter 1: Sparks Fly (Literally)
"Oi! You call that a blast? My grandma could dodge that in her sleep!" Bakugo barked from across the training field, arms crossed, sweat dripping down his temple like he didn’t just throw a literal mini-explosion at the dummy two seconds ago.
You rolled your eyes so hard they almost popped out. "If your grandma’s anything like you, she probably explodes everything she touches out of pure rage."
He smirked. “Damn right she does.”
You gripped your hands into fists, focusing your quirk (whatever you imagine it is—telekinesis? elemental? mood-based glitter sparkles? you slay either way) and hurled a glowing orb of energy right past his ear. Close enough to make his hair puff a little.
Chapter 2: Study Hall Shenanigans
You knew volunteering for late-night study hall patrol with Bakugo was a bad idea.
But did you do it anyway? Absolutely.
Now here you were, sitting in the cold, echoey UA library with textbooks stacked higher than your GPA, Bakugo next to you, furiously scribbling something in his notes like the paper owed him money.
“I swear if you snap that pencil in half again, I’m gonna scream,” you muttered.
He glared at you, that classic Bakugo face™️ that was 90% annoyance and 10% ‘I’m secretly kinda into you but will die before admitting it.’
“What do you want me to do? Write with my blood?!”
You snorted. “Knowing you, you’d probably explode the answers onto the page.”
He clicked his tongue, but a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. That was the Bakugo way—insult first, flirt second (except he didn’t know he was flirting).
“I’m not the one who needs help,” he said smugly, leaning back in his chair.
“Please,” you scoffed. “You literally asked me what ‘mitochondria’ was last week.”
“I knew it was the powerhouse of the cell! I just wanted to see if you knew.”
“Sure, Captain Caps Lock.”
Silence fell for a minute, just the scratch of pens and the hum of low lighting. It was weirdly… peaceful. Until you felt something brush against your hand.
Bakugo’s hand was next to yours. And it wasn’t moving away.
You peeked over. He was still scribbling like nothing happened—but you could see the pink in his ears. Bright. Embarrassed. Cute.
You gently nudged your hand against his. Just to test the waters.
In fact, he muttered, so low you almost didn’t catch it:
“…your hand’s warm.”
He growled under his breath. “Nothing. Forget it.”
You leaned in, teasing. “Did big bad Bakugo just say something soft?”
“SHUT UP BEFORE I CHANGE MY MIND!”
But he didn’t move his hand.
Chapter 3: Rainy Day Confessions
It had been a loooong day. Training drills, math class (bleh), and Bakugo yelling at a vending machine because it stole his yen. Classic.
The sky had been teasing rain all afternoon, and just as you stepped out of the UA building—boom, the heavens opened up like a busted fire hydrant. You were about to make a mad dash for the train station when you heard it:
You turned, already grinning. “You always greet people like that or am I just special?”
Bakugo stood under a tiny bus stop overhang, already holding an umbrella. Well, more like clutching it like it betrayed him.
He grunted and held it out toward you. “Get under here before you get soaked.”
You raised an eyebrow. “So this is what concern looks like on you?”
He huffed, cheeks slightly pink. “I ain’t about to let you catch a cold and slack off in training. That’s all.”
You stepped under the umbrella, and it was way too small. Your shoulder brushed his. Your hands were inches apart. You could feel the heat radiating off him like his quirk had emotions too.
Neither of you spoke for a moment. Just the sound of rain hitting pavement, the distant rumble of thunder, and your heart doing Olympic-level gymnastics.
Then he mumbled it—so soft, you almost thought the rain whispered it:
“…I meant what I said yesterday.”
He clenched his jaw. “About your hand. And about—about you. You make me not wanna explode stuff. Most of the time.”
You turned to him, slowly. “Bakugo… are you saying you like me?”
He groaned. “Don’t make me say it twice, I’ll literally combust.”
You smirked, heart flipping. “Say it anyway.”
He looked at you, golden eyes fierce and nervous and raw.
“I like you, okay? And it’s stupid. And annoying. But it’s you. So I guess I’m screwed.”
You grinned, leaning in just a little. “We’re both screwed then.”
And just like that, he tilted the umbrella so it shielded only you—because of course he’d rather get drenched than let you get a single drop on you.
“Dumbass,” he muttered again. But it sounded like a love song this time.
Chapter 4: First Date Mayhem
“So,” you said, standing outside the tiny dessert café Bakugo told you to meet him at. “Didn’t think Explosions R Us would pick a place this cute.”
Bakugo was already red. “Tch. Shut up. They got good snacks.”
You smirked. “You mean you looked this up online and panicked when you saw people went here on first dates, huh?”
He turned so red he looked like a fire hydrant.
“I’LL LEAVE RIGHT NOW.”
You grabbed his sleeve before he could blow himself into orbit. “Kacchan. I’m teasing. Let’s go.”
The place was actually really nice—soft lighting, the smell of sugar and butter in the air, and lo-fi playing in the background. The two of you sat across from each other, knees bumping under the table.
“Order whatever you want,” he muttered, trying to act cool. “I’ve got it.”
“Ohhh, rich boy Bakugo,” you teased. “Gonna buy my love with ice cream and pastries?”
“NO,” he snapped, “I’m buying your love with EXPLOSIONS—wait—CRAP—I MEAN—”
He slammed his forehead on the table. “Just… order.”
You giggled and did exactly that. He got something spicy (duh), and you got a towering dessert with whipped cream and sprinkles. When it arrived, you took the spoon and held it out to him.
He froze. Like a deer in headlights.
“I’m not feeding you,” he said.
“I didn’t ask you to. I said ‘wanna try.’ I’m not about to do the airplane noises.”
He hesitated. Then, like it took every ounce of bravery in his body, he leaned in, took a bite off the spoon—and instantly went wide-eyed.
“I know.” You winked. “You’ve got great taste. You picked me, after all.”
He choked on the whipped cream. “I didn’t— TCH—”
Later, you were walking back together in the streetlights, the night calm and clear. You looked up at the stars, feeling brave. Maybe reckless.
“You know, for a guy who yells all the time, you’re actually kinda sweet.”
Bakugo looked at you sideways, expression unreadable. “Yeah?”
You nodded. “Like… I dunno. Molten lava. Dangerous, but kinda pretty when it’s not trying to kill me.”
He huffed out a laugh, soft and rare. “You’re weird.”
You grinned. “You like it.”
He looked at you. “What?”
“Nothing,” you whispered. Then leaned up and kissed his cheek.
A nearby streetlamp sparked and flickered violently.
You stepped back slowly, wide-eyed. “Was that—?”
Bakugo stood frozen like his soul had just left his body. “I DIDN’T MEAN TO— I PANICKED—YOU—YOU—”
You were howling with laughter as he covered his face, muttering death threats at the power grid.
