Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first time Midoriya noticed the hollow weight of absence, it was in the classroom, when Bakugo didn’t come back from a group training session on time. The air smelled like scorched metal and ozone, and Deku’s fingers twitched around the strap of his backpack, almost compulsively. His chest tightened every time someone mentioned Bakugo’s name, though no one did—they seemed scared of even thinking it aloud, like the very words might summon Kacchan’s explosive temper.

Deku tried to focus on his notebook, the messy sketches of hero moves and calculated stats, but his eyes kept drifting to the empty chair beside him. The one that usually burned with an impatient energy, always daring him to keep up, to try harder, to stop staring at the ground like a coward. And yet, Deku couldn’t stop. He needed Bakugo there. Needed the chaos of his voice, the careless flick of his fingers, the way he somehow always made Deku feel… visible, even in silence.

It wasn’t just admiration. It had never been just admiration. Deku didn’t even want to define it yet—didn’t want to name it for fear that saying it aloud would make it real, and reality had a way of being cruel. He remembered the first time they sparred seriously in training. Deku had been cautious, hesitant, but Bakugo—Bakugo had attacked like he was trying to shred him into pieces, and Deku had almost feared the sheer power, the brilliance, the danger. But then, as the dust settled, Kacchan had handed him back his notebook, smirking with that infuriating half-smile, and Deku felt it—his heart hammering like it might burst. He’d never admit it aloud, but that moment had changed something in him.

Days stretched into weeks, and Deku found himself seeking the smallest glimpses: the curve of Bakugo’s jaw in profile, the sharp laugh that cut through the air, the way his hair caught the light when he moved. And when Bakugo ignored him, or shouted, or stormed past, Deku’s chest ached. It was like carrying a secret fire inside that refused to burn bright, a longing no notebook or calculation could ever satisfy.

He wrote in his notebook anyway. Page after page, strategy after strategy, moving averages and calculations, but always leaving a margin empty, a quiet space for Kacchan. Sometimes he wrote little notes—small reminders, questions, wishes that Bakugo would see them, even if he never would. He imagined what he would say if Bakugo finally paused long enough to notice. “I’ve been… thinking about you,” he might confess, and Bakugo would probably scowl and deny it, and Deku would want nothing more than to let him, to argue softly and fight with words the way they always fought with fists.

And then came the day in the gym, late, when everyone else had gone home. Deku had been practicing maneuvers alone, the echo of his movements bouncing off the walls, when a familiar presence slammed into him mid-spin. He stumbled, almost falling, but caught himself—and then froze, because there was Bakugo, chest heaving, sweat-drenched hair clinging to his forehead, eyes fierce but… softer than usual.

“You… you’ve been staring again,” Bakugo said, voice low, but there was a tremor Deku had never noticed before. The words weren’t harsh. They were… uncertain.

Deku’s throat tightened. “I—I just… I wanted to… check your form?” His voice faltered under the weight of everything he felt, the yearning he had kept secret for months.

Bakugo blinked, just once, then looked away, jaw clenching. “Stop lying,” he muttered, almost bitterly. But his hands, when they adjusted the weights, trembled slightly.

Deku’s heart lurched. “I’m not lying…”

Bakugo exhaled sharply, finally meeting his gaze, and for a moment, the world fell silent. The usual heat, the fire of Bakugo’s energy, was there, but layered under it was something fragile. Something that Deku had longed to see but never dared hope for: a crack.

“I…” Bakugo began, then shook his head violently. “Never mind. Forget it.”

But Deku didn’t. He couldn’t. And maybe Bakugo noticed. Because later, when Deku left the gym, there was a weight in his chest, a quiet ache, and a single note left on his notebook page:

“…don’t stop following me.”

And just like that, Deku’s heart soared and broke at the same time, because he had followed him all along, through every shout, every fight, every endless, aching day. And now he knew Bakugo—his Bakugo—was following him too, even if just a little.

That night, Deku stared at the ceiling, replaying every moment in agonizing detail. Every shout. Every smirk. Every touch of the notebook in Bakugo’s hand. And he yearned for more—more moments, more proximity, more certainty that maybe, just maybe, Bakugo could want him too, even in his messy, explosive way.

Chapter Text

The lounge of the UA dorms was quiet tonight, but the quiet was a fragile thing. The flickering light from the ceiling cast shadows across the plush couches, the faint hum of the heater filling in the empty spaces. Most of Class 1A had dispersed to their rooms early—Todoroki, as usual, buried in his studies, Kirishima sprawled on the floor scrolling endlessly on his phone, and Uraraka chatting softly with Ashido about some trivial homework assignment. The room smelled faintly of popcorn from Kaminari’s late-night snack attempts and a subtle trace of Midoriya’s own tea, carefully brewed and left cooling on the side table.

Deku shifted on the couch, trying to look casual as he opened the notebook on his lap. His fingers brushed the margin where Bakugo’s name was scribbled repeatedly, small notes of admiration, concern, and longing written in neat, obsessive detail. He tried to focus on calculations for hero tactics, but the sound of shuffling footsteps pulled him out of his thoughts.

There was Bakugo, as he always did at precisely 8:30, moving toward his room like a storm cloud retreating into his own fortress. He didn’t look up, didn’t greet anyone, didn’t notice the small group left in the lounge. But his movements always pulled Deku’s attention, magnetically, painfully, irresistibly. The way Bakugo’s bag slung over his shoulder bounced with each step, the way his posture straightened as he passed the couches, the faint scuff of his shoes against the floor—it was all so banal, and yet it made Deku’s chest ache like nothing else could.

“I—I should follow him,” Deku whispered to himself, biting the inside of his cheek. He tried to convince himself it was just curiosity, just habit—but his stomach knotted with the weight of desire he refused to name.

“Oi, nerd!” a voice shouted, dragging him back into the moment. Deku’s head jerked up to see Kaminari leaning back against the wall, smirking like a mischief god. “You’re staring again, aren’t you?”

“I’m not!” Deku denied, though the flush on his face betrayed him instantly.

Kaminari laughed, a high, teasing sound that carried through the lounge. “Sure you’re not. I’ve seen the way your eyes follow him, green and glowing like a damn beacon. He’s probably gonna notice one of these days, man.”

“I—I just…” Deku stumbled over his words, closing the notebook defensively. “I’m not staring!”

Bakugo had reached his door by then, sliding it open without a glance, and vanished inside, leaving the faint echo of a slammed door behind him. The room seemed colder somehow, emptier, and Deku’s heart sank.

“You okay there, nerd boy?” Todoroki’s calm voice cut through the tension. He was perched on the arm of the couch, arms crossed, eyes half-closed but observant as ever.

“I’m fine,” Deku said quickly, too quickly, and forced a smile. “Just… tired, I guess.”

Uraraka nudged him gently. “You always look tired when he’s around,” she said softly. There was a note of sympathy in her tone, and Deku’s chest tightened. “It’s… kind of obvious you like him.”

The words hit him like a lightning strike. Deku’s throat tightened, but he managed to nod faintly, keeping his voice low. “Yeah… maybe.”

“Then just tell him,” Ashido chirped, bouncing in her seat. “Seriously, you guys are so obvious, it’s pathetic. He probably already knows.”

Kirishima groaned, flopping onto his back with his phone dangling over his face. “And if he doesn’t, I guarantee he’s about to blow up at someone soon anyway. Kacchan’s basically like a volcano waiting to explode—he’ll notice eventually.”

Deku’s gaze drifted back to Bakugo’s closed door. The faint outline of shadows beneath it reminded him of the walls Bakugo had built, walls he had spent months trying to scale without permission. And still, he yearned. Always.

He didn’t notice the lounge door opening quietly until Aoyama’s polished shoes clicked against the floor, and he leaned in with a dramatic flourish. “Bonsoir, classmates! Am I interrupting…?” His usual self-absorbed charm did nothing to hide the faint tension in his shoulders.

“You’re fine,” Todoroki muttered. Aoyama’s dramatic entrance barely elicited more than a shrug from anyone tonight, but Deku’s attention had drifted again—unreachable, fixed entirely on Bakugo’s room.

The lounge grew quieter. One by one, the remaining students began to trickle toward their own rooms, some casting glances at Deku as though sensing the storm brewing behind his green eyes. Midoriya didn’t move. He couldn’t. Not when Bakugo’s presence lingered so painfully close, even behind that closed door.

Minutes stretched. The hands of the clock inched toward 9:00. And then it happened. A sudden, muffled crash from inside Bakugo’s room.

“Oi—what the hell?” Kirishima’s voice boomed instinctively, and he was on his feet before anyone could stop him. Deku’s heart slammed in his chest.

But no one moved. Bakugo never liked being interrupted. Never liked anyone near his personal space. And yet… the muffled sound came again, almost desperate, like a challenge Deku couldn’t ignore.

With a deep breath, Deku rose. “I… I need to check on him,” he muttered, almost to himself. And before anyone could stop him, he crossed the room, each step heavier than the last, and rapped gently on Bakugo’s door.

Silence.

“Go away!” Bakugo’s voice snapped from within, sharp as a whip. “I said leave me alone!”

“I just… I want to make sure you’re okay,” Deku said, his voice trembling. “I’m not… I’m not trying to—”

“You don’t get it, Deku!” Bakugo cut him off, voice cracking slightly. “I don’t want anyone worrying about me! Not you, not anyone! Just—just leave!”

The words hit Deku like a punch to the stomach. His knees threatened to buckle. But he stayed, heart hammering, fists clenching at his sides. “I can’t,” he whispered. “I… I just… I care about you.”

There was a long silence. Deku thought he might have overstepped, that Bakugo would slam the door in his face, maybe even yell harder. But then the sound came—the softest creak as Bakugo opened the door just a fraction. His eyes, normally sharp and fiery, were dim, weary, and impossibly fragile.

“I… I don’t want anyone seeing me like this,” Bakugo muttered, and there was a hitch in his voice, the kind of vulnerability he never let anyone see.

“You don’t have to hide from me,” Deku said, stepping closer carefully, heart in his throat. “I just… I want to be here. With you.”

Bakugo’s hands shook slightly as he turned away, leaning against the frame of his door. “You… don’t understand,” he said quietly.

“I do,” Deku whispered. “I understand more than anyone. And I’ll wait for as long as it takes. I don’t… I don’t care about the walls. I just want you.”

Bakugo’s lips pressed into a thin line. There was a long, tense moment where nothing moved but the shifting shadows of the room, and then—slowly, almost imperceptibly—he exhaled. “You’re… insane, you know that?” he muttered, voice barely audible.

“Yeah,” Deku said, and a small, nervous laugh escaped him. “Maybe. But… I’m not leaving.”

The walls of Bakugo’s fortress didn’t crumble all at once. Not tonight. But for the first time, Deku saw a crack. A small, trembling fissure where Bakugo’s anger and pride faltered just enough for longing, for trust, for… connection.

“Stay here a little,” Bakugo said finally, his voice low, almost a whisper. “Just… don’t say anything.”

Deku nodded immediately, sitting on the edge of the couch as Bakugo slumped into his room, shutting the door almost silently behind him. The soft click of the lock wasn’t comforting; it was terrifying. But Deku stayed, waiting, heart aching, for the chance to be closer than he had ever been, even if it was only a moment.

And somewhere in the quiet of the UA dorms, hearts both young and tumultuous beat in the dark—some unaware, some aching, some longing, some quietly beginning to understand what it meant to care so fiercely that even walls and words could not contain it.

Chapter Text

As always, it was a rather messy day at UA, although there was some…commotion in everyone’s minds that day. The thing is, the only person who knew about todoroki’s crush on midorya was his best buddy sero, which in our case, sero being the casual member of the infamous bakusquad would help, right?...
WRONG, sero was just as much of a fucking idiot as shoto was, he was clueless on midorya’s little crush cross-over situation, hanta never even bothered telling anyone with a good enough amount of social Q to understand the big, BIG problem there was here.
Deku liked bakugo, who reciprocated the feelings although neither knew about it, while shoto had a clear, HUGE crush on izuku, who would never see him as more than friends.
What made it even more of a big deal was the trusty class rep’s little, dirty secret, he had a crush on the number one hero’s son, shoto todoroki.
Lida could never tell shoto his feelings! He was too scared and his parents would never approve either way! He was sure endeavor would be against as well, not that shoto cared but it made one too many cons for the blue haired youngster to even try. Besides it was obvious to him that shoto had a HUGE thing for midorya (not that he minded since he never planned on taking his feelings for the dual toned boy seriously anyway) it was just a phase, he would grow out of it, surely…

“DEAR ASHIDO I NEED YOUR ACQUAINTENCE AND AID ON A PERSONAL MATTER THAT HAS TO BE SOLVED AS NEATLY AS POSSIBLE.”
was what tenya was yelling at 4 am infront of mina’s room two months after he realized he was in love with todoroki

No, it wasnt a phase, it wasnt a silly thing, he was now consumed by the thoughts of todoroki, he couldn’t shower without horny thoughts, couldn’t eat, couldn’t even meet him anymore at the fear of how his body would subconsciously react! He NEEDED help.
No one but the gossip queen of the school could offer him the help he needed.
*mina ashido*

Mina being the little bitch that she is, snitched on all the current stuff going on with the love triangle, or square?....who knows at this point even mina was confused!
So, in short, they came to a short conclusion that was : making shoto fall in love with tenya, shoto never had a chance with izuku, the guy was head over heels for katsuki there was no way he was gonna go for shoto when he had the clear option of his childhood crush.
It was better for both of them if shoto and tenya ended up on a hook on and off typa thing that it was a doomed-situationship with midorya which would only end in harm for the both of them.