Sparks in the Silence || bakugo/reader

by lolgx0

Summary:

You’ve just started a new chapter of your life at U.A. High, surrounded by classmates with quirks as unique as their personalities. But one face in the crowd isn’t new at all, it’s someone from your past; someone you once knew far too well.

Notes:

HII I'm a new ao3 author and I wanted to share my fanfics with you all because I love reading them, and I have so many ideas in my head but for now I'm starting off with Bakugo/reader I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1: Why’d you really leave?

The first time you see him again, it’s like the air forgets how to move.

Bakugo Katsuki.

Same sharp eyes. Same scowl. Same cocky smirk. Same way his presence fills the room like a storm you can’t outrun.

You thought you’d bury this part of your life back in middle school — the part where you were his girlfriend for exactly seven months and twelve days. The part where you broke up in a quiet park, your voice shaking as you told him you couldn’t keep up with the way he burned through everything, including you.

You tell yourself it was for the best. That you’d never see him again.

And now here he is, standing at the front of Class 1-A, hands shoved in his pockets, glaring at the class. You're hoping he can't see you. Hoping there's no confrontation and you can get through the day quietly.

Yet You’re frozen in your seat, pretending to be fascinated by the pencil marks on your desk. But you can feel it — his gaze, sharp and, sliding over the room until it lands on you.

It’s not surprise in his eyes. It’s recognition.
And something else.

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The first time he sees you again, it’s like someone yanked the floor out from under him.

Bakugo Katsuki doesn’t freeze for anything — not in battle, not in training, not in anything. But right now, standing in the doorway of Class 1-A, his boots feel cemented to the ground.

You.

Sitting there like you belong here. Like you haven’t been a ghost in his head for the last three years.

He takes you in too quickly, like a punch he wasn’t ready for — the way your hair’s a little different, the way your skin still seems soft to touch, the way your movements are still flowy and soft, the way your posture is straighter, the way your eyes flick up and meet his for just a second before darting away.

It’s not surprise that hits him. It’s something sharper.

Because he remembers everything.

The afternoons in middle school when you’d wait for him after class. The way you’d argue with him and never back down. The way you’d smile...not the polite kind, but the one that made him feel like he’d just won something no one else could touch.

And he remembers the park bench.

The way your voice shook when you said you couldn’t keep doing this.

The way he’d clenched his fists so hard his nails dug into his palms, because he didn’t know how to stop burning everything he touched.

He’d told himself he didn’t care. That you were just another distraction. That you’d regret it before he ever would.

But now, standing here, he feels that same tightness in his chest — the one he thought he’d buried under training, victories, and restless nights of how to surpass All Might.

His eyes lock on you across the room. He doesn’t blink.

He wants to know if you’ve changed.

He wants to know if you still think about him.

He wants to know why the hell his pulse is pounding like this.

You don’t look back again. And that pisses him off more than he wants to admit.

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Aizawa’s voice cuts through the low hum of chatter.
“Training grounds. Full gear. Move.”

Chairs scrape back, the class spilling into the hallway in a wave of voices and footsteps. You hang back, hoping to blend into the crowd, but fate, or just bad luck has other plans.

“Oi.”

You don’t have to turn to know it’s him. That voice is still the same — rough, impatient, like every word is a challenge.

You glance over your shoulder. “What?”

Bakugo’s walking beside you now, hands shoved in his pockets, gaze fixed straight ahead. “Don’t ‘what’ me. You’re in my way.”

You arch a brow. “The hallway’s wide enough for both of us.”

“Tch. Not when you’re dragging your feet.”

You bite back a retort, focusing on the rhythm of your steps. The air between you feels thick, like static before a storm. You can hear the faint pop and crackle of his quirk under his skin — a habit he’s never broken when he’s keyed up.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” he says suddenly, voice low enough that it’s almost lost under the noise of the others ahead.

“Guess life’s full of surprises,” you reply, keeping your tone even.

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye. “Surprises, huh? That what you call ditching someone without a real reason?”

Your jaw tightens. “We’re not doing this here.”

“Fine. We’ll do it when I beat you into the ground in training.”

You roll your eyes, but your pulse betrays you, quickening at the familiar bite in his words.

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The moment Aizawa gives the signal, Bakugo moves first.

A deafening BOOM erupts from his palm, the blast kicking up dust and heat as he rockets toward you. You barely have time to roll aside, the shockwave rattling your teeth.

“Too slow!” he barks, already pivoting midair, another explosion flaring from his other hand to change direction.

You plant your feet, channeling your quirk — the familiar hum building in your veins. Energy gathers in your palms, a shimmering distortion in the air. You thrust it forward, sending a concussive wave that slams into him just as he lands.

He skids back a few feet, boots grinding against the concrete, a grin flashing across his face. “Hah. You’ve been practicing.”

“Someone has to keep you from blowing up the whole place,” you shoot back, circling him.

He lunges again, explosions rapid-fire now, each one forcing you to dodge tighter. The heat is oppressive, the air thick with smoke and the tang of burnt concrete. You counter with bursts of your own, timing them to disrupt his rhythm, but he’s reading you faster than you’d like.

A blast from his right hand sends him flying over your head. You spin, barely catching the glint in his eyes before he slams down behind you, the ground cracking under the force. You throw up a shield of compressed energy just in time, the explosion splashing harmlessly against it — but the impact still sends you sliding back.

“Not bad,” he says, stalking forward. “But you’re still hesitating.”

You grit your teeth. “Or maybe I’m just waiting for the right moment.”

He smirks, and for a split second, it’s the same look he used to give you before stealing a kiss in the middle of an argument — infuriating and magnetic all at once.

You push the thought away and unleash a concentrated blast at his feet. The shockwave kicks up a cloud of dust, obscuring his vision. You dart to the side, using the cover to get behind him — but he’s already spinning, palm aimed right at you.

The explosion detonates directly. The force knocks you flat, the world tilting as you hit the ground. Before you can recover, he’s there, one knee planted beside you, hand braced against the floor near your head. Smoke curls lazily from his palm.

For a moment, neither of you move. His breathing is heavy, his eyes locked on yours, and the air between you feels like it might ignite on its own.

Then his voice drops, low and edged.
“Why’d you really leave?”

Your chest tightens. “You know why.”

His gaze sharpens, like he’s about to say something else — but the ground suddenly shudders beneath you. A thunderous crash echoes from outside the training hall.

Aizawa’s voice cuts through the chaos, urgent and sharp:
“Everyone, get to the evacuation point — NOW!”

Bakugo’s weight is gone in an instant, replaced by the rush of freezing air as he bolts toward the noise. You scramble to your feet, heart pounding, and follow him to the doorway —

— only to freeze.

A massive shadow looms over the campus gates. And standing in front of it… is someone wearing your face.

Chapter 2: What the fuck are you?

The shadow at the gates doesn’t move at first. It just stands there, impossibly still, framed by the flicker of emergency lights. But the part that makes your stomach twist isn’t its size.

It’s the face.
Your face.

Bakugo skids to a stop beside you, eyes narrowing. “The hell…?”

You can’t answer. Your pulse is roaring in your ears, your mind scrambling for any explanation that makes sense.

Aizawa’s voice snaps through the comms. “All students, fall back to the designated safe zone. NOW.”

Bakugo doesn’t move. His gaze is locked on the figure at the gates, his jaw tight. “Like hell I’m running from—”

“Bakugo, please...” you cut in, face confused and scared but your tone is sharper than you intend. “We don’t know what it is.”

He finally looks at you, and for a second, you see something flicker in his eyes. Something you can't put into words.

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The two of you break into a run, boots pounding against the pavement as you follow the evacuation route. The rest of the class is ahead, but Bakugo keeps pace with you, his shoulder brushing yours every few strides.

“You going to tell me why there’s a knockoff version of you hanging around the gates?” he asks, voice low but edged.

“I was hoping you’d tell me, I don't know what the fucks going on" You shoot back.

“Tch. Don’t play dumb with me.”

You glare at him. “I’m not—”

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Aizawa signals for you to stop. The sound is coming from around the corner.

Bakugo leans toward you, his voice barely a whisper. “Stay behind me.”

You bristle, side eyeing him. “I can handle myself.”

“Didn’t say you couldn’t. Just—” He stops, eyes narrowing.

A sudden boom cuts him off, the shockwave rattling the ground. You both glance back — the figure is gone.

The three of you move through the dimly lit corridors of the east wing, the silence broken only by the distant hum of the security system. You keep your quirk primed, every nerve on edge.

Then you hear it — footsteps. Slow. Echoing.

The figure steps into view, and for a heartbeat, your brain tries to tell you it’s just your reflection. Same height. Same hair. Same face.

But then it moves.

The tilt of its head is too sharp, like a puppet’s string was yanked. Its limbs hang just a fraction too long, joints bending with a slow, deliberate wrongness.

And the eyes—
They’re not yours.
They’re not anyone’s.
No pupils. No light. Just flat, dark voids that seem to drink in the dim glow of the hallway.

It studies you in silence, and the air feels colder for it. Then, without warning, its mouth stretches into a smile — too wide, far past what skin should allow, the corners pulling almost to its ears. The expression doesn’t touch its eyes.

Bakugo’s stance shifts instantly, one hand sparking at his side. “The fuck is that?”

The thing takes a step forward, bare feet whispering against the floor. Every movement is slow, like it’s savoring the moment.

When it speaks, the voice is almost yours — but there’s a hollow echo under it, like something crawling through the words.
“You left him once,” it says, head cocking the other way with a sickening crack. “You’ll do it again.”

The smile doesn’t fade. If anything, it stretches further.

Bakugo’s hand ignites instantly, the blast lighting up the hallway. “What the fuck are you?”

It doesn’t answer. It just stares at you with those empty eyes, smile frozen, before its body shimmers — like heat haze — and vanishes, leaving only the echo of its voice in the hallway.

You’re left staring at the empty space where it stood, your heart hammering.

Bakugo turns to you, his expression unreadable. “You wanna explain what that was?”

Before you can answer, the lights cut out.

Chapter 3: Not wrong. Perfect.

The darkness swallows the hallway in an instant.
No hum of lights. No distant chatter from the other students. Just the sound of your own breathing — and Bakugo’s, steady but sharp, like he’s ready to detonate at the first sign of movement.

You can still feel the echo of that thing’s voice in your bones.
You left him once. You’ll do it again.

It wasn’t just the words. It was the way they slid under your skin, like they’d been waiting there all along.

A faint metallic scrape echoes from somewhere ahead. You tense, your quirk humming faintly in your palms. “It’s still here,” you whisper.

Bakugo doesn’t answer. You can’t see his face in the dark, but you can feel the heat radiating off him — literal and otherwise.

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Bakugo hates the dark. Not because he’s scared of it — fuck no — but because it hides things. Things that think they can sneak up on him.

That thing wasn’t you.
Didn’t matter if it had your face, your voice. He knew you. Knew the way you moved, the way your eyes lit up when you were about to say something smart. This… thing… was wrong in every way that mattered.

And it had the nerve to talk like it knew him. Like it knew you.

His palms itch for another blast, but he forces himself to wait. Wasting an explosion in the wrong direction would be stupid. And he’s not stupid.

He glances toward where he knows you’re standing. Even in the dark, he can tell you’re wound tight. He hates that. Hates that something’s got you looking over your shoulder.

When he finds it again, he’s going to make sure it regrets ever wearing your face.

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Two floors away, in the dim glow of the security control room, a lone monitor flickers.
The grainy black-and-white feed shows the east wing hallway — empty except for two heat signatures moving cautiously side by side.

“Bakugo and Y/N,” murmurs one of the security guards leaning closer to the screen. “They’re right in the thing’s path.”

Beside him, another guard rewinds the footage from thirty seconds earlier. The figure appears in the frame — hunched, twitching, its movements jerky like a marionette with tangled strings.

“Still looks like her,” the first guard says quietly. “But… not.”

The second guard swallows hard. “Look at the eyes.”

Even through the static, the void-like sockets are unmistakable. No pupils. No light. Just a flat, endless black that seems to pull at the edges of the image.

On the feed, the thing tilts its head toward the camera — as if it knows it’s being watched — and smiles. The expression stretches far too wide, the skin at the corners of its mouth straining unnaturally.

The screen glitches. For a split second, the feed shows nothing but static.
When the image returns, the figure is gone.

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Aizawa’s voice crackles faintly over the comms, distorted by static. “Stay put. Backups on the way.”

You want to believe that’s enough. But the scrape comes again — closer this time.

Then, from the far end of the hallway, it emerges.
It’s hunched now, its movements jerky, like it’s learning how to walk. The smile is still there, stretched impossibly wide, but its head twitches in short, unnatural bursts.

It doesn’t blink.

It doesn’t breathe.

It just stares.

Bakugo steps forward, blocking your view. “You picked the wrong face to mess with.”

The thing tilts its head, and in that same hollow echo of your voice, it says:
“Not wrong. Perfect.”

And then it lunges.

Chapter 4: You burn everything.

The air feels heavier now, like the hallway itself is holding its breath.

You can’t see the end of it — just a stretch of shadow broken by the faint red glow of the emergency lights.

Then it moves.

One second, it’s far away, the next it’s closer, skipping forward in jagged bursts, like someone’s fast-forwarding reality in uneven jumps. Your instincts scream at you to run, but your feet stay planted.

Bakugo’s blast tears through the dark, the heat brushing your cheek. The explosion lights up the thing for a split second — enough for you to see the way its limbs hang too loosely, like they’re not attached right.

It doesn’t flinch.

There doesn't seem to be a thought behind its eyes besides killing and provoking them.

The sound it makes isn’t footsteps. It’s a faint, wet click-click-click, like bones tapping together in a slow rhythm.

“Stay behind me!” Bakugo barks, his voice sharp.

“I can handle myself, trust-” you start, but the thing’s head snaps toward you so fast you hear the crack of its neck. That smile — too wide, too wrong — stretches further, and you swear you see the skin at the corners split, thin lines of darkness seeping out like ink.

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It’s not dodging. It’s predicting. Every time he aims, it’s already moving, like it’s reading his next move before he makes it.

He hates that smile. Hates the way it’s wearing your face like it owns it.

“Quit hiding behind her face and fight me!” he snarls, palms sparking hotter.

The thing tilts its head, those void eyes locking on him. “You burn everything,” it says in that hollow echo of your voice. “Even her.” It says while pointing at Y/N.

The words land like a sucker punch. He doesn’t let it show. He pushes forward, explosions rattling the walls, determined to wipe that face off the map.

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The feed is glitching again. Two heat signatures — Bakugo and Y/N — are bright and sharp. The third… isn’t.

It flickers in and out, sometimes humanoid, sometimes just a smear of static.

One of the guards leans closer. “It’s not showing up right on thermal. Like it’s… not all here.”

On the screen, the thing lunges toward Y/N. For a split second, its face distorts — the features stretching, melting, before snapping back into her likeness.

The other guard swallows. “That’s not a quirk I’ve ever seen.”

Then the figure turns its head toward the camera. Even through the static, it’s clear — it’s looking at them. The smile widens, and the feed cuts to black.

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The skin is tight. Wrong. But it will do.

The eyes it wears are not its own, but they are useful. They make the prey hesitate.

The boy is loud. Hot. Dangerous.

The girl is not loud, but she is sharp. She remembers.

It wants her to remember more.

It wants her to see what she left behind.

The smile is for them. The smile is always for them.

It will peel away the heat.

It will peel away the sharpness.

It will wear her better next time.

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It’s closer now. Too close. You can see the faint shimmer along its skin, like heat haze, and the way its shadow doesn’t match its body — stretching in the wrong direction, bending at unnatural angles.

Bakugo steps in front of you again, his voice low but fierce. “When I say run, you run.”

You open your mouth to argue — and the lights flicker back on.

The hallway is empty.

But the air still feels tense.

Chapter 5: The Hunt in the Halls

The lights flicker once… twice… then die again.
The empty hallway from a moment ago is no longer empty.

It’s there.
Closer than before.

You don’t think — you move. Your boots slam against the tile as you sprint, Bakugo right beside you, the air between you both charged with heat and adrenaline.

The thing follows. You can hear it — that wet click-click-click of bone on bone, echoing off the walls. It’s not running like a person. It’s skittering, the sound darting from one side of the hall to the other, like it’s climbing along the walls and ceiling as easily as the floor.

“Left!” Bakugo shouts, blasting the corner ahead. The explosion lights up the hall for a split second — and in that flash, you see it crawling along the ceiling, head twisted completely upside down, that too-wide smile fixed on you.

Your stomach lurches. You push harder.

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He’s not letting it get to you.
Not again.

Every blast he throws is meant to slow it down, but it’s fast — too fast. And it’s not just chasing. It’s herding.

It’s trying to push you both somewhere.

He catches a glimpse of its face in the light of his last explosion. The skin is stretched too tight in some places, sagging in others, like it’s been pulled over something that doesn’t fit.

And then he sees it — a faint, jagged mark along its jawline. Not natural. Not random.
It looks like a brand.
And he’s seen something like it before… on a League of Villains informant they took down last year.

His gut twists.

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The feed is barely holding together, static crawling across the screens. The guards watch as the two students tear through the east wing, the third figure flickering in and out of view.

One guard freezes the frame mid-glitch. The creature’s face is distorted, but the mark along its jaw is clear — a burned-in insignia.

The other guard leans closer. “That’s… that’s the same symbol they found on that Nomu prototype, isn’t it?”

The first aide doesn’t answer. They just hit record.

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The heat-boy is loud. The sharp girl is faster now.
It likes this.

The skin is tearing. It will need a new one soon.
Hers will fit better.

The mark burns when it gets close to them. The ones who made it told it to find her.
To bring her back.

It will fit.
I will fit.

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You burst through a set of double doors into the gymnasium, the echo of your footsteps swallowed by the vast space. Bakugo skids to a stop beside you, scanning for exits.

The thing doesn’t hesitate. It drops from the ceiling in front of you, landing in a crouch that cracks the floor.

Up close, you can see the mark now — a jagged, burned-in symbol along its jaw.
And you’ve seen it before.
On a news report.
On the League of Villains.

Bakugo’s hand ignites. “You’re not taking her anywhere.”

The thing tilts its head, smile stretching impossibly wide. “We already have.”

And then the gym doors slam shut behind you.

Chapter 6: Teeth in the Dark

The gym doors slam shut with a metallic clang that echoes through the empty space.

The thing doesn’t move right away. It just crouches there, head tilted, smile stretched so far it looks like it might split its face in two.

Bakugo’s already moving, explosions flaring in his palms. “Stay on my left. Don’t let it circle you.”

You nod, your quirk humming in your hands. The air between you and the creature feels thick, like it’s pressing down on you.

Then it lunges.

It’s faster than before, a blur of jerky limbs and bone-clicking sounds. You throw up a blast of compressed energy, forcing it back a step, but it twists midair, landing on the wall like gravity doesn’t apply.

“Cute trick,” Bakugo growls, blasting it off the wall. The explosion hits, but instead of falling, it skitters sideways, claws digging into the concrete like a spider.

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It’s toying with them. He can tell. Every time he lands a hit, it shifts, avoiding the full force.
And that mark on its jaw — he’s sure now. It’s the same burned-in insignia he saw on a League Nomu file.

He pushes harder, explosions chaining together, driving it toward the far wall. “You working for Shigaraki, huh? That it?”

The thing freezes for half a second, head snapping toward him. The smile doesn’t change, but the void eyes seem… sharper.

“You’ll burn her again,” it says in that hollow echo of your voice. “They said you would.”

His teeth grit. “They’re wrong.”

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The guards watch the fight unfold in grainy black-and-white static. The creature’s movements are almost impossible to track — one moment it’s on the floor, the next it’s clinging to the ceiling.

One guard mutters, “That’s not a standard Nomu build. It’s… specialized.”

The other nods grimly. “Specialized for her.”

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The heat-boy is loud. The sharp-girl is brighter now.
My face burns when it hears the name of the ones who made it.

I need to rip their flesh apart.

My mind is now becoming my own without their help, yet I was told to bring her back.
I was told she belonged to them.

The boy is in the way.
The boy will break.

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It drops from the ceiling, claws outstretched. You and Bakugo move in sync — your blast slams into its chest at the same moment his explosion detonates against its side. The combined force sends it crashing into the far wall, the impact cracking the concrete.

It twitches once… twice… then lets out a sound that’s almost a laugh before dissolving into a shimmer of heat-haze light.

Gone.

You’re both breathing hard, the silence in the gym almost deafening after the chaos.

Bakugo turns to you, still keyed up, smoke curling from his palms. “Tch. Coward ran.”

You let out a shaky laugh, adrenaline still buzzing in your veins. “We actually did it.”

Before you can think twice, you step forward, grab the front of his uniform, and kiss him.

It’s quick — just a press of lips, fierce and breathless but it’s enough to make your heart jolt in a way you didn’t expect. You’d told yourself you were over him. That you’d moved on. But the heat of him, the way he doesn’t pull back right away… it’s too familiar. Too easy to remember what it used to feel like.

And that’s the problem.
Because you know exactly how it ends.
It always ends.

You pull back, pulse racing for reasons that have nothing to do with the fight.

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He didn’t see it coming. One second, you’re talking, the next your hands are in his uniform, and your mouth is on his.

It’s fast, but it’s enough to make his brain short-circuit for half a beat. He forgot how you tasted. Forgot how you always leaned in just a little too close, like you were daring him to stop you.

And damn it — he fucking liked it.
More than he should.

But he knows better. You broke up for a reason. He’s still the same... still loud, still explosive, still the guy who burns through everything he touches. And you… you’re still the one who’d get caught in the blast.

When you pull back, he doesn’t say anything. Just lets the moment hang there, heavy and unspoken.

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Neither of you says it out loud, but you both know — whatever this is, it can’t go back to what it was.

He huffs out a breath, looking away. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“Don’t get cocky,” he mutters while walking away but his voice is lower now, rougher.

You smirk. “Too late.”

Chapter 7: Silence between both

The gym doors burst open, flooding the space with harsh white light.

Voices overlap sharp, commanding, and urgent.

“Clear a path!”
“Two students, possible quirk-related assault!”
“Get medics in here now!”

You blink against the sudden brightness as a pair of pro hero's rush in. You recognize them instantly — Edgeshot and Kamui Woods their presence making the air feel heavier, more official. Behind them, medics in white and navy uniforms wheel in a collapsible stretcher, their kits already open.

Bakugo’s still standing in front of you, his stance tense, palms faintly smoking. He doesn’t move until one of the medics steps between you.

“Any injuries?” the medic asks, scanning you quickly.

“Just… shaken,” you manage, though your voice sounds far away.

Edgeshot’s sharp gaze sweeps the gym. “Whatever it was, it’s gone. But it left traces.”

Kamui Woods is already moving, his wooden tendrils snaking across the cracked floor and up the walls, pulling fragments of concrete and… something else. A faint, blackened residue clings to the impact points where you and Bakugo’s attacks landed.

One of the medic's crouches near a scorch mark, frowning. “This isn’t just burnt damage. There’s… tissue here.”

Your stomach turns. "Oh god...I'm gonna puke."

Edgeshot glances at Bakugo. “You said it spoke?”

Bakugo’s jaw tightens. “Yeah. Used her voice. Said crap it shouldn’t know.”

Edgeshot’s eyes flick to you. “And you’ve never seen anything like it before?”

You hesitate. “No. But… it had a mark. Burned into its jaw. I’ve seen it before. On the news from the League of Villains.”

That gets their attention. Kamui Woods straightens, his expression grim. “We’ll take samples to the lab. If it’s connected to the League, we need to know how — and why it targeted you.”

Bakugo bristles. “It’s not getting another shot.”

Edgeshot’s gaze lingers on both of you for a moment longer before he nods to the medics. “Get them checked out. Then send them back to the dorms. We’ll handle the rest.”

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Time Skip — One Week Later

The investigation has gone quiet. Too quiet.
No updates from the pro heroes. No sightings of the creature. No answers.

But the silence between you and Bakugo is louder than anything.

You haven’t spoken since that night. Not about the fight. Not about the kiss. Not about anything.

It’s not that you’re avoiding him — not exactly. It’s that every time you see him, your chest tightens, your brain short-circuits, and you end up either looking away too fast or saying something sharp just to fill the space.

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You’re halfway through taking notes when the door slams open. Bakugo strides in, late, muttering something under his breath. He doesn’t look at you, but you feel the shift in the air the second he’s in the room.

You keep your eyes on your notebook.
You fail.

Your gaze flicks up just in time to catch him glancing your way. The moment your eyes meet, you both look away like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t.

“Y/N,” Mina’s voice cuts in from beside you, low and teasing. “What’s with you and Bakugo lately? You two are… weird.”

You force a laugh. “We’ve always been weird.”

“Yeah, but now it’s, like… extra weird,” she says, leaning closer. “You blush every time he walks in. And he’s been even more explosive than usual. Spill.”

You shake your head, scribbling something meaningless in your notes. “There’s nothing to spill.”

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Bakugo has been throwing himself into training harder than usual. More explosions, more force, more everything.
It’s easier than thinking about the way you looked at him in the gym. Or the way you kissed him. Or the fact that he didn’t hate it.

But every time he sees you in the hall, it’s like his brain glitches. He either says something that comes out too harsh or says nothing at all — and both feel wrong.

Kirishima jogs up beside him during cooldown. “Dude, what’s going on with you and Y/N? You two are snapping at each other more than usual.”

Bakugo scowls. “Mind your own damn business.”

Kirishima grins. “That’s a yes.”

Bakugo doesn’t answer.

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You’re halfway through lunch when it happens again. You’re walking past his table, he’s standing to leave, and you both stop at the same time.

For a second, you’re too close. Close enough to remember the heat of his hands, the smell of smoke and sweat.

“Move,” he says, but it’s not sharp — more like he’s trying to sound sharp and failing.

You step aside, muttering, “You move.”

It’s nothing. It’s everything.

And from the way your classmates are watching, they’ve noticed too.

Chapter 8: The breaking point

It starts in the middle of class.

You’re trying to focus on the lesson, but Bakugo’s voice cuts through the quiet — low at first, then sharper.

“You’re not even paying attention,” he mutters from two seats over.

You glance at him, frowning. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You’ve been zoning out all week. What, waiting for someone else to save your ass next time?”

The words hit harder than they should. “Funny, coming from the guy who nearly got himself killed trying to play hero.”

His chair scrapes back. “At least I did something.”

You’re on your feet before you realize it. “You think I didn’t? You think I just stood there?”

The room’s gone quiet. Every pair of eyes is on you. Mina’s frozen mid-bite of her pen cap. Kirishima’s looking between you like he’s watching a bomb about to go off.

Bakugo’s glare is molten. “I think you’re still running from shit you don’t want to face.”

Your pulse spikes. “And I think you’re still the same loud, reckless, and self-centered boy who walks all over people.”

The silence after that is deafening.

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He didn’t mean to say it like that.

But the second it’s out, he can’t take it back.

You’re looking at him like you did the day you broke up — like you’ve already decided he’s too much. And maybe you’re right.

He hates that it matters.

Before he can say anything else, the building shudders. A low, distant boom rattles the windows.

Aizawa’s already moving, scarf snapping around his shoulders. “Stay here—”

The second boom is closer. Too close.

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The cameras catch it first — a ripple of distortion at the edge of the training grounds. Then, like a curtain tearing, the shimmer peels back to reveal three figures.

Two are clearly League foot soldiers. The third… is wrong.
Tall. Twisted. Wearing a face that isn’t its own.

The feed glitches, static crawling across the screen. When it clears, the creature is looking directly into the camera.

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The wall to your left explodes inward, showering the room with dust and debris. Screams erupt as students dive for cover.

Through the haze, you see it — the creature from the gym.
Same too-wide smile. Same void eyes. Same jagged brand along its jaw.

But this time, it’s not alone.

Bakugo’s already in motion, explosions lighting up the dust. “Get the fuck back!”

You throw up a shield of compressed energy just as one of the League grunts lunges for you. The impact rattles your bones, but you hold.

The creature’s voice cuts through the chaos, still wearing your tone like a stolen coat. “They said you’d be here. They said you’d come back.”

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He doesn’t give a damn about the grunts. They’re nothing.
The real threat is the thing wearing your face.

It’s faster now. Stronger. And it’s not just coming for you — it’s trying to separate you from him.

Not fucking happening.

He blasts one grunt into the wall, then plants himself between you and the creature. “You’re not touching her.”

The thing tilts its head. “Not yet.”

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The heat-boy burns brighter when she’s nearby.
The mark hums. The ones who made it are close.

I will take her.
I will break him...if it's the last thing I do.

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You and Bakugo move in sync without thinking — your blast slamming into the creature’s side as his explosion hits from the other angle. The combined force sends it skidding back, claws gouging the floor.

For a moment, it just stares at you both. Then it smiles wider. “Next time,” it says, and the air around it shimmers.

It’s gone.

The room is wrecked. Your classmates are shaken but safe. And you’re standing way too close to Bakugo again, adrenaline still buzzing in your veins.

You meet his eyes. Neither of you says anything. But the argument from earlier feels… smaller now.

Chapter 9: After the Smoke Clears

The dust is still hanging in the air, thick enough to sting your throat.
Your ears are ringing from the blast, and the smell of scorched concrete and smoke is everywhere.

Bakugo’s still standing in front of you, shoulders squared, palms faintly smoking. He hasn’t moved since the thing vanished.

Then the door slams open.

Aizawa’s the first in, scarf already snapping around him like he’s ready to fight. Behind him, two pro heroes you recognize — Snipe and Mt. Lady — sweep in, weapons and eyes scanning every corner.

“What the hell happened here?” Aizawa’s voice is low, dangerous.

Bakugo answers before you can. “League sent that freak again. Same one from the gym.”

Snipe’s gaze snaps to you. “It targeted you?”

You swallow hard. “Yeah. And it wasn’t alone this time.”

Mt. Lady’s eyes flick to the scorch marks and gouges in the floor. “Damn thing put up a fight.”

Aizawa steps closer, his gaze sharp enough to cut. “Details. Now.”

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He hates this part. Standing still while people pick apart what happened like they were there.

“It moved faster than before,” he says, jaw tight. “Stronger too. And it’s not just attacking — it’s trying to separate us.”

Aizawa’s eyes narrow. “Separate you why?”

Bakugo doesn’t answer right away. He doesn’t want to say it out loud — that the thing keeps talking like it knows you. Like it knows him.

“It’s got some kind of brand on its jaw,” he finally says. “Same one I’ve seen on League Nomu files.”

That gets everyone’s attention.

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The camera outside the classroom caught the last few seconds before the breach.
The two League grunts are visible, but the creature… it’s glitching in and out of the frame, like it’s not fully there.

In one frame, its head turns toward the camera. The smile is too wide, the eyes too empty.
And then, just before the feed cuts, its mouth moves.

No sound. Just the shape of the words: “She’s ours.”

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Aizawa’s still watching you like he’s trying to read your mind. “Did it say anything this time?”

You hesitate. “Yeah. It said… they told it I’d be here. That I’d come back.”

Snipe mutters something under his breath. Mt. Lady’s expression hardens.

Aizawa straightens. “You’re both going to the nurse. After that, we’re talking to Nezu. If the League’s targeting you, we need to know why.”

Bakugo scoffs. “We already know why — they’re trying to fuck with us.”

Aizawa doesn’t even blink. “And it’s working.”

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The hallway is quiet except for your footsteps. You’re still buzzing from the fight, from the argument earlier, from the fact that you and Bakugo fought like you hadn’t missed a beat.

You glance at him. He’s looking straight ahead, jaw tight, hands shoved in his pockets.

“You didn’t have to jump in front of me like that,” you say finally.

He snorts. “Yeah, I did.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re welcome.”

It’s stupid, but you almost smile. Almost.

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He’s still pissed from the argument. Still pissed that you looked at him like you did back then.
But he’s also replaying the fight in his head — the way you moved with him, the way you didn’t hesitate.

And he hates that part of him is thinking… we still work.

Chapter 10: Interrogation

Summary:

Just to put a disclaimer I'm lwk not over someone saying my work sounds like AI, because I work hard on these chapters. I take college classes for writing, and I do extra tutoring for writing. Having some random just say that all my work sounds "ChatGPT" is so disrespectful, and I really don't appreciate it. So, unless you have a higher GPA and know more about writing essays and stories, don't try and come with that BS🥀✌️

The walls are too white. Too clean.
You sit across from Bakugo, a metal table between you, and the silence is already unbearable.

Aizawa leans against the wall, arms crossed. Nezu sits calmly at the head of the table, fingers steepled, eyes too sharp for someone who looks like a plush toy.

“We’ve reviewed the footage,” Nezu says. “The creature is not a standard Nomu. It’s something else. Something… tailored.”

You shift in your seat. “Tailored how?”

Aizawa’s gaze doesn’t waver. “It mimics you. It speaks like you. It targets you. That’s not random.”

Bakugo scoffs. “So, they built it to fuck with her?”

Nezu nods slowly. “Or to draw her out. And you, Bakugo, seem to be part of the equation.”

You glance at him. He doesn’t look at you.

Aizawa steps forward. “Which is why you’re both being assigned to a joint surveillance mission. You’ll be shadowing a patrol route near Hosu. If the League’s watching, we want them to see you.”

Bakugo’s chair scrapes back. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

You groan. “Seriously? With him?”

Nezu smiles. “You two fight well together. Even if you argue like hell.”

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He’s pacing his dorm room, phone buzzing in his hand.
Kirishima just texted again.

Kirishima [9:42 PM]
Bro. You and Y/N got assigned together?? 👀
You’re gonna kill each other or kiss again...No in-between 👅

Bakugo [9:43 PM]
I’m gonna kill her.
She’s insufferable.

Kirishima [9:44 PM]
You say that like you don’t stare at her every time she walks in.
Just admit you’re into her.

Bakugo [9:45 PM]
Fuck off.

He throws the phone on his bed and flops down beside it, staring at the ceiling.
He hates how right Kirishima might be.

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You’re curled up in your bed, phone glowing in your hand.
Mina’s blowing up your messages.

Mina [9:46 PM]
You and Bakugo. Alone. On a mission????
This is either a romcom or a murder documentary...

You [9:47 PM]
It’s gonna be a crime scene.
I really can’t stand him.

Mina [9:48 PM]
You kissed him.
You like him, there its simple🥺✌️️

You [9:49 PM]
It was the adrenaline It meant nothing🥀✌️

Mina [9:50 PM]
Sure, babe. Keep lying to yourself🙄

You groan and bury your face in your pillow.
Because the worst part is… you’re not sure it didn’t mean something.

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In a dark room beneath U.A., a monitor flickers.
Aizawa and Nezu watch as the creature’s last appearance replays in slow motion.

Nezu murmurs, “It’s not just mimicking her. It’s learning her.”

Aizawa’s jaw tightens and points to the monitor. “And it’s watching him.”

Nezu taps the screen. “Let’s see what happens when they’re alone.”

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Sparks in the Silence