The morning light spilled across the dorm hallway in soft streaks, golden and quiet. Y/N stood at the sink in the shared bathroom, splashing cold water on her face, hoping it would wash away the heat still lingering from the dream.
But it didn't.
Every time she would closed her eyes, she saw him.
Bakugo. Shirtless. Close. Real.
The way his hands had felt on her skin. The way his voice had dropped into something rough and honest. The way he'd said, "You've been in my head."
Y/N gripped the edge of the sink, knuckles white.
It was just a dream.
But it hadn't felt like one.
she dried her face and stepped into the hallway, only to freeze.
Bakugo was there.
Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, hair still damp from his shower. His gaze flicked up the moment he saw them — sharp, unreadable, and lingering just a second too long.
Y/N's breath caught.
"Morning," she said, voice too casual.
Bakugo didn't respond immediately. Just stared. Then: "You look tired."
Y/N shrugged. "Didn't sleep well."
He tilted his head slightly. "Nightmares?"
Y/N hesitated. "Something like that."
Bakugo pushed off the wall and walked past them, brushing her shoulder lightly. Not enough to be called a touch. Just enough to be felt.
Y/N turned, watching him disappear down the stairs.
her heart was still racing.
—
Training that day was brutal.
Aizawa had them running combat drills in pairs, switching partners every ten minutes. Y/N moved through the motions mechanically — sparring with Kirishima, then Jirou, then Sero. her body responded, but her mind was elsewhere.
Bakugo was paired with Midoriya.
Y/N tried not to watch.
Failed.
He was sharp, explosive, focused. But every so often, his eyes flicked toward Y/N — quick, subtle, like he was checking something. Or remembering something.
Y/N's pulse jumped every time.
After the final drill, Aizawa dismissed them with a grunt. "Hydrate. Stretch. Don't be stupid."
Y/N headed for the water station, wiping sweat from their brow. Bakugo was already there, gulping from a bottle, chest rising and falling with exertion.
she hesitated.
Then walked over.
He didn't look at them.
Y/N cleared her throat. "You fought well."
Bakugo capped his bottle. "I always do."
"I meant today."
He turned, finally meeting their gaze. "You were distracted."
Y/N stiffened. "I'm fine."
"No, you're not."
The words were quiet. Not mocking. Not cruel. Just... honest.
Y/N looked away. "I had a dream."
Bakugo's jaw flexed. "About what?"
Y/N hesitated. "You."
Silence.
Bakugo didn't move. Didn't speak.
Y/N forced themselves to continue. "It was intense. And... confusing."
His voice was low. "What happened?"
Y/N met his eyes. "We kissed. You touched me. It felt real."
Bakugo's expression didn't change — but something flickered in his eyes. Something raw.
"I didn't mean for it to happen," Y/N said quickly. "It was just a dream."
Bakugo stepped closer. "But it felt real."
Y/N nodded.
He was inches away now. The air between them was thick with heat and tension and something unspoken.
Bakugo's voice dropped. "You think about me like that?"
Y/N swallowed. "I didn't know I did."
He leaned in slightly, eyes locked onto hers. "You do now."
Y/N's breath hitched.
Bakugo didn't touch her. Didn't move further. Just stood there, gaze burning, waiting.
Y/N's voice was barely a whisper. "What does that mean?"
Bakugo's answer was quiet. "It means I'm not the only one."
Y/N blinked. "You've dreamed about me?"
He didn't answer.
He didn't have to.
The silence said enough.
They stood there, suspended in something fragile and electric, until Kaminari's voice echoed from across the field.
"Yo! You guys coming or what?"
Bakugo stepped back, eyes shuttered again.
Y/N exhaled slowly.
The moment was gone.
But the fracture in the silence remained.
—
That night, Y/N lay awake again.
Not from confusion.
But from clarity.
Bakugo had seen her.
Not just in the dream.
But here.
Now.
And she'd seen him too.
Something was changing.
And neither of them was ready to stop it.