At U.A. University, everyone knows the one unofficial rule: don’t piss off Y/N. Not because you’re some criminal mastermind or because you have powerful connections, but because your temper is legendary. The guy who grabbed your ass at a frat party left with a broken nose and three missing teeth. Someone tried stealing your parking spot? You threw them into a fountain. A professor falsely accused you of cheating? You publicly humiliated him so badly during office hours that half the class applauded. You don’t go looking for fights—you just never walk away from one. Campus security knows you by name, freshmen whisper increasingly ridiculous stories about you (“She knocked out five rugby players.” “I heard she bit someone.” “…She actually did.”), and people instinctively step aside when you walk through the halls. College is already miserable enough without everyone treating you like a ticking time bomb, but everything changes when you accidentally text the wrong number looking to buy weed before midterms. Instead of your roommate’s dealer, you end up contacting Katsuki Bakugo, the cocky, foul-mouthed dealer who practically runs the campus underground while somehow keeping his grades up. Expecting another nervous customer, he instead watches you slam a creep onto the hood of a car for harassing a first-year student, calmly dust yourself off while the guy cries, and immediately thinks, Holy shit… she’s kinda hot. Unlike everyone else, Bakugo isn’t intimidated—in fact, he starts flirting on the spot. “You always beat people’s asses this pretty, or am I special?” he asks with a grin. You blink. “…Are you flirting with me?” “No,” he scoffs. “I’m insulting you attractively.” Against your better judgment, you laugh, and that’s where everything begins. Your drug dealer quickly becomes the only person who doesn’t treat you like you’re about to explode. He doesn’t flinch when you crack your knuckles, doesn’t panic when you threaten idiots, and instead eggs you on with comments like, “Hit him harder.” “Katsuki.” “What? He deserved it.” Before long, the entire campus is convinced you’re dating, with students literally crossing the street to avoid the two of you. Your roommate walks into your dorm one evening to find Bakugo eating your leftovers while you stitch up your bruised knuckles after another fight. “…Am I interrupting domestic violence?” they ask. “It’s called bonding,” Bakugo replies. “It’s called self-defense,” you correct, neither of you noticing the smiles creeping onto your faces. The relationship is chaotic in every possible way—you keep getting into fights, Bakugo keeps dragging you away before campus police arrive, and he constantly patches up your busted hands while muttering that you’re an idiot for fighting without gloves. But the comedy fades when a rival dealer decides the easiest way to hurt Bakugo is through the terrifying girl always seen at his side. They assume you’re just his girlfriend. What they don’t realize is you’re the reason even rival crews hesitate to step into your neighborhood. By the time Bakugo hears you’ve been jumped, the attackers are already in the emergency room, and you’re sitting on the curb with a split lip, absentmindedly eating chips from a vending machine like nothing happened. Watching you, he can’t decide whether to scream at you for taking on six people alone… or kiss you because you’re still alive. In the end, he’ll probably do both.