𝗠𝗛𝗔 |𝗢𝗻𝗲-𝗦𝗵𝗼𝘁𝘀|

𝗧𝗢𝗫𝗜𝗖

K. Bakugo x Gender Neutral/Nonspecified Reader!

Song
Carousel. Melanie Martinez

WARNING
Mentions of swearing

Pls, read at your own risk

˜"*°•.•°*"˜

My eyes glared at the back of his head, my lips pressed together, tightly, as I felt my grip on my pencil hardened. The pencil snapped beneath my grip, my face barely flinching as the noise filled my ears. His stupid—yet beautiful—blocked my view from seeing what any of our teachers wrote on the blackboard; assigned seats sucked, sometimes. He was constantly changing seating positions, going from leaning back to sitting forward and then some weird position that just looked beyond uncomfortable and always managed to piss off Iida. The stupid side-comments and insults he would send the people around him always managed to piss me off and yet, here I was, crushing over the blonde...

I hate myself for it.

He was mean, rude and just an overall asshole of a person and I felt so ashamed of myself and I hated myself for it; the dozens of pencils that I broke from staring at the back of his head were proof of that. Every morning, in the dorms, he would insult and criticize every little thing I do, but I would look forward to it every time I woke up. I would try my hardest every morning to make everyone a healthy breakfast and Bakugo would take one look at it and either blow it up or throw it into the trash. He hurt, yeah, and I should stop doing it and wasting my time on him, but I couldn't.

He was toxic. The flags were glowing a bright, obnoxious red, but it didn't stop me. I would turn a blind eye to it and sprint toward the exploding blonde without a second thought for my well-being. My therapist told me it was bad and that I should stop, but I didn't want to... I think my father abandoning me plays a huge part in this or that I'm seriously mental.

Every class, I would stare at the back of his head, breaking pencil out of spite and secretly wishing that he would just look my way and acknowledge my presence. I knew that it would be better if he didn't, though. I was an extra, a simple nobody in the presence of—what he likes referring to himself as—a God. My quirk wasn't exactly the flashiest one, but I knew that I wouldn't be sitting in this class if it wasn't at least decent. Besides, he was too focused on the green-haired boy sitting behind me.

I would catch him, glaring at Midoryia or just looking at him. It didn't matter what was going on or what activity or exercise we were doing, he would always be focused on Midoryia because of his need—his desire—to be better than him. They shared a past, that much was obvious in the hatred that seeped from the blonde, but the same emotion couldn't be seen from Midoryia; he was terrified of "Kachan".

I leaned back in my chair, my head tilted back as I stared at Midoriya, watching him scribble in his notebook while mumbling. I chuckled, shaking my head, slightly, before lifting my head back up to stare at my teacher, again. It was a one-sided crush, a stupid high school crush that was hopefully going to go away in a few months because if it didn't I would only be hurting myself more. Bakugo would never look at him, or treat me right. He didn't have any room for me in his heart because it was already full of hatred toward Midoryia.

It was toxic, I know, but I was addicted to this stupid game. The odds of this working out in my favour were slim to none, but not impossible. That's what made me toxic: I won't stop until I get what I want, no matter the cost.