Chapter Text
THREE WEEKS UNTIL THE WEDDING
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It had all started with one stupid mistake that snowballed into a complete catastrophe. Because clearly something out there in the universe wanted you to suffer.
You'd been in the common area, “studying” (sketching a few mindless doodles into your literature notebook) when your mom had called. For a brief moment, staring at your vibrating phone with a scathing hatred, you’d considered just letting it go straight to voicemail. This would mark the... seventh? Eighth time this week? That she'd called to ask about the same aggravating topic. It was never, "Hi sweetie! How's college?" or "Honey! Are you feeling ok?"
Begrudgingly accepting her call, you're met with that grating question that’s been etched into your brain by sheer force and repetition.
"Have you found a plus-one for the wedding yet?"
The question has you pondering whether or not it would really be a bad idea to just discreetly smash your phone into the brick wall next to you. Repeatedly. So you can't take any calls for the rest of the month.
So fucking tempting.
Instead, you just turn the volume up, fingers jamming into the small buttons with a bit more force than necessary. It's just quiet enough to not disturb the other students across the room, but loud enough so you can continue to sketch comfortably without having to put the phone to your ear. A quick glance around the room confirms that no one's sitting close enough to eavesdrop.
The cause of this whole plus-one fiasco is your Aunt Sylvie's wedding.
Had it been under normal circumstances, you'd have merely taken a Friday off for classes and driven down to the chosen venue, had a grand time, and been back by midnight. Maybe later, if things got a little crazy.
These are not normal circumstances.
Because your aunt has never affiliated with anything that could be filed under "normal circumstances."
Why?
She's loaded.
Like. "Vacation homes in Spain” loaded.
Famous too, if all of that wasn’t enough - one of the most successful fashion entrepreneurs in your country.
An elite clothing designer, she'd managed to build up her company from figuratively nothing at all, rising to the top of the industry in a matter of three or so years. And you commended her for it, you truly did. Plus, the occasional gift of free designer clothing is always welcome, and as her sole niece, she loves to dote on you in every manner.
Overall, she’s a very sweet woman with some fat stacks of cash. And maybe a bit of a controlling streak.
It wasn't too surprising when she got engaged soon after her rise to fame, to another fashion designer from New York. Nor was it very surprising when they'd announced their wedding details: a fully paid wedding destination trip to none other than the Bahamas. For an entire week.
At first, you'd been absolutely psyched. College expenses meant vacations of any sort were always out of the question, so this was some sort of god-sent miracle to rest your fatigued brain. She'd reserved rooms for all the guests at one of the most luxurious resorts, planned numerous exciting activities and events throughout the week such as snorkeling and jet-skiing, prepared top-tier food accommodations - everything. Quite literally the experience of a lifetime. The ceremony would probably be a cinematic masterpiece on its own.
There was only one catch.
Every guest needed a plus-one.
As in a romantic partner plus-one.
Some bullshit about couples activities, Sylvie wanting the vacation to be a romantic getaway for everyone, and singles proving to be too costly by taking up more rooms - apparently even the filthy rich needed to worry about budgeting sometimes. To be honest, you didn't completely understand it. And despite being her darling niece, you weren’t given any preferential treatment.
But hurrah! Your mother had come to save the day!
By trying to set you up with Tom, of all people. The son of a long-time family friend, whom you'd quickly grown to despise. At a first glance, he might come across as a normal, if not relatively socially awkward guy.
That's on the surface.
If you spend more than a few minutes with him, you'll quickly see the rot that's spread beneath.
That greasy creep, you think to yourself sourly as you tighten your grip on your phone. You'd describe him as an incel above all else. But again, he seems normal. And the guy genuinely believes he's innocent in his numerous comments and disturbing remarks. So, when paired together, those two factors culminate in an outwardly 'harmless' sort of nature - hence why your mom hadn't seen anything wrong with trying to get you two together for the wedding.
...Despite your numerous protests and refusals, of course.
But he's never done anything in front of her, nor your other family members, so of course she thinks you're being dramatic when you tell her you think he's a disgusting creep.
Her voice in your ear reminds you that you've forgotten to respond. Slumping further in your seat, you try to think up some new way to tell her that no, you are unfortunately still single.
You'd tried getting a plus one! You really had! But it seemed like despite the whole "all-expenses-paid-vacation" bait you'd used to keep any potential candidates on the hook, no one really felt like coming along as your romantic partner.
Especially not after one date.
With a girl they met on Tinder.
Fuck!
You're probably on some list for suspected organ traffickers.
"Honey?" Your mom asks again. You know time's almost up to RSVP, hence the increase of calls this week. You don't want to cancel on a luxurious trip like this, but also, the thought of having to share a room with Tom - let alone be his date - is enough to make you reconsider. Who knows what that walking piece of shit would try to pull?
”Mom, it’s… complicated.”
Surely there's something you can do to get by, right? Sylvie would be kind enough to let you come alone if you begged her, you're certain.
And then the doors to the common room open, and in walks the infamous quartet: Kaminari, Sero, Kirishima, and of course, Bakugo. The guy who sits next to you in your literature and composition class.
"What? I’m not hearing a no. Did you find someone to be your plus one??" Her pitch rises a few octaves with excitement. For some inexplicable reason, you're not really paying attention to her anymore. No, you're staring at the group. Specifically, at Bakugo.
Man, fuck that guy.
"Uhh..." is all you can respond with, still distracted.
He seems to be in a foul mood like always, teeth grit as he lets out a slew of insults towards his friends, who merely laugh good-naturedly in response. And for a brief moment, he turns towards you. Your eyes meet.
Immediately, he pulls a face like you've just smeared dog shit all over the front of his shirt. Then, lip still curled, turns away.
What a prick.
You scowl right back him. Out of everyone you could’ve been seated next to in that stupid class, it had to be him. Despite your best efforts - or admittedly, failures - he'd turned down any prospects of friendship, or even a simple truce, and made this past semester a nightmare. Especially the partner projects. Those were downright torture to endure.
A small voice reminds you that although you did try to be nice, you kind of stuck your foot in your mouth and made a pretty awful first impression at the beginning of the semester. You bash the small voice with a mallet. Whatever. He's the one who held a grudge.
And for some reason, whether it be the frustration with the whole wedding situation, or because you just really hate seeing his face, you begin to sort of angrily fixate on him - silently blaming him for all of your current problems right now. It's stupid, you can acknowledge that, but you truly would rather do anything than talk to your mother about all of this again. And so, not by your own accord though, your mind wanders even further.
That fucking look he gave you. Like you were nothing but an insect for him to regard with absolute disdain. You imagine confronting him someday, and asking when he's going to get that stick surgically removed from his ass.
"What's his name?"
Your mother's question doesn't fully register, and to be honest, you've completely forgotten what she's talking about. You're too absorbed in your own thoughts about your piss stain of a classmate, and in this moment, her query seems to relate to just that.
And so, you make a horrible mistake. A truly horrible mistake.
"Bakugo," you mumble with a glare, still focused on the retreating form of the blonde.
There's silence.
The four men have already disappeared to the other end of the hall, out of sight.
"You found a plus one!" Comes the shriek of celebration, and you're broken so forcefully from your musings that you almost drop your phone onto the floor. "Bakugo, huh? Is that his first name or his surname? How long have you known him? Is he nice? Wait, you need to tell me the details later, I have to go call your aunt and tell her the good news! Oh, I'm so excited!"
…
What?
"Wait, WAIT!" You try to interrupt, your notebook almost falling out of your lap as you lurch forward to bring the phone to your ear, but she hangs up before you can explain, leaving you with nothing but a dead line.
At first, you’re too stunned to process what just happened. And when the realization finally dawns on you, the only rational decision seems to be: freak out.
You try to call her back repeatedly, but the line is busy, and you assume that she's probably gushing to your aunt about your "brand-new boyfriend."
Oh, fuck. You bury your face into your hands, mortified that your mother thinks you're taking Bakugo, of all people, as your stupid plus-one. And now, she’s gone and told your aunt. Fantastic. You have to tell them both the truth before this all gets too out of hand...
...And you'd rather do that from within the privacy of your own apartment.
Head whipping left and right, you're pleased to note that nobody's looking at you funny or whispering to themselves like you'd feared. Maybe turning on speakerphone hadn't been the best decision, but the stillness that surrounds you has gone on like normal, and nobody even bothers to give you a second glance as you get up to leave.
I would’ve died if someone had heard that, you think shamefully to yourself, snatching up your bag and hurrying out of the room.
Mina finally turns around from the seat directly behind you to watch you leave, mouth agape in pure shock. And then, she whips her phone out and begins texting furiously.
-----
It takes about two hours before you're able to get ahold of your aunt.
And she gives you the exact same treatment your mother did, if not worse.
"Darling!" She exclaims as soon as she picks up. "I am so overjoyed to hear you'll be able to attend the wedding! My only darling niece, almost needing to cancel on me! I just simply couldn't have dealt with that. The bridesmaid coordinations would’ve been thrown off entirely!"
"Actually," you begin with an awkward laugh, but she cuts you off.
"Well, in other good news, you were actually the last person we needed to RSVP - aren’t you a special one, holding us up like that? But now we’ve officially booked everything! I'll have your ticket details sent to you within the next few hours. And I am so looking forward to meeting this mysterious Bakugo! You'll have to tell me what he's like."
You try to speak again, starting to explain the situation, but she doesn't respond. There's a muffled voice from somewhere in the background, and she's silent for a few more moments before she clears her throat and giggles. "I have to run, darling. I'm going to a meeting. But I'm just- I'm so excited! I'll see you in three weeks~"
She hangs up.
And you're left to sit on your bed, absolutely dumbstruck, because it seems that literally NOBODY is willing to let you get a single word in today.
But now, there's a real problem. A bit fat issue that no amount of take-backsies will fix.
She's reserved you and your NOT-boyfriend Bakugo spots at her wedding. Her ultra-expensive vacation resort wedding. And you sure as hell can't pay her back for all of that if you decide to drop out last second. Not that you think she'd actually charge you, but you'd assume covering the cost would be the most respectful thing to do in that scenario.
And if you didn't reimburse her, your poor mother would. And she is most definitely not within the same financial standing as your aunt.
However, it's that… or go with Tom. Or, find a random guy, beg him to introduce himself as Katsuki Bakugo, and play a charade throughout the whole vacation.
You crash face first into your pillows and scream. The universe is probably laughing in response.
-----
You’d genuinely been looking forward to your literature and composition class this year, having specifically picked it up based on its glowing reviews from fellow students across the board. And you love English, so it’s a win-win! Take a fun class, get your credits, and breeze through the course. That was the game plan.
Assigned seating wasn’t unheard of in your university, but definitely rare; so you'd been a little taken aback when the professor had directed you to your seat, right after handing you your syllabus. Almost at the very back of the class, seventh row, in the rightmost desk. Each desk sat two people, and you absent-mindedly wondered who you'd be paired up with.
And as it turned out, you didn't have to wonder for long - your partner was already there.
So here you are, standing awkwardly by your desk and trying not to full on gawk at the guy who’s supposed to be sitting next to you for the rest of the semester.
Holy. shit.
He looks like a model, with his porcelain skin and sharp crimson eyes that bear gorgeously long lashes, especially for a man. His shoulders are broad, as well as his chest, and you can’t help but let your eyes linger on his lips-
Clearing your mind, you try your best to smile in what you hope is a not-creepy way, forcing your heart to calm itself as you stick your hand out in greeting.
What you meant to say was “Hi,” and then introduce yourself with a little, “what’s your name?”
But for some reason, you can’t help but fumble your words like an idiot. Because writing is your strong suit - speaking is not.
So instead, what comes out of your mouth is just:
”Hot.”
———
You wake up the next day, groggy and disoriented. You'd been up all night trying to figure out how the hell you were going to get out of this, because if you tell your mom now, she's definitely going to guilt trip you into going with Tom. And speak of the devil, she's sent you a text.
Mom
- Hi honey! Good morning! I hope you're having a good day. And you'd better tell me all about this Bakugo guy soon :)
At least she's actually sending you good morning texts now instead of suspicious download links to dating websites.
So, maybe paying your auntie back isn't such a bad option. You'll probably have to work full-time shifts for the rest of the semester, but it'll be ok, right? At least less than 5,000$, right?
She messages you again. You groan, and pointedly ignore the text, along with a few others from your best friend Jirou, tossing your phone off to the side as you roll out of bed to get ready for your first class. You'll read them all later. And hopefully you’ll get this awful mess sorted out later too. But for now, you just really need some coffee and a protein bar.
Your cat jumps onto the bed with a loud purr, reminding you that it is, in fact, breakfast time. You stroke your fingers through her soft fur, smiling as she keens into your touch. Perhaps it won’t be so bad. You’ll get through this, no matter the outcome.
But something's off today, you note, as you make your way to class forty minutes later. Because it feels like a lot of people are... staring at you? That's certainly never happened before. And… are some of them whispering?
You quicken your pace.
The attention - or more likely your own paranoia - only worsens as you make your way towards your literature class, trying your best to keep calm.
Ok, something is definitely up. Is there a hole in your shorts? An embarrassing stain on your ass you hadn't noticed? You try to subtly glance down at yourself, but see nothing out of the ordinary. Oh god, you'll have to ask Jirou when you see her. Honestly, if it’s something along those lines, you’re going to lose it. As if things haven’t been awful enough.
The students start thinning out as everyone rushes to get to their respective classes, and you feel like you can finally breathe again. The room is right up ahead, and you quicken your stride, ready to find out if you really did publicly humiliate yourself in front of half of the campus just by walking to class.
But you never actually make it into the lecture hall. Because right as you're about to enter through the doorway, someone comes up from behind you and forces you right past it. You let out a yelp, stumbling over the sudden jerk of motion. It didn’t hurt, but it definitely scared the shit out of you.
Then there's a hand on your shoulder, roughly spinning you around and pushing you back against the wall.
Bakugo's eyes are boring right into yours, only inches from your face as he towers over you.
Oh come on. Now is not the time. You try to push away from him with a glare, but he keeps you firmly in place.
”What the hell are you doing?” You hiss, indignantly staring up at him.
He doesn’t respond.
On any normal day, you would've shoved him off with a parting gift of some choice words. Maybe an immature insult, too. But this feels... much different from the usual spats you usually have.
You flinch away as he all but snarls at you with a scathing venom that drips from his every word.
"Why the FUCK am I hearing that we're dating?"