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Assistant: Title: Spider Lily
        Author: garden_hearts386 garden_hearts386 
        Chapter: 1/33 
        Summary: Everyone knows about the cliche love stories with the school nerd and jock.He’s a cheeky @ssh@l@ who can’t seem to keep it in his pants. She’s the straight-A bookworm whose only goal is to pass chemistry.He takes off her glasses to reveal her “true beauty.” She falls in love with his supposed sensitive side.But, this one in particular doesn’t quite follow the same boring formula.He’s the star hockey player forced to take an art course. He’s the stubborn art major who just wants one stress-free year.And it’s gonna take a lot more than the glasses move and some smooth talking for either of them in this story to budge.
        Contents: Chapter 1
    

    


  

  
  
    
    HU isn’t exactly everyone’s number-one college choice. High school classmates looked at Izuku like he was concussed when he turned in his applications. Not necessarily because of the difficulty to apply, though it’s up there, but more so because of the campus being 45 minutes southwest of Tokyo city and in the middle of absolute  buttf@ck  nowhere. Higanbana University is home to the red spider lilies that bloom near the riverbanks and rice fields just north of campus. It’s cliche that they named the university after a d@mn flower, but he’s heard worse in Western countries. A small college town with a population of around 40,000, HU is smack dab in the middle of downtown Mizu, and there is nothing to do but get sh@t-faced or drive 45 minutes to the city to get even more sh@t-faced.Yeah, for sure a choice on Izuku’s part. But, despite its many questionable sides, HU is still considered one of the top campuses in Japan that still holds historic red brick buildings and outdoor study areas. Though it’s most known for its competitive hockey team, Izuku only came for its second known—the competitive fine arts department.  Demanding doesn’t even begin to explain the Arts and Science College. Every year, only 10 juniors and seniors get chosen to partake in an exhibit showcase at the Tokyo Metropolitan Museum of Art—getting a chance to become protégé of the legend and mystery himself in artistic rebellion, All Might. He’s like the Japanese version of Banksy, for f@cks sake. And every year, it only gets more competitive and aggressive within each program considering he still hasn’t found anyone. The painting and illustration side of the major is the worst out of them all—he knows because he’s actively participating in it. His friend Uraraka always asks why he apparently wants to kill himself. He doesn’t have an answer for her. Izuku scribbles notes in his notebook, trying his best to pay attention to the lecture his Anthropology professor is giving. Brows knit together and teeth nibbling at his thumbnail, he taps the pencil against his forehead in an attempt to jumpstart his brain. It’s only been two weeks of the fall semester, and already he’s been f@ck@d sideways with work for his portfolio and TA schedule. But it’s not like he’s never been able to handle it. However, Uraraka nearly drowned him herself when he showed her his weekly rundown. The door to the auditorium swings open and Izuku jumps from the sudden noise, unintentionally throwing his pencil in the air. The class collectively turns, but Dr. Suzuki sighs up front without even looking from her laptop. “Bakugo, take your seat quietly please.” she glares up, glasses perched on her nose. She pushes up her frames and moves over to the projected screen. Most professors at any school don’t care if you show up late to class, as long as you’re quiet and respectful—it’s an unspoken rule. But, well, quiet and respectful aren’t two things Bakugou does. Ever. Eyes as saturated as red cherries glare upward at the class. A few flinch, moving their gazes back to the professor, but Izuku doesn’t budge. Intimidating and angry, the tall blonde shoulders his bag and sits down in an empty row. Being anything but quiet. Izuku rolls his eyes, reaching down to grab his fallen pencil. Bakugou Katsuki is the same year as Izuku, a senior on track for a Bachelor's degree and possibly a Master’s degree. Only, Bakugou is not like Izuku in the slightest. First and foremost, he’s an athlete with quite possibly the worst ego known to man. A hockey player on scholarship, and an accounting major on the way to take over his family’s successful firm after graduation. He’s hot. He’s successful. He’s unfairly smart. If it were anyone else, Izuku wouldn’t be talking so poorly. But because it is him, Izuku would say he’s a cocktail called “entitled douche bag” and nothing else. Dr. Suzuki clears her throat. “As I was saying…”Izuku leans back and listens, twiddling his pencil. He can’t help but glance at the back of the blonde’s head. Watching as he sighs and flips the side table up. Propping his elbow up and resting his cheek, Izuku narrows his eyes. He’s known Bakugou since freshman year orientation. Well,  known is a stretch. Every year they’ve somehow managed to be in one elective or prerequisite class together every semester. Anthropology, Ethics, History, Biology, it was like a game to see if Izuku could go one semester without seeing him. It’s not like the hothead has ever noticed him. He never notices anyone. 30 minutes of heavy lecture material goes by before Suzuki grants the gift of release. It was a good thing she did, Izuku swore he saw steam rising off some of the student’s heads from how hard they were trying to focus. Packing up his computer and notebook, Izuku zips his bag and shoves an earbud into his ear before making his leave. He has the next hour off, and he needs to talk to Midnight about something that came up. She was vague, as always, in her email. Teaching Assistant jobs aren’t normally offered to undergraduates unless there are special circumstances. But, Izuku found himself on Midnight’s—the department advisor and modern art history professor's—good side and proved his worth. However, sometimes he regrets even saying yes to the opportunity at times. Izuku pulls out his phone as he walks down the hill, noticing a text from Shinsou. Probably asking about meeting with the group after classes. He hums, moving to swipe on the conversation when he hears a second set of steps not far behind him. Narrowing his eyes, he pulls out his earbud to listen. It’s not like he’s the only one walking to the art building at this hour, but that’s not the case. These steps…sound angry? He can’t tell if this person just walks weirdly down hills or if they think stomping will make a point. He reaches the front doors and pulls. “Move, nerd.”Izuku is bumped to the side as a larger and taller figure slides through the door in front of him. Gasping, he adjusts himself in disbelief and disgust. What a f@ck@ng-Instantly, he frowns when he sees who it is. In the flesh and blood, Bakugou is stomping through the main entrance like a bull in a china shop. Habitually, Izuku rolls his eyes once again and walks inside. Either he’s lost—which is doubtful, considering “fine arts department” is plastered outside—or he’s here for a class. Which, well, is also doubtful. Knowing him, he’d do everything and anything to get excused from an art class. The thought of Bakugou trying to patiently paint a still life is honestly horrifying. Izuku turns into the office, pulling his bag off his shoulder to unzip it. “Hey Midnight, I have those papers for you. You wanted to talk to me about something too, right?” He sets his bag down next to the desk. Midnight looks up from her lunch mid-bite and smiles. “Mhfh, hey kiddo.” She chews what looks to be a bit of noodle, pointing at the chair next to her with the chopsticks she was using. “Take a seat, let’s have a–” “Oi, you the f@ck@n advisor here?” that very same rough and powerful voice from earlier interrupts her mid-sentence, and Izuku nearly whips his head around so fast he sees white. Bakugou is standing in front of her desk, tapping his foot with irritation. His school-sponsored athlete backpack is only on one shoulder as he moves to shove his hands in his straight-leg cargo pants pockets. Izuku hates that he actually likes the way he dresses. But, it really doesn’t matter if he’s even wearing designer, he still looks like a pr@ck from the way he frowns. Midnight blinks, swallowing her food. “Wanna try that again, kid?” She puts down her utensils and interlaces her fingers together, leaning on the desk. Her red glasses and long black ponytail add to the piercing glare. Bakugou raises his lip in a sneer. He lets out a frustrated growl. “Are you Nemuri Kayama… ma’am?”  Izuku fights the urge to facepalm. Midnight takes one deep breath, raising one of her hands. “Just call me Midnight, no one calls me by my given name here.” She takes a second, tilting her head to the side. “Now, what exactly requires you to grace me with your presence today, Bakugou Katsuki?” The blonde doesn’t even flinch at the full-namedrop. Though, who would when they’re probably one of the most famous figures in the whole of this side of f@ck@ng town.Izuku decides to sit down and set the papers on her desk, trying not to make eye contact with this very amazing situation happening right in front of him. Bakugou’s eyes dart to Izuku for a split second and he fights the urge to glare back at the blonde. “My advisor said to come talk to you about some f@ck@ng options for art electives. He won’t let me opt out and I need at least one to keep my scholarship and graduate.”“Oh, boo hoo,” Midnight leans back in her chair. “The big tough athlete doesn’t want to paint some shapes?” She pouts her lip, waiting for a response. F@ck@ng hell. Midnight is the worst faculty member to be around someone like Bakugou. For starters, she doesn’t give even a single f@ck about his reputation or his family’s influence. Enough so to risk getting fired. As expected, he turns two shades redder and looks like is going to explode. He takes one big step closer to her desk. “Listen hag, if you’re just gonna waste my time-” “I’ll only waste your time if you waste mine,” she interrupts him, shutting him up immediately. “I will gladly help you get set up in a class that won’t damage your already fragile masculinity as long as you cooperate. Got it?” Bakugou flares his nostrils, shaking his head. “Just-” he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, “give me some options and I can give you my schedule. This is the  last thing I want to do right now, but I wouldn’t be here if I haven’t tried every other f@ck@ng option.” Midnight stares at him, blinking slowly. “Not any better, but I know this is gonna go on forever and I would like to enjoy my lunch.” She pushes back her chair and opens her top drawer, pulling out a card. She reaches outward, handing it to him. He raises a brow, glaring down at the piece of paper. “There is my contact information and office hours. Email me and CC your advisor so we can get something linked. We have some spots available in a few of our courses this semester, but that all depends on your current schedule and how flexible it can be.” She scoots back in, grabbing a paper on autopilot and handing it to Izuku. “Studio classes are over two hours, but if you do a form of art history it’s just a 50-minute lecture. The sooner you sign up the better, most courses have started projects and heavier lectures.”Bakugou looks up from the card and back down. He grumbles, shoving it into his pocket. He doesn’t say anything else, not even a “thank you” or a “whatever”, before adjusting his bag and turning out of the office. Midnight shakes her head, grabbing her chopsticks. “God, what a peach. ”Izuku snorts. “Does that really shock you?” “I think I would have had an aneurysm if he didn’t eventually somewhat cooperate.” Midnight twists her noodles before shoving more into her mouth. She nods, grabbing the papers Izuku set out and replacing them with another stack from the side of her desk. “Are all athletes like that or does he just need therapy more than the rest?” Izuku grabs the papers, nodding. “Definitely the second option. The rest of his team are chill compared to him.”He’s been to a few of the hockey house parties because Uraraka is dating the team manager, Iida, and a lot of the players are always kind to him—offering drinks, and asking how he is. Kirishima Eijirou, the goalie on the team, was one of the students Izuku helped out in the beginners' art course last year when he started TAing. Since passing the class, the redhead has felt the need to be in debt to Izuku for the rest of his life. Which, well, mostly involves getting the best drinks at the party or occasionally a free ticket to upcoming games—though, he’d never be caught dead going to one.…that’s a hypocritical statement if he’s ever heard one. Midnight hums, nodding as she chews. “Anyway…” Izuku notes. “What did you need to talk to me about?” “Ah-” Midnight puts her stuff down and swallows. Turning in her chair to face him, she crosses her legs. “Yaoyorozu got offered a study abroad position last minute this semester in France for curation. I think she will be leaving around next week.”Izuku perks up, surprised. “Oh! Good for her, I know she’s been wanting to go forever.” “Mhm.” She pushes up her glasses. “Unfortunately though, with her leaving, Nana will be out of a TA for European 19th Century. If it’s not too much, I might have to have you cover for her while Momo’s gone. Ah.Well  f@ck. “Oh um…yeah, I should be able to. Am I still going to be helping out in your class too?” Izuku bites at the inside of his cheek that’s already worn down. Midnight nods. “If that’s not too much for you kiddo. I won’t be as demanding for ya since you’ll be with Nana too. But if it’s  truly  too much—since you are focusing on your senior exhibit and portfolio this year—I can ask around."Clenching his fist on his lap, Izuku thinks about all the ways he can say no. Well, all the ways he would love to say no—it’s only the dream. He can’t physically say it even if someone hits him in the back of the head with a bat. Uraraka might actually do it when she finds out. She had a habit of resorting to violence more often than not. Swallowing down the anxiety trying to crawl itself up his throat, Izuku nods. What’s another few hours on his schedule, huh? “Sure, I’d be happy to help.” “Oh yeah, you’re definitely going to kill yourself this year,” Uraraka deadpans, looking up from her textbook. “Don’t remind me, I am already aware,” Izuku groans, smacking his head on the edge of the table. “Why can’t I ever say no…” Todoroki looks over as he blows on his tea. “Because you’re too nice for your own good.” “That’s debatable,” Shinsou shakes his head. “He’s a c@nt when he wants to be.” Iida’s eyes go wide next to Uraraka. “Language!” Some people around them turn from the volume, but others mind their own business. It’s not like they aren’t regulars at Plus Ultra Café with a lack of social awareness.Uraraka smacks Shinsou’s arm. “We’re trying to  not let him kill himself this year, remember?” Izkuku looks up, blinking. “Says the girl that nearly choked me out last week for missing a party.” He sits up, scooting back in his chair to look at the rows of assignments in his planner. Shinsou snorts.  Uraraka puts her textbook down, shaking her head. “Yeah, 'cause you were in the studio till 3 am like a f@ck@ng loser during week ONE. This is our  last year, you shouldn’t be stressing yourself like you are.” Iida eyes her for her way of words but decides to keep his mouth shut. He has a particularly strong weakness for this girl, no matter how feral she is. Izuku crosses his arms, hearing the metal from his rings and necklaces clink together as he moves. “This is also the last year for me to add to my portfolio and impress the committee. I didn’t make it last year so this is my last shot.” Everyone here remembers how devastated he was when he wasn’t selected. Uraraka specifically. Leaning forward, Uraraka props her elbows on the table. “Look Izuku, sweetie, you know I care and want the best for you. And I know you put your whole  soul into this work because it’s your dream.” Izuku raises a brow. There’s gonna be a “but”, he knows it. “ But …”Bingo. “...I swear to god if you don’t go out with us and get laid or something soon to de-stress, I will actually give myself a lobotomy.” Iida chokes on his water.Nevermind. He revokes his bingo. Shinsou lets out a quick “HA!” “Uraraka!” Izuku grits through his teeth, slamming his book shut. Iida pounds a fist on his chest to clear the liquid from his lungs. “Ochako…*cough* I love you so much but what in the  hell?”  “Language,” Shinsou points a finger with a cheeky grin. “Uraraka’s not wrong, you know,” Todoroki chimes in, getting another groan from Izuku. Iida pushes up his glasses and scoots out of his chair. “I’m excusing myself to the bathroom.” He pats Uraraka’s head as he stands. “ Behave, please.” Izuku shakes his head. “Uraraka, I’m perfectly fine with-”“With what?” Uraraka smiles, interrupting him. “You’re perfectly fine with Mr. Lefty and Righty?” She holds up her hands and Shinsou nearly collapses off his chair from how hard he starts laughing. So much for behaving.  Todoroki shakes his head, patting the back of Shinsou’s shoulder as he wheezes. Izuku’s face heats up and he points a finger to her. “Oh, you think you’re hilarious, don’t you?”  “I know for a fact that I’m hilarious,” she chuckles, dropping her hands to her lap. “But I’m serious, dude.” Izuku rolls his eyes. “I am!” She shouts. “You are so stressed and so anxious all the time that I am afraid you’re gonna explode from the pressure. You either need a f@ck buddy or therapy, and we all know you refuse one of the two.” “We are not having this conversation right now…” Izuku exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose. Izuku has been celibate for half a year because of his priorities with school and work, and yeah…he’s a bit tense…but that’s not what he needs right now.  Absolutely not.  Uraraka leans back, being the one to cross her arms this time. “Fine, then how do you suppose we change the subject this time?” He doesn’t even hesitate for more than 5 seconds. “Bakugou is gonna have to take an art class this semester,” he blurts. Half the café goes quiet. Someone drops their fork and turns. “Oh my god, you’re kidding,” Uraraka says quietly, blinking slowly. Izuku doesn’t say he is, leading Uraraka’s eyes to go as wide as a deer’s. “Oh my god, you’re not. No sh@t. He’s going to be a nightmare in that poor professor's class.”Todoroki puts his mug down. “How do you know? Did someone start a rumor or something?” Izuku shakes his head. “No, he came storming into Mightnight’s office p@ss@d the hell off when I was there handing her the paperwork I graded. He has to take at least one physical or historical form of art or he’s not graduating. Y’know, since this school’s  only  two pride and joys are the hockey team and art department.”“Well, lord knows he’s not choosing the physical one,” Shinsou cringes just thinking about it. “I’m surprised he didn’t find a way to get opted out or pay off the dean to scrub it from his transcript, considering his family basically funds the entire school.” Izuku almost laughs. “Oh, he tried.  And he made sure to complain about it to Midnight, and considering it’s  Midnight, she didn’t give a f@ck.” “Do you know which class he might be taking?” Uraraka asks. “I hate to admit that he’s smart and will probably do good in the art history classes, but also knowing him he will be a piece of sh@t the whole time.” “Hopefully none that I’m in or TAing for,” Izuku sighs, pushing back a curl that slipped in front of his face. “I’m already dealing with him in my Anthropology class and that alone is enough.” Uraraka puts her hands on the table, pursing her lips together. “Oh honey, knowing your luck, you’re probably gonna be the one stuck with him.” “Yeah,” Izuku shakes his head. “I just hope you’re  not  right for once.” Izuku drops his bag. “Midnight, don’t look at me like that.” Midnight is smiling at him with big teeth, very forced and very uncomfortable. She only ever looks at him like that when she has bad news, terrible news, and even worse news. All of the above, even. “Don’t hate me…” “Oi, greenie.” Izuku snaps his head around, meeting eyes of ripe cherries and a half-lipped snarl. “You’re Deku Midoriya, right?” “The hell did you just call me?” Izuku almost snarls himself, turning all the way over. Bakugou looks down at Izuku slightly, tilting his head. Unimpressed, a brow raises and long blonde lashes blink. “You’re Deku? The d@mn TA for 19th Century b@llsh@t?” Izuku blinks back, even more unimpressed. He scoffs, crossing his arms. “First of all, it’s  Midoriya Izuku, and second, yeah I am. Why does it matter to you?” He taps a ringed finger against his jacket sleeve, impatient. He can sense Midnight behind him trying not to die from the sheer discomfort of this situation. It’s Bakugou’s turn to roll his eyes. “Yeah, whatever  Deku.” Izuku gawks. “Now, point me in the direction of lecture hall F44 in this f@ck ass building, won’t you? I’d rather not be in this depressing ass office any longer than I have to be.”Izuku slowly turns his head back to Midnight. She cringes, hiding her face in paperwork.  “I am gonna strangle you,” Izuku mouths before reaching down to grab his bag. Exhaling a long breath, Izuku throws his bag over his shoulder. Moments like these make him question how he’s not addicted to nicotine yet. “Yeah, it’s just down the hall. Follow me…” Bakugou grinds his teeth from behind and mutters under his breath. “Jesus, everyone in this d@mn building is extra as hell…”They don’t even make it two steps before Izuku shakes his head and turns around, making the blonde stop dead in his tracks. “Hey, what the fu-”“Nope. Absolutely not, we’re not doing that. Let’s get this one thing clear before you do follow me into that lecture hall,” Izuku looks up and points. The blonde blinks, surprised at the turn of events.“I don’t give a rat's ass about you or your track record. I don’t care that you think you’re special just because you can hit a f@ck@ng puck on ice, or because your family has money.” Bakugou’s expression shifts and looks at him like he’s deranged. He opens his mouth but Izuku stops him. “I will never see you that way. I will never bend at the knees and do whatever you want just because you think you’re special. If you at any point test me, Nana, or anyone else in this building I will be sure to make your life hell as long as I am grading your papers and standing in for lectures. I’m stressed as it is and I don’t need your b@llsh@t to make it worse.”“You-” Again, Bakugou tries to open his mouth but Izuku holds his hand up. “If you are late or absent consistently, I will lower your grade. If you disrupt the class, I will lower your grade. The fine arts department here doesn’t f@ck around and I’m not the only one here who would treat you the same way. Do you understand?” Bakugou grips his bag tight enough to hear the strap groan. Clenching his jaw, he raises his chin. “Loud and f@ck@ng  clear.” “Good,” Izuku turns and continues to walk down the hall. “Because if you don’t…it won’t be difficult for  anyone  in this building to make you feel the same way you make everyone else feel.” It doesn’t take long for that rough voice to snarl back. “And what the fuck might that be, shortstack?” Izuku glances back, narrowing his eyes.
   “Small.” 
Something weird happens. Bakugou’s eyes change for one split second. Just one. It’s too fast for it to seem concerning out too out of character. But Izuku caught it. Keeping the same saturation of red, though they seem to soften. Round at the edges, even. Bakugou looks at Izuku like he’s different from everyone else who grazes his presence or breathes the same air. Izuku raises a brow and Bakugou blinks, losing that moment he seemed to gain. “Okay…” Izuku continues, barely changing his tone from before to stay assertive. “Well, Nana should have made a stack of stuff for you knowing her.” He pushes the lecture hall door open, propping it open with his hip as he turns to face Bakugou. He tilts his head and smiles just slightly from each corner—enough to seem off-putting. “So now that you’re just  so  properly acquainted, welcome to the fine arts department,  Bakugou Katsuki .”Bakugou glares down at him before glancing past his shoulder to all the students looking directly at him from their seats like he’s gone mental. Izuku doesn’t have to turn around to see it with his own eyes, he can sense the aura swelling inside the stuffy room. “You’re gonna need all the luck you can get.”'
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