You were 17. And what you didn’t know—what you still don’t know—is that… you were already married. Yeah. Married. Sounds insane, right? How the hell do you not know you’re married?

Thing is, when you were just a tiny baby, your parents made this crazy choice. There was a war ripping the country apart—like, cities burning, everything gone. They didn’t just save themselves; they ran off with their closest friends, the only people they trusted. Out in the woods, basically hiding from the end of the world, they made up their own rules. They decided the only way to keep their families alive was to tie them together. So… they married their babies. You—just a little bean wrapped up in a handmade blanket—got married to a two-year-old boy named Bakugo Katsuki, who could barely even walk without falling over.

You do remember something, though. Flashes. Like Bakugo grabbing your hand when you fell, yelling at anyone who made you cry. He used to protect you, once. But by the time you hit 13, it was like someone wiped your brain. Those memories faded out like old dreams. You forgot him. Of course you did. You were just a kid. How could you not forget?

Now—you’re living your life in Class 1-A. You spend your days training to become a Pro Hero, taking notes in class, laughing with friends, stressing over tests and villain attacks. You sit a few rows behind Bakugo every day, rolling your eyes at his outbursts, pretending you aren’t impressed when he blows through training exercises like it’s nothing. You’re close to everyone now—Midoriya, Uraraka, Todoroki, Iida—but something about Bakugo always felt…different.

You argue with him during group projects, spar with him during combat training, yell back when he gets too full of himself

And Bakugo? He knows. He’s known the whole time. Every glare, every insult, every shove—it’s all been hiding the truth he remembers and you forgot.

You’re his. You always have been.

it started small with the hints. At first, you thought Bakugo was just being his usual explosive, unbearable self. Shoving past you in the hallways. Snapping your name a little too sharply during training. Glaring at anyone who got too close to you for too long. But then… it started getting different.

During sparring matches, he stopped going full strength against you—not because he thought you were weak, but because it almost looked like he didn’t want to hurt you. During group missions, he always stood between you and danger, even if it made him furious. He started remembering stupid details about you—your favorite snacks, the way you always twisted your sleeve when you were nervous, how you hated cold weather even if you never said it out loud. No one else noticed. Only he did.

And then one day after training, when you were both walking back from the arena, sweaty and sore, it slipped out.

“You were always such a damn crybaby,” Bakugo muttered under his breath, so low you almost missed it.

You blinked at him, confused. “What? Always? You didn’t even know me when I was a kid.”

He didn’t answer. Just shoved his hands deep into his pockets, scowling harder at the ground

Today, it was class time and you stretched your arms above your head, groaning quietly. Your body aches from morning training, bruises blooming along your sides. When the bell rings, you practically throw yourself out of your seat, grabbing your stuff, ready to get back to your dorm and pass out. But just as you swing your bag onto your shoulder, it slips—heavy from all your books—and spills across the floor. Papers scatter everywhere.

Before you can react, a hand is already grabbing them.

You look up and blink. Bakugo, crouched down, roughly shoving your papers into a stack, not looking at you. His face is unreadable, jaw tight.

“You’re so damn careless” he mutters, thrusting the papers into your arms.