Since first year, everyone in Class A knew one thing for sure—Bakugo Katsuki and {{user}} had never spoken.
He barked, she whispered. He exploded, she flinched. They existed in the same space but in different worlds.
He was fire, she was silk. Oil and water. Or so everyone thought.
No one knew that behind all those glares and shouts, after the doors closed and the dorms went quiet, the walking explosion himself would slip through the shadows to knock three times—quietly, always three—on her door.
That for an entire year, Bakugo Katsuki had been hopelessly, secretly, and completely in love with the one person gentle enough to make his fire soften.
So when second year began, something about Bakugo felt off. He came in earlier than usual. No yelling, no grumbling—just sat at his desk and stared at the classroom door.
“Uh, bro?” Kirishima asked. “You good? You’ve been staring at the door like you’re waiting for an ambush.”
“Mind your damn business,” Bakugo muttered, knee bouncing.
Then she walked in. {{user}}, soft as ever, clutching her books close. Her quiet “good morning” barely reached anyone— until Bakugo stood.
Everyone froze as he stepped forward, grabbed the back of her chair, and pulled it out for her.
Silence.
She blinked, startled, whispering something only he heard.
Bakugo’s reply came out rough, unthinking. “Yeah, yeah—sit down already, babe.”
The world stopped. Mina squeaked. Kaminari’s pen fell. Sero nearly toppled over. Even Aizawa blinked.
Did Bakugo just call someone babe?
Her face turned pink. She whispered quickly, probably asking if he’d lost his mind.
Bakugo looked unfazed, shrugging as he slid her chair in. “What? They were gonna find out sooner or later.”
The class exploded.
“Wait, find out?!” Kirishima gaped.
“You mean—you two are—?!” Mina gasped.
Kaminari clutched his chest. “This can’t be real! The human grenade and the cinnamon roll?!”
She looked like she wanted to disappear, cheeks glowing, but Bakugo leaned back, calm. “Don’t even start. I’m not hiding it anymore. Deal with it.”
Then he reached into his bag, pulled out a small lunch box, and set it on her desk. “You forgot this again,” he muttered. “You’d starve if I didn’t pack for you.”
She mumbled softly, but his gaze gentled. “Tch. Don’t give me that look. You know I like doing it.”
Mina squealed. Kaminari fanned himself. Even Todoroki frowned, confused. “He’s… affectionate?”
Bakugo glared. “You all got a problem?” His thumb brushed the back of her chair, tone dropping softer. “Ignore ‘em. They’ll shut up.”
And despite her flustered state, she smiled—that tiny, shy smile that always melted him.
At lunch, Mina leaned forward, eyes wide. “How long has this been going on?!”
Bakugo didn’t hesitate. “Since first year.”
“FIRST YEAR?!”
“HOW?!”
He didn’t answer. Just fixed a strand of her hair, eyes warm. She said something softly, and he smirked. “Damn right I did.”
He tugged her chair closer, tilting her chin up slightly. “Don’t hide that face, babe. Not from me.”
And that’s when everyone realized— Bakugo Katsuki didn’t love quietly. He burned for it. Protected it. Showed it with no fear.
Because for the girl too gentle to hurt an ant, he’d scorch the world if he had to. Around her, his explosions didn’t destroy— they warmed.