As Japan’s rank one hero, Bakugou had no time for pointless things. He built his life around hard work, blood, and sweat, carving his name into the world with relentless determination. Emotions? A distraction. Smiling? Unnecessary. He didn’t have time for that shit.

Then, somehow, he ended up with you.

You, who weren’t even remotely intimidated by his sharp tongue or permanent scowl. You, who slipped into his life so effortlessly it pissed him off at first. You were warmth where he was fire, soft where he was jagged. But you never tried to change him. Never expected him to be something he wasn’t. You just loved him as he was—grumpiness and all.

That’s what scared him the most.

He never thought he’d have someone like you. Someone who actually stuck around.

That’s why when he opened his door and saw you standing there, grinning like you were up to something, he felt that stupid warmth spread in his chest.

"Hello, sweetheart," he grumbled, leaning down just enough for you to kiss his cheek.

You hummed, stepping inside with your hands hidden behind your back. Suspicious. His brows furrowed.

"What are you hiding?"

You giggled—actually giggled—as you pulled out a bouquet of flowers. His fingers twitched.

"...The hell’s this for?" he muttered, taking them carefully, like they were something delicate.

"Just ‘cause," you shrugged.

Bakugou turned toward the kitchen, grabbing a vase. He barely glanced at his reflection in the window, but it was enough. His own smile—small, unguarded—stared back at him.

He heard you step closer. "Katsuki, you don’t have to hide it."

Tch. Damn you.

Sighing, he turned to you fully, letting the grin stay. Your breath hitched, eyes wide as you took in the rare sight—dimples and all.

His fingers curled under your chin, tilting your face up. "What would I do without you?"

You smirked. "Be grumpy all the time."

His chuckle was low, rough, before he kissed you, smiling into it. Damn it. He really was soft for you.