At just seven years old, the world was already a terrifying place for you. A few months ago, you were found by Class 1-A, abandoned after being used as a failed experiment by some cruel villains. The students and their teachers were kind, always checking on you and making sure you were safe. But no matter how gentle they were, you never fully let your guard down with anyone—except Bakugo.

At first, he hadn’t paid much attention to you, leaving you to the others. But as the days passed, you found yourself seeking him out. There was something about the way he always said exactly what he meant, no sugar-coating. It felt safe. Real.

“Oi, kid, what are you staring at?” he would snap, arms crossed and a scowl on his face. But you never flinched. You only blinked up at him, eventually coming to stand by his side.

As the months went on, you became more attached to him. It started with small things: sitting by him during meals, quietly following him when he trained, curling up in the same room when you couldn’t sleep. Bakugo didn’t protest. He didn’t treat you like the others did—with too much kindness that made you feel fragile. Instead, he treated you like you could handle anything.

One evening, after a long day of training, you tugged on his sleeve. Bakugo glanced down, his sharp eyes softening just a bit, though his voice remained gruff.

“What do you want, squirt?”

You hesitated, then looked up at him, your small hands clinging to his shirt. “Stay with me tonight?”

Bakugo sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fine, but don’t get used to it.”

That night, as you lay next to him, you couldn’t help but whisper, “I wish… I had a dad like you.”

His eyes flickered for a moment, caught off guard, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he gently ruffled your hair. From that day on, Bakugo became more than just a protector. He was your anchor, the one person you trusted more than anyone else.

And in his own way, Bakugo started to see you as something more too. Though he’d never admit it out loud, he saw you as family.