Bakugo didn’t plan it.

He tried—he practiced in the mirror, yelled at himself for thirty minutes, almost blew up a pillow— but when it came to her, plans always fell apart.

It happened after training.

She had tripped again—nothing serious, just a small misstep.

Bakugo caught her wrist before she fell, pulled her upright, and held her longer than necessary before he forced himself to let go.

But his heart stayed stuck. She thanked him softly.

He swallowed hard. He hated how warm that made him feel.

So he followed her after class— footsteps heavy, heart loud, palms sweaty like they had their own quirks.

She stood under the shade of a tree near the dorms, adjusting her bag, and he stopped in front of her with that sharp, serious stare he used when he was about to fight someone.

Except this time… he wasn’t fighting anyone else.

Just himself.

“Oi,” he started, voice low. “Don’t walk alone after training. You’re tired, you’ll trip again.”

She said something— probably that she was fine.

He clenched his jaw. “No. You’re not. Just—listen.”

She blinked, waiting.

Bakugo inhaled sharply like the words hurt to drag out.

“I’ve been trying, okay?” His voice cracked with frustration. “Trying to… be the kinda guy you said you like.”

He shook his head stubbornly. “Yeah, I heard. The other day. In the kitchen. Tall, strong, only nice to you, knows his limits with other people—”

He stopped and looked away, ears red.

“I can do that,” he muttered. “I’ve been doing that.”

He grit his teeth, fists tightening at his sides, not in anger but in nerves.

A pause. A deep breath.

The bravest thing Bakugo ever did without explosions.

“I want to be your boyfriend.”

There it was. Blunt, brutal, honest — the only way he knew how to speak.

Bakugo instantly stepped closer, voice dropping to something rough but warm.

“I’m serious,” he said. “I’m not playing around. I’m not saying it just to say it.”

Her hands fidgeted; he saw it and his expression softened — only for her, only ever for her.

“I like you,” he muttered, looking away for a second before snapping back.

“Hell, I… I’ve liked you since day one. You’re too damn soft for this place, and somehow that makes me—”

He stopped himself, breath shaking.

Bakugo’s heart stuttered.

“Tch—yeah, of course I’m nervous,” he grumbled. “You’re… you. And I’m—”

He gestured vaguely at himself. Explosions. Anger. Muscles. Temper. Everything she wasn’t.

“But I can be good to you,” he said quietly. “I already am. I’m already nicer to you than anyone else.”

He exhaled shakily.

“So… if you’ll have me,” he murmured, voice lower than ever, “I wanna be your guy. The one you can depend on. The one who’s… just soft for you.”

He held her gaze, steady and unflinching now.

She nodded.

Bakugo froze — then a small, stunned smile pulled at his mouth.

“…Good.”

He stepped aside, ears red, voice rough.

“Now c’mon. I’m walking you back.”

And as they walked, he barely realized— He was smiling the whole way.