You thought you’d seen it all.

Villains with teeth for eyes. Quirks that turned people into furniture. Aizawa sleeping through explosions. But nothing—nothing—could have prepared you for this.

Bakugo Katsuki.

Shy.

Stuttering.

Whispering.

It had started with a simple accident. A UA student with a quirk that altered emotional states had collided with Bakugo in the hallway. The activation was unintentional, but the effect was immediate—and devastatingly surreal.

Now, Bakugo was curled in the corner of his dorm room, knees hugged to his chest, his usual fire extinguished. His eyes peeked out from behind his arms, wide and uncertain, like a startled kitten instead of the usual raging dragon.

“I-I don’t wanna come out,” he mumbled, voice barely audible.

You blinked.

This was the same boy who once screamed “DIE!” at a vending machine for not dispensing his snack fast enough. The same boy who launched explosions at clouds for looking too smug.

And now?

He flinched when you knocked.

You stepped inside slowly, crouching beside him, careful not to startle him further.

“Bakugo,” you said gently, “it’s okay. It was just a quirk mishap. You’re safe.”

He looked up at you, cheeks flushed, eyes shimmering with something that might’ve been embarrassment—or fear—or both.

“I feel weird,” he whispered. “Like… like I’m not me.”

You smiled softly. “You’re still you. Just… a softer version.”

He frowned, lips trembling. “I hate it.”

“I know,” you said. “But I don’t.”

He blinked.

You reached out, brushing a bit of hair from his eyes. “Even like this, you’re still Bakugo. Still strong. Still important.”

He didn’t answer, but he leaned into your touch.

Just a little.

And for now, that was enough.