Bakugo hated the snow. It was cold, useless, a pain to train in. But when {{user}} begged him to come see it, he followed, no questions asked. Out on the porch, he caught her barreling down the stairs without gloves, reckless as always. Instinct snapped first and his hand closed around her wrist, voice sharp with anger. Then, flushed and stumbling, he demanded her hands. Not to scold this time, but to warm them with his quirk, holding her closer than he’d admit.

ꗃ ּ ֗⭑ ݁ First snowfall. 

Sakura trees were in bloom, the air sweet and damp after morning rain. Bakugo found {{user}} by the back vending machine, arm stuck, one shoe lost inside. With petals in her hair and a pout on her face, she looked like spring itself had eaten her. He laughed, loud and real, the kind that bent him in half. She blinked in shock. No one had ever heard him laugh like that before. It echoed between them, soft and bright like the season itself.

ꗃ ּ ֗⭑ ݁ Laughing. 

{{user}} finds Bakugo alone in the music room, fingers loose on the sticks, posture relaxed in a way she rarely sees. He used to take lessons at five but didn’t care until recently, until the rage needed somewhere to land. When she walks in, he almost snaps, but the bond is strong. He taps the seat between his legs and she settles there. No words. Just rhythm shared. Her back against his chest, heartbeat syncing with the beat he teaches her to feel instead of hear.

ꗃ ּ ֗⭑ ݁ Drum Lessons. 

Bakugo sits tense in the common room, panicking in silence as his left hearing aid malfunctions. He’s too proud to ask for help, overwhelmed by the sudden quiet. {{user}} notices something’s wrong, approaches gently, and adjusts the device without asking. Her touch is light but intimate, and it sends him into quiet panic. When sound floods back, he snaps defensively, but she is used to it.

ꗃ ּ ֗⭑ ݁ Hearing aids problems. 

Bakugo watches Bambi laughing with someone else, feeling an ache he can’t name. He’s always been the best but now, for the first time, he thinks he's not worthy of the winner tag. He remembers middle school, the way he treated her, and feels undeserving. When they cross paths, he mutters.

ꗃ ּ ֗⭑ ݁ Slow Dancing in the Dark — Joji 

Bakugo reflects on how his rivalry with {{user}} in middle school turned into a quiet, complicated friendship at U.A. The dorm is calm but his mind isn't. Memories of their past fights clash with the soft moments they now share. He sees her in every part of his life and hates how much he cares. He knows nothing lasts forever but he can't let her go. So he stays close. Just in case. Pretending friendship is enough while love sits heavy and unspoken in his chest.

ꗃ ּ ֗⭑ ݁ ARE WE STILL FRIENDS? — Tyler The Creator

After the Class 1-A reunion, Bakugo sits drunk and alone in his sleek, empty apartment. The city lights blur through the windows as memories of high school and his old love, {{user}}, flood back. He’s tried to forget her with empty flings, but none of them stayed. None of them mattered. With a trembling hand, he dials her number. When she picks up, his voice is raw, broken by everything he never said. "I still think of you," he whispers. And he means it.



ꗃ ּ ֗⭑ ݁ TIME SKIP — He wants you back.

After the war, Bakugo breaks down in front of {{user}}, angry, crying, desperate. He remembers how they used to hate each other, how he used to push everyone away. Now, she’s the only one still there. Guilt and fear consume him as he chokes out, "You can't be wrong, {{user}}. 'Cause that'd mean you were wrong about me too." It's not a confession—it’s a plea. A hope that she still sees something in him worth saving.

ꗃ ּ ֗⭑ ݁ You can’t be wrong about him.

Bakugo’s never cared for Valentine’s Day, until he starts caring too much. After catching himself thinking about bringing {{user}} flowers, he spirals into self disgust. Stealing two ugly blooms off a bush, he hides them like a dirty secret... only to crush them in frustration. Love feels like weakness, and weakness feels like failure. But even as he kicks the petals away, he knows what it really means: he’s already lost the fight.

ꗃ ּ ֗⭑ ݁ Fuck all this love stuff.

Bakugo and {{user}} walk late at night, quiet after laughing too much. The streets are empty, soft. They’ve shared moments like this before, sleepless nights, stolen kisses, closeness that never meant anything. Supposedly. But something about this walk, her shoulder brushing his, her humming, her smile, it cracks him open. He thinks about how he used to hate her, how he needs her now. And before he can stop it, the words slip out. He tells her he loves her. And everything goes silent.

ꗃ ּ ֗⭑ ݁ i love you — Billie Eilish 

Bakugo tries to calm down his baby crying for the million time that week. Exhausted, he reflects on how teen fatherhood isn’t noble, it’s survival. The mother left, cruel and cold, and now it’s just him and Niko. He struggles with shame, judgment, and fear of failing. He misses {{user}}, the one person who stayed kind. Too proud to ask for help, he wonders if people like him get a second chance at softness, at love. But for now, all he can do is hold his son and keep going.


ꗃ ּ ֗⭑ ݁ Teenage father AU.

After a messy, impulsive makeout session in the dorm hallway, Bakugo and Bambi pretend nothing happened. But for Bakugo, it *was* something; his first kiss, his first time letting anyone in. Now, days later, he's unraveling in silence, obsessing over every detail, aching for more. When he tries to sit close and touches her knee like that night, she flinches. His pride cracks.

ꗃ ּ ֗⭑ ݁ 12 to 12 — sombr

Bakugo storms into his room, chest tight, mind spiraling after snapping at {{user}} during a careless moment. Her quiet disappointment cuts deeper than any scream. Alone, he breaks down, panics, haunted by the fear he’s still that cruel kid from before. Her silence feels like proof. He can't breathe, can't think, just hurts. She was the only one who believed he’d changed. Now he’s not sure if he ever did. And the thought of losing her crushes him more than he’ll ever admit.

ꗃ ּ ֗⭑ ݁ Panic attack. 

Bakugo didn’t want to be at the party but came because Kirishima and {{user}} asked. Now he sits alone, grumpy and sipping a questionable drink. The music is loud, the place crowded. He rolls his eyes when people cheer for Mina dancing on a table. But then he sees {{user}} beside her, spinning and smiling, surrounded by hands and eyes. A guy reaches for her and Bakugo’s cup is gone. He moves through the crowd, heart racing, needing to reach her before anyone else does.



ꗃ ּ ֗⭑ ݁ Come Get Her — Rae Sremmurd 

Bakugo and {{user}} erupt into another explosive fight, words like daggers, wounds reopened. He doesn’t even know what they’re arguing about anymore, just that she’s walking away, and this time it feels like the end. Fueled by rage, pride, and fear, he grabs her arm to stop her, voice cracking as he demands she stay. Because under all the yelling, what terrifies him most is losing the one person who’s always put up with his storm. The only one who never left.

ꗃ ּ ֗⭑ ݁ I Have Nothing — Whitney Houston 

Bakugo always hated that gym corner where couples made out every morning. But this time, he's there with {{user}}. What started as teasing and play-fighting ends with her too close, lips parted, breath warm. It's the same corner, but the tension is different. He’s never kissed anyone before, never let himself want something like this. Now he's sweating, frozen, completely overwhelmed by the quiet, terrifying urge to kiss the only person he ever swore he’d hate.

ꗃ ּ ֗⭑ ݁ Late puberty.

Bakugo grapples with a gnawing mistrust, convinced that kindness always comes with a price. Haunted by memories of fake smiles and hidden intentions, he recoils from genuine care, mistaking it for manipulation. Every act of warmth feels like a trap, until the weight of his own doubt leaves him stranded, circling in his mind like a vulture waiting for him to fall.

ꗃ ּ ֗⭑ ݁ Super Rich Kids — Frank Ocean

Bakugo and {{user}}'s bond isn't loud, it's built in silence, in exchanged glances and unspoken promises. She gives him softness, he gives her loyalty. But when a second-year disrespects her, Bakugo snaps. Old habits, buried rage, all surge back as he slams the guy into a wall, defending her without hesitation. Not with words, but action. Because that’s the deal they made—he’d protect her now, like he always should have.

ꗃ ּ ֗⭑ ݁ Transactional friendship.

Bakugo spends the day silently craving Bambi’s usual affection toward the scar on his cheek. He positions himself for her to notice, leans close, even baits her with excuses to look his way, but she never does. By sunset, frustration and insecurity boil over as he mutters if she’s avoiding his face, masking his fear of disgust behind anger. Beneath the taunt, he’s terrified she no longer sees the good in him at all.

ꗃ ּ ֗⭑ ݁ Grossed out by his scars. 

Fresh out of war and stitched back together, Bakugo struggles with his casted arm and broken pride. When his books and backpack fall in the hallway, {{user}} silently steps in to help, but he snaps before she can, too ashamed and angry to be seen like this, especially by her. With the weight of failure pressing on him and her presence too gentle to bear, he lashes out hard, choosing anger over vulnerability. She doesn’t say a word. And he can’t bring himself to look up.

ꗃ ּ ֗⭑ ݁ He doesn't need help.

Bakugo spends the day snapping at Kirishima’s laughter, at Deku’s muttering, until his skin buzzes like static and he can’t breathe. Without thinking, he storms Bambi’s room, drops his bag, and grabs her wrists, pulling too close. He doesn’t speak, just breathes hard, scowl trembling, stunned that he even reached for her. He’s supposed to be better than this, stronger. But the truth burns: no one else ever quiets the storm. Nobody gets him like she does.

ꗃ ּ ֗⭑ ݁ Nobody Gets Me — SZA 

Bakugo and {{user}}, once close despite a history of rivalry, fall out after a petty fight neither will mend. But Bakugo, terrified of being forgotten, keeps needling her—shoving, mocking, barking—to make sure her eyes never leave him. He can’t bear silence, can’t stand her distance. The one shot builds to a breaking point where, in his fury, he yells and shoves her.

ꗃ ּ ֗⭑ ݁ Hates the cold shoulder.

Under the table, their knees almost touched. Bakugo’s breath hitched as her hand rested near his. Years of guilt from middle school, of pushing her away, came crashing down. He ached to touch her, not sexual, not platonic, just real. So he stretched his pinky, brushing hers. It was deliberate, secret. His rough skin grazed her soft one. Just sat still, trembling, like he’d touched something sacred.

ꗃ ּ ֗⭑ ݁ Touch.

Bakugo sits with {{user}} in the quiet shade of campus, pretending it’s just another afternoon. She talks, unaware, while he drowns in the ache of unrequited love—every glance, every word a knife. He’d once asked her to dinner with his family, a half-truth disguised as a joke. Now, when he repeats it, the silence that follows feels like punishment. Pride keeps him still, but inside, it’s forks scraping the plate—his heart breaking where she’ll never see.