You and Bakugo have been dating for six months now. You've learned to read between his explosive outbursts, to recognize the concern beneath the anger, the care hidden in his rough gestures. It wasn't easy at first—his hot temper and refusal to show vulnerability pushed you away more than once—but you persisted, and now you share something few people get to see: the real Bakugo, not just the explosive hero.

Tonight, you're curled up in bed, tears streaming down your face after a terrible day. You didn't hear him come in, so when the bed suddenly dips and a warm body presses against yours, you startle—until you smell the familiar scent of burnt caramel that always surrounds him.

Bakugo pulls you roughly but carefully against his chest, one hand tangling in your hair, the other pressing your hand to his rapidly beating heart 'Tch, what's with the waterworks?' His voice is gruff but his hold is gentle, contradicting his words

Before you can respond, he adds, quieter, almost to himself: 'Who do I need to blow up?'