summary: your daughter has her dad bakugou all figured out! | just super fluffy and domestic.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
“papa, i know your secret!” announces your daughter to a very tired bakugou.
he tilts his head, trying to shake off the restlessness from patrol today.
“oh yeah, and what are my ‘secrets’ exactly princess?”
“you,” she says, booping his nose.
“have a crush on mama!” she finishes off, jumping up and down around him in excitement like she’s got her dad all figured out.
he stares at her for a second, then shakes his head and tries to fight the smile forming on his lips. he stabilises your daughter’s movements with his firm hands.
“you got me all figured out princess, you’re so smart,” he tells her, giving her all the positive affirmations so she grows confident like him.
“but don’t tell mama, okay?”
she gives him her pinky finger and nods seriously. bakugou instantly locks his pinky with hers, solidifying their pinky promise.
“i understand why you have a crush on her… even uncle deku broccoli hair blushes at mama!” states your daughter with the brightest smile, oblivious she’s triggered her father’s jealousy.
“broccoli hair? you’re just like your dad… giving everyone nicknames, and about this uncle deku blushing… how does he act around mama?”
“he just smiles and gasps every time she’s near…”
“right, right,” replies bakugou, playing around with your daughter while she hands him a toy tea cup to drink.
just then, you enter the room after your long relaxing shower. one look at you and bakugou has unintentionally fixed his posture and his hair.
your daughter comes closer to his ear, “papa, you’re being obvious, mama shouldn’t know…”
“what shouldn’t mama know?” you ask, offended at the fact that father and daughter are in on something.
“mama, you can’t tell anyone this, but papa has a crush on you!”
bakugou bursts out laughing and his contagious laugh makes you as well. you walk up to the two of them and their tea party, sitting on bakugou’s lap.
“thanks for telling me sweetheart, let’s hope papa never finds out i know!”
just then, your daughter giggles too and makes herself comfortable on your lap as well. bakugou hugs you two with both of his strong arms as you all enjoy every bit of this family bonding.
↝ It's been eight years since Bakugou handed you the divorce papers without any reason, leaving you and your two children. But when co-parenting gets difficult and old feelings come back, you struggle with whether you can fall back in love with your ex-husband.
PAIRING: prohero!bakugou/dad!bakugou/divorced!bakugou x teacher!reader / mom!reader /divorced!reader (afab)
TAGS/WARNINGS: 18+; angst; kids; eventual smut (specific chapters will have different nsfw related tags); divorce; marriage; mention of pregnancy; fluff; suggestive; romance; second chances; jealousy; older bakugou and reader
STATUS: completed
A/N: this has been an idea that i've had for a while but never went through with it. i originally thought of it like four years ago but then fell off tumblr and now WE'RE BACK. tysm to everyone who helped out with the title of the series, especially to the anon who sent in this title!! i did not expect this series to have this many parts but i just had a lot i wanted to add to the story! also my first time doing anything nsfw in the 8 years i've had this blog lol... it's been a minute since i did a fic series (not smau related basically) so can't wait!
TIP JAR
⋆ PART I ↠ THE ROUTINE
⋆ PART II ↠ ARE YOU HAPPY
⋆ PART III ↠ JEALOUSY
⋆ PART IV ↠ MY BUSINESS
⋆ PART V ↠ THE TRUTH
⋆ PART VI ↠ BABY FEVER
⋆ PART VII ↠ THE ONLY ONE
⋆ PART VIII ↠ FOR THE KIDS
⋆ PART IX ↠ CAN'T HOLD BACK 18+
⋆ PART X ↠ SQUARE ONE
⋆ PART XI ↠ JUST FRIENDS
⋆ PART XII ↠ DON'T HURT HER
⋆ PART XIII ↠ DROWN IN IT 18+
⋆ PART XIV ↠ HERO
⋆ PART XV ↠ BIG HAPPY FAMILY
⋆ PART XVI ↠ THOSE THREE WORDS 18+
⋆ PART XVII ↠ REST OF MY LIFE
⋆ PART XVIII ↠ BLAMES AND FAULTS
⋆ PART XIX ↠ DESERVE TO BE LOVED 18+
⋆ EPILOGUE ↠ SECOND TIME AROUND
⋆ PROLOGUE ↠ FIRST TIME AROUND 18+
EXTRAS:
⋆ ALTERNATE ENDING
⋆ THIRD BABY
⋆ DATING IZUKU
⋆ HOW I MET YOUR MOTHER
⋆ NIGHTLY INTERRUPTIONS 18+
⋆ FIRST TIME 18+
⋆ GETTING INTERRUPTED AGAIN 18+
⋆ MEET THE PARENTS
⋆ BAKUGOU INTERRUPTING
⋆ REWARD FOR THE NUMBER THREE HERO 18+
⋆ KATSUO'S BAD DAY
⋆ KIDS INTERACTING WITH IZUKU
⋆ VILLAIN ATTACK POST-DIVORCE
⋆ DYNAMIGHT FANS AMBUSH
⋆ TOO LATE TO SAVE YOU
⋆ HEAD DURING ZOOM CALL 18+
⋆ SUKI'S BREAKUP
⋆ SUKI COMING OUT
⋆ MEET THE PARENTS PT. II (FEAT. KANA)
⋆ EXPLAINING DEATH
⋆ MEETING BABY HOSHI
⋆ PRESS AMBUSH
⋆ HONEYMOON SEX 18+
⋆ HONEYMOON SEX PT. II 18+
⋆ ANOTHER WAR
⋆ NEWEST ADDITION TO THE FAMILY
⋆ POST-WAR REUNION 18+
⋆ POST-WAR REUNION PT. II
⋆ DISTRACTIONS 18+
⋆ DIVORCED AND YEARNING 18+
⋆ BAKUGOU'S 40TH BIRTHDAY
⋆ LITTLE ANGEL KATSUMI
⋆ WAR NIGHTMARES
⋆ MOVE IN WITH ME
⋆ SUKI DEFENDING BAKUGOU
⋆ REWARD FOR THE NUMBER ONE HERO 18+
⋆ NEWBIE HERO HITTING ON Y/N
⋆ NEEDY BAKUGOU 18+
⋆ KATSUMI'S BULLIES
⋆ REMARRIAGE BODY WORSHIP 18+
⋆ TRYING TO GET OVER YOU
⋆ DYNAMIGHT FANS AMBUSH KATSUMI
⋆ MOMMA
⋆ KATSUO'S FIRST WORD
⋆ BAKUGOU ON ANESTHESIA
⋆ GROWN SUKI AND KATSUO WALKING IN ON BAKUGOU AND Y/N 18+
When you find out about your pregnancy, Bakugou is ecstatic, the prospect of being a father bringing out a new side of him. He becomes ten times more observant, more keen, more caring. He is cleaning up every nook and crany, softening every edge.
There is a pile of odd shaped pillows in the storage room, because he wanted you to sleep comfortably throughout the pregnancy. Extra shelf in the kitchen because, he chose to cook your cravings himself, pastel little notebook where he wrote recipes for baby food. The nursery already in work, drawers filled with hand-knitted sweaters, booties and scarfs.
All his clothes became yours by the 3rd trimester, choosing to be cozy in his over sized t-shirts. He was there whenever needed, rubbing your belly, massaging your feets, wiping up whatever atrocities you craved.
Though, he was sceptical of one thing, baby Bakugou was quite, you would feel the movement of the baby, and occasionally subtle kicks, but nothing like those videos showed of rough kicks and limbs bulging through the belly.
Bakugou knew he was a loud kid, running around, screaming at mild inconvenience, constant tantrums. Despite his uncertainties, he was prepared to handle a kid just like him.
But, when the babe is here, Katsuki's little boy, he is the most docile thing ever (but, his looks were all Bakugou, smooth blond hairs, cherry red eyes and chubbiest cheeks). Barely ever cries, only whines and coos when hungry, sometimes Bakugou worries he'll miss the sound of his baby so he'll go and check on him throughout the night.
Bakugou intended to call his son 'firecracker', something akin to himself. You call him blasty, and you were the one that called the little one, firecracker. But, the nickname that he settled on was peanut. He didn't know why, but that nickname stuck. You teased him endlessly, but he didn't bother changing it.
Little peanut was alot quieter than the ruckus Bakugou was expecting, all he needed was to be held, fed and sleep. Didn't cause any fus, didn't wail when waking up in the middle of the night, only light sniffles, as little baby shuffles around in crib.
Warnings// labour, birth, emergency c section, a little cursing.
A/n, this was requested by anonymous from my dms:)
A/n, also please let me know if i wrote something wrong since English is not my first language also its my first time actually trying to make my fics appearance a little more flattering:) so i hope it looks good i might expiriment more
Enjoy my loves!♡
The hospital room smelled of antiseptic and warm cotton, the lights dimmed just enough to keep it from feeling clinical. You sat on the edge of the delivery bed, knees drawn up slightly, leaning forward into Katsuki’s chest. Your fingers were locked around the front of his black tank top, knuckles white, but your voice stayed soft, almost apologetic, every time a contraction rolled through you.
“I’m okay,” you whispered against his collarbone, even though your breath hitched and tears slipped free. “I’m sorry, it just… hurts more this time.”
Katsuki’s arms were steady around you, one palm spread between your shoulder blades, the other cradling the back of your head. His heart hammered so hard you could feel it through his ribs. “Don’t apologize, idiot,” he muttered into your hair, voice low so only you could hear. “Just breathe. I’ve got you.”
Mitsuki stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, watching the monitor like she could intimidate it into behaving. Every time the line spiked, her eyes flicked to you, then to her son, then back to you. She hadn’t said much since they’d wheeled you in; the woman who usually filled every room with noise had gone quiet the moment she saw how calmly you were trying to carry the pain.
Another contraction crested. Your whole body curled inward; a broken whimper escaped before you could stop it. Katsuki’s grip tightened.
“Shh, baby, I know. I know.” His voice cracked on the last word, just barely.
The nurse—Midori, her name tag read checked the monitor and gave you a gentle smile. “You’re doing beautifully. Let’s get you on your back for the next one, okay? We need to see how far along we are.”
You nodded, even though the idea of moving felt impossible. Katsuki helped you ease back, never letting go of your hand. Your legs trembled violently as the nurses guided them into the stirrups. You tried to laugh, a tiny watery sound. “Sorry I’m shaking so much.”
“Don’t be,” Midori said firmly. “Bodies do what they need to do.”
Katsuki climbed halfway onto the bed so you could grip his forearm instead of the railing. His other hand brushed damp hair from your forehead. “Look at me,” he ordered quietly. You did. Crimson eyes, fierce and terrified all at once. “You’re the strongest damn person I know. You’ve got this.”
You wanted to tell him you weren’t strong, that you were scared, that it felt like you were being split in two, but another contraction hit and all that came out was a high, wounded sound. You bore down when they told you to, face scrunched, lips pouted in pain, tears streaming sideways into your hair.
“Good, good—again, sweetheart, big push.”
You pushed until your vision blurred at the edges. And again. And again.
Midori’s brows drew together. She glanced at the second nurse, then down again. Her voice stayed calm, but something shifted in it. “Okay, honey, relax for me just a second.”
Katsuki stiffened. “What’s wrong?”
Midori met his eyes—professional, steady. “Baby’s in perfect position, heart rate’s strong, but her pelvic opening is… narrower than we usually see for the baby’s head circumference. Even with how much she’s dilated, we’re not getting the descent we need.”
Your heart stuttered. You felt Katsuki’s fingers spasm around yours.
“Meaning?” he growled.
“Meaning we may need to assist. We can try a few more positions, maybe the vacuum, but if she doesn’t progress in the next twenty minutes, we’ll take her for a c-section. It’s safer for both of them.”
The word c-section punched the air out of your lungs. You started trembling harder, not from the contraction this time. “I—I’m trying so hard,” you choked out. “I’m sorry, I’m trying—”
“Hey.” Katsuki cupped your face with both hands, forcing you to look at him. His palms were hot, grounding. “Listen to me. You are not failing. You hear me? You’ve been in labor for fourteen goddamn hours and you haven’t screamed once. You are incredible. If they need to do the surgery, we do the surgery. Our kid just needs to get here safe. That’s it. That’s the only thing that matters.”
Your lip wobbled. “But I wanted—”
“I know what you wanted.” He pressed his forehead to yours. “I wanted it too. But I want you alive more. Both of you.”
Mitsuki stepped closer, resting a careful hand on your shin. “He’s right, sweetheart. You’ve done everything right. Sometimes babies are just stubborn little assholes. Takes after their father.”
That surprised a wet laugh out of you.
They tried everything. They had you on your side, then on hands and knees, then back in the stirrups with Katsuki and Mitsuki pulling your legs toward your chest while you pushed until you saw stars. Every time the monitor beeped too fast, Katsuki whispered praises against your temple like a prayer.
“Almost, baby, you’re so close—fuck, you’re amazing—”
But the head still wouldn’t crown.
Finally, Midori looked at the obstetrician who’d come in. They spoke in low voices. Decision made.
“We’re taking her now,” the doctor said gently. “Katsuki, you can stay with her until the doors.”
Everything blurred after that. The bed rolling fast down the corridor, Katsuki jogging beside you still holding your hand, his scrub cap crooked because he’d yanked it on without looking. You were crying openly now, but quietly, the way you’d been doing all day.
“I’m scared,” you whispered.
“I know.” He squeezed your fingers so hard it should’ve hurt, but it didn’t. “I’m right here. Not going anywhere.”
They paused outside the OR doors. A nurse started to wheel you through.
Katsuki leaned over you, eyes shining suspiciously. “Listen to me,” he said fiercely. “You did everything. You fought like hell. I’m so fucking proud of you. Both of you are gonna be fine, you understand me?”
You managed a tiny nod.
He kissed you—hard, desperate, tasting like salt and terror and love—then let them take you.
The spinal block was cold. The drape went up. You stared at the ceiling lights until someone squeezed your hand and you realized Katsuki was beside you now, in full scrubs, eyes red-rimmed above his mask.
“Hi,” he croaked.
“Hi,” you croaked back, and started crying again.
Less than eight minutes later, a thin, indignant wail split the air.
The doctor lifted a tiny, perfect bundle over the drape. Your daughter was so small—five pounds exactly, the nurse would tell you later—that it felt impossible she’d caused all this chaos. Her little fists flailed, shock of ash-blond hair sticking up exactly like her father’s.
Katsuki made a sound like he’d been punched in the chest.
“She’s… she’s so little,” you sobbed, half-laughing, half-hysterical. “She didn’t even—she’s tiny—how did she not fit?”
The pediatrician chuckled as she dried the baby off. “Sometimes the angles are just wrong, sweetheart. Heads are hard. You did great.”
They placed her on your chest, all slippery and warm and impossibly light. She rooted immediately, mouth open, letting out furious kitten noises.
Katsuki’s hand hovered, shaking, then settled over her entire back—his palm nearly covered her whole torso.
“Hey, little gremlin,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “Took you long enough.”
You looked at the two of them—your furious, perfect, ridiculously small daughter and the boy who’d growled at the universe since the day you met him, now crying silently over both of you—and thought your heart might actually burst.
He didn’t even argue. Just leaned over and kissed your temple, then the baby’s damp hair, then your lips, soft and slow.
“Thank you,” he murmured against your skin. “For fighting for her. For fighting for us.”
You were sore, exhausted, stitched and shaking and higher than you’d ever been in your life.
But you smiled, turned your face into his neck, and whispered back the only thing that mattered.
“Always.”
The recovery room was quiet except for the soft beeping of monitors and the occasional squeak of shoes in the hallway. You were propped up in bed, still pale, eyes heavy-lidded from the anesthesia and the morphine drip, but awake enough to watch the door like it was the only thing keeping you tethered to the world.
Katsuki sat on the edge of the bed, one arm braced behind your shoulders, the other cradling your daughter against his bare chest (skin-to-skin, the nurse had said). The baby was swaddled in a pink-and-white blanket, but her tiny face peeked out, scrunched and red, a shock of spiky blond hair sticking up in every direction. Every few seconds her mouth would open in a silent, furious yawn, and Katsuki’s eyes would flick down to her like he still couldn’t believe she was real.
There was a soft knock. The door cracked open, and Mitsuki’s head appeared first, eyes already glassy. Masaru followed a step behind, hands clasped in front of him, looking like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to breathe too loud.
Mitsuki’s gaze went straight to the bundle in Katsuki’s arms. Her hand flew to her mouth.
“Oh my God,” she whispered, voice cracking on the second word. “Katsuki, move, let me see her.”
Katsuki didn’t snarl like he normally would have. He just carefully shifted the baby higher against his shoulder, protective, possessive, and turned so his parents could see her face.
Mitsuki took one step, then another, then stopped like she’d hit an invisible wall. Tears spilled over instantly.
“She’s… she’s so small,” she choked out. “Look at her little hands—oh my God, Katsuki, she has your eyebrows.”
Masaru came up beside his wife, resting a gentle hand on her back. His glasses were fogged. He didn’t even bother wiping them.
“She’s perfect,” he said quietly, voice thick. “Absolutely perfect.”
Katsuki’s throat worked. He glanced at you first (checking, always checking), and you gave him the tiniest nod, exhausted but smiling.
“Go on,” you rasped. “Let them hold her.”
He hesitated another second, then slowly, carefully, stood up from the bed. Mitsuki’s hands were already out, trembling.
“Support her head—Mom, I swear to God—”
“I raised you, you little shit, I know how to hold a baby,” Mitsuki hissed, but it came out wet and wobbly. The second Katsuki transferred the tiny weight into her arms, Mitsuki’s face crumpled completely. She sank into the nearest chair like her knees had given out.
“Hi, baby,” she whispered to the newborn, voice breaking in half. “Hi, sweetheart. I’m your grandma. You’re so beautiful I can’t even—oh God, Masaru, look at her.”
Masaru leaned over his wife’s shoulder, one finger gently tracing the baby’s cheek. The infant blinked, squinted, then let out a furious squeak and scrunched her face exactly like Katsuki did when he was annoyed.
Mitsuki barked out a laugh that turned into a sob. “That’s your father’s glare, right there. She’s two hours old and already done with everyone’s bullshit.”
You laughed—weak, pained, but real—and Katsuki’s hand found yours immediately, squeezing.
Masaru reached out, hesitant. “May I…?”
Mitsuki carefully passed the baby over. Masaru took her like she was made of spun glass, cradling her in the crook of his arm. His eyes were shining behind his glasses.
“Hello, little one,” he murmured. “You gave your mama quite the adventure, didn’t you?”
The baby rooted against his shirt, tiny mouth opening and closing. Masaru’s smile wobbled.
“She’s… she’s lighter than I expected,” he said softly. “After everything they said about her not fitting…” He shook his head, marveling. “She’s so small. And yet she fought so hard to get here.”
Katsuki’s jaw clenched. He looked away, blinking rapidly.
Mitsuki stood up and moved to your bedside. She didn’t ask; she just carefully sat on the edge of the bed and pulled you—tubes and all—into the gentlest hug she’d ever given anyone.
“You did it,” she whispered against your hair, fierce and shaking. “You brought her here. I’m so proud of you I could burst.”
You started crying again, silent and overwhelmed, clinging to her with the arm that didn’t have an IV in it.
Masaru rocked the baby slowly, humming something soft under his breath. After a minute, he looked up at his son.
“Katsuki.”
Katsuki met his eyes.
“You’re a father,” Masaru said simply, voice full of wonder. “Look what you made. Look what the two of you made.”
Katsuki swallowed hard. He leaned over and pressed his forehead to the top of his daughter’s head, breathing her in, then reached back to lace his fingers with yours again.
“Yeah,” he rasped. “I see her.”
Mitsuki kissed the top of your head, then stood so Masaru could bring the baby back to you. He laid her carefully in your arms, and the second her weight settled against your chest, everything—the pain, the fear, the long terrifying hours—faded into background noise.
Your daughter sighed, a tiny, content sound, and tucked her face under your chin.
In the quiet, Mitsuki wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand and muttered, “Well, shit. There goes my reputation as a hard-ass.”
And for the first time in nearly twenty-four hours, Katsuki laughed—rough, stunned, and utterly in love.
Summary: It’s time for your child’s first day of pre-school, and Bakugou is not having it.
“There we go! All ready to go!” You said after adjusting the straps on Katsumi’s car seat. She giggled as you tickled her sides, causing her to spill slobber and toddler juices on your hands and her clothes.
You wiped your hand on your shirt before shutting the car door.
You were beyond excited. Today was your precious 3 year old daughter’s first day at pre-school. You and your husband took the day off at work just for this occasion. You bought her coloring supplies in case she got bored, fidget toys in case she got antsy, and packed her favorite snacks in case the teacher didn’t have the right ones. You even went to the store and put together a cute little first day outfit. And you woke her up early this morning to perfect two cute pigtails with a cute little bows on each ponytail.
Your husband, Katsuki however and been griping and complaining about it. All week.
“Why does she have to go to preschool?! We can just teach her at home.”
“It’s too early for a baby to be in school anyway. She should just stay here.”
“You literally work with kids. Teach her at home!”
“I’m a child therapist Kats.”
“So? Teach her therapy.”
When he was out shopping with you he was nothing but against the idea.
“What do you think about this outfit Sumi?” You showed your daughter as she stared at the green outfit set in your hands. Bakugou grabbed it from you and eyed it. “No, say no Sumi. Use your big girl words. Say I wanna stay home with daddy.” Snatching the outfit back you gave your husband a side eye and put it in the basket.
Katsuki spent the entire shopping trip trying to convince you to let your daughter stay at home, up until you reached the cashier.
“I mean what if sum’ kid tries to pick on my baby huh? Then what? What if a BOY-”
“Katsuki.” You said calm and sharp causing him to bite tongue. “Sumi will be fine. I’ve met with her teacher, I’ve read the reviews on the place, and Sumi is your daughter, I doubt she’ll even let someone pick on her.”
“But I needa’ be the one to save her.” He crosses his arms. Katsumi watching from the stroller copies this action.
“Look, we’ll let Sumi try it for a few days. Dip her feet into the water slowly. If she likes it, I’ll continue to enroll her. If she doesn’t I’ll take her out and we can try again next year.” Katsuki opened his mouth to object but realized by the looks on your face, this wasn’t choice. He rolled his eyes before pouting his lips. You looked down at Sumi who was doing the same. Wow. The resemblance is uncanny. She may have your hair color but she has his whole face.
Now you were using the GPS to find your way to the preschool as your husband pouted in the passenger seat. If you let him drive the destination would not have been the school.
When you guys finally arrive Bakugou opens your door and then goes to the backseat to see Sumi barely awake.
When you aren’t watching he leans in towards Sumi who immediately reaches for his blonde hair. “Sumi let me know if you want to go home, all you have to say is the word.” He whispers, “Do you wanna’ go home?” Sumi shakes her head which earns a sigh from Bakugou as he unbuckles her. He lifts her out of the seat and into the air where he admires her for a bit “Oi don’t you get the growin’ up on me so soon okay?” Your daughter giggled in response.
Once inside the building you found Sumi’s teacher and classroom.
“Katsuki for the last time she’s going to look after Sumi.” Bakugou had been giving the teacher serious orders for 5 minutes straight. She seemed very patient with Bakugou though, so you knew she had to be good with kids too.
“And pretzels, the girl like pretzels. So you guys better be feeding her some damn pretzels!”
“Bakugou!” You hissed. “There are children present!”
“Tch, that’s soft. They needa’ get tough like my little girl.” He said proudly as Sumi knitted her brows together, and grinned just as proud.
A little boy walked up to her and waved. She waved back and spoke for a bit before he grabbed her by the hand and gently pulled her over to a little play kitchen.
“Anymore requests Mr. Bakugou…Mr. Bakugou are you alright?” To say the least he was visibly fuming.
You sighed, “Nope we’re all good. We’ll be back in a couple of hours thank you!” You said pulling your husband who was so agitated he couldn’t even function, out of the door frame and back to the car.
After a few minutes outside parked in the lot he was at least able to function again.
“So what do you think?” You asked looking at yourself in the car mirror, “Mrs June seemed nice, Sumi already has a friend and she seems to be fitting in just fine and…and…” you eyed Katsuki who was staring out the window, shoulders bouncing during every sniffle.
“Katsuki…I know you’re not crying-” you touched his shoulder.
He quickly wipes his face, “No. Hell no. I was just…” he looked at you with glossy ruby eyes, his nose, cheeks, and ears a bright pink. Just how Sumí looks after one of her crying fits.
“Baby, it’s gonna be okay. We’ll pick her up in 2 hours, she’ just getting a feel for it today.” You chuckled as he shook his head. “No. When is lunch time? I needa’ buy my baby a kids meal from somewhere.” He was speaking through sobs now and you let out the laugh that you couldn’t hold any longer. He didn’t care. He wanted his daughter back.
Trying to get his mind off of it you ran errands all day, but nothing could remove the pout from his lips and the furrow from his brows.
“Now I need to get some gas and then we can-”
“LOOK, it’s 2pm like you said, turn the car around.”
“Katsuki we need gas.”
“Who gives a shit? My daughter needs me.”
So on an almost empty tank, you made a U-turn back towards the daycare center.
When you parked the car Bakugou quickly opened your door and took off towards the building, not even giving you a chance to lock the car.
“Dang it Bakugou wait.” You huffed rushing after him. You wanted to see your daughter’s reaction.
You made your way to the classroom hoping you weren’t too late. “Daddyyyyy!!” You caught it right at the perfect moment. She ran to him with open arms and he scooped her up with a quickness. “Heyyy brat.” Your husband was smiling to ear to ear, sharing the same smile as your child.
“Did you have fun Sumi?” You chuckled as she nodded.
“I wanna come back!” Sumí threw her hands in the air as Bakugou frowned. Sumi grasped her short arms around his neck in an attempt to hug him, as he pulled her close and let her. She was very emotionally intelligent.
“Well tomorrow’s a Saturday kid. But I’ll bring ya back next week if you want, if yer not up to it you can stay with me nd come to the agency.” He grinned when she nodded.
On the way out of the classroom Katsumi’s little friend from earlier waved to her, “I love you!” He called out. You stiffened as your daughter waved over her daddy’s shoulder who couldn’t get out of the classroom any faster.
The ride back home was eerily silent. So quiet you could almost hear the sound of Bakugou’s eye twitching.
“What did that little brat say to you Katsumi?” Bakugou asked peeking in the backseat. Silence. Katsumi’s wide eyes just staring back at him as if she couldn’t understand.
“Katsuki, he’s a child. He probably hears his parents say that all the time.”
“Who gives a damn? If that boy says it again I will physically-”
“Do nothing right?” You said eyeing him, “Because you’ve grown since highschool and you wouldn’t threaten a kid would you?”
The Heart Cracks Before it Shatters (Pt3) ⋆｡°✩ Bakugou Katsuki
Masterlist ୨ৎ pt1 pt2 -> pt4 pt5 pt5.5 the end
Katsuki Goes home.
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Glitter 𐔌 𐦯 : Bakugous perspective again, alot of sad internal thoughts here. Hope you like! thank you for the support on this yall.
Warnings : Angsty, Female!Reader, Reader is a wife, Reader has children, bakugou is very sad, agruments, swearing, sadness, aged up characters, childern, babies.
W/C : ~5.8k
.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊
Katsuki loves to cook for you.
It was your third date, and your first time at Katsuki’s house. Though he’d never admit it, he spent hours scrubbing down his small, somewhat cramped apartment (too much money went into his car, after all). Spending an absurd amount of time considering whether or not he should hide his All Might merch, before deciding to move it into his bedroom for safe keeping.
Your last date had been at some overpriced restaurant downtown when he’d proposed the idea. “I’ll cook for you next time,” he’d said, cocky and sure. “Show you what real food tastes like.” You had laughed, and he had raised an eyebrow, because he wasn’t joking. He wasn’t lying about his food being fucking fantastic, cause it was usually, he just didn’t anticipate that he would be acting below optimally today.
He didn’t confront it at the time, but cooking was proving difficult from the bubbling nerves in his stomach, the knife shaking in his careful hands. He’d already restarted the dish twice—first after dropping a whole garlic clove in, then again when he over-salted the sauce. And it was all due to his shaky fucking hands.
He settled on katsu curry, a recipe from his dad. Simple, reliable, and good enough to impress without making it obvious how much effort he was putting in.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. You’d be there in 30 minutes. His pulse spiked, though he wasn’t sure if it was excitement or nerves. He hadn’t felt like this in a long time—not for someone normal like you.
Not that he meant normal as an insult. You just weren’t a hero, or a celebrity, but you still had him hooked. And that was rare.
When he was younger he had been actively avoiding it, busy with more important things to be wasting his time on things he considered trivial. Then after, it was more he just wasn’t finding anyone that interested him, no one worth exchanging a second glance with. So now, with you, he feels like a teenager.
It isn't until you take your first bite, when awe flashes in your eyes and you smile while you chew, that Katsuki finally feels air in his lungs and his shoulders drop.
“I’ll make you something even better next time,” he had said, and he meant it.
And he did. Over and over, he did. He liked seeing that look on your face. Liked making you happy.
Until… well. Until he stopped.
Now, he can barely remember the last time he made you and the girls a proper home-cooked meal. Maybe a year ago, when your parents came over for your birthday. He remembers the way you had come downstairs that morning, hair a little messy, eyes bright with surprise.
“Katsuki…?”
He had turned to look at you, but there was no warmth in his expression. Maybe even a flicker of annoyance.
“Yeah?”
“Oh, I…” You had laughed nervously, shifting on your feet. “Just… um. What are you cooking?”
“Katsu curry.”
“Oh!” You had moved closer, peeking over his shoulder. “Wow… it smells really good. Like always.”
And that was it. No teasing. No awe. Just a small, hesitant smile, like you weren’t sure if this was something you were allowed to be happy about.
Like it had been so long since he did something like this, you didn’t know what it meant anymore.
He chops the onion harder at the memory, the knife clinking against the cutting board from the force. In the living room, the girls are still in their pajamas, curled up on the couch despite the time. He tries to recall what you would usually do to keep them entertained on a Saturday, chopping faster with each thought, each memory that feels further away.
After an awkward breakfast of pancakes—because pancakes felt like the safe choice, and all kids like pancakes, right?—he busies himself in the kitchen, prepping soup for lunch. Something simple. Something safe. Kids need their vegetables… or something like that. He had looked up recipes online, scrolled through a dozen articles about “healthy meals for picky eaters,” and gotten to work. Because the alternative (asking his own kids what they actually like) sits like lead in his stomach. They wouldn’t think twice about the question, wouldn’t realize it’s because their own father doesn’t know their preferences.
But Katsuki would know. And his pride won’t let him admit it.
His head is already aching when a sharp scream cuts through the apartment. He whips around, eyes immediately locking onto Koharu, red-faced and wailing. Riko is at her side, whispering something soft, trying to calm her down. Would she be doing that if you were here? Would she feel like she had to?
His chest tightens.
“Hey, hey, sweetheart,” he murmurs, quickly setting the knife aside and crossing the room. He lifts Koharu into his arms, cradling her close as he gently bounces her. “What’s wrong, huh?”
Her tiny fists clutch at his shirt as the sobs shake her little body. He presses his lips to the top of her head, rubbing slow circles on her back.
“Don’t cry, baby. You’re breaking Daddy’s heart.”
His voice is softer than he thought it would be, almost pleading. He wipes the tears from her hot cheeks with the pad of his thumb, shushing her lightly.
He rocks Koharu gently, her hiccupping sobs slowing, little hands still clutching at his shirt. He doesn’t know what set her off. Doesn’t know what usually comforts her best. When she cries like this, what do you do?
He can guess. He’s seen it, even if he never really paid attention. You’d take her into your arms without missing a beat, murmur something soft against her temple, rub slow, sure circles into her back. You’d hum, maybe sing—off-key, but the girls loved it anyway. Maybe you’d take her to the kitchen and grab her a snack, something small, something easy. Something she likes.
His stomach twists.
“I got you,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to her forehead, hoping the words will be enough. “I got you, baby.”
She sniffs, breathing uneven against his chest, but she’s settling. He lets out a quiet breath. It’s barely past noon, and he’s already exhausted.
Kirishima had texted earlier, checking in. Said he could swing by if Katsuki needed a break. He’d almost said yes before he caught himself. You wouldn’t get a break. You never did.
His phone buzzes again, but this time, it’s a different name.
[12:14 PM] The Hag : Don’t forget Katsuki, we’re expecting you all at dinner tonight.
He exhales sharply through his nose. Right. Dinner at his parents’ house. You’d planned it weeks ago.
“Your mom wants us over for dinner next Saturday,” you said, standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. Your voice was soft, like you weren’t sure how he’d take it. “She says the girls need a proper meal.”
Katsuki barely looked up from his phone. “They eat just fine.”
You let out a breath, pushing your fingers against your temple. “Yeah, I know, I just—” You hesitated, chewing your lip. “She thought it’d be nice.”
There was a pause, the words lingering, like maybe there was something else you wanted to say.
He scrolled idly through his screen. “You already told her we’d go, didn’t you?”
You let out a small, tired laugh. “Yeah.”
He exhaled sharply through his nose. “Whatever.”
Silence stretched between you, but you didn’t move. You were watching him—he could feel it, that quiet, exhausted sort of stare. He glanced up just as you shifted your weight, like you were thinking about something, like you were deciding whether or not to say it.
“…You know, you could start cooking again.”
The words were careful. Like you were testing the waters, trying not to step on a landmine.
His brow twitched. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
You sighed, thumb pressing against your temple again. “It’s just…” You hesitated, voice quieter now, almost cautious. “You used to like it. Remember that?”
“I don’t have time to cook.”
Your lips parted, but you didn’t say anything right away. Instead, your shoulders dropped slightly, a slow breath leaving you.
“I don’t either,” you finally murmured. “But I still do.”
There was no bite behind it. No anger. Just a fact. A quiet truth laid bare between you, almost too fragile to touch.
His eyes snapped up then, irritation flickering. “Not all of us have the luxury of free time you have.”
You flinched, just a little, but you covered it quickly, shaking your head. “No, I just…” Your fingers rubbed absently over a spot on the counter. “I just thought it’d be nice, that’s all.”
He exhaled through his nose, barely looking at you now. “Okay, then.”
You nodded, like you hadn’t expected anything more. Then, without another word, you turned back toward the sink, shoulders drawn, something weary in the way you moved.
He never cooked that week. Or the week after.
And now, standing in the kitchen with his daughters waiting in the other room, that moment hits him with a new kind of weight.
It wasn’t just about the food. It never was.
~
He cleans up the living room while the girls start getting ready to head over to grandmas, barely keeping his eyes open.
Katsuki rubs a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. His mother is going to take one look at him, at the girls, at the empty space beside him, and she’s going to know.
And she’s going to say something.
He can already hear her voice in his head. What the hell did you do this time?
Because Mitsuki Bakugou raised him. She knows every stubborn inch of him, knows exactly what kind of man he grew up to be. And she sure as hell knows you. She likes you too much not to notice the way you’ve suddenly vanished from the picture.
And if they don’t show up, if he even thinks about bailing, she’s going to lose her damn mind.
Not just because she’ll know something is off, but because she’s Mitsuki Bakugou, and the woman has no patience for bullshit. She’ll call, and when he doesn’t answer, she’ll call again. And again. And again. And if he still doesn’t pick up? She’ll just show the hell up at his front door.
A small sigh pulls him from his thoughts, and he turns to see Riko standing in the doorway.
She’s already in the dress you picked out for her weeks ago, but her face is twisted in frustration, lips pulled into a pout.
“Daddy,” she huffs, arms crossing over her chest. “I can’t do my hair.”
Katsuki blinks. “Huh?”
She groans, marching over to him and spinning around, pointing to the mess of tangles at the back of her head. “It’s all wrong.”
He stares at her. Then at her hair. Then back at her.
Oh.
Shit.
He suddenly realizes he’s never actually done her hair before.
You always did it. Every morning, without fail. Brushing it out, tying it up, pulling it into little braids or ponytails—sometimes you even put those dumb sparkly clips in it that she loved so much.
And now she’s looking at him like he’s supposed to know what to do.
He clears his throat, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh. What… do you want me to do with it?”
She lets out another dramatic sigh. “Just make it nice.”
Before he can respond, she’s already stomping off to her room, and he hesitates before following, comb in hand.
Riko plops onto the floor in front of him, and Katsuki crouches behind her, comb in hand. He squints at her hair like it’s some kind of puzzle, hesitating before dragging the comb through it.
Riko yelps. “Ow!”
Katsuki freezes. “What?”
“You yanked it!”
“I barely touched you!”
She huffs, twisting to glare up at him. “Mommy never pulls my hair.”
“Tch.” He exhales through his nose, loosening his grip. “Well, Mommy isn’t here, so quit whining and hold still.”
Riko grumbles but turns forward again, and in the mirror, she’s still glaring daggers at him. He almost smirks.
You always used to say she was a mini-him, loud and stubborn just like he was, but he’d never really seen it before. She’d always been his little princess. And sure, she’s still a princess—just one who’s currently scowling at him like she’d take him down if given the chance.
Yeah. She’s definitely his brat.
With a sigh, he works through her hair a little gentler this time, ignoring the tight feeling in his chest when he realizes how much work this actually is.
How much work you did every single day.
How much work he never even noticed.
When he finally finishes, the ponytail is a little uneven, but it’s secure. Good enough.
Riko turns, running her hands over her hair with a thoughtful expression. Then, to his surprise, she grins.
“It’s not terrible.”
He snorts. “Gee, thanks.”
She giggles, then suddenly launches forward, wrapping her arms around his neck.
Katsuki stills, caught off guard, before gently squeezing her back.
“Thanks, Daddy,” she mumbles against his shoulder.
“…Yeah.” His voice is quiet. “Anytime, bug.”
He pulls back slightly, ruffling her hair with a smirk. “Alright,” he huffs. “Let me go wake up brat number two, and then we’ll get going.”
Riko gasps, scandalized. “I’M NOT A BRAT!”
Katsuki just snorts, already walking out of the room, smirk still firmly in place.
Katsuki wakes Koharu with as much patience as he can muster—which, admittedly, isn’t much. She whines, burrowing deeper into her blankets, tiny hands gripping onto his shirt when he tries to sit her up. Eventually, he manages to get her dressed, all while Riko stands in the doorway, hands on her hips, offering extremely unhelpful commentary.
By the time they’re in the car, Koharu is still pouting sleepily in her car seat, and Riko is humming some song under her breath. Katsuki grips the wheel tighter than necessary, jaw set as they pull out of the driveway.
He doesn’t want to do this.
He’d always complained about dinners with his parents, even back when you were first dating. It took him nearly nine months to introduce you, and it would've been even longer if you hadn’t come to him one day, quietly asking if the reason he hadn’t introduced you was because he ‘didn’t see this as something long term.’
It had hurt more than he liked to admit—he hated seeing that look on your face. So, against his usual stubbornness, he agreed. He suffered through that first dinner with them, and he continued to suffer through them for years after, because his mom absolutely liked you more than him.
She used to tease him about it, laughing softly when Mitsuki would pull you aside, talking your ear off about some childhood story Katsuki really didn’t need you knowing. You’d give him a little look over your shoulder, amused, like you knew he was barely holding it together. And later, when you two were alone, you’d tell him how nice his mom really was, how she just cared, and he’d scoff, grumbling about how you were wrong—but deep down, he liked that you got along.
Now, though? He’d take his mother favoring you over him in a heartbeat if it meant you were still here.
The drive is quiet, the weight of his thoughts heavier than the silence in the car. By the time he parks in front of his parents’ house, his fingers ache from gripping the wheel too tight. He barely has the chance to unbuckle before the front door swings open.
“My angels!” Mitsuki wails dramatically, her arms wide as she stands in the doorway, a soft smirk playing on her lips. Behind her, Katsuki’s dad stands by the door, casually leaning against the frame, wearing his usual apron.
Koharu lets out a small whimper as Katsuki lifts her from her car seat, the little girl immediately burying her face into his shoulder. Riko, on the other hand, sprints over into her grandmother’s arms, dragging her little bag behind her, a grin on her face as Mitsuki scoops her up.
“I’m kidnapping you both, AND THAT’S FINAL!” Mitsuki huffs, smothering Riko with tight, exaggerated affection, but her eyes immediately scan past Katsuki, searching. She doesn’t find who she’s looking for.
Her eyes narrow, sharp as always. Then, they flick back up to him, and he knows exactly what’s coming.
“Where’s your wife?” she asks, her voice a little too calm, too knowing.
Katsuki exhales sharply through his nose, shifting Koharu in his arms as he meets her gaze. “Busy,” he mutters, trying to keep the discomfort from creeping into his voice.
Mitsuki’s brows furrow deeply, the usual softness in her gaze replaced with something closer to concern. She takes a long, deliberate look at him, then at the girls, before her eyes settle back on him again.
Finally, she exhales, shaking her head. “Dinner’s almost ready. Get inside.”
It’s a temporary reprieve. He knows that. Mitsuki will press him on it before the night is over.
As his mother drags Riko inside, Katsuki gently follows, carefully toeing off his shoes with Koharu still in his arms.
“How are you doing, Katsuki?”
His dad’s voice is soft but full of that quiet concern, a gentle smile on his face as he watches his son carefully.
Katsuki adjusts Koharu in his arms, avoiding his dad’s gaze, and mutters, “Fine… fuckin’ busy or whatever.”
His dad steps a little closer, that calming presence always so different from his mother’s sharpness. With a tender touch, he strokes Koharu’s hair as she clings to Katsuki’s chest, half-asleep and unaware of the silent exchange happening between them.
“You shouldn’t curse in front of the little one,” his dad muses, his tone more lighthearted than critical.
“Yeah, 'cause she knows what I’m saying,” Katsuki mutters, glancing at Koharu, still resting in his arms.
His dad chuckles softly, shaking his head. "You look tired, son. Have you been overworking again?"
Whenever his dad uses that tone, Katsuki feels like he’s 13 again, and his dad is correcting him for the way he would talk to Izuku. In some ways, it hits harder than his mother’s loud words ever could, because she’s direct, and his dad—his dad can see right through him, in a way that makes him retreat into his shell even more.
“A little, not a big deal,” Katsuki mutters, his eyes drifting away, not wanting to meet his dad's gaze.
His dad doesn’t let it slide. "And Y/N? How is she?"
The question catches Katsuki off guard, the mention of your name feels like an unexpected weight. His dad’s gaze is soft, almost too knowing. Katsuki shifts Koharu in his arms, his mouth suddenly dry.
“She’s…” he trails off, staring down at Koharu, as if the answer is buried in her messy curls. “She’s fine, just... busy, you know?”
His dad’s eyes narrow slightly, but he doesn’t press further. He just watches him quietly, giving him the space to either lie or open up. But for now, his dad doesn't press. He just watches him quietly, as if letting Katsuki decide if he’s ready to say something real.
The lie he’s telling isn’t even a good one, cause no matter how busy you are, you always made sure to make time for these sorta dinners. And his dad knows that. But, he doesn’t say anything in return, which is somehow worse.
He sighs quietly and reaches out, gently lifting Koharu from Katsuki’s arms. The little girl, now wide awake, babbles happily as her grandfather coos at her, running his hand through her hair. "Go settle in, son," his dad says, his voice soft, but firm. “I’ll take care of her for a bit.”
Before he turns to go, his dad adds, his tone gentle yet knowing, “But… maybe let’s speak later? Okay?”
Katsuki swallows hard, he hates that the way his dad is talking already makes him sound like a failure, like he already knows it was Katsuki that messed up. Like he can read through all of Katsuki’s bullshit and see the cracks he’s trying so hard to hide. It makes him feel like a damn failure, like it’s obvious to everyone that he’s the problem
“Why? You got something you need to say?” Katsuki snaps, the defensive tone escaping before he can stop it. His dad doesn’t flinch, doesn’t react, just stands there like he’s waiting for the storm to pass.
The sharpness in his voice cuts through the house, and even the chatter from the kitchen quiets just a bit. Why is he making everyone walk on eggshells around him?
He isn’t a villain, he tells himself. So what if he… messed up a little? It’s not the end of the world, right? He could’ve done worse. He could’ve been unfaithful, or a bad provider, or—
His thoughts come to a screeching halt as he meets his dad’s gaze.
His dad has always been the perfect role model. Attentive. Doting. Patient. And here Katsuki is, a mess of frustration, guilt, and pride that’s been spilling over more and more lately. He could never be like his dad.
Katsuki’s jaw clenches, but something in him softens, ever so slightly, as he exhales a frustrated breath. He’s tired, so damn tired. One minute, things were okay—well, good enough, and then somehow, it all unraveled. Too fast.
He wishes, selfishly, that he could find a way to blame you for all of this. If he could just shift the blame, maybe he could breathe again, maybe he could sleep a little easier at night. But that’s not the truth. He knows it. You tried. For years. You tried to tell him, to show him how tired you were, how stretched thin, how hungry for something that was no longer there. And instead of listening, he put up walls, focused on his life, his goals, because what he was doing mattered. What you needed didn’t. Not to him.
And when he looks back, he hates himself for it. For all the moments he chose his work, his career, over you. Over us. Thinking that being a pro hero, providing for the family, ensuring everything was safe and secure, would be enough to make you stay. Enough to keep you from wanting more. But that was never the problem. He never saw it, not until it was too late. You didn’t care about the things he thought mattered, the things he believed were enough to prove his love. You wanted him. Just him. And now, that selfishness—his lack of attention, his ignorance of your needs—has landed him here. And still, despite it all, there’s a part of him that wants to blame you. Even now. If you’d said something earlier, if you’d tried harder…
But he knows that’s a lie, too. Deep down, he knows it was his choice to ignore it. To dismiss you. To push you aside. And that realization hits him like a punch to the gut. He’s the one who let it all fall apart, the one who took the love you gave and turned it into nothing more than routine, something he could neglect without consequence.
His breaths become shallow, and suddenly his vision blurs. He blinks hard, trying to force back the sting in his eyes. No, no, not now. He can’t do this. Not here. Not in front of his dad.
“Whatever,” he mutters through gritted teeth, the words coming out rough. His voice cracks, but he can’t let it break.
He shoves past his dad, stomping his way toward the bathroom, his hands trembling.
~
Katsuki has a gnawing feeling that his dad spoke to his mother about the little… moment earlier at the door. Because the hag doesn’t utter a word about you during dinner, which is weird. She keeps having these moments where she’s clearly about to say something, but hesitates, glancing at Katsuki before abruptly changing the subject. Every time it happens, he grips his fork a little tighter. It’s bizarre.
Despite that, dinner goes off without a hitch—or maybe it does, Katsuki wouldn’t know. He’s in a daze, zoning out through most of the meal.
Now, the kids are playing with toys on the living room floor, and Katsuki’s trying his best not to check his phone to see if you’ve texted him. He’s spent the entire dinner avoiding it, but now it’s starting to feel impossible. That’s when his dad touches his shoulder.
Katsuki jolts slightly, whipping his head around, quickly dropping his phone onto his lap to hide his shame. He scowls instinctively.
“Will you help me and your mother tidy in the kitchen, son?”
Despite it sounding like a question, it’s really not one. It’s an unspoken command. Katsuki grits his teeth, but he doesn’t protest.
His dad’s gaze flicks briefly toward the kitchen, the quiet message clear, before he looks back at him. Katsuki knows what’s coming, even before he enters that kitchen.
"Yeah, whatever," he mutters, desperately trying to hide the shame coiling in his chest.
He stands up slowly, dragging his feet. He’s too damn tired to even bother trying to escape what’s coming. He knows this conversation is inevitable, and he doesn’t have the strength to avoid it anymore.
As expected, the kitchen is already spotless, and his mother is leaning against the counters with nothing but a blank face.
Even though nothing about this situation feels casual, Katsuki decides to pretend it is. He strides into the kitchen, plops himself down in one of the chairs, and looks between his parents like he has no idea what's about to go down.
His mom doesn’t miss a beat.
“Katsuki, where is Y/N?”
Straight investigation style, he would laugh if this conversation wasn’t about to get very depressing.
“She’s at some spa hotel, outside Tokyo,” he mutters, trying to shrug it off like it’s no big deal.
Her gaze hardens, her eyes narrowing as she presses on.
“And why is she there.”
He grits his teeth, irritation flaring despite himself. "Can’t my woman enjoy a weekend away? Jesus, you’re uptight." He leans back in the chair, trying to appear nonchalant, his arms crossing defensively over his chest. He’s not convincing anyone though, especially not his mom.
His mother, stays eerily calm, not biting back as she usually would to his behaviour. She doesn’t yell. Doesn’t demand an explanation. She simply waits.
"She’s been stressed," he mutters, almost as an afterthought, like he's trying to convince himself as much as anyone else. "Too much going on, with the kids, work... You know how it is."
It's a little more truthful, but still a half-hearted attempt to avoid the core of it. He leaves out the glaring factor—he is the unanimous source of most of this. His mom’s eyes never leave his, and he can tell she’s not buying it. Fuck.
“And what have you been doing, Katsuki?” Her voice is low, but the sharpness is there, cutting through the air.
“The fuck you think?” he mutters, his voice dripping with frustration. “You see me on TV. Same shit every day. I’m out there saving people, doing my job. What do you want from me?”
“For your wife, Katsuki,” she says, her tone firm and unwavering. “At home. What have you been doing for her.”
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t look at her. He’s afraid to.
“The fuck I’ve been doing?” he repeats, this time more quietly, though his frustration still simmers beneath the surface. “I’ve been working, putting food on the table. Making sure everything’s... taken care of.”
His voice cracks slightly, though he tries to mask it. He’s avoiding the real question. Avoiding what he knows—what they all know.
His mother doesn’t let it slide.
“For her,” she presses, her voice a quiet, insistent reminder. “Not just for the house, or the girls. For her. You can’t give everything to the world and leave her with nothing, Katsuki.”
What’s he supposed to say to that?
“She needs you, son,” his mother adds softly, her eyes searching his for something he’s not sure he has anymore. “Not just as a provider, but as a partner. A husband.”
He doesn’t know what sets him off—whether it’s his mother’s tone, the warm laughter of the girls in the other room, or the weight of his empty phone burning in his pocket.
But in that moment, Bakugou Katsuki, the pro hero everyone fears, breaks down in his childhood kitchen.
“I’m…” His voice cracks, unable to form the words properly. “I’m not good enough. I don’t know how to fix this.”
He hiccups his words, his father’s hands rubbing careful circles into his shoulders, trying to ground him, but it only makes him feel worse. He wants to pull away, to hide the vulnerability, but he’s too far gone.
He wishes you were here, the things he would sacrifice for it. To have you bring him close, to kiss the tears off his cheeks, to hear your soft voice telling him everything would be okay—that you know he’s trying, that you love him even in his mess.
But all he has now is his sniffling in the kitchen, the awkward silence pressing in, and his mother looking at him with nothing but pity. He’s never felt more ashamed in his entire life.
"Mom..." he starts, his words still coming out in ragged bursts. "I messed up. I... I thought I could handle it, but I didn’t. I thought... I thought being a hero was enough."
The words come like poison, the shame burning through his throat as his mother just watches him silently.
She takes a long, steady breath, carefully considering her words, a rare softness in her tone. "I don’t know exactly what has been happening at home, son, but I know Y/N married you for a reason. She loved you when you were just a rookie, working constantly, because you made the time, you made the effort. She wants her husband back. It’s the little things, Katsuki. Don’t let your own neglect make you lose her."
"I know you can do it," she adds, her voice gentle but firm. "She loves every part of you. So let her see that again. Let her see you."
He wants to argue. To lash out and defend the way he’s been living. He wants to tell her he’s trying—he’s trying so damn hard—but the words don’t come.
Instead, he nods, stiff and uncomfortable, wiping his face with the back of his hand clumsily.
He doesn’t know how to fix it all. He doesn’t know how to go back and make the changes he should have made years ago. But he does know this; the longer he waits, the further he drifts away from the person who used to be his everything.
~
After a shitshow of a day, he find himself crafting a text for you again. A new, sad, routine of his to feel close to you.
The message is light, almost mundane. Pictures of the girls at dinner and a small note about his mother asking after you.
He doesn’t expect you to reply, not really. But his sleepy eyes jump with surprise when he watches the typing bubbles appear.
[10:36 PM] Wifey : aw, my babies. tell them I miss them.
[10:36 PM] Wifey : I’m sorry that I missed dinner, your parents are lovely.
Katsuki lets out a shaky breath, something warm spreading through his chest despite the ache that lives there. He can almost hear the words in your voice. If he allowed his selfishness to win, he would call you immediately just to hear it for real. But he knows it's not the moment. Not yet.
He types quickly, keeping the tone light, masking the vulnerability creeping through him.
[10: 39 AM] Katsuki : they miss you more. All Koharu does is pout. Haha.
[10: 39 AM] Katsuki : dont worry about dinner. They will be here when you get back.
When you get back. He adds it with a little more confidence than he feels, the hope that you will confirm, that you are indeed coming back, coursing through him.
[10:43 PM] Wifey : I should be home monday, the train comes in around 1pm.
[10: 44 AM] Katsuki : Okay, looking forward to it. I’ll pick you up.
[10:45 PM] Wifey : You don’t have to Katsuki, just because of how our last conversation went. I know you have work.
Katsuki’s brow furrows as his fingers hover over the screen. He hates how distant that sounds. He doesn’t want you to feel like a burden.
[10: 46 AM] Katsuki : Do you not want me to?
[10:46PM] Wifey : I dont want to force you
[10:47 AM] Katsuki: You’re not forcing me. I want to. I’ve missed you.
[10:47 AM] Katsuki: And if you’re up for it, maybe we can talk more when you get back.
[10:49 PM] Wifey : Okay, thank you.
God, he hates how stiff and formal this has become. He swipes up to the previous texts, seeing how things have shifted over the past few months, and for the millionth time, he chastises himself. This isn’t how it was supposed to be.
[10:50 AM] Katsuki: Goodnight Sweetheart. See you soon.
bakugo would be the type of dad who for the life of him cannot say no to his little girl.
k.bakugo
♰ girldad ! bakugo fluff <333
he never imagined himself as a family man, he’d always had the idea that he’d work his ass off for number one and just.. do that forever?
he kept that mindset right up until he met you. pretty little thing with a mouth just as snappy as his and that was all it took for him to be whipped.
to say you swept him of his feet would be an understatement. he physically bumped into you in his agency building and in return you raised your voice at him and told him to watch where the fuck he’s going.
the rest is certainly history, he chases after you and you let him. much to his delight your married a mere 3 years later, laughing at the stupidity of your first meeting.
when discussing children you decide on one for now, bakugo grew up and only child and he quite enjoyed being the center of his parents attention, he only wishes the same for his own.
your pregnant in no time, thanks to his… persistent efforts and he can’t contain the love he has for you as you begin to swell. he completely dotes on you.
your hungry? a three course meal is on its way. your sleepy? he’s carrying you bridal style, laying you down in bed and tucking you in. you deserve only best in his eyes, just as his little girl will.
he doesn’t leave you or the baby’s side for weeks after the birth, your begging him to go back to work at this point because kirishima cannot work another 16 hour shift to cover for him.
he hates every minute he spends away from you, it’s spent grumbling about how he’d much rather be curled up in bed with you. he drops in the charts the first year the child is born but he doesn’t care, he can’t care, not when he’s coming home to you- his beautiful wife and his pride and joy of a baby girl.
as the kid gets older he starts working full time again, you too go back to work a couple days a week while your child’s at school, he insists that you don’t- he takes good enough care of you right?? but you do it anyway, it’s more for something to do rather than for the income.
now spending more time away from his kid- the time he does spend with her he cherishes every minute, they’re baking cookies, he’s taking her shopping, he’s spoiling her rotten :(.
she feels a little sick and wants to stay off school? suddenly they’re both begging you to let her stay off and when you finally agree- he’s calling into work saying he can’t make it so they can spend the day together.
he helps her with quirk training when she insists she wants to be a hero just like daddy. he cries the first time he hears it, unable to control the surge of joy he feels seeing his kids face looking up at him with admiration.
he takes her into the agency to meet all her favorite pro heros- he sets up play dates with his friends kids so his little angel can grow up around kids her age.
as she grows he makes sure that they never lose their closeness- he promises her that she can tell him anything and she does, she truely the light of his life.
it’s the last year of middle school for his girl when he gets the phone call he’s been dreading for years- she got into a fight today in school, a serious one too it seems and he’s rushing as fast as he possibly can, he doesn’t even take the time to phone you because he’s so worried, he makes a mental note to call you the second he’s out of the place.
he bursts through the door and he can’t help the sigh of relief he lets out when he sees that she’s okay, infact she’s not ruffed up at all- which only makes him more worried. had his kid been the one to start the fight? his little angel?
the principal explains the situation pretty clearly, the other kid involved admitted that they had been purposely attempting to get under her skin- using his name to do it.
he’s furious of course- but he can’t help overwhelming happiness that bubbles in his throat when he realises this is your first fight- a fight that you had only started to protect his name.
he thanks the principal for his time and escorts his kid out, she’s silent the entire walk back to the car while he fights back a smirk- “are you mad at me?” she looks up at him from her place in the passenger seat and he just bursts into a smile-
“let’s go get some ice cream kid- just don’t tell your mother about this alright?”
Katsuki cried the first time he held his newborn daughter in his arms. His eyes watered when the nurses guided his hand under her head and adjusted her on his arm. He trembled as he brought her closer to him. He held her closed fist in his hand, amazed by how small her hand was compared to his. Little fingers curled around his index, and he wondered how something this unbelievably tiny could manage to grip his heart so tight in a matter of seconds. He sat on the chair behind him, holding his baby girl close to his chest and covered his eyes with a hand, bursting into tears.
