Coming Home
Bakugo x reader modern au soldier coming home from the army
Credit for the picture https://pin.it/5hWdMfJ3E
The gymnasium was packed with families, all buzzing with anticipation and barely contained excitement. You stood near the front with Mitsuki and Masaru Bakugo, your hands clasped together so tightly your knuckles had gone white.
Eighteen months. It had been eighteen months since Katsuki had deployed, since you'd watched him walk away in his uniform with that determined set to his jaw that meant he was fighting not to look back at you.
Eighteen months since he'd proposed the night before he left, dropping to one knee in your tiny apartment with a ring his mother had helped him pick out, his voice rough as he'd said, "When I get back, you're marrying me. No arguments."
You'd said yes through tears, and he'd kissed you like he was trying to memorize the feeling.
Now, finally, he was home.
"You ready for this, honey?" Mitsuki asked, squeezing your shoulder. She looked as anxious as you felt, though she was hiding it better. "Remember, you're the one disarming him. I made sure of it."
"Are you sure?" you asked for the hundredth time. "Don't you want to—"
"I want my future daughter-in-law to be the first person my son sees when he can finally move again," Mitsuki interrupted firmly. "Besides, you've been planning this wedding for a year and a half. You've earned first dibs."
You'd spent every moment of Katsuki's deployment preparing for the wedding he didn't know you were planning. Mitsuki had helped you with everything—finding a venue that matched his taste (surprisingly elegant for someone so explosive), choosing colors he'd approve of (blacks and oranges and deep reds), planning a menu with his favorite foods.
Every decision had been made with one thought: *What would Katsuki want?*
You'd sent him pictures and updates when you could, gotten his input through brief video calls and even briefer emails. But he didn't know the full scope of it—didn't know that you'd planned an entire wedding, down to the smallest detail, ready to execute the moment he was home and ready.
"They're coming!" someone shouted, and the gymnasium erupted in cheers.
Your heart jumped into your throat as the doors opened and soldiers began filing in, standing in formation. They looked exhausted, older somehow, but proud. Strong.
And then you saw him.
Katsuki stood in the third row, his military uniform crisp despite the long journey, his posture perfect. But it was his face that made your breath catch.
He looked older. Not drastically, but there was a hardness to his features that hadn't been there before, a weight in his red eyes that spoke of things seen and done that you couldn't imagine. And across his left eyebrow, cutting down to his cheekbone, was a scar—pale and healed but prominent.
He was still the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen.
"Remember," Mitsuki whispered, giving you a gentle push. "You have to touch him before he can move. Military rules."
You nodded, not trusting your voice, and started walking toward the formation.
Every step felt surreal. Eighteen months of waiting, of worrying, of falling asleep clutching your phone hoping for a message. Eighteen months of planning a wedding for a man who might not come home. Eighteen months of forcing yourself to believe he would.
And now he was right there, ten feet away, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that made your knees weak.
The other families were already reaching their soldiers, tears and laughter mixing as loved ones were reunited. But you moved in a bubble of silence, focused entirely on Katsuki.
You'd planned to tackle him. Had imagined it a thousand times—running full speed and throwing yourself into his arms, not caring about military protocol or dignity. Just needing to hold him, to prove he was real and home and safe.
But when you finally stopped in front of him, barely a foot separating you, you couldn't move.
You just stared.
He looked so much older up close. The scar was more prominent than you'd thought, a reminder of how close you'd come to losing him. His jaw was sharper, his shoulders broader, his hands—resting at his sides in perfect military stillness—more calloused than you remembered.
But his eyes. His eyes were the same—burning red and focused entirely on you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.
Tears spilled down your cheeks without permission. You'd promised yourself you wouldn't cry, that you'd be strong, but looking at him—really looking at him—broke something in your chest that had been held together by hope and stubborn faith.
"As handsome as ever," you whispered, your voice shaking as you reached up to place your hands on his face, your thumbs tracing the new scar with infinite gentleness.
The moment your skin made contact with his, Katsuki moved.
He grabbed you so fast you didn't even process it—one second your hands were on his face, the next you were crushed against his chest, his arms wrapped around you so tightly you could barely breathe, his face buried in your neck.
"Fuck," he breathed against your skin, and his voice cracked on the word. "Fuck, I missed you."
"I missed you too," you sobbed, your arms wrapping around him just as tightly, trying to get closer even though there was no space left between you. "So much. Every day."
Katsuki pulled back just enough to cup your face in his hands—rough and calloused and shaking slightly—and kissed you.
It wasn't gentle. It was desperate and fierce and tasted like salt from both your tears. It was eighteen months of longing and fear and love condensed into a single moment, and you kissed him back with everything you had.
When you finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Katsuki rested his forehead against yours.
"You're really here," you whispered. "You came home."
"Told you I would," Katsuki said, his voice rough. "Told you I was coming back to marry you."
"About that," you said, laughing wetly. "Your mom might have helped me plan the entire wedding while you were gone."
Katsuki blinked, then looked over your shoulder to where his mother was standing with his father, both of them crying openly. "The entire wedding?"
"Every detail," you confirmed. "Venue, food, colors, music. Everything you'd want. We can get married as soon as you're ready."
Something shifted in Katsuki's expression—a mix of love and awe and disbelief. "You planned our whole wedding."
"I had a lot of time," you said. "And I needed something to focus on besides worrying about you. So I planned us the perfect wedding. Or as perfect as I could make it."
"How soon can we do it?" Katsuki asked, and there was urgency in his voice now.
"How soon do you want?"
"Tomorrow," he said immediately. "Today if possible. I've been waiting eighteen months to make you my wife. Don't want to wait any longer."
You laughed, fresh tears falling. "We need at least a few weeks to finalize everything, but—"
"Two weeks," Katsuki interrupted. "Give me two weeks to adjust to being home, and then I'm marrying you. Non-negotiable."
"Two weeks," you agreed, kissing him again because you could, because he was here and real and yours.
"Oi, you gonna let your old hag say hello or are you too busy sucking face?" Mitsuki's voice cut through the moment, and you both turned to find her standing there with tears streaming down her face and a smile so wide it had to hurt.
"Hey, old hag," Katsuki said, and his voice was softer than you'd ever heard it.
"Hey, brat," Mitsuki replied, and then she was hugging him too, and Masaru was there, and it was all tears and laughter and family.
But even as he hugged his parents, Katsuki's hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours like he needed the anchor. Like he needed to make sure you weren't going anywhere.
Later, after the initial reunion chaos had died down, after the drive home and the settling in, you found yourself alone with Katsuki in his childhood bedroom.
He'd showered, changed into civilian clothes that hung slightly loose on his frame (he'd lost weight, you noticed with a pang), and now he just stood there, looking at you like he couldn't quite believe you were real.
"C'mere," he said softly, and you went, letting him pull you close, his arms wrapping around you in a hold that was possessive and desperate and so full of love it made your chest ache.
"I thought about this every day," Katsuki murmured into your hair. "Thought about coming home to you, holding you, marrying you. It's what kept me going when shit got bad."
"How bad did it get?" you asked quietly, your hand tracing the scar on his face.
"Bad enough," Katsuki admitted. "But I'm here now. I'm home. And in two weeks, I'm marrying you, and then nothing's ever keeping us apart again."
"Never again," you agreed.
Katsuki pulled back to look at you, his hand coming up to cradle your face. "Tell me about the wedding. What did you plan?"
So you did. You told him about the venue—a beautiful garden that reminded you of the park where he'd first told you he loved you. About the colors—his favorites, bold and striking. About the food—all his preferred dishes, including that spicy ramen he was obsessed with. About the suit you'd picked out with Mitsuki's help, the one that would make him look like the hero he'd always wanted to be.
"You thought of everything," Katsuki said, and there was wonder in his voice.
"I had help," you said. "Your mom was amazing. She knew exactly what you'd want."
"She raised me," Katsuki said. "Course she knows." He kissed your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips—soft and sweet. "Thank you. For waiting. For planning. For being here."
"Where else would I be?" you asked. "You're my home, Katsuki. Whether you're across the world or standing right here—you're my home."
Katsuki's arms tightened around you, and you felt him tremble slightly. "Fuck, I love you."
"I love you too," you replied. "Welcome home, soldier."
"Not a soldier anymore," Katsuki corrected. "Just yours. Just your husband-in-two-weeks."
You laughed, the sound bright and happy and free. "Just mine."
"Just yours," Katsuki confirmed. "Forever."
And as he kissed you again, gentle and thorough and full of promise, you knew that the waiting had been worth it.
Because now you had forever.
And in two weeks, you'd have the wedding you'd spent eighteen months planning.
But most importantly, you had him—home, safe, and ready to start the life you'd both been dreaming of.
That was worth every second of the wait.
