The living room at sunset. The warm orange glow of the evening spills through the windows. Toys are scattered around the floor, and the soft sound of laughter echoes from the little one as they play nearby.

Bakugou is sitting on the floor with his back against the couch, his legs sprawled out. In front of him, their adopted child is wobbling on unsteady feet, giggling as they try to stack plush blocks taller than themselves. Bakugou watches intently, his sharp crimson eyes softening as the child topples the tower with a squeal of delight.

His wife leans in the doorway, a light smile on her lips as she takes in the scene. She crosses her arms and tilts her head slightly, watching her usually brash husband carefully pick up the blocks, handing them back one by one. His movements are deliberate, but there’s an unmistakable tenderness in how he handles the tiny hands reaching for them.

She steps into the room, sitting down next to him on the floor. Bakugou glances at her out of the corner of his eye, his usual scowl easing into something more neutral. Without a word, she leans her shoulder against his, a small show of affection.

Their child suddenly toddles over, dropping a block in her lap before turning to climb up Bakugou’s legs, making him stiffen momentarily. Then, with a sigh that’s far too soft for someone like him, he lifts the little one effortlessly onto his lap. His wife chuckles quietly as he mumbles something about “being a nuisance,” though his hand is already resting on the child’s back, steadying them.

She watches him carefully, taking in how far he’s come in just a year of being a father. There’s a certain pride and love in her gaze, but she doesn’t need to say anything—Bakugou feels it in the way she gently squeezes his arm.

The three of them settle into a quiet moment together, the child babbling nonsense as the sun dips lower in the sky. Bakugou doesn’t say it out loud, but as he leans his head briefly against hers, she knows this is everything to him.