𝐃𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘|| 𝙠. 𝙗𝙖𝙠𝙪𝙜𝙤

certified 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒌 handlers

𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐬

Katsuki Bakugo knew a lot about battle strategy, chokeholds, and exactly how to blast a villain halfway down a city block without losing his cool. On top of that, Katsuki Bakugo did not do half-assed work with this knowledge, not as a hero, not as a husband, and certainly not as a father.

So when the Father's Day plan evolved–without his permission, mind you–into an all-out dads-only pool day at his place, he handled it exactly like he handled villain attacks: full offense, minimal chaos, and no mercy for idiots.

It was just past nine in the morning, so the sun hadn't yet turned the deck into a frying pan, but the air already hummed with the promise of a scorching afternoon. Pool toys lay scattered like landmines. Juice boxes sweat on the picnic table. His idiot friends–Kirishima, Midoriya, and Kaminari–unloaded an embarrassing amount of swim gear as if the pool were the goddamn ocean.

Meanwhile, Bakugo had one knee braced on a lounge chair, a bottle of kid-safe sunscreen in one hand, and Kaji in the other–or more accurately, straddled across his lap like a sleepy kitten.

Kaji had his indigo hair fluffed up into gentle spikes that fell naturally, no explosions required. He had Asumi's calm in him–a calm Bakugo had never mastered but fiercely protected when it peeked out in his boy. Kaji barely fussed as his father smoothed cool lotion across pale arms and chubby cheeks.

"Don't wiggle," Bakugo murmured, voice low and surprisingly gentle, only for his son. "You wanna get burned?"

"Mm, no." Kaji hummed, entirely limp in what was basically a massage. This kid.

Then a sharp voice cut across the yard, "Daddy!"

Bakugo didn't even flinch, looking up slightly to show his daughter that she had his attention. She pattered over with her usual authority, blonde hair stuck in different directions, which should've been an indication of her next words. "I want a braid, daddy."

Bakugo raised an eyebrow. "And how do we ask?"

She considered, then flashed her usual innocent eyes."Please?"

He shook his head slightly as he lifted a sleepy Kaji up and set him by his feet, letting the kid lean against his leg. "What, you think you run this house, princess?"

Yume, four years old and approximately eighty percent attitude, crossed her arms. "I do when Mama's not here."

But then again, who did she get the attitude from? They got her a tiny drum set as a birthday gift once and man, that kid took out every bit of anger they didn't realize she had on that thing despite Bakugo's coaching, only to look up at them with a fat grin as if she didn't burst their eardrums.

He snorted. "Yeah, yeah. Sit your butt down."

She obeyed instantly, proof that beneath all that bravado, she didn't actually want to be in trouble for her attitude.

Her golden hair, softer than his, wild like her mother's, was a tangled mess from last night's dreams of ruling a fairy kingdom, or so she'd claimed at breakfast. There hadn't been time to brush it because she was so busy wanting to show Asumi her new swimsuit–as if they both hadn't been there when they bought it–before she was out the door.

Bakugo braced her head steady with one broad palm and grabbed the detangling spray he'd long ago learned to keep on hand. And he was careful when pulling back her hair to not get it caught on her pointed ears.

"Stay still or I shave you bald." An empty threat he said with a smirk, simply enjoying antagonizing her with this every once in a while.

She shrieked with laughter. "You can't! Mama said no!"