i wake up late once and suddenly phil understands the latino grind. father figure of the year/pos
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you know what’s absolutely terrifying???? having to cut a baby’s nails………
Katsuki has to cut your baby’s fingernails when he discovers a tiny little scratch by her eye one morning. it’s barely there, a small thing, but it’s there, marring her little face nonetheless. he frowns at her when he holds her the next morning, her dreamy eyes alert and blinking up at him, she smiles.
“Now I gotta cut yer claws down,” he mutters to her, voice quiet as to not wake your sleeping form in the bedroom. he pads throughout the house with her chubby face resting on his shoulder, her gums gnawing at his bare skin, but he doesn’t seem to mind it.
he finds himself in a conundrum though, once he realizes just how fucking—how sharp the damn clippers are. they’re tiny, lavender in color, but they’re meant to cut though the nail with such precision. and yes, he’s a pro hero, has had to adopt the title of EMT, firefighter, emergency surgeon a few times in his life when need be.
but…those people weren’t his baby girl. they weren’t this tiny and precious, and they never looked up at him with a face so similar to his, it makes his heart squeeze tight in his chest. he frowns at her again, even deeper, and this makes her hiccup a little giggle, gummy smile spreading wide.
“You’re only gonna wear mittens from here on out,” he grumbles after a while, finally daring to pick up a tiny hand that she instantly curls around his thick finger. it’s the cutest image, he thinks to himself, but he catches sight of the jagged nail, the culprit. his heart squeezes even tighter though, when he realizes that he can’t protect her from every hurt in the world, even if the hurt comes from her own hands. and the realization is an aching one, but he tells himself that he, at least, can patch her up.
you walk in minutes later, find Bakugou curled over your daughter in the rocking chair he built for her room. his tongue pokes from the corner of his mouth in concentration, his eyebrows furrowed. your daughter babbles to him the whole time, her sweet voice cooing the softest little noises that he responds back to.
“I know, I know,” he mumbles to her. “Ya don’t like baths, and don’t like your nails cut, either. What other shit do you hate, huh?” he asks, and she seemingly responds with a long, sighed out coo. it makes him smile, despite the way his hands slightly shake when he cuts the next nail. he’s terrified, of somehow hurting her even more, of cutting too close, of scratching her. but he treks on, and kisses her fat little fingers every time he clips another nail.
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Perhaps surprise shouldn’t be felt when Albedo’s hands, in between the states of warmth and freezing, are calloused. Right now is the very few times the alchemist’s gloves are nowhere to be seen—most likely due to the work of a certain man with an eye patch—and as his partner (and admirer, as you’d always like to add), intertwining hands with him seemed to be the best idea at the moment.
“I don’t quite get why you have an intense interest with my hands,” he comments quietly, though not at all bothered with the closeness you’ve initiated. Albedo’s gaze often oscillates between observing to thinly veiled interest, which right now is a combination of the two, your brain helpfully supplies, and it doesn’t help with the rush of heat in your cheeks.
He doesn’t find the desire to hold hands with him weird, does he…?
“I don’t get the chance to hold your hands like this. You’re… always, uhm, wearing your gloves. Not that I want you to take them off, of course!”
Albedo stares at you. “Hmm,” he says, giving you no clue whatsoever if he doesn’t like it.
Maybe he’s just tolerating it…
The sudden tight squeeze to your fingers makes you raise an eyebrow at him. What is he doing? A concentrated look furrows his eyebrows, as his gaze drops to your intertwined hands… then he gives you another squeeze, this time much gentler, and you find a content expression is on his face.
“Well. Perhaps we should do this more often,” Albedo says. Is he joking? “I like how warm your hands are… as well as your cheeks, too. I’ll make sure to put this in mind.”
You don’t even have time to react when he lifts the back of your hand to his lips, placing a kiss on it.
It’s hard to miss that smile on his face.
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