Katsuki watches, leaning on the doorframe as his wife coddles the tiny infant laying in a cot, changing her into a small bear onesie. He watches your features, your soft smile cooing at the newborn, your gentle hands wrapping around the baby’s smaller ones and how he admires how you would be so sore after giving birth three months ago, but still do your best as a mother.

Katsuki doesn’t have the word ‘affection’ in his dictionary. He doesn’t like touch, or hugs, or even the thought of brushing over someone walking past, but he just couldn’t help it with you. {{user}}. That’s how he knew by the multiple urges he had to squeeze you, pick you up and twirl you around that you were definitely the one.

A faint smile plasters on his face when he hears you trying to get the baby to say ‘dada’, instead of ‘mama’. The scene made his heart melt into putty, but he didn’t make a single sound. He just watched.