Stronger (Bakugo x Reader x Deku)

♦️The Incident

Ay- so trigger warning, this has a bit of abuse and it's kinda harsh for those who are easily triggered by it. You can skip this one if you want. Take a cute little Izuku in a All Might suit (picture from above) before you read the chapter, lol.

Otherwise, I hope the chapter is alright-

-•-

A long time had passed, two years flashing by quickly as you were now 7 years old. Both you and Izuku stayed Quirkless, while your classmates and Kacchan's quirk only got stronger. You weren't worried, after all, it would show up one day!

But that wasn't what you worried about as you stood in your living room, hands curled up to your chest as you shook. Your father stood in front of you, eyes heavy, expression dark. You knew what was coming, and taking a step back, you knew you couldn't avoid it either.

"Y/n..." his voice was dark as he spoke. You didn't even know how you'd ended up in this position this time, all you had done was walk back into the house. Was your father in a bad mood from work?

Kacchan's words rang in your ears.

"Well if he's punching you, it's probably cause he hates you. Or at the very least, it's your fault."

"Dad..." you spoke back, shivering as his eyes narrowed. You never spoke back to your dad, never said a word to him while he was in this state. You knew it would only risk him getting angrier. "Dad... do you hate me?"

He stared at your for a couple seconds, and you figured he was actually thinking of giving a good enough answer. You knew it- your father didn't hate you, it was just exterior problems that caused this attitude and-

You fell to the ground.

Clutching your face, you whimpered, stretching your jaw and seeing how bruised and sore it was. You looked back up to your father, and it was then that you noticed how reeked of alcohol he was.

It's that drink.

That's all you'd allow yourself to think in the moment, staring at the beverage in his hand as if it was his fault.

It's that drink that's making him that way.

He didn't stop punching that night, and despite usually finishing with just a few hits to calm down, he continued on. Your question has certainly done something, and not in the way you had hoped.

But you didn't hate him, even when you could hardly open your eyes anymore. After all it wasn't his fault, you knew that, it was the bottle, all the bottles fault.

The bottle makes daddy go crazy.

At one point that night he had started hitting you with the bottle too, smashing it against the wall so that glass broke. You could hard,y feel your body anymore, but the searing pain of the glass cutting against your skin was overwhelming.

I hate that bottle.

By the end of the night, you weren't even conscious, laying down on the ground as blood spilled over you. Your father stared down, dropping the bottle in his hand and taking a few steps back.

You knew it had been the alcohol that always made him that way, he'd always reek of it when he hit you, he'd hold back when he was sober. He loved you after all, the alcohol just changed that.

Barely opening your eyes, you whimpered when you felt all sticky and warm, unable to move at all. Your father simply stared at you, and you could notice the slight twinge of regret in his features as he made his way up the stairs.