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Izuku had been up since 4:00 a.m.
Not because the baby cried, Kacchan had gotten to her first, soothing little whimpers before they could build into full sobs, but because he just couldn’t sleep. He hadn’t slept well in weeks. Not since birth.
Even now, curled under a blanket with a warm rice pack over his abdomen, Izuku stared at the ceiling with glassy, overwhelmed eyes and a too-fast heartbeat.
“It’s Mother’s Day.”
Those words felt like a dream. Not in the Hallmark way. Not in the "pancakes in bed" way. But in the real way. The overwhelming, fragile, real way. Like he was standing at the edge of something sacred.
And he didn’t feel ready.
There was a quiet knock on the bedroom door. Before Izuku could say anything, it opened slowly and Kacchan peeked in, shirtless, baby in one arm, and something small hidden behind his back.
“Morning mama,” he said gently, like he already knew. Izuku blinked, and the tears came fast.
“I—I’m sorry,” he sniffled, laughing through the emotion. “I don’t know why I’m crying, I just—”
Katsuki was already beside him, climbing onto the bed, setting their swaddled daughter on Izuku’s chest like a treasure.
“She’s fed.” Changed. I gave her the purple pacifier ‘cause she likes it better.”
Izuku let out a watery laugh as the baby wriggled against him, tiny fist curling instinctively into the soft fabric of his shirt. Her head fit perfectly under his chin.
“I’m a mom,” he whispered.
“You’re her mom,” Kacchan corrected, eyes soft. “And you’re killin’ it.”
Izuku sniffed again and wiped his eyes. “I’m tired. And sore. And I haven’t washed my hair in, like… forever.”
“You still smell like home to her.”
“…She doesn’t even know what home is yet.”
Kacchan leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Izuku’s forehead. “That’s the point. It’s you.”
For a second, they just lay there.
Then, as Izuku adjusted the baby’s blanket with gentle fingers, Kacchan reached behind his back and pulled out a small box.
“…Kacchan?”
“Just open it.”
Inside was a delicate gold necklace. A simple charm hung in the center—a single letter: M. Izuku’s hand trembled as he touched it.
“It’s your first Mother’s Day, one of many” Katsuki said, almost too quiet to hear. “Wanted you to have something to remember it by.”
Izuku swallowed thickly.
“Can you put it on me?” he whispered.
Katsuki did. And when he was done, he pressed his forehead to Izuku’s and whispered,
“Happy Mother’s Day, Izuku.”
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Later that afternoon,
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The baby finally went down for her nap.
Izuku wasn’t sure how Kacchan did itsomething about perfect swaddle tension and just the right shushing rhythm but whatever the method, it worked. She was out cold in the bassinet, cheeks puffed and drooling. Izuku sat cross-legged on the couch, freshly showered, katsuki had sat with him and washed his hair, the gold M charm resting gently against his collarbone, and a warm cup of tea in his hands.
Bakugou reentered the room with something behind his back again, that suspicious little glint in his eye.
“You’re hiding something,” Izuku said, grinning.
“Damn right I am.” Katsuki pulled out an old-school Polaroid camera. “C’mere.”
Izuku blinked. “Wait, you want to take a picture?”
Kacchan nodded. “One for the fridge. One for your mom. And one for our wall.”
“Our wall?”
“Yeah. You know. Our wall. Family photo wall. Gonna fill it up over the years. Starting today.”
Izuku blinked fast again.
“…I love you.”
“Tch. I know.” He said as he leaned down to kiss the omega “I do too.”
They shuffled around for a minute, Kacchan insisting on natural light, Izuku trying to find the best angle as katsuki went and grabbed their baby, coming back to hand the baby to Izuku who. Cradled the sleeping baby against his chest on the couch while Kacchan sat behind them, one arm around Izuku’s waist and one curled protectively over their daughter.
Click.
The photo developed slowly, the colors were fuzzy at first, then clearer.
There they were.
Eyes tired, smiles soft. One small hand poking out from the blanket. Izuku’s necklace glinting just barely in the afternoon sun.
Their first family photo.
“I look like a mess,” Izuku said fondly.
“You look like a mom,” Kacchan corrected, taping the photo onto the fridge beside a slightly bent grocery list.
Izuku stared at it for a long moment.
Then he went back to the couch, pulled a blanket over his lap, and reached for his husband’s hand.
“I think I’m gonna love this wall,” he whispered.
Bakugou squeezed his fingers.
“Me too.”
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5 Years later
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Izuku woke to the smell of cinnamon and caramel.
His nose twitched before his eyes even fluttered open, the warm scent of sugar and spice curling through the nest like a gentle hug. He reached for the other side of the bed instinctively, only to find it empty and already cool. That was suspicious, but what was more suspicious? The silence, silence, and a toddler never pair well together, hm. Very suspicious. There was no toddler voice chirping about cereal, no quiet hum from the kitchen, no warm weight of a small body burrowed under the covers beside him.
Just quiet. Too quiet. Then out of nowhere,
BANG.
Followed by, “IT’S FINE, PAPA!”
“Sh—shut up, it’s under control!”
Izuku blinked again, heart doing a weird flip. Before he could sit up, the door creaked open.
“Back in bed, nerd.”
A gruff voice preceded Bakugou’s entrance, holding a tray stacked with golden pancakes shaped like little bears, a steaming mug of Deku’s favorite tea, and a tiny vase with a single sunflower. He looked… sparkly? Before the omega could ask in ran their daughter, wearing one of his oversized sweaters like a dress, hair full of glitter, cheeks flushed with effort. Holding a small tray which held several items, all covered in glitter?
“Happy Mama Day!!” she shouted, nearly tripping on the sweater hem.
Izuku leaned out of bed to catch her before she could crash into the bed, laughing breathlessly. “Sweetheart! You did this?”
“Me and Papa made a PLAN,” she said proudly, pulling a crumpled sheet of paper from her sleeve. “It was called ‘Operation Sparkle Mama Day.’”
Katsuki muttered, “Sparkles in my eggs, Izuku. In the eggs.”
“Mama!” their daughter squealed, catching Izuku’s attention “Here” she said as she handed the piece of sparkly, syrup covered paper over. Izuku’s eyes welled with tears as he read the plan:
Step 1: Get up early (I did!!!)
Step 2: Make pancakes (Papa made them. I help)
Step 3: Make a card with stickers and drawings of hearts and cats
Step 4: Tell Mama she is the bestest Mama in the WHOLE WORLD
Step 5: HUGS
Izuku couldn’t even speak. He opened his arms. She launched into him, squeezing him around the neck. “I love you SO much, Mama.”
“I love you more,” Izuku whispered, tears welling up as he burying his nose in her glittery hair. “So, so much.”
“no cryn' mama” their baby girl said as she tried to wipe her mama's tears away with glitter-covered hands.
Kacchan cleared his throat and set the tray down on the nightstand. “Also,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant, “we framed that first photo. The one from your first Mother’s Day.”
Izuku turned, there was his first photo as a mom., and a new drawing, already framed, full of stick figures, with bright yellow and green hair, fire hearts, some cats and the words "MAMA HERO #1!!!"
Izuku pressed his hand to his chest.
So much time had passed. And yet, somehow, each Mother’s Day felt like the first, just a little fuller. A little louder. A little more of them. Katsuki sat down next to his mate, placed a kiss to his forehead, and placed his hand on Izuku’s slightly swollen belly, Izuku placing his own on top of his husbands,
“Happy mother’s day mama” Katsuki whispered,
Izumi placed her hand on top of both of theirs then she leaned down to his belly, she whispered as if it was the biggest secret, “Beans, it’s mama day!” before she sat back up looked at her parents
“Okay,” their daughter said seriously, crawling into the bed between them. “Now it’s time for the last step.”
“The last step?” Izuku asked.
She nodded. “Step 6: Cuddle sandwich.”
Katsuki groaned. “You’re covered in glitt—”
Too late. She flopped sideways into both of them. Izuku didn’t even care. Because even covered in glitter, in syrup, in love, this was exactly where he belonged. Izuku laughed, nuzzling her soft cheek before turning to Bakugou.
“You didn’t have to go all out, Kacchan.”
“Tch. Shut up. You’re a mom for three now, nerd. You get spoiled. That’s the rule.” He said as he leaned down to kiss the slightly rounded belly.
The toddler squirmed between them. “No kissin’! S’my turn to cuddle Mama!” Deku beamed, pulling them both close, heart full and warm. The nest smelled like cinnamon and home and love.
It was perfect.
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Later on.
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Katsuki didn’t sit down right away.
He stood near the doorway, arms crossed, just, watching. Izuku was laughing, like he was really laughing, as their daughter bounced up and down on the bed, pretending to be some kind of frog-hero hybrid while shoving pancake bits in her mouth. Syrup was in her curls. On the sheets. On Deku’s cheek. The tea was slowly going cold. And Katsuki had never felt more content in his life.
He huffed a breath through his nose. God, they looked ridiculous.
Ridiculously happy.
“You’re staring,” Deku teased, finally catching his eye.
Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Just making’ sure you two don’t fall of the damn bed.”
“Oh no! I’m fallin!” their daughter squealed, flopping over dramatically onto Deku’s lap, always mindful of his belly.
Bakugou shook his head, smirking despite himself, and walked over. He grabbed a warm wipe from the drawer and started cleaning syrup from his daughter’s face with practiced ease.
“Papa,” she whispered. “Are we makin’ cookies later for Mama?”
Deku’s face lit up.
“You, you planned cookies?”
“Little nerd wouldn’t shut up about it,” Bakugou muttered, tickling her side to distract her from licking the wipe. “She said Mama needs ‘sparkle cookies with love power.’”
“They got pink icing,” she mumbled.
Deku’s voice turned soft. “You both… really did all this for me?”
Bakugou sat beside them and shrugged. “It’s nothing’. Just wanted to remind you you’re not just a great Omega. You’re a damn good mom, too.”
Deku sniffled and blinked fast. “Kacchan…”
“No tears,” he barked, instantly flustered. “Or I’m eatin’ all the cookies.”
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Izumi's POV
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Today was important.
It was the day of Mama.
Not just “Mama-Mama-I-need-snacks” day or “Mama-help-I-put-toothpaste-in-my-hair” day. This was the day. The big one. The day where Papa said, “No screamin’, no messin’ up the pancakes, and no callin’ the flower a lettuce again.” (She still kinda thought it looked like lettuce.)
It was THE day of Mama, and her Mama was the best Mama ever. He was soft and warm and always smelled like sweets and hugs. He let her wear his sweaters, and helped with hero stickers, and kissed all the boo-boos and made stars out of apples. He loved her so much.
So, yeah. She was gonna do it.
She was gonna draw the best card ever.
With purple. And yellow. And a stick figure that was mostly a circle. And she’d write “I LUV MAMA” with backwards letters, and Papa would help spell.
And then maybe she’d make Mama laugh, and they’d all eat cookies, and maybe—just maybe—she could stay up past bedtime.
Because heroes deserved one day off, right?
Especially Mama.