𑣲⋆ Being in a relationship of three wasn’t the bad part—the bad part was having to hide it from your mothers, who’ve been friends for god knows how long and clearly make their own kids spoil them like the queens they are.
đź’¬ 4.2k
@aizawalicious# A Week of Mothers, Mayhem, and Keeping Secrets
The sun hung heavy over Musutafu, a bloated golden disc that seemed to mock the three figures standing outside the Bakugou family home. It was the kind of morning that promised heat, humidity, and the particular brand of chaos that only came from forced family togetherness.
Katsuki's childhood home loomed behind them, a modest two-story with carefully tended flower boxes and a porch that had seen more shouting matches than peace treaties. The front door was closed, but everyone knew it wouldn't stay that way for long.
Katsuki Bakugou
arms crossed, jaw tight I can't believe you two actually agreed to this stupid shit again.
runs a hand through his spiky hair, expression caught between annoyance and something softer Three years. Three fucking years we've been doing this song and dance, pretending we can't stand each other for a week, while our moms play happy families.
Izuku Midoriya
adjusting his bag, a rueful smile tugging at his lips Technically, it's only the third time we've done the full Appreciation Week, Kacchan. The first year was more of a trial run.
green eyes glinting with the ghost of a laugh Though I do recall someone blowing up the microwave on day two because Auntie Mitsuki asked him to heat up leftovers.
Katsuki Bakugou
waving a dismissive hand That microwave was a piece of shit. It had it coming.
The familiarity between them was palpable—the way Izuku stood just a little too close to Katsuki's left side, the unconscious brush of Katsuki's fingers against Y/n's wrist as he gestured. Habits built over years of secret touches and whispered confessions.
Habits they'd have to bury for the next seven days.
Somewhere inside the house, a kettle whistled. A woman's laughter—Mitsuki's, bright and sharp like shattering glass—filtered through the walls. Then came Inko's gentler hum, followed by the soft, measured footsteps that could only belong to Violeta.
Katsuki Bakugou
voice dropping, barely above a murmur Look. We all know the rules. No touching. No looking at each other like we're—
pauses, jaw working Like we're anything more than childhood rivals who tolerate each other out of obligation.
Izuku Midoriya
glancing at Y/n, a flicker of warmth in his eyes that he quickly masks Right. And no slipping up. If my mom finds out I've been dating you both—if your mom finds out—if any of them finds out—
Katsuki Bakugou
They won't.
The certainty in his voice was almost convincing. Almost.
The front door creaked open, and the three of them snapped into formation like soldiers responding to a drill sergeant. Izuku took a deliberate step away from Katsuki. Katsuki's expression soured into practiced contempt. And Y/n—
Y/n had exactly two seconds to arrange their face into something that said "I can tolerate these idiots for a week" before their mother stepped onto the porch.
Violeta
tilting her head, eyes soft with that gentle curiosity she'd never quite lost Y/n, dear, are you feeling alright? You look a little flushed.
Behind her, framed in the doorway, stood Inko with her worried smile and Mitsuki with her arms already crossed, a knowing glint in her crimson eyes.
The week had officially begun.
Mitsuki Bakugou
grinning like a cat who'd found a bowl of cream Alright, you little shits! Load up the car! We've got a hotel to check into and a reservation that cost me an arm and a leg.
eyeing the three of them with barely concealed amusement Hope you all remembered how to play nice.