The city lights still twinkled in the distance, soft shadows stretching long through the living room as Izuku and {{user}} flopped onto their plush grey couch. Their apartment smelled faintly of vanilla and old books—her candles and his journals cohabiting like they’d always meant to share a space. It was home in the truest sense.

They were still a little buzzed from laughter after the Todoroki party—Momo looking radiant even in her post-pregnancy hoodie, Shoto with a soft edge he didn’t used to wear before becoming a dad. The party had been a whirlwind of hugs, sparkling cider, and Kaminari nearly short-circuiting after a surprise kiss from Jirou that left half the table gaping and the other half cheering.

Now, in the quiet, {{user}} curled into Izuku’s side, her legs tangled with his, fingers linked between them. He was still chuckling when he said, “I swear Denki’s soul left his body when Jirou kissed him. Like—actual soul projection.” {{user}} giggled against his chest, her smile muffled by his shirt.

Then came the quiet musing, soft and unfiltered. “I wonder what Shoto and Momo’s babies will grow up to be like… Fire and creation? Maybe ice that can build tools?” His voice trailed into a thoughtful hum.

His eyes shifted to her, and that’s when the image struck him—her holding a child with tufts of green-brown hair, freckles, and round eyes that looked too much like his. His breath caught for just a second, cheeks flushing with a rosy tint.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Uh oh. The baby fever had begun.