crybabyjam - Tumblr blog

crybabyjam · 3 years

Text

ship: todochako

rating: g

length: 3k

summary: Todoroki picks up hitch-hiker!Uraraka.

c/w parental death (past), joking about murder

deleted from twitter, written for a former friend

---

The sun beats down heavy as Ochako tightens the straps of her backpack. In it was three changes of clothes, some stale bread, her dead phone.

It was only mid-morning but already she was sweating her absolute ass off.

She runs her fingers through her choppy hair, uneven on one edge because she hadn't had a mirror when she'd taken a rusty pair of scissors to them. Now she wishes she'd just shaved it all off, if only to save herself from a sweaty, overheated neck now.

Her parents had loved it when she'd had long hair.

Ochako remembers how her mom would wash the long strands for her every weekend, even when Ochako huffed and puffed and said she could do it herself.

Her mom always took the time to wash it gently, and condition with something sweet smelling— "Because a sweet girl like you deserves sweet hair, too."

And how her dad would braid it every time she visited, even when Ochako would have to undo it the next day. He would take his strong, worker's hands and lift each length of hair carefully so that he didn't tug on her tender scalp.

Now that they were gone, Ochako didn't see the point in keeping her hair long. It just slowed her down. It just made her /sad/.

She sighs, and steps out of the way when a car plows through a puddle right beside her.

Her legs get soaked, but it isn't anything worse than the day prior, when a truck had soaked her from head to toe.

Ochako just sighs and brushes the muddy water droplets from her already dirty legs.

It's a good thing she was out of socks, or else she'd have to start worrying about her shoes molding at this point.

She's just begun kicking her shoe off, to finish the rest of the trek up to the next city barefoot, when a car pulls up to a stop beside her.

"Are you alright?" A low voice asks, to her left. Ochako startles and twists on her heel.

She almost ignores it, because cars like that didn't stop for hitch-hikers like her.

But the car follows her a few more feet as she slows to a stop.

When she looks over her shoulder, confused, the man in the car tilts his head at her and nods.

"Are you alright?" He repeats. "I saw you get wet."

"Ah!" Ochako yells, and then lowers her voice. Geez, where are your manners, Uraraka? "I'm fine! Sorry."

The man blinks, and Ochako belatedly notices that he has the most stunning, grey eyes. Like darkened silver.

"Why should you be sorry?" He asks with a frown.

And then, he shakes his head.

"Do you need a ride? It's dangerous to get in a stranger's car, but you shouldn't walk around barefoot. Glass would hurt." He pauses, and then adds. "Probably less than murder, but I promise not to murder you."

Ochako is speechless.

But not speechless enough not to /laugh/ at the absurdity of the stranger.

She feels it bubble up in her chest like boiling water, and it floats out of her ugly, like when a pot spills the water and burns on the stove burner.

The man just watches, silent, as she wipes tears from her eye and keeps on laughing. He just leans against the steering wheel and waits patiently, face completely deadpan.

He's /serious/, and that just makes it funnier.

She gasps for breath as she leans against his car, one shoe falling to the pavement and skipping beneath the undercarriage, shit.

Ochako's laugh starts up again as she drops to her knees to retrieve it.

When she comes back up, knees blackened by sidewalk dust, and hands darkened by asphalt, the man is smiling. Just barely.

"I guess murder /would/ hurt more than stepping on glass." She agrees. "Depending on the type of murder."

He murmurs the words underneath his breath, eyebrows furrowing.

"You're right," he says, troubled.

She leans into the rolled down window, arms crossing to hide the ripped hem of t-shirt.

"You sure you /promise/ not to murder me? I kind of need my life."

Well. All things considering, it was pretty much all she had left. She couldn't exactly afford the house after her parents died. They hadn't been able to finish the down payments, and none of them (including Ochako) had enough savings to keep her afloat.

So, hitch-hiking. Walking to nowhere and hoping for more.

A few miles in an air-conditioned car was more than what she had, so she'll take it.

The man turns serious, though. The smile wipes off of his face— not replaced with a frown, but replaced with another deadpan look. He nods his head, making eye-contact the entire time, and says,

"I promise not to murder you."

Well.

He promised, at least. Ochako still had a little bit of mace in her pocket, if she needed it.

So she gets in the car.

---

His name is Todoroki Shouto and he has an open duffle bag of yen, two pillows with embroidered pillowcases, a shattered phone, and a half-full photo album in his backseat.

Ochako stares at the photo album instead of the other three things, because she definitely does not want to get murdered, thank you very much.

He was a cute baby. Two-toned hair from birth, and big eyes that only had one expression: wide. Ochako traces her ragged thumb nail across one of the pictures, where he's covered in cake frosting at his second birthday, and accidentally creases the polaroid image.

She hurriedly flips the page.

"Are you hungry?"

"I'm fine," Ochako mumbles, ignoring her tummy which immediately begins to grumble in argument. She flips another page to muffle the noise, and comes across more empty pockets than full ones.

From the way there's the edge of one polaroid still caught in one of the slots, Ochako assumes that they used to be just as full as the rest.

She flips to the back, and a roll of film flops into her lap.

"Do you even still have a camera for this?" Ochako asks, holding the strange, almost novel-looking thing up to the waxing light of the returning sun. Then she brings it back down to the shadows in case that might ruin the film inside, oops.

"At home," Todoroki says, low. Her shoes are in his lap, because he wanted her to have more room to look at the photo album. Ochako had tried to just place them on the floor of the car, but he looked so earnest in his offer that she hadn't been able to say no without feeling bad.

Besides, she had a feeling he was pretty harmless. Weird, but who wasn't?

"Oh, are you moving or something?" Ochako asks, and then immediately grimaces at the invasion of privacy. "I mean… 'cause of the stuff in your backseat."

"Moving…" Todoroki repeats, focusing on the road. They're driving slow enough that almost everyone passes by them, but Ochako got pretty motion-sick so she appreciated it.

Todoroki leans back in his seat, both hands at the very apex of the steering wheel. It's outlined in a leather cover and is so shiny that it almost looks metallic. Expensive as fuck, probably.

Everything about him looked pretty expensive, actually. The car was brand new, from this year. Still had the new smell and everything.

Ochako was actually pretty glad he insisted on the shoe-thing, if only to prevent mud stains.

Although his pants /did/ look pretty designer. Ah, fuck.

"Yes," Todoroki says, after the long moments of silence. "I'm moving."

"Oh! That's… fun. That's fun!" Ochako nods.

Todoroki turns them off of the road, and pulls into a parking spot. Ochako blinks past the raindrops on her side of the window, and squints out at the illuminated signs.

A restaurant. Ah, /fuck/. Ochako pats her shorts for her wallet, as if she could even /pretend/ it had money in it. All it had was her ID (almost expired) and a coupon for leg waxing.

"Do you want to come in with me?" Todoroki asks, turning to her completely. The seatbelt gets caught, and it does that thingy it does where it locks and gets tighter until you take it all the way off. He doesn't seem to mind.

Ochako smiles, though even she can feel how strained it is. "Ah, I'm fine. I should probably go actually, but thank you for the ride. The rain should stop soon, so…"

"Oh."

Todoroki frowns, glancing at the arm rest between them. He's engaged the parking brake even though they aren't on an incline, and Ochako's smile relaxes to something more real.

"It was really nice to meet you," she says. "I'd give you my phone number but I kinda didn't pay the bill." (Since, uh, last year, but he didn't need to know that.)

"It was nice to meet you too," Todoroki says. "I can buy you food."

"Oh," Ochako parrots, dumbly. Her eyes dart to the yen-bag and she hurries to shake her head. "I couldn't—"

"I don't mind. It's my dad's money— and he hates me. And I hate him, so." Todoroki finally takes off his too-tight seatbelt and it rattles noisily as it smacks against the car door.

"I…"

Ochako isn't sure how to approach /that/ particular landmine. Nor is she sure how she's supposed to resist free food. When had she last eaten. Two days ago, or something? She'd kinda been ignoring it, but the walking helped.

Now that she's technically resting, she can feel her tummy about to throw a conniption.

Todoroki blinks his wide eyes at her as he waits, not making a move. His blinks are slow, like a cat, and his eyes flicker back and forth between her own.

She sighs heavily, but a grin is already parting her lips. "You're a strange one, Todoroki."

"Am I?"

"I don't have any money, so you have to pay for all of it," she warns.

"I will."

"And I eat a lot! I haven't eaten in a while."

"Okay."

"And… and I want my shoes back."

Todoroki hands her the shoes. There's mud residue on his pants and the bottom of his shirt.

But he has a small smile on his face as he watches her struggle to put her shoes on in the closed space, so maybe it was alright.

---

Shouto watches as Uraraka stuffs two donut holes in her mouth, licking away the powdered sugar that paints across her lips. It looks like snow when it dusts down to her shorts, and smears chalky residue on her thighs.

He hands her a napkin, and she blushes pretty like a sunset paints ocean water pink when it sets at night.

"Sorry for the mess," she says quietly.

"It's okay. Is it good?"

"It's good!" She wiggles in her seat, and it reminds Shouto of a really happy hamster. "Do you want some?"

She's very beautiful. Her hair is cut in a way he's never really seen before, but it frames her face nicely. He likes it more than his almost-bowl cut. Some of her hair tickles across her shoulder, but she ignores it as she holds a donut hole out to him with a toothpick.

She keeps holding it as he bites down on the warm, cooked dough. He'd never really been fed by someone before. Well, as a baby— sure. But he had a feeling this was different. Was it different?

Shouto chews thoughtfully, and Uraraka smiles at him. She doesn't seem to mind feeding him. She stabs another one with the same toothpick and holds it out for him again, one hand underneath to catch the crumbs.

"Yummy, right? Thanks for buying them! I'll…" She flinches, interrupting herself. Her smile dims a little, like she'd lost power. "I'd offer to pay you back but, uh… ahaha, you know?"

Shouto /doesn't/ know, but he nods anyway. "I can buy you more," he says, soft. "You can take them with you. When you leave."

She uses the toothpick to prod and poke at the remaining few donut holes. They roll in the leftover powdered sugar at the bottom of the box.

"I'll be alright. But thank you." Her eyes get watery at the bottom lashes, and Shouto frowns. "You've been really kind."

When she laughs next, it's thick like she's close to sobbing. Her voice is shaky. Shouto doesn't like it- liked it much better when she was laughing /happily/ instead.

"Thanks for not murdering me," she adds. "This is probably the most fun I've had in a while."

"You can stay. I can drive you anywhere you want."

"Oh!" Uraraka jumps in her seat, as if he'd yelled it. He hadn't really spoken any louder than before, but he clears his throat and speaks even softer anyway.

"We just met, but I can take you anywhere you need to go. And I have enough money for the both of us. I really enjoy your company."

They're pulled off at an empty lot near a supermarket. Somewhere off in the distance is a park. The children there are loud, voices echoing in the evening ambiance.

Uraraka looks out towards the noise, but he can see her swallow heavily.

"That's kind of dangerous, isn't it? We just met."

She says it like how she says other things that are meant to be teasing. He nods anyway.

"It is. You can drive, if that makes you feel better. Or you can sit in the backseat. I would have bought a bigger car if I knew I would meet you today."

She laughs again, starting with a snort and ending with a giggle. It makes his heart beat faster in his chest, and he isn't sure if he's nervous or happy to hear it.

"What if /I'm/ the murderer?" Uraraka stabs one of the donut holes and brings it up to her mouth. She smiles at him when he frowns, and then smiles wider when he shrugs.

"If it happens, it happens."

"/Todoroki/." She slaps her palm against her forehead and sinks down in her seat. "That's the most dangerous mindset I've ever heard."

"I'm sorry?" He glances down at her the further she sinks, but she doesn't seem particularly angry. It looks like she's fighting, but on the inside. "It's not that dangerous."

"It's pretty dangerous."

She brushes her legs clean. Sits up straight and looks out the window again. Her breath fans out across the glass, fogging it.

He rolls the window down for her, and she does that snorting laugh again.

"You're a funny guy, Todoroki."

"Am I?"

"You are." Uraraka shifts in her seat, to pull her legs cross-crossed. There's one donut hole left in the box, and she rolls it around a few more times before she pokes it with that same toothpick and shoves it in her mouth.

As she chews, she glares at him. Almost like she can't see him and needs glasses. He leans in closer so that she can find what she's looking for.

"You're funny in both ways. Weird… but you make me laugh."

She closes up the box, fitting the toothpick between her teeth so that she can absently chew on it.

"So you're… 'moving'," she says, finally. "- and I don't have a home anymore. Where would we even go?"

Shouto glances past the parking lot, at the semi-distant street that is starting to pile with traffic after a brief lull. But his eyes inevitably drag back over to her.

Uraraka stares back, cheeks pink. A small smile grows on her face. She runs her fingernail across the edge of the empty donut box. He'd have to figure out a place to recycle it if he could.

There are so many places they could go. Somewhere warm, towards a beach. Or somewhere quiet, with wide hills and short buildings. To a festival. To a shoe store.

"Everywhere?"

"/Everywhere/?" Uraraka shakes her head, exasperated. "What about when we run out of money?"

Shouto shrugs. Uraraka laughs again. Her hand drifts to the middle console, palm up, and Shouto watches it for a while.

Then she leans over to grab his hand. Her fingers are warm, rough at the tips but soft everywhere else. She would look pretty in nail polish. /Prettier/, rather- if it were possible.

He maybe had a crush on her. Was this what love felt like? Soft hands and warm smiles? He liked it.

"I-"

She interrupts by leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. It's soft, like a feather landing on snow. "Take me everywhere, then. And then I'll give you my answer."

Shouto, dazed, touches his fingers to his cheek. He forgets to stop holding her hand, so hers come along with it. She doesn't seem to mind. "Your answer?"

"On whether or not I'll stay," she says, cheeky. "So you'd better make it a fun ride."

Shouto squeezes his other hand down on the steering wheel, if only to keep his heartbeat in his veins so that the organ doesn't leap out of his chest and act a fool. He accidentally steps on the gas, and the car revs in protest.

Uraraka laughs again. She tightens her hold on his hand and pulls it back down between them. He squeezes it back.

And when they get back on the road again, fifteen minutes later, Uraraka has gone from laughing to singing loud to the radio and dancing in her seat. She's pure joy.

---

It stops raining, and the world feels brighter.

#todocha #todochako #bnha #boku no hero academia #long post #writing tag #fanfic

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crybabyjam · 3 years

Text

drabble twitter thread, reformatted for tumblr

rating: g

pairing: bakudeku

yearning

length: <1k

not available on ao3

---

Katsuki shifts his weight from one knee to the other, kneeling before his own bed, and watches how Deku's chest rises and falls with his breath.

Moonlight shyly peeks through the curtains, tickling across Deku's carefully placed freckles.

Katsuki watches how Deku's nose twitches, shifting the pattern that those freckles make.

His phone vibrates, a goodnight text from Kirishima or Kaminari maybe, and he shoves it tight against his palm so that Deku won't wake.

Deku shifts again, a soft grumble building in his throat before he sighs, softly, and twists onto his side. The bed cradles him gently as he does, and his hair splays across the pillow as he burrows his nose against the plush softness of it.

Katsuki places the flat of his hand against the blanket, which Deku lays atop, and inches his fingers close enough that he can feel the warmth Deku's skin lets off.

Deku breathes in deep, absorbing the smell of Katsuki that has permeated through the fibers. Breathes out an even softer sound than before.

Katsuki breathes with him.

The dorm is cold. He watches as Deku shivers when the air conditioner kicks on, and tries to contain the rolling feeling in his gut when that just makes him hug the pillow tight to his face.

Deku was taking up half of his bed. The other half was tucked against the wall, and Katsuki was too tired for gymnastics.

So he let himself take the quiet moment presented, and just watched. Deku's back, now, rises and falls with his breath.

Katsuki reaches out to touch.

He rubs his palm across the padded shoulderblade presented to him, and curls his fingers against the arched shoulder.

Deku's skin is warm, when Katsuki's fingers press to his neck and feel the way his pulse beats strong in his veins.

His eyelashes flutter, and he breathes in deeper when Katsuki leaves his hand there.

It's like he'd reached into his own chest and squeezed at his heart, from those few motions. Made Katsuki wish he actually could, so he could throw it at the sky and hope it burned as it reached the atmosphere.

Soon, Deku's warmth pervades across Katsuki's nerves. His hand grows hot, and then clammy when he snatches it away to ball it into a tight fist as punishment for lingering without his permission.

Deku rolls onto his back again at the loss. his breath pauses.

Then, faintly, "Kacchan..."

Katsuki goes still like the moonbeams soaked into the bedspread. Stays still as Deku's lips move, dreaming.

Nothing else happens, and Katsuki ignores the way he can /feel/ his eyes soften. He blames it on being tired and doesn’t let himself feel it further.

Katsuki frowns and lays his head against the mattress. He's angled low so he can't see all of Deku's face like this, but he can see the way his own hair has clung to his eyelashes.

He tsks, quiet. Messy little idiot.

Katsuki reaches his hand out, feeling how Deku's heat still sits heavy in the middle of his palm. His fingers shake when they brush across his skin.

The curve of his cheek is soft like silk beneath Katsuki's fingertips. He doesn't let himself linger.

He tucks the few strands of wavy hair from Deku's eye, curving them back up towards his forehead. Takes it a step further to follow the rest of the path towards his ear.

Deku doesn't stir as Katsuki lifts his hand away, trembling still.

Katsuki holds that hand close to himself, cradled to his chest, and rolls his eyes to force it steady. Stupid automatic a/c.

His position is uncomfortable. The edge of his bed is hard as it digs against his chin. The floor is unforgiving to his knees, and his chest hurts from holding his breath. He doesn't want to breathe too loudly and wake Deku up.

But the discomfort is nothing.

In the morning, he'll be upset at the crick in his neck and at the sun glaring directly in his eyes. At the spot of drool Deku soaked into his clean pillowcase and at how his phone ran out of batteries.

He'll be less upset at the covers tucked around his back and shoulders, and the half-crumpled note left by his head with a 'sweet dreams kacchan!' scribbled across it.

He'll be confused, even, at the ache in his chest that Deku's absence leaves. At the heat in his cheeks when he remembers how tenderly Deku had whispered his name.

But for now, it doesn't matter.

Katsuki lets Deku rest, and falls in love with him more, despite himself.

#bakudeku #bkdk #bnha #boku no hero academia #long post #writing tag #fanfic

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crybabyjam · 3 years

Text

nobody like you

for valentines day

ship: bakudeku

rating: t

summary: Izuku takes Katsuki on a date to a parfait shop.

content warning for (light??) heavy petting/making out. age difference.

available on ao3

---

Katsuki grunts on impact as Deku barrels into him excitedly, like a giant puppydog that doesn't know its own strength.

He was underneath the awning of Aldera Junior High, one of the last students there besides the sports kids and the class reps who had to do whatever bullshit it is that they do.

Still, they were all inside the building. So it's quiet enough that, when Deku takes a moment to nuzzle his face against the spiky softness of Katsuki's hair, Katsuki can hear Izuku's heartbeat.

Strong and steady, a deep 'thump, thump, thump' that makes Katsuki's own pick up in speed.

He hears it more clearly in his wrist when Deku lifts his hands to lay them gently across the back of his neck and trace his thumb along the jaw, until Katsuki's nose flares and he can feel his cheeks flush.

Fucking romantic. It made Katsuki want to swallow his entire mouth so that he can chew his own heart out.

(read more)

"Kacchan, are you ready?" Deku asks, peering down at Katsuki from his bullshit height of 6'4''. Second growth spurt at the end of his first year of high school. Asshole.

Katsuki'll catch up or die trying.

"Yeah," Katsuki grunts, ducking his head down to dodge the kiss that Deku tries to stick on his cheek.

Deku, undeterred, lets it land instead on Katsuki's hairline. The thinner, more bristly hairs near his sideburns tickle Deku's lips, and Katsuki is left with a vibrating laugh ringing in his ears when Izuku pulls away.

"Let me hold your bag?" Deku asks as he reaches out to grab it anyway.

It's just a briefcase, smaller than Deku's yellow monstrosity by a large margin. But he's learned that Deku will get annoying if he doesn't let him do some 'boyfriend' things, so Katsuki lets him grab the briefcase and hook it over his shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, pack-mule. Where are we going?"

Deku hooks his arm over Katsuki's shoulder and begins to gently lead him along down the sidewalk. With that same hand, he pats along Katsuki's chest until he snags his phone with a grin and unlocks it.

For as many times as Katsuki has threatened to change it to lock him out, he never has. But Katsuki almost regrets giving him the code, just because of that giddy look.

"It's not far," Deku is saying, gesturing with one finger towards the left as his thumb runs across the map on Katsuki's phone. "It'll be nice and quiet like you like. They even have booths."

"Took one of your other boyfriends there?" Katsuki huffs.

Deku looks at him, bemused. "You're the one who made me choose something private! I would have been happy announcing how much I love my Kacchan to the entire world."

"'Cause you're a fuckin' embarrassment."

And, as if that was a compliment, Deku perks up and says, "Oh, right!"

Deku tucks the phone back in Katsuki's pocket and sneaks his fingers, instead, to his backpack. It takes a bit of struggling because he refuses to let go of Katsuki's shoulder while he does it.

Katsuki ends up in a bit of a chokehold, and he elbows Deku in the gut. It feels solid, a literal wall of dense muscle. Katsuki digs his pointy elbow in meanly, until Deku curves his tummy away with a grunt and a laugh.

"Here!"

A gaudy red object is shoved in his face, distracting him from his attack.

Katsuki snatches it away from Deku's scarred fingers and squints at the thing.

A teddy bear. Red, fuzzy, and tiny. In its arms is a stuffed heart, and on its back is a box of chocolates (heart-shaped, of course) that overshadows the thing by about 300%.

"I would have gotten orange, but you don't like orange-flavored candies, right? This is a variety pack instead. Although, I know you don't really love chocolate— so it might be kind of a waste. But it's a holiday! And Kacchan deserves a nice Valentine's box, after all—"

"Looks like roadkill." Katsuki thumbs across the sewed nose of the thing, and the button eyes that feel like marbles. The fur is soft, and doesn't shed even when Katsuki scratches at the scalp of the thing.

And the box itself isn't bad. Covered in transparent, plastic-like paper and, beneath that, the box itself is outlined in white lace. Kind of dainty for a guy like Katsuki, but he couldn't say he didn't like it.

Deku always did have a different idea about him than everyone else, anyway.

Deku's shoulders drop, relaxed. More of his weight leans on Katsuki, and he throws his head back with his belly laugh.

"Does that mean you like it?"

Katsuki tucks the bloody-colored bear under his arm, careful not to ruin the packaging of the chocolates too much. It jostles noisily, and Deku looks half a second from stealing it back from him just to carry it again.

So Katsuki nods. "It's… good."

As if he'd just gotten powered by the sun itself, Deku's smile brightens by megawatts. He gets these ridiculous dimples when he smiles like that, deep and perfectly pokable.

Katsuki resists, and instead turns to face the sidewalk as if he was the one leading the way.

Deku sneaks a kiss to Katsuki's cheek, close to the edge of his mouth. It was purposeful, too, because Deku tugs his arm away and runs a few steps ahead to walk backwards as he leads the way.

Katsuki stuffs his hands in his pockets and glares at the ground even as he fights the grin off of his face like he's fighting a dragon with a shield made of paper lace.

The grin wins.

---

They make it to the little venue Deku had chosen for them.

And, of all places, it's a parfait shop. It's darkened glass windows to keep the inside cool on hot days, and small; cornered and squished by taller buildings on either side. Across the small street is a busier shop that's stuffed full with a line out the door— a bakery.

Katsuki squints at Deku, and Deku gives him a coy look in return.

"C'mon."

He leads them up the two short steps and Katsuki holds the door open for Deku's wide ass backpack.

The inside is even smaller than it looks. Overfilled with pillows and stuffed animals and floral banners announcing the Valentine's holiday, it was like Katsuki had been dropped into a love commercial.

But it's quiet, and there's only two workers and one other customer in the entire shop. Deku leads them towards a booth to set down their things, and the cushioned seats creak when Katsuki flops into it.

It's too big of a booth for just the two of them. Curved in a corner, faced in a way that they're hidden unless someone walked right in front of the table.

It smells like a park in spring over in their corner. Mixed with something sweet in the air, it's like he's floating on cinnamon-sugar clouds.

"Can I order for you?" Deku hums, chewing on an open straw even though there's no drink in front of him. "There's a cake I think you would like."

"Mm." Katsuki cursorily sweeps his gaze across the menu, though there aren't many pictures to bely what the snacks would actually taste like. Just flowery descriptions that use the word 'decadent' way too much, in his opinion.

"I'll also get us a parfait. To share?"

Deku's eyes are hopeful. Way too fucking green and bright for his own good. His gaze is impossibly soft, and Katsuki feels like he just got wrapped in silk and laid in satin.

He scratches at his skin to keep himself from looking too excitable. But he does nod. "We can share."

Deku waves down a waiter.

Katsuki watches how his school uniform shifts with him when he raises his hand up, how it strains at the shoulders. He'd really filled out over the years, and it seems his clothes couldn't really keep up.

Deku catches him looking and winks, face turning pink like a freshly blossomed flower.

The waiter arrives, interrupting Katsuki before he gets started.

Katsuki tugs off the jacket to his own uniform as Deku lists off a few items to the worker.

It's cool inside, as expected, but Katsuki always ran hot anyway. So that it doesn't drop on the floor and get dirty, he stuffs it behind Deku's bag, which is between them in the booth like a boulder stopping the flow of a river. He's careful not to squish his chocolate box, moving the bear to the empty spot of the booth opposite of Deku, on top of the table.

Katsuki leans across it, ignoring the poke of utensils and notebooks, and blinks his eyes slowly as Deku laughs at something the worker says. It's a muted sound, polite so that he doesn't disturb the literally only other patron in the establishment.

His lips look soft when they part in a smile like that. Smooth and dusky and plush.

Katsuki hides his own against the sleeves of his button up, suckling the lower one between his teeth to mimic the way Deku likes to nibble on it when he's in a tease-y mood.

"Kacchan?"

Deku blinks at him, just noticing the shift in positions. The worker bows their head quickly as they leave, still smiling, but Deku's focus has entirely shifted to Katsuki. As it always has and always will.

Deku scooches closer, so that he eclipses the other side of the bag. Katsuki gets shadowed along with it, and he has to pluck his head up to continue looking Deku in the eye.

A hand hovers close to his brow, and he eyes it carefully before he nods and lets it comb through his hair. Deku focuses on the tangles, first, and then lets his fingertips focus on the temple worriedly.

They're cold, colder than the restaurant. Bad circulation from turning his bones and his veins and his nerves to dust too many times.

"Tired?"

"Sick of your bullshit," Katsuki says, with no venom whatsoever. Deku can tell, because his eyes just (somehow) soften even further.

As if Katsuki is actually asleep and he's afraid to wake him, Deku lays the lightest kiss on his skin. Across his temple, warm to replace the cold.

"Sorry, Kacchan," Deku says, teasingly. "I think you'll always be sick of me."

Impossible, but Deku didn't need to know that. Let him figure it out on his own, when he needs to.

"But it's okay because I'll always be there to get on your nerves even more, Kacchan."

Katsuki snorts. It's a jarring sound, rising above the lilting music playing in the background. Inside, his heart is hammering at the declaration. What a fucking dumbass.

Only Deku could make a stupid sentence like that affect Katsuki so much.

He grabs Deku's wrist and shoves it against his cheek, squeezing it between that and his shoulder so that it gets trapped there.

"Yeah, well. You're fuckin' stuck with me, too. Forever, asshole."

The words are growled, said too fast and awkwardly. Like Katsuki had dropped them in a pile at Deku's feet and hastily picked them up to show them off.

Deku accepts them graciously. As if the words were dipped in gold and sprinkled with diamonds.

His face goes from pink to red, and Katsuki is reminded of the awkward kid that used to walk him to and from elementary when Deku was just beginning junior high.

He'd been lanky then, like Katsuki is lanky now. All bones and jumpy like a skittish rabbit perpetually in the middle of a street.

He'd always had a red face back then, too. Maybe from crying, or from laughing too hard when Katsuki would steal his homework to try to do it instead, maybe three years before he'd learned the material.

"I'm glad, Kacchan," Deku says, eventually. His fingers curve against Katsuki's skin, warming up pleasantly. Katsuki's own are sweltering. If they got any hotter, they'd ignite and explode like fireworks.

Katsuki swipes his palm across his pants to clean them. Squeezes the loose material between his fist just to steel himself.

Deku glances down at the motion, and brings his other hand up to press it against Katsuki's face. To comfort him, maybe.

Katsuki interrupts by shoving his own against Deku's face first. It's awkward, and he does it too fast because there's a soft 'plap' sound when his clammy palm connects with Deku's cheek.

Still, it fits there comfortably. Deku's chubby cheeks curve into the space of his palm like he's about to roll a ball of mochi.

Dumbass was built like a brickhouse and still had the babiest face.

Katsuki relaxes when Deku doesn't shove him away. Not that Deku ever would, not when Katsuki's heart was about to shove it's way up his throat and make good on that chewing promise from earlier.

Deku's hand, which had been hastily shoved out of the way so Katsuki could grab him first, comes to instead rest atop Katsuki's own.

He presses it firmly against Katsuki's, fitting his fingers between Katsuki's smaller ones and curving towards the middle so he can tickle at Katsuki's heart line with the tips.

"You make me so happy," Izuku mumbles, against Katsuki's palm.

As if he'd been released from chains tying him down, Katsuki knees the schoolbag fully out of the way, shifting up onto it so that he can atleast match Izuku in height.

"Deku," Kacchan says between his teeth, just before Izuku pulls him forward to kiss him silly.

Izuku always likes to build up to kissing. Likes to leave his touch across Kacchan's skin so that it can tingle and thrum with the feeling it leaves behind. He likes leaving a trail of kisses up his neck, across his chin, and just a bare brush of lips across lips. And he likes how Kacchan looks when he does it, eyes half-lidded and dark, mouth dropped open with the barest hint of a smile, cheeks flushed.

But, right now, he can't help going straight for it. Kacchan doesn't mind either way (or, atleast, says he hates when Izuku teases him, wants him to just get on with it), so he's already there with an open mouth and a moan.

Izuku is quick to shush him, feeling along Kacchan's shoulders and noting how the muscles beneath his button-up tense and subsequently relax. Izuku curves the touch lower, fitting his arms beneath Kacchan's so that he can rest them, crossed at the wrist, against the small of Kacchan's back.

They fit there nicely, especially when Kacchan climbs into Izuku's lap to take up all the space between his belly and the table.

Izuku tugs him closer by that hold, sinking down low so that Kacchan, for once, has to dip his head down to kiss him back.

Their lips move across one another, connecting them together more solidly than a red thread of fate could in that moment. Kacchan is concentrating hard on the moment, Izuku can tell because he begins to minutely rock back and forth the motions of his breath. He always kissed Izuku like he had something to prove, but Izuku was just happy to hold him. To love him.

Still, Kacchan kisses him so deeply, like he's trying to transmit every one of his thoughts directly into Izuku's temporal lobe, that Izuku gets lost in the current that is Kacchan's desire.

Static from the seat zaps the back of his neck when he slides in the booth more, gathering it by his hair rubbing against the leather. He pulls his hand away to pat at his nape, but Kacchan tugs it back before it gets very far.

He encourages Izuku to grab a handful of his thigh, lifting up a few inches so that his fingers can curve comfortably around the underside. For himself, Kacchan busies himself with sneaking his fingers beneath Izuku's blazer to try to fit it past his shoulders.

Izuku doesn't realize he's still sliding down the seat until his feet hit the other side of the booth, and he breaks the kiss to laugh when Kacchan flinches at the dull noise.

"Sorry," Izuku whispers, leaning over to glance past the barrier of the booth. "We should probably slow down before we kicked out before you even get to taste—"

"Shut up," Kacchan says, also in a whisper. His soft fingers come back to Izuku's cheeks and press them in so that Izuku's lips pop out.

Izuku laughs again, and it gets muffled when Kacchan kisses the noise away.

Warmth furls around Izuku's chest, like love had grown a physical form and decided to wrap itself around his ribcage as the first thing it did. He can't breathe in too deep, or else he's afraid he'll melt right in Katsuki's hands.

He feels along the cascading dip of Kacchan's spine, all the way up to the shoulderblades. He's been working out recently, eager to join Izuku at U.A. and surpass him before Izuku graduates.

It's been paying off, little by little. He's still tiny, not that he'd ever say so. But it's true, especially when he fits himself in Izuku's arms and lets himself get cradled there as he swallows down his soft, breathy sounds.

Izuku writhes in his seat. He blinks his eyes open to find Kacchan already looking at him with a grin.

"You get like this just 'cause of one little kiss? Virgin."

Izuku doesn't mention that they took each other's virginities.

Kacchan's face is bright red, lips not exactly kiss-swollen but close enough. Still, his smirk is wide enough that the tips of his sharper teeth peek out between his pink lips.

"Kacchan," Izuku huffs. Kacchan settles his weight fully on Izuku's lap, carefully angled away from that spot with a quick pat on the hip from Izuku's hand.

They were already being too forward as it is.

Still, Izuku shifts upwards so that he's sitting correctly in his seat, just so that he can peck Katsuki across the lips properly.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Kacchan."

There's the gentle clack of hard-soled shoes across the floor as the waiter approaches with their food, and Izuku hurriedly shoos Kacchan back into the booth as he takes off his jacket like Kacchan wanted.

Though, unlike what Katsuki is expecting (which is him hiding his kiss boner with his wadded up uniform), Izuku drops the jacket across Katsuki's shoulders and tucks the sleeves firmly across his lap.

The waiter arrives just as Izuku has smoothed out his own shirt again, swiping his big hands across his curly hair to fluff it out.

Katsuki buries his face against the collar of the jacket. It's warm like he's a tea kettle over a freshly stoked fire. It's a good thing his belly is empty or else— pfft no.

Izuku is once again making nice with the waiter as they explain the order, handing off two long spoons to each of them. Izuku already has his own shoved between his lips before Katsuki even grabs for his.

He lays it on the table, resting his chin in his hand as a large slice of cake is slid in the empty area of the booth opposite of them. In front of the red bear that is laying half on its side, kept upright only by the heavy chocolates weighing it down.

With a snort, Katsuki sidles closer to the school bag to get back on his portion of the booth.

Izuku reaches out to stop him, bowing his head in thanks to the waiter as they head off.

Katsuki, just to tease, dodges the touch and only gets two paces further before Izuku whines and drags him back, leaning his full weight across Katsuki's back to smother him in butterfly kisses.

They focus mostly on his jaw, unable to get at his face with the position, but Izuku takes what he can get and peppers each smooch thoroughly across Katsuki's skin until the latter shrieks like a banshee between his laughter.

"Idiot, you just said you didn't want us to get kicked out!" Katsuki gripes, twisting in Izuku's grip just to grit his teeth right in Izuku's face.

Izuku lets his hold loosen, one arm behind Katsuki's back. Katsuki trails his own across Izuku's and tucks his fingers in the back pocket that's closest to him.

"I can't help it when I'm with you, Kacchan. All I wanna do is kiss you!"

"I hate you," Katsuki says, resolutely. He leans his head against Izuku's shoulder and gestures at the parfait in front of them. "Now let's fuckin' eat this junk already."

It's tall, with mostly pink fruit to keep up with the theme of the holiday. Strawberries and syrupy peaches cover the top of the pink ice cream, color offset by white powdered sugar and dark brown chocolate shavings sprinkled on top. The cup itself is lined in chocolate drizzle, in a wavy pattern that gets a bit smeared when Izuku pokes his spoon into the top.

There's also a little heart shaped cookie on top.

"Look how pretty it is, Kacchan!" Izuku says excitedly. He carefully wipes excess whipped cream off of the rim of the tall glass and laps it off his thumb. Some smudges at the edge of his lip.

Katsuki lets out a fond sigh and gestures him forward.

Izuku comes to him willingly, always happy for whatever it is Katsuki gives to him.

Instead of kissing him again, Katsuki swipes the whipped cream up to instead smear it directly across Izuku's freckled cheek. Only two of his more prominent ones get covered completely, but it dissolves the two of them into a fit of giggles anyway.

"Kacchan!" Izuku wipes off the mess with the back of his sleeve, completely disregarding the perfectly good handkerchief he has tucked in his back pocket. Katsuki can feel it brushing against his fingertips when Izuku shifts forward to 'ooh' and 'ahh' at the parfait again.

Katsuki watches him for a moment, and feels his insides shift with a bursting need to tell Izuku right now that he loves him so much that his very soul belongs in Izuku's strong, mangled, soft, gentle hands.

Somehow, the idiot has powdered sugar in his hair.

Katsuki grabs for his briefcase and flicks it open as Izuku takes his first bite, chirring happily like a bird that just learned how to fly.

When he pulls out the small chocolate box, Izuku cuts off abruptly.

"Kacchan?" The name is garbled around the spoon, but the inflection is clear. Hesitant, yearning. Disbelieving. It's just a simple box wrapped in a ribbon, but Izuku wants to treasure it immediately like it's his first autograph from a hero.

"Made this for you," Katsuki says, gruffly. He shoves it across the table, and it slides right into Izuku's hand.

Despite the size, the box is a bit heavy. Izuku weighs it for a moment, eyes already brimming with tears.

Katsuki grimaces, turning away to tug the parfait close to himself instead and swirls up a bite of strawberry flavored ice cream with one of the peaches, shoving it in his mouth instead of explaining further.

"Can I…" Izuku pauses to wet his lips, and they're doing that thing where he's caught between a smile and a grin; between overjoyed and overwhelmed. "Can I open it?"

"Just said I made it for you," Katsuki mumbles, swallowing the ice cream down too fast. It melts in his throat and leaves an empty spot that fills with tense nervousness.

He takes another bite of ice cream to fill it as Izuku carefully unravels the present.

And, on the inside of the simple black box, is a plain chocolate. Homemade, of course, and hard-shelled. It was a bitch to temper, but the shine came out well if Katsuki did say so himself.

The top is outlined with a white chocolate heart, and the message inside of it is a mix of white and dark chocolate— because Izuku didn't actually like the taste of white chocolate. Katsuki taste-tested it a million times to make sure he couldn't taste it more than the rest of the chocolate but…

Katsuki rubs his sweaty palms across his thighs again.

The message simply says, 'To my Number One hero.'

Because Katsuki wasn't… couldn't actually convince himself to do the lovey-dovey shit. The heart shape was pushing it but… he knew Izuku would do something that would make him feel like this, so. He had to.

Katsuki bites his tongue to quiet his own nervous thoughts. Shit, he was hanging around the nerd too much.

Izuku likes it, though. Because he's crying harder, laying the box on the table so that he doesn't crush the edges when it becomes too much for him.

"Kacchan, you're—" Izuku interrupts himself with a sniffle. And then a soft sob.

"Deku, don't fuckin' cry," Katsuki says, only mildly panicking.

He's just begun preparing himself to crawl back in Izuku's lap and kiss the tears away himself when Izuku finally swipes them away with the edge of his already dirtied sleeves.

With a quick nod, he centers himself and looks Katsuki directly in the eye.

"I won't let you down, Kacchan. I'll become the Number One for real, soon."

He was still only in high school, but Katsuki had a feeling that this was a promise Izuku wouldn't break.

Katsuki had a lot of catching up to do, but he didn't really mind. Not right now.

Instead, he gestures with his spoon towards the homemade chocolate.

"Yeah, yeah. Better fuckin' hold onto it while you can before I take my title back."

"Of course, Kacchan." Izuku is grinning, and his face is red like it always gets (after crying, after laughing, after kissing). "I look forward to it."

Katsuki shoves another bite of parfait past his lips, and, when Izuku drops a kiss to his cheek for the umpteenth time that day, he lets a full smile grace his lips.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Deku."

ao3 link

#bakudeku #bkdk #bnha #boku no hero academia #long post #writing tag #fanfic

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crybabyjam · 3 years

Text

ego

ship: bakudeku

rating: t

au: regency era romance, maybe?

summary: Being selfish isn't all bad.

word count: 5k

available on ao3 here, based off of art

---

Gentle light filters through a stained-glass window, and Izuku tiredly rubs at his eye as he watches squirrels chase one another up a thick maple tree trunk.

His breakfast has gone cold, plate settled on his lap as he sits on a stool he'd dragged over from the bar. The window is open, angled in a way that it paints pretty colors across the porcelain dish stained with strawberry juice and pancake syrup.

The smell of it mixes with the smell of summer outside: of sunlight through sweet tree boughs, and the perfume of freshly watered azalea bushes.

All of it together is too cloying, almost.

Izuku sighs to himself, fiddling with the half-eaten food for only a moment more before he sets it on the windowsill.

"I'm not cleaning that if it falls and breaks."

Izuku startles at the deep voice, fumbling with his own hands as he twists his head out the window.

On the other side of the wall, Katsuki rests. He's leaning against the stone, taking a rest from yard work by the ruddy stains on his knees and the dirt clinging to his forearms.

He shoves away perspiration from his brow, watching Izuku with an appraising eye, and Izuku laughs nervously.

"I won't break it," Izuku says as he moves the plate away anyway. "I'd clean it up myself, either way."

Katsuki only grunts.

His hair has grown longer over the past spring season. It was the beginning of summer, but already wisps of his sunlight colored hair tickle at his dark eyelashes. Just a bit. Izuku can see some of it clinging to the side of his face, sweat-slicked.

He glances away when Katsuki quirks an eyebrow at him. They're separated by a wall, but Izuku feels like Katsuki can see right through him at any moment.

(read more)

He gives a wobbly smile, eyes darting up again, but Katsuki has already turned away. He's rubbing at his callous-hardened palms, probably aching after working all morning.

Izuku had woken up an hour or so prior, and he remembers seeing Katsuki already hard at work in the garden.

A marble statue had gotten sun-bleached over the years, and Izuku had finally decided it was time to get it repaired. He hadn't expected them (that is, Katsuki and the other help) to get to it so soon, but they'd always been fast.

Katsuki most of all.

Others may have come and gone, but Katsuki had always stayed. He'd been with them— with Izuku— for years, even before Izuku's mother had passed and left him the estate, and knew more about the home than Izuku did, probably. More about the grounds, definitely.

Sometimes Izuku will sneak off with a good book to a quiet, untouched part of the garden, and some hours later would find flaming red eyes watching him from afar.

And, every time without fail, Izuku would find that 'hidden' part of the garden repaired the next day, in a way that he can sit comfortable in the sun for hours; fresh cushions placed upon marble benches, or grass beds cut low so that bugs can't hide in them.

Izuku can't help but be enamored with his ever-so-watchful groundskeeper.

"Would you like something to drink?" Izuku asks, quiet as if he doesn't want Katsuki to hear as he begins to walk away.

But he does hear. He turns, broad shoulders relaxing, and his eyes go dark and lidded as he appraises Izuku again.

Katsuki steps forward. The window is just low enough that he can cross his arms atop the sill and lean his head in.

"And what are you offering?"

Izuku laughs, high pitched and for too long. Katsuki watches him the entire while, and Izuku is sure his face goes red like the chopped up strawberries on his plate.

"Just… j-just a moment."

Izuku jumps up, and the stool teeters on one leg. He catches it midfall, and Katsuki's laugh is like liquid gold being poured over him, like he was a gilded ornament made to be strung up onto a glass chandelier.

He shivers as Katsuki's smooth, enticing voice calls after him, "Water's fine."

Izuku chooses his favorite glass to fill with the pitcher of water he keeps in the fridge. It's ice-cold, freezing against his clammy palms, so he doesn't bother with actual ice.

Instead, he fills it to the brim and takes carefully measured steps back to the door so that he can present it to his groundskeeper.

The glass is engraved, designed with a pale bird midflight, air jets circling down across the glass until the eye follows where it's near landing in its nest.

It reminds Izuku of the summer he had found a baby bird at the base of a tree, long ago. He was still a kid, and had cried and cried at the thought of it being stuck there until its parent got back.

He'd cried harder when he ended up stuck in the tree himself trying to put it back, too scared of heights.

Katsuki hadn't yet been hired then, but… it was a good memory despite everything. Sometimes, now, Izuku imagines if Katsuki had been there. If he would have helped Izuku down, laughing and teasing him all the while.

Izuku minutely shakes his head, both to clear it and to admonish himself. They were barely friends, after all.

"Here you go…" He murmurs, shooing the stool away with his foot so that he can lean out and place the cup directly in Katsuki's palms.

"Thank you, young master." Katsuki's voice is completely teasing as he says it, low and rough like a bass instrument being tuned.

Their fingers brush.

Izuku holds his breath as the pads of Katsuki's fingertips feel against the jut of knuckles. Neither of them move for a moment, the glass of water hanging between in limbo as neither grabs and neither lets go.

Katsuki purposefully lifts his other hand, eyes staring Izuku down to his unbreathing core. Then, he places it against the back of Izuku's. His thumb rubs a soft circle across the skin, softer compared to his own, and Izuku breathes in so sharp that his lung protests with a sharp pain.

Izuku pulls away first, with a cough.

They'd never really touched hands before. Never touched anything before, not even in passing brushes or accidental stumbles.

It was always as if the air between them was thick, impermeable. Not solid like brick, but thick like water waves, and Izuku couldn't read the tide well enough to breach the surface.

Izuku so desperately wanted to break through, and hold Katsuki tight. To promise him the world and the moon and the stars, and actually get them for him if he so wished.

But Izuku couldn't ask that of him, not when there was a very real chance of him saying no.

Katsuki's livelihood relied on their relationship, after all. He had to stay atleast somewhat cordial with his master if he wanted to get paid. Izuku was sure he thought that way, which is why he teased and darted away.

If Izuku were a better person, he'd make it so Katsuki wouldn't have to do that song and dance. Make it so he could come and go as he pleased without worry of Izuku— or give him all the money Izuku had just so he could choose his own path.

But Izuku was selfish.

And that touch, the simple brush of rough skin against skin… He couldn't let it go. Izuku would still keep him, pay him double even, if Katsuki said he hated his guts.

Katsuki laughs again, at the way Izuku jerks away. Just once, even quieter than before. And then he drinks.

His head tips back as he swallows down the water greedily, throat bobbing with each heavy gulp. Izuku watches as a drop slips past the curve of his lip and paints his neck translucent.

It trails lower, following the swell of his neck and briefly getting caught at the clavicle and pooling there. Katsuki shifts, breathing in a deep breath, and it journeys further, dipping lower and lower still.

Izuku jerks his head away before he gets hypnotized past the point of no return, eyes darting away from the shirtless groundskeeper.

The glass makes a dull sound as Katsuki sets it on the windowsill, thoroughly emptied. It stays silent between them for a moment, until Izuku nervously licks his lips.

"Back to work?"

Katsuki tilts his head, leaning back against the windowsill. He shifts up onto his toes, just a few inches, and leans in far enough that the smell of him encompasses the entirety of Izuku's head. He swims in it, eyes fluttering shut briefly before he forces them back open.

Katsuki angles close enough that the ends of his hair tickle at Izuku's forehead. Izuku tips forward, subconsciously, to chase the enticing feel.

Like this, the sun is entirely blocked, light let in only by the glass window. The colors, reds and blues and greens, overlay across Katsuki's face until he's like an oil painting come to life.

Izuku traces the shapeless shapes with his eyes, losing himself between the shadows cast across Katsuki's face and the curve of his lips.

Katsuki calls his attention back by grinning, clicking his tongue, and dropping back on his heels.

"See you around, young master."

Then, Katsuki stalks away. He stops briefly to pick up his shovel, hooking his foregone shirt over his shoulder, and then disappears around the corner in the blink of an eye.

Forgotten condensation rolls down the bird-engraved glass. A real bird sings in the distance, far beyond the treeline.

Izuku doesn't know what to do with himself in the aftermath.

His hands shake, just a bit, and he holds them close to his belly to get them to calm. And, just like he can't stop them from trembling, he can't stop the smile lighting up across his mouth.

Katsuki smells of lemongrass and honey. Sharp and sweet.

Izuku closes the window so that it stays with him a few moments longer.

---

Izuku lays himself across freshly trimmed grass, unworried at how his crisp, fresh shirt will stain. He has ever many more in his closet to romp around in, after all.

Instead, he worries about the book in his hands. The pages are small against his palms, and the spine is well worn. It's a favorite of his, and has been for many years.

He settles down into the piece of earth laid out for him that afternoon, rolling onto his belly so that he can lay the book flat, and hums happily to himself as the words wash over him.

Katsuki watches him from the house. He's settled atop the roof, just having finished repairing a few thatches and cleaning out the gutters. After he washed up, he'd take his lunch break and spend the hour or two keenly examining his mental picture of the young master, as he always does in his downtime at work.

Izuku is unaware of the eyes he has on him, by the way he twists in the grass and lets his shirt get untucked from his pants.

Katsuki has a perfect view of the strip of skin that gets exposed to the summer heat, and watches as Izuku idly fiddles with the hem, as if he's ready to take the entire thing off.

He's in a quiet part of the garden, in the small backyard rather than the vast front. He's all but surrounded by flowering shrubs and trees and dandelions that he refuses to let the gardeners get rid of. He loved to lounge on boring days and blow their white tuffs out across the landscape, to encourage more to grow.

Katsuki rolls his eyes at the thought. He'd be the one who had to deal with the shitty flowers, but it wasn't his estate. So he'd let the young master do what he pleased without fuss.

Katsuki settles back against the roof, leaning against one of the crown of the chimney spire that juts out of it.

He rests his head against his palm and watches as Izuku laughs out loud to himself and rolls onto his side, taking his book with him. His face is buried so far down in the pages that the ink might as well be staining his nose and freckles.

The pages have been rebound with leather, to keep them all together after the many years of love they've received from their owner. Katsuki feels his jaw tense for a moment, idly caught between wanting to tear it apart and replace it with himself in Izuku's hands, or turning away.

How idiotic, to be jealous of paper.

Izuku had a gentle touch, though.

Though he was rough on his hands, always nicking and grazing them with stupid actions, he was ever so gentle. He could cup an egg in his palms and go tumbling down a mountain, and the egg would be in better shape than it was before.

It was so strange, too. Despite his beansprout attitude, Izuku was a full-course meal. Strong around the middle with expansive shoulders. Large hands, strong thighs.

Though he was older than Katsuki by a handful of years, he still acted like a baby lamb, just barely taken from its mother's breast. It was astounding to watch, really.

Especially when the lambskin shed and he became a wolf. Not to say Izuku was dangerous— would always and forever be the furthest thing from that— but rather… fierce. Headstrong. Stubborn as a fucking ox and impulsive like a long-horned goat.

(Katsuki snickers, imagining a green-haired, fuzzy goat animal like that. What a sight his young master would be, if he were anything else but human.)

If Izuku got an idea in his mind, it'd be a hard-pressed ordeal to knock sense into him. Katsuki was the only one willing to try, it sometimes seems.

Yeah, well. Katsuki was never one to turn down a challenge. Not one like that, anyway.

Izuku may now own the lands, but the grounds were Katsuki's. Had been urged up by his fingers and conquered solidly by his will. Not a thing happened on this estate without his say-so, inside and out if he were being honest.

If Izuku were less stubborn, or Katsuki more nefarious… it'd probably be a problem. But Izuku was an alright master of the manor.

Was… kinder than Katsuki deserved, half of the time.

So Katsuki would treat him kind back, from the shadows. Where he belonged, as servant to his young master.

That was all he would ever be.

Because despite the way Izuku ogled him and let Katsuki get in his space, he'd never once reciprocated the advances. Never tried to get closer beyond passing by in the halls.

The closest they'd ever gotten was Izuku ducking out of the way as some extras carried furniture from one end of the estate to the other, accidentally breaching into Katsuki's personal bubble in the process.

They didn't even touch, then, but it haunted Katsuki even now— the feel of Izuku's body heat breeching against his own.

They were always orbiting one another, but never in the same galaxy. Katsuki was waiting for Izuku to reach for him, but was too stubborn to reach out first.

And he was too selfish to let Izuku go.

To quit and let him find another man to tend the grounds of his estate. To leave and let Izuku be swept up in whatever mess he did, and not care because his beautiful, fucking stubborn, eyes weren't on him anymore.

If Katsuki were a better person, maybe.

Katsuki stands up straight, tongue sour and heavy like lead in his mouth. It was time to be done with his daily glare at the estate owner.

He sighs, stretching his arms high above his head.

Izuku sits up, partially drawn by the motion in his periphery, but mostly from whatever is happening in his book. He gasps outwardly, soft but audible even from where Katsuki sits on the roof, and that is enough to startle the wildlife.

Butterflies burst from a small shrub to Izuku's front. A plethora of them, mostly in one color— must all have been from the same brood. They cyclone out of the greenery, and then lazily drift through the open air to find a new place to rest and eat at the flowers.

Katsuki growls beneath his breath at the sight of them, thinking only of the many larvae he'll have to cull lest they get an infestation all over.

That thought process stutters, though, when the young master gasps again and jumps to his feet to watch the cacophony of colors class across the clouded sky.

It's as if he'd never seen color before, with the way he drops his precious book to step into the mass of wings. Katsuki settles his chin across his hands, hugging his chin back against his palm to watch all over again.

Izuku holds his fingers out to the bugs that want nothing to do with them. They leave a wide berth around him as they flutter up towards the trees, etching an Izuku-shaped hole in their swarm.

Izuku pouts when not a one stays to give him butterfly kisses. His nose scrunches up as he does, lips soft-looking and plush as he juts the bottom one out.

Katsuki snorts and, once the last butterfly has gone to find a new branch to perch on, turns to get back to work.

---

It's been a number of days since their last significant contact, but Katsuki is (as always) a beautiful sight; resplendent even in the shade of the oak tree.

Izuku isn't sure, exactly, what excuse he could have for being out there at that moment, other than just wanting to see Katsuki in the sunlight and the shade. He was stunning.

And, at the moment, he was between tasks. As he seemed to be more frequently these days, when Izuku would sneak out of his own house and sit in the grass for no reason at all.

For that reason, Izuku was avoiding eye contact with the imposing figure he created. Even relaxed, lounging in shade as he waited for the sun to go past its apex, Katsuki was sharp like a poisoned dagger, but sweet as though he was dipped in honey.

He was alone, too.

Not that Izuku had many hired help, but generally Katsuki was barking orders at them because their work wasn't up to his standards. And, even though Izuku often had to convince him to take it easy on them, he did appreciate the effort.

Izuku could see it clearly in the cut of the landscape and the shine of his estate. Not a brick was chipped, not a hedge overgrown. Katsuki worked hard.

He deserved the break.

Izuku watched as he lifted his hands behind his head and settled against the oak tree's trunk. The bark must be uncomfortable against his skin, but he doesn't seem to mind as he lets his sweat and the shade cool him off.

And though the shade is thick, wisps of sunlight still filter through. Everywhere it touches seems to turn his skin to gold. Everything about him is magnificent, from the hard curve of his workers' muscles, to the soft of his eyelashes.

"Your stare is heavier than fuckin' lead, Deku."

Izuku startles and turns away as Katsuki squints his eyes open all of a sudden.

He feels his face go red and getting caught so easily, so soon.

There's a shift of clothing and grass, and then Katsuki stands and stretches. Izuku pointedly doesn't look his way at the soft sounds, even as something blooms deep in his tummy. Almost like the flutter of the butterflies from the few days prior, it was like he was being swarmed.

They weren't incredibly close together; Katsuki under a tree, and Izuku closer to the middle of the yard. Still, it's close enough that Izuku can feel him move without seeing.

He was coming closer.

Izuku glances up as Katsuki stops in front of him, arms loosely crossing. He has an intense look on his face, that would be stinging sharp if Izuku hadn't gotten to know Katsuki's mannerisms by now, over the years.

He's pleased. His eyes sparkle with a tinge of mirth and his lips are just barely traced with a hint of a smirk.

"Somethin' I can do for you, young master?"

Katsuki squats, slow so that he can get in Izuku's face, and the latter loses himself in the motion. His eyes dart all across the twists of Katsuki's body, as if it were being offered to him, before he catches himself and looks up at the bright sky instead.

Izuku breathes in deep. Shyly says, "Sorry…" even as he smiles.

Katsuki tilts his head.

He eyes the way Izuku's shirt, half open from the chest down, reveals the way his blush has painted across the skin of his pecs. Tilts his eyes lower to watch Izuku squeeze his thighs nervously, tensing them in the tight material of his silken pants.

"How long are we gonna keep playing this game, Izuku?"

Oh how the sound of his given name from Katsuki's lips is like a gift from the heavens. Would it be too much to hear it again, Izuku dazedly wonders as Katsuki stands straight.

He openly gapes as Katsuki watches him over his shoulder, stalking across the yard to finish up his job of the hour.

Katsuki laughs to himself as he feels Izuku's eyes on him the entire time. Always, he felt those eyes on him— sweeping across Katsuki like he held the secrets of the universe beneath his sternum.

It was a rush. A luxury that half of him felt he deserved and that the other half desperately worked for.

He shoves his boot against the head of his rake, digging it as deep as it can go in the earth. Izuku hadn't requested this but Katsuki was building him long rows of sunflowers to outline the sidewalk.

How presumptuous for him to not even consult his master before he changes the makeup of his yard, right?

But this spot was in perfect view from Izuku's bedroom. In the mornings, when the light was low on this side of the house, the sunflowers would remind him of everything good in the world.

And, after the sun has risen higher in the sky and painted the ground yellow and bright, the sunflowers might just make Izuku think of Katsuki. Was it selfish to want Izuku to think of him always?

It wasn't much off from what already happened.

Though Katsuki has already gotten into the rhythm of sowing the ground, Izuku's eyes have not left him. Katsuki can see him in the same position as before, legs curled beneath him and palms flat against the earth. His reflections in the rakes and shovels are warped, but it's still him, watching Katsuki.

Every so often, under the pretense of taking a breather, Katsuki will lift his head up and watch how Izuku's eyes crinkle at the corners as he unwittingly smiles. Watches how he blushes deep and red when Katsuki stretches a crick out of his neck and groans purposefully loud.

Sweat pools down his bare back and Katsuki doesn't have to glance up to know Izuku is following the trails they daub across the small curve at the base of his spine.

Katsuki finishes the first few rows where the seeds would need to be planted, and still Izuku has done nothing more than stare.

Katsuki wants to hold him.

A breeze dances between them, curling around their bodies and urging them closer.

Katsuki contemplates resisting for a moment, thinking first of the work he has to get done today. Second of the chance that Izuku may just be content in ogling and not actually feeling him. If maybe he was risking it all on an inkling, a hope, a dream.

He doesn't think of anything third, because Izuku perks up when Katsuki turns to him, handsome face melting from a pleased smile to an enamored, open-mouthed gaze.

Never before had Izuku seen Katsuki look like that before; never so vulnerable than he looked in that moment. His eyes were awash with want, and they were focused only on Izuku.

They both seem to hypnotize one another, all at once.

Katsuki steps forward, hesitant as the shovel lands soft in the dirt, and Izuku shifts a leg beneath him to stand.

They move together, closer.

How desperately selfish they were, to do this to the other.

Izuku shoves hair from his face, wavy like layered grooves in a cliffside or rivers cutting through a forest like a new wonder of the world. Would Katsuki want to see the world with him?

Katsuki holds his hand out to him, hands rugged and cut and harsh. But gentle, for once offering everything he could. Would Izuku be content with a rough hand such as this, holding his close?

The wind picks up and pushes them closer.

They meet in the middle.

The yard is completely open, to both the air and the stare of any help that might be watching. Katsuki doesn't care, and neither does Izuku. Not when they touch, skin to skin.

First a little, like the spill of a cup, and then a lot: like a tsunami.

Katsuki crashes his full body against Izuku and drags him down to the earth, toppling him down down down like a dragon taking out a mountain. Izuku flops to the grass with hardly a sound beyond tinkling laughter.

"Kacchan," Izuku sighs, voice strumming across Katsuki like gentle chords from an old guitar.

"Deku," Katsuki responds, straddling Izuku's waist. Their fingers are weaved tight together, like yarn in a mitten, and he squeezes down when Izuku murmurs something soft and sweet beneath his breath.

"Is this okay?" Izuku asks, as if he wasn't shoved down flat by his groundskeeper and about to be ravished like a meal for a starving man. Katsuki desperately wants to know how he tastes.

"You hold the power, young master." As always, the title is a joke, a tease. This time it was a plea, too. Katsuki lifts their joined palms and presses the back of Izuku's to his mouth as he says, "My life is in your hands."

The words wound Izuku, accidentally. If he were a better person…

Izuku's fingers loosen, but not to pull away.

Katsuki kisses them as they go, and then sucks in a breath when Izuku presses them to Katsuki's jaw and pulls him in close. He holds all of Katsuki in the palm of his hands, and he treats him gently like Katsuki always knew he would.

"Katsuki." Izuku whispers his name like a promise and the world's sweetest curse. There wasn't much that Katsuki could offer to Izuku beyond his body and his work, but he would promise it all just for him to say his name like that again.

Izuku nods encouragingly when Katsuki begins to thumb at the few buttons still done in his shirt. Katsuki was already shirtless, always was when Izuku was around.

Still, the motion of trust leaves his heart feeling thick and syrupy inside, sticking to his ribs with every beat of it. His lover trembles as Katsuki kisses across where Izuku's own hides, peeling the shirt off of him and offering him up to the sunlight.

As more and more of his skin gets revealed with each button that gets unlatched, Katsuki falls deeper in love with him.

Izuku is broad all over. His chest is wide and full, and his belly is stout and strong. His shoulders are broad as ever, and if he were ever anything but soft, he'd be imposing. Now, he's water in Katsuki's hands— or clay, ready and waiting to be lovingly shaped by him.

Izuku shivers when he swipes his fingers across the thick of his skin. He's covered in hair, dark but thin and soft. Katsuki likes the feel of it against his knuckles, and then against his chin when he leans down, briefly, to hear how his heart beats in his chest.

Izuku lets him do as he will, encouraging by the hand cradling the back of Katsuki's head. He keeps him close, desperate and clinging, but lets Katsuki explore at his own pace.

He stops breathing when Katsuki kisses at his neck, teeth nibbling at the heartbeat felt through his veins there. And he starts breathing again, deeper, when Katsuki whispers his name: "Izuku."

Katsuki thumbs at the hair sprouting from Izuku's chin, rubbing across the stubbly hairs until he's satisfied. Then he presses a kiss to it, the curve of his chin. Izuku whimpers, almost, or moans maybe. It all gets lost in the loud silence of his own head, focused on Katsuki and Katsuki alone.

Freckles dot his young master all over, carefully placed in each inch of his skin as if the painter of life wanted to be sure they were appreciated. Katsuki appreciates them happily, lips grazing them over and over and over again.

They arc all the way across Izuku's breast until they get hidden from sight by the shirt still wrapped around Izuku's arms and back.

Katsuki lets them hide away, and promises himself to give them as much attention as Izuku can stand, later.

Instead, Katsuki wants to kiss him. Wants to brush their lips together and feel the tingle of it echo across his skin, and he wants to see how Izuku would react to it. Would he still blush pretty and coyly twist away, or would his eyes go wide like he wanted more?

Katsuki has to shove his knee against the grass to get high enough again, and Izuku grunts as the weight of Katsuki comes to rest flat against his chest. His hand, at the back of Katsuki's neck, tightens briefly to keep both of them steady, and the other only idly squeezes at Katsuki's wrist when they settle in their new position.

He's waiting, breathless from the way Katsuki laved love across his skin moments prior.

His lips part when Katsuki stares at them, and he bites his lip when Katsuki doesn't instantly give him what he wants.

So, Katsuki kisses him.

For Izuku, it's like everything he'd ever dreamed. He feels like he's drowning in stardust, or like Katsuki was reaching into him deep inside and tying their souls together. It's only a kiss, but… it's everything.

It's a chaste kiss, lips against lips and barely anything more. Izuku fleetingly opens his mouth to gasp, and their tongues hardly brush before Katsuki pulls away.

For once, he's blushing in the way he makes Izuku blush every day. Instead of like gold, he's like the blooming peonies in the garden, fragile and soft and oh so beautiful.

Izuku pulls him back for another kiss. And another, and another, until they're drunk off the taste of one another. It's overwhelming and addicting, finally doing this.

Neither of them can ever go back to being the same after this. No more uncertain glances or wistful stares from the shadows.

No, now they get something better.

They get to have each other.

---

"I've never kissed anyone before," Izuku admits, softly against the curve of Katsuki's cheek when they end up just holding one another in the soft grass. The hurricane of their want passed, but who could say if it was over or if they were just in the eye of the storm.

They're twined together, face pressed to face and chest pressed to chest. Izuku can feel Katsuki's rumble when he laughs and speaks, and it's more than Izuku ever imagined.

"Mm. Me neither."

Katsuki tilts his head back to watch as Izuku hides his smile away. Katsuki brushes hair from his face so he can see it anyway.

"Guess we'll be teaching each other, hm?"

Izuku wraps his arm tight across Katsuki's chest to hold him close, as he'd always longed to do. Katsuki feels himself melt the embrace, and presses his lips to the tip of Izuku's nose just to look him directly in the eye, just as he's always wanted.

Maybe they weren't so selfish after all.

---

ao3 link

#bakudeku #bkdk #bnha #boku no hero academia #fanfic #long post #writing tag

20 notes · View notes

crybabyjam · 3 years

Text

half empty

ship: bakudeku

rating: g

summary: Izuku calls Katsuki very late at night.

word count: 1.5k

available on ao3

—-

Katsuki blinks his eyes open, alert all at once.

His room is dark, because it’s well past three in the morning, and he doesn’t move a muscle as he tries to figure out what woke him up.

There’s no noise in his apartment; no hushed shuffling from a break in or the like.

But there’s an anxious tingle in his gut that forces him to sit up in bed and stare off into the emptiness, until he makes out the vague shapes of his furniture.

Then, his phone vibrates.

(read more)

“The hell…” Katsuki snatches the device from his nightstand. It was set on do-not-disturb, as it was every night, so something must be happening.

His lips curve downwards at the edges, though, as watches Deku’s name flash across the screen.

Katsuki is, admittedly, still groggy. Which may be why he stares at his phone the entire time it buzzes, wracking his brain as to why Deku would be calling him at 3 am— not through the emergency line, but on his personal cell.

Especially when he was in a completely different part of Japan.

He’d been there for six months, interning with a number of heroes in quick succession. It was a new training program Deku had volunteered for, shortly after his debut as a sidekick.

Katsuki had not volunteered for it, because it sounded like bullshit and an excuse to wring new heroes ragged under the pretense of ‘experience’.

The phone stops buzzing all at once, Deku’s picture fading as it goes black, and Katsuki mutters a soft, “Shit.”

But it rings again, not two seconds later.

Katsuki answers on the third buzz.

“It’s three in the morning, Deku.”

Katsuki rolls back into bed, curling his blanket over his shoulders. His tank top was good at keeping his core warm, but he loved sleeping with an air purifier at night— which left the entire room chilled. It’s soft whirring also helped him sleep, covering the barely-there noise of the street some many floors below.

He lets one shiver roll through him before he shakes his head and pulls the phone away from his ear to look at the screen.

Still connected, but Deku hadn’t said anything yet. A butt-dial?

“Fuckin’ hell,” Katsuki sighs, holding the phone back to his ear nonetheless. He can hear the faint background noise of something (people?) shuffling, though it doesn’t have the thumping bass of a nightclub or a bar.

It sounds like something is rubbing against the phone, though— like fabric. Probably in his back pocket, or something.

Katsuki’s breathing starts to deepen, eyes falling heavy. He mutters nonsense under his breath, a half-baked threat to run up Deku’s phone bill while he sleeps, but they blink open again when he hears a soft whimper.

Katsuki sits up, squinting in the dark. The clock still reads 3:42, four minutes past when he answered the phone.

“Hello?”

There’s a ragged breath, and then the sound of a clearing throat.

“K-Kacchan…”

Katsuki can’t help the way his grip tightens on his phone. Deku’s voice is slurred, and every bad thing that Katsuki can think of zooms through his mind as if played on a fast-forwarded movie reel:

Deku, having misdialed perhaps and needing emergency services.

Deku, mugged and bleeding out, unable to each anyone else at this hour but Katsuki (what… a thousand miles away, give or take?).

Deku, kidnapped, forced to call his contacts one by one and say goodbye to each with no hope of escape.

Deku— hurt, injured, scared.

In each scenario, Katsuki would never be able to reach him in time. Fuck.

But Deku hiccups, and then there’s the sound of a glass bottle clinking against another.

Oh.

He’s drunk.

Katsuki slumps over, fist pressed to his pounding heart.

“Fuck, Deku. Where do you get off calling so late, you ass?”

“Kacchan,” Deku says again, breathlessly.

He whimpers a bit, at the end, and the tone of his voice is so familiar but Katsuki can’t place it, still stuck between sleep and heart-pounding panic.

“Are… are you sleeping?” Deku has the nerve to ask.

“No shit.” Katsuki snorts. “Was, 'til your dumbass called and woke me up.”

He sets the phone beside his head, on the pillow, and turns it on speaker. The noises are a bit more tinny like this, but his ear was getting sweaty with it pressed to his face like that.

And it felt weird, hearing Deku’s voice murmuring in his ear so late at night after so long.

“I’m sorry.”

Deku says nothing more than that, though he clinks his beer(?) bottles together again, and swallows audibly, even through the speaker.

There’s that shuffling sound again, and oh—

Deku’s wiping tears from his face, sleeve brushing against the mic.

Katsuki’s anxiety crescendos. “Deku?”

“I didn’t mean to call,” Deku continues, continuing to rub at his eyes. “I just… I just needed…”

He trails off.

Katsuki pinches the bridge of his nose.

Then,

“Kacchan…” Izuku whispers, voice still lilted with the heavy edge of alcohol.

“What, Deku?”

“I don’t wanna be here anymore,” he finally says. Miserably, as if it had been weighing on his heart for centuries. Then, even softer he says: “I miss… you. I miss you so much.”

…

It really has been too long. Since they were kids, the longest they’d ever been apart was a summer or winter vacation.

They’d gotten closer over the years. They were friends, of course— more than that. Their lives were inextricably connected, from their social lives to their hero work. They were a pair, on their way to something… more.

Then Izuku had to go— had left.

Katsuki thought about it sometimes on nights like this, when the quiet got to be too much.

The second bedroom, adjacent to his own, is an oppressive presence. Especially when it has been left empty, waiting for someone to come and live in it.

Waiting for Izuku.

Katsuki swallows past the lump in his throat, and disregards the sting of tears at his eyelashes. He sits up in bed, and ignores the clock completely as he searches his drawers for clothes and an overnight bag.

The entire time, Izuku softly sniffles in his ear.

“I didn’t mean to call,” Izuku repeats after a moment. “I… I’m sorry.”

Katsuki tugs a sweatshirt over his head and shoves the phone between his cheek and his shoulder as he stalks through the door, bag packed.

“I’m coming to get you.”

“You…?” Izuku shuffles on the other end, and his voice sounds much closer as he incredulously whispers, “You’re what?”

Katsuki shoves his wallet in his bag, grabs two water bottles just so he wouldn’t have to buy one later.

Then he’s out the door, hurriedly locking it behind him.

“I’m coming to get you,” he repeats, firmer. “You’re still in temporary housing right? Send me your address. Get a bag packed.”

“K-Kacchan… I can’t leave.” Deku coughs, turning away from the phone, and Katsuki frowns hard. Nerd was probably getting sick from overworking.

That only further cements Katsuki’s decision to stone.

Katsuki ignores Deku as he shakily goes through the details and exacts as to why he can’t leave, though each reason just makes his voice go softer and softer until he’s just breathing into the microphone. It’s muffled, as if he’d slumped over and was barely hanging on by a thread.

“Deku…” Katsuki inhales slow, eyes shutting.

He can picture the miserable face Izuku must be making, solitarily confined in what was little more than a glorified box, in a city he’s never been to. All alone.

And drunk.

“Izuku,” Katsuki says, instead. “I’m coming to get you, okay? The details don’t matter right now.”

“B-but… heroes can’t just—”

“Do you want me to come get you?”

There’s silence on the other end. Katsuki keeps walking, glaring at anyone who even curiously looks in his direction.

He makes it all the way to the train station before Izuku speaks again.

“Yes.”

Then, Izuku is crying again. Louder this time, entire voice shaking with his blubbering sobs.

Katsuki tsks, shoving his earbuds in. Izuku’s crying cuts out for just a second as the phone registers the new connection, and then he can hear the whimpering directly in his ear. It doesn’t irritate him as much as he would have expected, at almost 4 in the morning.

“Okay,” Katsuki says, as Izuku begins to calm. “Pack a bag. You’re not going back, so take the necessary shit. Got it?”

Izuku responds with a hesitant hum, but it’s affirmative nonetheless.

Katsuki rests his head against the cold metal of the train, listening to it pass over the tracks as he heads to the next city, the one with the closest airport. It’d take three hours to get across the country, to where Izuku is.

The ticket is easy to buy. Katsuki dips into his savings, but he had enough that it didn’t matter.

When he gets off at the next station, Izuku is still on the phone with him. He’s sobered up around the edges, though every so often he’ll cough from his chest and whimper.

“Wait for me. I’m coming to get you, Deku.”

Izuku sniffles, but Katsuki can hear the small smile in his voice as he murmurs back a soft, “I’ll be waiting, Kacchan.”

(And so, Katsuki goes to bring Izuku home.)

#bkdk #bakudeku #bnha #boku no hero academia #long post #fanfic #if you've seen this before it's cause im reposting it from my other acct alshdaljd

29 notes · View notes

crybabyjam · 3 years

Text

born to die for you

ship: bakudeku

rating: t

fantasy au.

summary: Katsuki is still coming to terms with Izuku's sacrifice for him.

content warning for described (past) eye trauma/injury

companion art available here

available on ao3 here

---

With nightfall comes a chill that nips at Katsuki's bones, painful where they've been broken and reformed time and again. Katsuki picks at the bracer outlining his wrist, unsure if he wants to tighten it or loosen, but is soon distracted by the sound of footfalls from behind him.

He turns, not sharply because he recognizes the cadence of the leather boots, and acknowledges Izuku's arrival with a soft grunt.

Izuku carries with him a bundle of firewood, much more than they needed for a night's rest, but he always did that.

"What if we want to sleep in tomorrow, Kacchan?" Izuku had mused, in the past. "Then you can just reignite the wood from our bedroll."

"And incinerate the entire fuckin' forest while I'm at it." Katsuki had grumbled, not pointing out the fact that it was Izuku who chose to leave their bedroll each morning, bright and early.

Now, Izuku has busied himself with kindling in the shape of thin sticks and twigs and dry dead grass. Katsuki turns away before he's caught staring.

(read more)

Small swarms of fireflies dip in and out of the treeline, flickering their delicate glow behind moonbeams that pierce through the thick throngs of branches and leaves. Katsuki waves a couple away from his face, blinking up at the sky.

It was a pleasantly clear night, though the stars were soon dulled as thick smoke entered the atmosphere. Izuku stands up tall, stretching a crick out of his neck, and Katsuki's eyes turn towards the modest campfire that soon soothes the ache from his bones with its mellow warmth.

Katsuki falls heavy on a log he'd dragged out into the open earlier, which has rotted a bit by the way it has turned green around the edges, but was stable enough to hold his weight. Acrid smoke curls around him, scaring away the pesky lightning bugs that have taken interest in his eyelashes, and Katsuki finds comfort in the way it pleasantly coats his lungs.

With a deep breath, he lets his spine curl over as he leans against his knees, still picking at his bracer. He hadn't realized how high his shoulders had been to his ears until then.

Izuku comes to join him on the log, fingers skipping across the exposed skin of Katsuki's shoulders that lay bare without his cloak. They're cold at the tips, but tepid at the palms when he curls the calloused pad of his hand around Katsuki's upper arm.

"Long day, hm?" Izuku muses, quiet. As if someone could overhear them, purposefully lost in the woods as they were. They'd travelled ages and hours to get here, to the middle of nowhere, and they had the scars to prove it.

Katsuki's eyes dart over to Izuku's. One, vibrant green and bright and a bit tired around the edges where the few sleepless nights he'd gone through have built up over the weeks and left dark smudges and swollen skin beneath his waterline.

The other eye still has the bags and the dark marks, but is nothing more than a blank, white marble that mocks Katsuki at the best and worst of times.

He turns away with a jerk, knocking Izuku's hand off of his skin. Izuku takes no offense to the motion, only offering a temperate hum as he stands again to pick through their wares for dinner.

Generally, Katsuki was the one who cooked.

He hadn't offered tonight, because there was something, some stupid feeling simmering beneath his skin and his muscles and gluing between his bones, that left him hot and cold and overtly empty in the stomach.

Katsuki could barely focus past it, which only got him more pissed. An irritating feedback loop, and Katsuki scarcely had the energy to take those feelings out on an enemy or an unfortunate tree stump, let alone talk it through rationally with his partner.

His partner, who has busied himself with their cooking pot and setting up a spit to cook the small rabbit they had prepared earlier. Izuku sets it out, the rabbit carcass, as close to the fire as it can get without preemptively cooking, so that the bugs stay off of it.

Then, he tugs out a sack filled with potatoes that have lasted them most of the month, a shallot or two squished at the bottom. The rest of their mushrooms are spread throughout, like edible ornaments, and he upends the whole of the bag atop a slab of clean wood, nestled in a cleared area on the forest floor. They spread messily across his chopping block, the heavy one that hangs off of a loop on Izuku's pack when they hike through woods and mountains.

"Peel these?" Izuku asks, holding up two of the five small potatoes they have left. Altogether it would be a hearty meal that would send them right to sleep, and probably have leftovers for breakfast if they remembered to keep it covered and simmering through the night.

Katsuki doesn't make a show of his compliance, unhooking the paring knife from their food pack and gathering up the potatoes without a sound. Izuku's head tilts, as if trying to figure out a puzzle or hear a silent song on the wind. He mumbles something, purposefully low so that Katsuki doesn't hear, but he disappears with the cooking pot before Katsuki can make a fuss about it. Off to get clean water from the stream they'd set up partially near.

With his absence, that feeling that coiled around in Katsuki's gut— like a stubborn snake that has carelessly poisoned itself— starts to rear up even heavier.

He recognizes that it is, atleast partially, fear. Fear of what will happen with Izuku out of his sight. How fucking stupid is it that he only starts getting afraid for idiot Deku after he's been injured, healed over, and shown to be alright.

And though Katsuki cares for the half-elf, he… isn't the best at categorizing his own feelings. Especially for others. Even before the incident, Katsuki's relationship with Izuku was a fragile thing: thin and easily pierced like an eggshell. Anything could come and break it, and Katsuki hadn't been ready yet to acknowledge how much it would wound him if it did happen. Still isn't.

Though, it's not as if he… didn't care before. Far from it. But the injury had only cemented some sort of mortality in the thick of Katsuki's mind, for the both of them. Each battle could bring the demise of either one of them; could end the fanciful dream they have conceived where they would wind up, at the end of their days, together and happy and peaceful.

Instead, it was more like Izuku was the one who didn't care.

He had laughed, joyous and bubbling, with his eye plucked straight from his head like grapes unready to be pulled from a vine. Covered in his own blood, dying, and he was just happy that he'd saved Katsuki.

Katsuki had been cursed, some while ago, by some asshole who hated his guts for some reason Katsuki couldn't even remember anymore. They, the one who cursed him, had thought it would be funny to torment Katsuki. To dangle his dreams in front of him and tell him, clearly, that he would never achieve them. That the only thing he had to look forward to was the dark veil of death.

The curse decreed that his vision belonged to that sorcerer. Someway or another, completely outside of Katsuki's control, he would lose them (his dreams, his vision, his future) and die. For a person without a future is nothing more than a corpse, they'd said.

Izuku hadn't liked learning that. Almost more than Katsuki hated being toyed with by a shitty spellcaster.

There isn't much Katsuki remembers specifically about the event, truly. He knows that Izuku had figured out how to fiddle with the curse, how to turn it onto himself instead of Katsuki. How to make it so that something physical is given up, instead of a full life.

Izuku had willingly given up his eye, so that Katsuki could live. He gave up part of his own vision, his iris greying like a silver coin, and had been so happy when he'd turned to Katsuki, expression bright and open, when it worked.

It took them both by surprise when the curse-giver had returned with a vengeance, even before Katsuki could get mad at Izuku for butting in where he shouldn't have. Katsuki had barely opened his lips, ready to yell probably, when sharp fingers had plunged into Izuku's face. Those fingers had sliced through Izuku's battle-hardened skin and bones like it was soft river water parted by a departing boat.

Something Katsuki does starkly remember is the intense despair that had gripped his ribs and rattled them like rusting cage bars, seeing that. Izuku's lifeblood spilled across his pores, painting across his freckles with deep, heavy crimson. Katsuki remembers how it had dried brown just around the edges, but still sluggishly bled when Izuku passed out in his arms.

He couldn't breathe with every step he took to a medic, or a necromancer, or even a fucking seamstress if only they could fix Deku.

"I'm glad, Kacchan," Izuku had mumbled, voice dying in his throat as the pain gripped him from inside and outside his skull. He was still smiling, teeth staining red as his wound spilled over across his lips. "You're free."

As an elf, Izuku had a long life in front of him. Even before Katsuki was born some thirty years ago, Izuku had lived through half the lifetime of a plain human. And even now, they've only known one another for five years, no longer than that. So why had it been so easy for him to give up the rest of his life, just for Katsuki?

It haunted him, still, that he didn't know the answer to that question.

Katsuki had to trade his sword, pommel embedded with rare stones charmed with strength magic, to pay for the medicines, the surgery, and for his new eye. It wasn't his best sword, yet was an heirloom from his parents. Despite that, he'd used the thing maybe a dozen times for the better part of the year, so it had been easy to part with. Much easier than giving up Izuku.

It was scary, realizing the extent that his care for such a stupid elven idiot went.

Before the incident, Katsuki could have even comfortably said that he hated the guy, that he was stupidly selfless and had a god-complex from always looking down on everyone. That he was annoying. It would have been a lie, the 'hate' part atleast, but Katsuki could have said it and been at ease with himself.

Even when Izuku would greet him with a bright smile, a 'Great work, Kacchan!' after battle, or a gentle touch when they had to suture one another's wounds, Katsuki had been… hesitant with his— heart or whatever. He barely wanted to let the elf in, because that was just another weakness his enemies could use to get to him. And, because…

Izuku returns with a full pot and two full waterskins.

Katsuki had been distracted and slow-going with the potatoes, so he still has two left to peel by the time Izuku sits cross-legged in front of the fire, stirring the water with spices, cuts of butter, the mushrooms.

"What's bothering you, Kacchan?" Izuku asks, knife coming down hard on the chopping block as he prepares the few peeled potatoes and the rest of the vegetables for the stew. The rabbit is quickly dismembered and stuffed tight into the tiny cast iron vessel, before the stew is placed back over the fire.

It doesn't even bubble and boil before the aroma is drifting through their humble campsite.

When Katsuki doesn't answer the question, Izuku slips his legs beneath himself and crawls over, knees staining with dark soil. His hands are dirty with rabbit blood and salt.

"I can help, if you tell me."

His hair is soft as he rests his head in Katsuki's lap, uncaring of stray potato peels. His fingers curl over as he holds them limply in the air, careful not to stain either of their clothes.

His eyes drift shut. The scarred side doesn't close all the way, a thing it sometimes does when Izuku lays his neck at odd angles. He never notices it, but Katsuki does. The scar is thick, though it wasn't keloid or bumpy, and sometimes made his left eyelid curve up away from the lower lid.

Katsuki didn't want to let Izuku into his heart because Katsuki wasn't strong enough yet, for love.

It's something he realized in the middle of a night when he'd startled awake, breathing in the scent at the nape of Izuku's neck. It was a soft fragrance, and though Izuku was a light sleeper he hadn't woken up when Katsuki jerked from his nightmare by gripping him tight around the middle.

No, he stayed peacefully dozing, as the morning sun began to melt the dew and warm the ground. And so, Katsuki was able to look at him clearly, openly, and thank the heavens that Izuku was still with him. It made him pathetically soft in the heart, pressing himself skin to skin to Izuku.

Caring takes a lot out of a person, requires a lot more. It hurt to admit, even in the hidden space of his mind, but Katsuki didn't think he'd ever be strong enough, for love.

Something else Katsuki remembers from the episode that cost Izuku half his sight is how much Katsuki had cried. His entire frame had wracked and shuddered with sobs, hands dirty with elf blood and salty tears that surely did not help the wound.

Like with everything else, he doesn't know how he was able to kill the sorcerer who cursed them both, but he does remember the vibrating, thrumming heat all through his veins. It was as if he was a beast that had been dulled with drugged food and collars and chains for all of his life, and was suddenly let loose.

He let his anger consume him in a literal blaze, igniting the earth and the air without prejudice. He seared sinewy muscle from bone, his own as they crackled to absorb his influx of power, and that of the sorcerer who dared to find humor in Izuku's sacrifice.

Izuku tells him this, laughing the same way as he did that horrible day, and also says that Katsuki had been a stunning sight, finally reaching the apex of his power: his maturation. He had glowed with his anger and his heat and his fear.

Dragonkin did not mature traditionally. Their powers were muted, though still strong, and were kept locked inside of their bodies until they reached a boiling point in their life. A period of time of extreme stress, pressuring them to mold into something new— like diamonds sitting at the Earth's core tense under magmatic rock. Katsuki matured much earlier than most.

Of course it would be Deku that brought him to that breaking point.

It was ironic, in a way that Katsuki didn't care to think further about. Especially not at that point in time, when Izuku was choking on his own tongue and turning pale as he bled out. He'd smeared some of it, the blood, across Katsuki's face, messily staining locks of hair that had grown longer with the breadth of their shared adventure.

"Kacchan," Izuku says.

Katsuki blinks, and Izuku is now sitting on his right, also atop the log. He'd missed the moment when Izuku decided to rest his head against Katsuki's shoulder, only catching the motion as he pulls away to clean his hands with a wetted cloth.

"What?"

"I asked if you weren't feeling hungry after all. It was a long day." Izuku has to wet the cloth twice more with water from his waterskin in order to get the stubborn, thin blood from between his fingers. "You can sleep, if you want."

Katsuki rolls excuses around his tongue, jaw clenching and unclenching. "It's almost done. 's fine."

The pot begins to bubble in that moment, summoned to life. It overflows a bit, and Izuku hurries back over to stir. Katsuki watches as he tucks a lock of hair behind his ear with his cleaned fingers, unnoticing of the stray strands that tickle his blind side.

He ladles some of the soup with a small spoon, though the rabbit is nowhere near done, and sniffs at it closely. His nostril flares, wrinkling at the edges of his smile line, which means that he thinks it smells good.

Still, he adds a few more dashes of spice and hurries to finish chopping the rest of the potatoes. Conversation forgotten (but not really), he hums a soft tune to himself. Bathed in firelight like this, half-angled away, it looks as though he's been untouched by the war and the battles they'd been through.

Katsuki makes the mistake of shifting, sitting up straighter, and Izuku glances up at him. His fake eye reflects brighter than his real one, and it's like a stab.

When Katsuki does nothing more than resettle, Izuku turns back to their meal and cleans up the utensils and the cutting board. He rinses them only, preferring to sanitize in the morning when they take river baths. He lays them out on a terrycloth to dry, and settles back on the log with Katsuki, crossing his legs at the ankle.

He lets Katsuki brood silently, then, busying himself with picking the dirt from his knees and pulling over his sword to see if it needs sharpening. It doesn't, but he pulls out his whetstone and tools to polish it at least. Izuku doesn't see how Katsuki clenches his fist and squeezes tight on nothing.

"Deku," Katsuki starts, before stopping just as suddenly. "Why…"

Izuku turns to him again, has to shift onto one of his hips to see Katsuki properly. Another stabbing reminder. He seems to find something worrisome in Katsuki's gaze, or maybe his tone, because he sets down his sword again and scoots closer.

He holds his hand out, palm up, and Katsuki hovers over it hesitantly.

"Talk to me, Katsuki."

There's too much to say, really.

Katsuki lets his hand rest in Izuku's and sighs. His palm had warmed from earlier, probably from gripping the chopping knife, and the physical reminder that he's here and alive settles the fear in Katsuki's stomach, just a touch.

He doesn't get a chance to fully develop his thoughts, whatever they were, because the pot starts to boil over again. Rabbit marrow and blood thickened by the heated water splatters into the campfire, further daubing the campsite with its hearty flavor. Izuku looks stricken when Katsuki pulls away, but only nods to himself and goes to tend to it.

He's still looking back at Katsuki when he reaches for the ladle, which is why he misses. His hand goes dangerously close to the flames, nearly curling around a charred log. When the heat registers, he jerks back with a hiss, but the pot is in the way.

His fingers touch the searing hot iron full on, stay in contact long enough that there is a faint sizzle, but he is able to yank it away with a ragged gasp. Katsuki jumps to his feet, heart pounding.

He snatches Izuku back by the collar of his shirt and drags him away a few paces, eyes wide.

"Idiot!"

Izuku grunts as he's choked, and then when the pain flares a bit as he holds his fingers up to the light. Katsuki circles to his front, darkening Izuku with shadows, and grabs his hand to look at the injury himself.

It isn't a bad burn by far, somewhere between a first and a second degree. He'd probably get worse standing too close to Katsuki in battle. But it was a preventable one. Preventable by a margin of months, in a timeline where Izuku hadn't been so fucking… him that he took a blow meant to rid Katsuki from the world.

Liquid fire laps at Katsuki's throat, or maybe it's bile from the sudden deluge of anxiety, and it scorches him so much differently than his fire ever does.

"You never fucking learn," Katsuki growls, throat igniting. He has to breathe all of the fire from his lungs before he makes the injury worse, turning away until the flames putter out to embers that tingle across his tongue.

"Sorry, Kacchan." Izuku is placid when he tugs his fingers out of Katsuki's grip, rubbing his thumb across the already presenting blisters. "Guess I'm still getting used to… you know."

He says it as if it's a joke, as if it was the same as tripping over untied shoelaces, and Katsuki gets pissed.

He goes red in the face, and not in the same way he does when Deku holds him close and kisses him on the cheeks or around the neck. It's mottled and splotchy, and the same face he makes when he's moments away from crying— whether furious tears or not.

"Maybe if you hadn't taken a blow not meant for you, you'd still have your two shitty eyes." Katsuki grabs his hand again, too rough, and pulls Izuku over to their bags. Izuku yanks his appendages back when Katsuki lets go to shuffle through their things for salve and bandages.

He licks at them with his tongue, blowing cool breath to ease the biting pain. Idiot would get himself fucking infected.

"Just like the last time you said that, I won't apologize for what I did." Izuku says it firmly, as if it were an obvious conclusion he'd come to and not one born of— of fucking stupidity and martyrdom.

"I would do it again if I had to."

"You didn't have to the first time!" Katsuki explodes. It's literal when shards of their salve pot splinter between his drawn knuckles, though the ceramic is shattered to dust enough that the skin doesn't cut. He jerks his fist back, hiding it even though Izuku doesn't reach for him, and smears the smooth paste against his trousers as he continues, "I didn't ask you to sacrifice yourself, you ass."

Izuku stands up straight, looking him right in the eye even when Katsuki can't bear to stare at him back. Daring him to do something. He shoves Izuku in the shoulder, making him stumble back, and forces him to sit back on the log that has been plopped upon so heavily in the last hour that it has made its own indent in the soft soil.

What salve he has managed to save, piled and stuck to the backs of his nails, he plasters across Izuku's newest injury. It instantly soothes the pain, and the pinched expression sitting on Izuku's brow eases to something calmer. He's still upset though, lips pulled down in a frown as he tries to look Katsuki in the eye again.

Katsuki stays looking down, at the swollen blisters that would surely rupture in the next skirmish they had, and reaches for the gauze and cloth to wrap them in.

"I'm not fucking weak." Katsuki sighs, finally. Softly. He deflates with the motion, shoulders dropping until he looks small and tired, and they are so far from the campfire that he is outlined in white and blue moonlight like a dying siren in the ocean.

"You're the strongest person I know," Izuku agrees.

The fight fizzles out, just like that. No kindling to keep it alight.

The two longest fingers of Izuku's hands get wrapped thickly, so that if he knocks them into things they won't hurt too bad. Another is just lightly reddened, the most minor of burns, and only gets a thin layer of the rest of the ointment before Katsuki lets him go.

Izuku pats the spot next to him on the log, on his blindside.

Katsuki goes, not begrudgingly but tired all the same. He sits on Deku's left side and turns to look at him fully, watching the way the scar curls and curves as high as his hairline and as low as the jut of his jaw.

The overboiled pot is taken away from the fire, settled on a thicker piece of wood that can stand the heat of the iron. Izuku leaves it to simmer there, but both of them know it will be a long few hours before either is ready to eat it.

Unobstructed, the campfire flames flicker higher into the night sky.

It isn't so tall as to rival a bonfire, not even close, but it curlicues into the sky as if playing with starlight. They are granted more light, in return, and Katsuki can see clearly how Izuku is struggling to come up with the right words to stay, to figure out what was wrong with Katsuki that night.

It doesn't irritate him as much as it would have in the past.

"Deku," Katsuki tries again.

Just as before, Izuku turns to him. Before he has a chance to second-guess himself, Katsuki reaches out to touch. Izuku relaxes as soon as Katsuki's hand has curled around his jaw, fingers grazing the straight edge of his pointed ears.

Katsuki's fingers bleed warmth where they press into Izuku's skin, heating it up until he goes pleasantly pink around the fringes. His thumb brushes the edge of the inlaid scar that just barely missed bisecting one of his more prominent freckles in two. It is completely healed over, has been numb to everything for months, but Katsuki is tentative around it as if it were still fresh and raw.

He remembers tending to it, after Izuku's life was no longer in danger. It looked different then, scabs peeling away to reveal more scabs, and he hadn't been able to stick in a prosthetic piece until the cavern where his old eye rested had been aired out and cleared of both blood and debris.

Katsuki had to flush it every so often, with sterile water and stinging medicine, and Izuku had thrown up the first time he'd had to experience it. The pain had gone straight through what few nerves he had left and grabbed at his brain with sharp talons, and it had taken a considerable amount of both of their strength to get him to lay still again.

Kacchan had touched him in this familiar way, back when the eye was taken. Katsuki's face had been splattered with tears and Izuku's blood, because Izuku had accidentally brushed some of it onto his skin when reaching for him, to comfort.

But Katsuki was so beautiful and bright like the sun, but closer and more tangible and much more torrid. Izuku had felt so blessed to be able to witness his rebirth, to be the first to see his true power burst from his fingertips and his mouth, that Izuku hadn't thought to be upset that he would die soon afterwards.

"Don't cry, Kacchan," Izuku remembers saying, hopefully smiling in a way that wasn't too crazed. It hurt to move but he pressed his hand to the back of Katsuki's palm anyway and hugged it tighter against his unmarred cheek. "That's my job, remember?"

"It'll be okay." He'd said, also. "Everything will be fine." Because even if he died, Kacchan was free now, to live and to see.

For Izuku, his scar is a sign of what he is willing to do for his Kacchan, the risks that come with loving someone heart and soul. He wears it with pride, content in knowing that Katsuki survived— no, that he won that day. Even from the beginning, Izuku would have given up the world for Katsuki.

He's lived long enough to learn to cherish what he falls in love with— especially when he may live so long as to lose it in the blink of an eye. Literally.

But to Katsuki, it is only a painful reminder of his weaknesses. His inability to protect himself, let alone protect his own. It's cruel, the way that Deku chooses to stand on Katsuki's right side, so that if Katsuki even so much as tilts his head, he sees the glint of the fake, unseeing crystal glinting in sunlight.

Izuku looks at him, the injured eyelid drifting shut as Katsuki focuses on it for a long, aching moment.

Silence, only the soft lulling lullaby of forest symphony.

Then, "Izuku," Katsuki breathes. It's a whisper, softly anguished, and it breaks Izuku's heart.

"Why did you…" Katsuki trails off, leaning forward to drop his face against Izuku's shoulder. His nose presses against the jugular and he can feel the full thrum of Izuku's heartbeat pumping blood inside his veins. "Why did you do it?"

In every moment with Izuku, Katsuki is reminded of his shortcomings. It's amazing that he hasn't realized, not just yet, that it is pure trust in his abilities that makes Izuku choose to stand on Katsuki's right side. Where he is blind, he knows Katsuki is there to defend and to protect, to fight back against those who will try to take advantage of his weakness.

Though his wound could be debilitating in battle, never once after the incident had he been hit on his left. Not with Katsuki there.

"Because I care about you," Izuku explains carefully. He cradles his other hand, the uninjured one, around Katsuki's back and holds him steady. "Because I knew what I was willing to do for you, even if you hated me for it."

Izuku has never been uncertain of where Katsuki stands in his heart. He loved him with everything he had, and he would show it time and again, for as long as he was able because forever is such a fickle thing. And though they hadn't yet promised to be the other's forever, Izuku knew it was what he wanted.

"Because I love you," Izuku adds, as if it weren't clear. As if he didn't say it every day in words and in actions. He was willing to wait and to fight for it, even if Katsuki chose to never reciprocate those feelings. Izuku would always love Katsuki fiercely and purely.

The two stay like that, half curled in on one another. Izuku isn't sure if his words absorb the way he means them to, or if he should say more to prove his feelings. But Katsuki doesn't move, so Izuku doesn't pull away.

Whatever it is that Katsuki takes from Izuku's words, though, he seems satisfied as he sits up straight. He's calmer, and that self-assured look is back where it should be.

Katsuki gathers him, first by wrapping his arms tight around Izuku's torso to pull him hip to hip, and then with his palms pressing against his cheeks. He does that often, these days.

Katsuki looks Izuku in the eyes, gaze flickering from side to side as he looks first into the blank eye and then into the green one that greets him eagerly.

"Okay."

The rabbit stew sits, forgotten and simmering next to the blooming fire as Katsuki pulls Izuku from the log towards their bedrolls. He kicks away the bags from their pillows and tugs off his bracers, dropping them somewhere where their feet will rest when they sleep.

In the morning, they will scramble for their things as they begin their day: Katsuki's bracers and Izuku's sword, the rabbit stew gone cold when the fire died down in the middle of the night, and the ointment that dried sticky on Katsuki's trousers.

But, just for tonight, the only thing that matters to both of them is each other. Katsuki lays with Izuku down atop the earth, breathing with him, looking him in the eyes.

Izuku's head rests in the crook of his arm, and he hooks a blanket over their hips. He lets his hand come to lay on Katsuki's arm, rubbing semi-circles into his flesh until Katsuki relaxes further into their shared bedroll.

Katsuki sits up, only to pull Izuku closer and settle his own arm beneath Izuku's head, trapping him there until Katsuki has taken his fill for the evening.

He makes a silent promise.

Izuku was already in his heart, rooted firmly there, so Katsuki would do everything he could to protect him from now on. There was no obstacle he wouldn't face, no weakness he couldn't overcome—

Katsuki would get stronger alongside Izuku so they could live together, forever.

---

ao3 link

#bakudeku #bkdk #bnha #boku no hero academia #long post #fanfic #writing tag

7 notes · View notes

crybabyjam · 3 years

Text

objective truth

my first bnha fic (reposted on my new tumblr weeee)

super long post ahead!

ship: bakudeku

rating: t

summary: izuku gets hit with a truth quirk.

available on ao3 here

---

Kacchan is pretty.

It's something Izuku thinks often. About how Kacchan looks, or if he's in the mood for Izuku to be around, or how he feels about their friendship. But, it was never something he'd ever say out loud— not unless he wanted to survive to become the Number One Hero.

Everyone had begun filing out of the dorms for homeroom, and Izuku had caught just a glimpse of platinum hair as Kacchan turned down the sidewalk.

Izuku mumbles under his breath, "Kacchan is beautiful today."

"Hm? Did you say something, Deku?"

Izuku startles as Uraraka taps him on the shoulder, a bright smile on her face as Iida continues to wave his hands around just one step ahead of them both.

"Ah, nothing! I was just thinking about, uh, you know! Ahaha…" Izuku laughs it off quickly, face bright red.

(read more)

---

Fire and blood. It's something Katsuki had gotten all too familiar with at UA. Even before UA.

Sweat stings its way through a cut on his cheek as he stands, and he angrily smears it further into the wound with the back of his hand. His gauntlet was gone, torn off by the quirk of the villain in front of them.

Their quirk was something like glass shattering. Whatever they touched, the item became brittle and broke upon any impact.

Katsuki knew, though, that it only worked on inanimate objects. Not that he had known when Deku got grabbed, right on his dumbass face, by the shitty villain. When he got flung down onto the train tracks they were battling on, Katsuki was pretty sure he popped all the blood vessels in his brain from the stress.

But he hadn't shattered on impact— rather bounced like a little ball until he rolled himself onto his front.

"Fucking idiot— DEKU. GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER."

Katsuki shoots himself over to Deku's curled form, wrist aching without the stabilization from his gear. "Get the fuck up."

Deku's already on his knees, though, watching the villain as he scrubs at where the fingers had clutched him. "I'm okay. Let's finish this quickly."

Behind them laid half a shattered train. The people inside were trapped— nowhere to go unless they jumped off the bridge.

"Don't tell me what to do," Katsuki growls, yanking Deku up the rest of the way.

Despite the fact that the villain couldn't shatter them directly, they had full control over the things they could. The little shards of metal shot towards them in waves, and Deku shot a blast of air to blow most of it to the side.

"I'll keep him distracted, Kacchan." Deku takes a step back, forming a strong, protective barrier in front of the civilians behind them. "If you get him from the back, or to turn around away from the train, I can— "

Katsuki socks him on the shoulder, just in time for them to dodge another shot of projectiles. "What the fuck did I just say, fucking asshole!"

Still, Katsuki uses the plumes of smoke between them and the villain to blast his way underneath the bridge.

Something explodes above him— not fire but more glass, and it cuts across his arms as he flies high above the villain.

Deku rushes forward, keeping the villain's eyes on him with a swift kick to the chest and a blast of air to make them stumble backwards.

Before the villain goes down, those glass pieces reunite in a group behind Deku's back. Katsuki isn't fast enough to stop it— but is in the perfect position to aim a full blast right in the villain's back.

So he does.

-----

Izuku has multiple lacerations across his back from the glass and mild burns on his arms from Kacchan. There were only two injured civilians and Kacchan got off with a broken wrist and a cut on his face that would heal without scarring.

"Good job, Midoriya!" Iida congratulates him, on a personal mission to bring notes for the classes Izuku had missed.

Although the burns were mild, the cuts needed to be watched closely by Recovery Girl before she could repair them. He didn't want to have glass stuck beneath fully healed skin, after all.

Laying on his stomach, Izuku can only nod helplessly and grin. "Thanks, Iida. I'll study right away."

"Maybe next time you can defeat a villain without getting injured, dumbass."

Kacchan appears behind Iida, startling the latter something fierce, but Izuku only grins wider.

"You got hurt, too, Kacchan."

"Shut the fuck up." A water bottle, metal and shiny, is shoved against his cheek and Izuku hisses at the sudden chill. As he juggles it and the notebook Iida had brought, Kacchan watches him critically. Then, once Izuku reaches to place the bottle on his side table, Kacchan snatches the book from his bed.

"Bakugo—!" Iida starts, but Kacchan has exploded it before he'd finished the first syllable. "My notes!"

Izuku chokes on air as Kacchan stabs a finger in the back of his neck, still warm from his Quirk. "You're getting outta here at lunch, yeah? You'd better be at my room once I'm back from classes, shithole."

Then, he shoves past Iida and skirts around Recovery Girl before he leaves just as quickly as he appeared.

Izuku half-heartedly comforts Iida as he mourns the loss of his carefully crafted notes, but he can't stop the way his mouth curls at the corners. Reading between the lines, it was obvious that Kacchan wanted them to study together.

When Iida has gone, speedwalking (not running!) so that he isn't late for the next class, Izuku buries his head in his pillow and lets his smile grow wider.

'ill be there!! ヽ(o＾▽＾o)ノ' He texts to Kacchan.

'Fucking better, nerd.' He gets in response.

-----

All Might visits him, just before lunch.

Recovery Girl had just finished healing him, though his back only partially so because of his low energy, and he and All Might almost bumped into each other when he opened the door to leave.

Which is how they found themselves walking along the forest line, shielding their eyes from the sun.

"And you're sure you're feeling alright, Young Midoriya?"

"Feeling great! I could probably use 100% right now!" As if to prove it, Izuku begins to bounce from one foot to the other.

When All Might begins to stutter and wave his hands frantically to stop him, Izuku grins wide. "Just kidding."

The two find a bench near the middle of the forest, overlooking the rest of the city. A pond gently flows in front of them, and a few ducks peck at his red shoes before they move on to swim away.

Izuku's back still burns, if he's being honest. Not as much as it did, but there was a faint ache where each piece of glass had dug in and dragged down.

"If it still hurts in the morning," she had began, glancing down at her notes. "Come back and I should be able to heal you fully."

Now, All Might places a gentle hand across the nape of his neck, as if sensing the pain lingering there. It grows silent between them until All Might pulls away to show off his lunchbag.

"Hungry, Young Midoriya?"

Their lunch consisted of a sandwich and juice boxes— and candies from Present Mic. Each bite was quickly scarfed down as the ducks wandered between their legs, pecking at the crumbs. Izuku feels bad not sharing any fuller bites with them— but he also clearly remembers the time Aizawa-sensei had scolded him about their diets so…

He shoos them away with the back of his hand and a promise, to himself, to bring lettuce or peas next time.

When they finish, All Might pats around his pockets before producing a handful of wrapped treats, each one a pale pink or bright red. The candies nearly overflow All Might's palms and Izuku is quick to catch them before the ducks get there first.

"I never really liked strawberry flavored things," All Might confesses, as if it were the greatest sin. "But Hizashi— ah… Present Mic, I mean. He loves to share them."

Izuku pockets two of the little lollipops and promises not to tell anyone the secret.

-----

They part ways well after lunch had concluded for the rest of the UA students.

"I think… I'm gonna go for a run in town," Izuku says as they start circling back through the forest. "I probably should buy Iida a thank-you gift for his notes." Not that he'd be able to use them but…

All Might sends him a thumbs-up. "Be careful, young man. You'll send me to an early heart attack if you get attacked again so soon."

"I'll try my best!" Izuku says, and runs off with a teasing laugh before he can specify what, exactly, he'd be trying his best to do (or not do).

Although the sun had just reached its peak in the sky, the air was a bit cold as Izuku jogged down the mountain. It reminded him of the water bottle Kacchan had given him, and Izuku tried to remind himself to bring it to their study session, to return.

The town is quiet as he jogs through, pausing at an intersection to wipe sweat from his brow. Makes sense, being early afternoon on a weekday.

He and Kacchan had gotten attacked the day prior (on their way back to UA from what had basically been a mini-field trip), but already the rhythm of their town had gone back to relaxed.

Izuku waves hello to some resting construction workers, watching as they go about fixing the cracks in the bridge of the train.

On his way back to UA, he begins to eat one of the lollipops All Might had given him. It's super sweet, covered in a fine powder from where it had been smushed in his pocket. Completely and artificially strawberry, but it satisfied a craving somewhere in his stomach anyway.

As he crunches down on the hardened sugar, he doesn't hear the snap of branches as footsteps dart behind him. Not until pain explodes on his already aching back.

He goes down, silent. Minutes later, if one were to pass, all that would be left of him was the cute, pink wrapper of his candy.

-----

Izuku wakes up to a broken wrist, a black eye, and a cloth gag being unwrapped from around his head.

Voices circle around his head, and a hand keeps his shoulder pressed to the ground— not painfully but firm.

All Might's sad smile comes into view as Izuku groans and tries to roll over onto his stomach. The hands touching him move away and are replaced by All Might helping him sit up.

"Young Midoriya," He begins, but Izuku misses the rest when police sirens go off behind him, sending his head into a spiral of pain and bright lights.

He's pretty sure he faints because when he wakes up next, his wrist is healed and blood rests on his tongue, replacing the taste of old cotton.

-----

He isn't allowed to leave the infirmary until two days later. Not even allowed visitors the entire time. Not that he'd been awake if there were any visitors.

When he did wake up, though, it'd been maddeningly silent. Recovery Girl doesn't even lecture him for being hurt, but All Might does come to assure him that he hadn't died of a heart attack as he'd predicted.

"From now on, you'll have to be accompanied by an escort, young man."

Izuku readily agreed with a soft, hoarse, "Please."

-----

It isn't until the next day that he remembers the study session he'd missed with Kacchan.

-----

"You were hit with a quirk," Aizawa-sensei tells him. "We don't have all the details yet, but... by making a person ingest a piece of themself, the villain makes it so that their victim can't control what they say."

When Izuku's brows quirk and he turns green around the edges, Aizawa pats him on the head. "I'll spare you the details, but you aren't a cannibal, if that's what you're worried about."

Izuku scribbles down on the whiteboard placed in his lap and holds it up to be read.

'Is that why I'm wearing a gag?' He asks. A knotted cloth rests just behind his teeth, heavily soaked with his saliva. Gross.

Aizawa nods. "Mm, we aren't sure how long it'll take to get out of your system. Even while you were unconscious, the quirk made you speak. For the sake of your own secrets— and my own sanity—" and boy does Aizawa put stress on the word, "— we found it better to muffle it rather than find a way to stop it."

Izuku hums, but he does feel words forming on his lips around the gag even as he tries to stop it.

"If you're able to stop yourself by tomorrow morning, we'll see about classes. For now, Recovery Girl suggests letting you sleep in your own room for the night."

Aizawa-sensei is surprisingly gentle when Izuku flinches away from his hands as they reach to untie the gag.

His teacher moves to instead pat him on the head, moving sweaty hair from his eyes. "Just change it out when you get to your room," Aizawa concedes.

-----

When he stumbles back to the dorms, half dragged by the arm across Aizawa-sensei's shoulder, his classmates understandably freak.

"Is he…"

"Deku, we missed you!"

"What's with the…" Kaminari motions to the almost soaked through gag. Even without Aizawa-sensei talking directly to him, Izuku spoke everything that came to mind on the short walk from UA to the dorms.

"He's still recovering," is all Aizawa-sensei says. "Do not take it off of him. Even if he's sleeping."

At the serious tone, the class quickly parts to let them head towards Izuku's room.

"If he's still sick, why not leave him to rot in the damn granny's office?" Kacchan grumbles from the kitchen as they pass, locking eyes with him.

Izuku grins as best he can around the gag. Aizawa only grunts, but Izuku is pretty sure Kacchan gets the gist of the motion by the way he rolls his eyes and angrily downs an overfilled glass of water.

It isn't until he's been tucked in bed and given a plethora of cloths to use as a gag for the next few days that he notices the time: thirty minutes past midnight.

He sends a quick text off to Kacchan.

'sorry for worrying u! Get some rest (－ω－) zzZ'

Kacchan responds almost immediately with a quick, 'Fuck off.'

Just before Izuku turns over to place his phone back on the charger, he gets another text which reads a simple, 'You too.'

-----

Izuku is, in fact, allowed to go to classes the next day.

Aizawa-sensei walks him to Recovery Girl early in the morning.

"Given that you've missed half the week, we decided it was best to let you come back instead of make-up classes."

Izuku nods, words coming forward before he can stop them. "I'd rather not do those. They're harder than actual classes."

Aizawa rolls his eyes, but it's half-hearted at best. "When I came to wake you, you weren't mumbling in your sleep. As long as you bring your gag, you should be fine."

Then, half under his breath, "Maybe I should gag the rest of the class. Finally get some peace and quiet."

Izuku laughs, tugging an embroidered cloth out of his pocket. It was designed with a stitched thumbs up on one side and a messy side profile of Golden Age All Might, and Izuku has a feeling a certain mentor of his is the one who made it.

He and Aizawa-sensei make it to class much earlier than the rest of the class— almost 45 minutes earlier.

"What about the person who used their quirk on me?" Izuku had asked on the way to UA.

His teacher stayed troublingly silent for a long while, after that. Izuku's nervous, constant stream of thought filled the spaces in between them.

"It's being handled," Aizawa had said, finally. "The campus is under lockdown, and no one is allowed off-site."

And Izuku had left it at that.

-----

His back still hurts. He'd forgotten to bring it up with Recovery Girl, which is surprising to him considering the nature of the quirk that hit him. With as many times as he'd interrupted Aizawa-sensei with segways that had nothing to do with their conversation both walking to and from the infirmary, he's sure his teacher would be surprised to hear it, too.

He'd go before lunch break, then.

Izuku sighs softly, muttering to himself as he goes over the texts Uraraka had sent him the few days he'd been absent. Just major notes about what they'd gone over in classes she knew he had trouble with. She'd mentioned something about Iida wanting to give him another notebook, but (to none of their surprise) decided to hold off giving it to him until Kacchan wasn't around.

The gag sits soundly in his lap as he half-studies, half looks out the window.

As his class begins to shuffle in, keeping their distance but still sending happy greetings his way, he fingers the frayed edges of it.

When his friends come in, Uraraka two steps behind Iida, Izuku shouts out a sharp, excited, "Hey!"

Everyone startles at the sudden, loud sound of his voice, and he sheepishly waves them over. Aizawa-sensei narrows his eyes at him as he leaves to get notes before the beginning of homeroom, and Izuku sends him a quick, apologetic shrug.

"Dekuuu, we missed you!" Uraraka throws a quick hug across his shoulders. "We weren't even allowed to visit!"

"Ahaha, well— " Izuku begins, quickly parsing through his thoughts. "I guess I just had to be observed for a while longer."

"Oh?"

"Mm. The quirk I got hit with, uh…" Izuku flinches. Maybe he shouldn't have said that part? Ah, well. "Well, Recovery Girl still had to monitor me— plus I was still injured from the train incident— and maybe it could've been contagious, so— !"

"Ah, that makes sense. It would be inefficient to have half the class out of commission, after all." Iida nods to himself.

"Mm," Izuku smiles, kicking his legs out to turn towards the two of them. So far, it seemed the quirk was fading faster and faster with time. Even as the back of his mind panicked to talk about the classes he missed, he was able to ignore it in favor of small talk before class started. It helped when his friends smiled at him, especially helped when the worried squint of their eyes faded to something more relaxed.

Maybe he wouldn't even have to use the gag. Seeing as it was hand-stitched by All Might himself, it already earned a place on the highest shelf of his hero collection.

But then, Kacchan comes in.

Well, Ashido and Kaminari do, first. She has her arm around his neck and seems to be trying to hop on his back so he can carry her to his desk and he, rightly, is struggling.

Kirishima comes in third, knocking shoulders with Sero as they play rock-paper-scissors. Kirishima loses when he plays rock, and lets out a loud yelp when Sero pinches his side as part of the punishment.

Kacchan is right behind them, laughing meanly as Kirishima rubs his gut. His bag has slipped from his shoulder to his forearm, caught there with his hand in his pocket. Although it was morning and the air outside was chilly, he had a faint line of sweat dripping from his brow.

Kacchan had always been quick to sweating— probably because of his Quirk. His palms had always been sweaty when they were younger, always warm, too. He wonders if they still are after all these years— rough and soft at the same time.

Izuku melts as Kacchan swipes at his hairline with a handkerchief. When he moves to yell at Kirishima and Sero for trying to pounce on him to join their game, his eyes sparkle and shine happily even if his tone doesn't match.

As he closes the door behind them all, sunlight filters through the window and illuminates the shine of his teeth and the glimpse of bare midriff as Sero dodges between Kacchan's legs to crawls to his seat before Kacchan can retaliate.

Iida and Uraraka have turned to him, waiting for a response to the conversation he hadn't been paying attention to.

Instead of the apology he was expecting to spew, he instead says,

"Kacchan is beautiful, today."

His friends freeze, and even Todoroki glances up from his half-asleep staring contest with a bird in a nearby tree.

"Eh?"

"I mean— what I meant to say, Kacchan is always beautiful, and— " The words spill out easily even when his horrified fingers cling to his lips and desperately try to force them closed. It was as if the carefully crafted dam that had been being repaired all morning had gotten slammed through and demolished like glass under a hammer.

His muffled voice— "Kacchan is…. Kacchan is…" slip out of his grasp, literally slip between his fingers, and all eyes turn to the startled blond boy still standing at the classroom door.

By the way his eyebrows shoot down, a scowl on his lips replacing the carefree smirk he had just moments prior, Kacchan is livid.

---

chapter 2 and the rest of the fic available here

#bkdk #bnha #bakudeku #long post #boku no hero academia #fanfic #writing tag

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