#because the control your heart thread was ALWAYS about Izuku and Katsuki

[seagreenstardust]

What matters is controlling your heart.

[battybatzgirl]

Crazier Than You

AO3

Summary:

When you're a Shigaraki, it's family first, family last, and family by and by. But introducing your new (normal) boyfriend to your family can cause a few problems--especially if your father just so happens to be Japan's most notorious supervillain.

Chapter 1 | 2

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Despite what the movies showed, not every organ inside your body was mushy and red. Tendons, for example, were a stark white. Fat, a sickly yellow-green. Muscles, though, came in a wide variety of crimson and merlot and currant and maroon--all of them red.

Red like Katsuki’s eyes.

Bet he’d bleed like that too, Izuku thinks hazily.

“Izuku.”

The sound of his name snaps him back into place, making him jolt on instinct. It messes with the stitch he’s currently working on, the thread pulling taut and ripping out of the flesh. He offers a sheepish smile to Dr. Garaki over the corpse on the operating slab.

The doctor eyes the stitch that Izuku ruined and lets out a little tsk. “If you’re going to keep getting distracted, you should head back upstairs.”

Muttering a soft apology, Izuku works on removing the stitch from the forearm he was working on. He normally had so much more concentration when working on nomu. The doctor wouldn’t let him around one of his little projects if he didn’t. For years, he’d protested Izuku even being down in the basement lab, but luckily, Izuku’s father was always keen to encourage his son's morbid curiosities. Whip-smart and a fast learner, Izuku knew he was the best assistant Garaki ever had.

If, you know. He could get his brain to stop thinking about Kacchan.

The doctor seems to notice his offput attitude, so he says, “We can finish this tomorrow. Go get your cousin for dinner.”

With a nod, Izuku pushes away from the operating table and removes his bloody gloves, then starts the trek through the lab. It’s dark in the basement, mainly only illuminated by the glowing vats of Nomu everywhere. Why the doctor liked to work in near darkness never made sense to him—why not put on a light when you’re operating?

Tomura had this theory about him wanting the aesthetics of a creepy villain from TV, but honestly, it wasn’t fooling anyone. Garaki wasn’t creepy. He was too full of himself, and he was within his right, too. He was a genius. Izuku hated how much he liked the man.

He trots up the stairs, making a beeline through the manor to where he knew Tomura would be. He always played a few rounds of whatever videogame he was obsessed with that week before dinner.

Izuku’s hunch is right. He finds his cousin in front of the TV in their sitting room, slumped on the couch with his feet up on the table. If Dad were around, Tomura wouldn’t be doing it, but Izuku was no snitch.

He flops down next to the older boy, grabbing a pillow and squeezing it tight to his chest. He wishes he could squeeze the weird mushiness he’s feeling right now out of him. Or, even better, he wishes he could squeeze Kacchan, tight enough until his face turns blue and he’s gasping for air. Izuku bets he’d look really cute with bruises ringing around his neck.

“Don’t mess up,” he says when Tomura’s character is making a challenging-looking jump.

“Go die,” Tomura responds without missing a beat. The character clears the jump. It’s been years since Izuku’s been able to distract his cousin’s concentration away from a game, but it’s still the thought that counts.

The clacking of Tomura’s thumbs against the controller is driving Izuku crazy, so he starts talking. “I fucked up another stitch on a nomu again.”

Tomura snorts, “Surprised you don’t fuck up everything you touch.”

“It’s because of Kacchan,” Izuku continues, ignoring Tomura’s comments like he usually does. His heart flutters disgustingly when the syllables of Katsuki’s nickname rolls off his tongue. They tasted so sweet. “He’s gotten in my head.”

“Anywhere else?”

Izuku whacks Tomura with the pillow, feeling a treacherous heat rise to his face. “It’s not like that. At least not yet. We’ve only made out.”

The memory of it makes his stomach swoop like he’s flying over a canyon. Katsuki had been arguing with him about something that was so unimportant, but Izuku didn’t like to lose anything, much less arguments. So, he shut the blond up by yanking him forward and mashing their lips together, biting so hard that Katsuki’s bottom lip bled.

“Fuck,” Kacchan swore when he pulled back, his blood staining his teeth and lip the prettiest shade of red. “That’s hot.”

And then the blond grabbed him by the back of his neck and kissed him so hard Izuku saw stars.

Tomura snickers. “You better tell Dad before it gets too serious.”

That snaps Izuku out of whatever rose-colored haze he was in. His body feels cold all over at the idea. “It’s not that serious.” The day he told his father about Katsuki was the day Izuku died. As the baby of the family, his annoyingly overprotective father to treat him like he was six instead of sixteen. In his eyes, Izuku wasn't allowed date until he was fifty.

“Didn’t you say he’s in a fashion course?”

Glumly, Izuku nods. Katsuki was the heir to the Bakugou fashion empire, and Izuku was the son of the Demon King of the Underworld.

Cupid was such a bitch.

This continues to amuse his cousin to no end. He cracks a smile. “Only you would fall for someone normal.”

“He doesn’t act normal, though,” he protests. “He’s loud and mean and—”

“—dreamy,” Tomura sneers, and Izuku’s patience snaps.

He launches himself at the other boy, going straight for Tomura’s eyes. His face was already full of scratches and scars, some of them put there by Izuku himself. Izuku’s nails tear through the skin on Tomura’s cheek before a boot kicks him squarely in the stomach. Instinctively, Izuku tucks and rolls, falling off the couch and landing in a crouch in a surprisingly graceful manner.

“You made me lose a life.” Tomura lets out an annoyed whine, whipping at the blood beading on his skin before turning back to the game. “Brat.”

“Bastard,” Izuku returns, climbing back on the couch. “Okay, but what do I say to Dad? I think he’s noticing that I’ve been going out more, and I can’t keep using the excuse that I’m digging up bodies.”

Raiding a local hospital graveyard for the freshly deceased sounded like an average Friday night for Izuku—because he was small and knew how to make himself cry, he played the part of a poor mourning child well enough for no one to ask questions. But his father didn’t like him to be out for too long, and Izuku has been sneaking out nearly every night this week to hang out with Katsuki. As well as for the past few months.

And it wasn’t his fault, okay? Something about Kacchan was making Izuku go insane. He was used to people fleeing at the sight of bared teeth, not running toward him with a snarl fierce enough to match his own. It gave Izuku a dizzying high that made him want to cut Katsuki open on his knife while grabbing the blond by the hips and grind into him until the marrows of their bones mixed.

God, he had it bad. He was so fucked.

“You’re fucked,” Tomura echoes his thoughts with a shrug, finally pausing the game. He turns his crimson eyes onto Izuku—the rings underneath them looked particularly dark today. He must have skipped his afternoon nap to keep playing his game.

“I’m not gonna cover for you if he asks.” Izuku shoots him a glare—Tomura was such a little goody-two-shoes when it came to their dad. Even though Hisashi technically wasn’t Tomura’s father, he’d raised them as brothers and expected honesty from them both. Tomura gave it to him without hesitation, while Izuku…

Well. As the youngest, there were a few things he could get away with by simply batting his eyes and cooing a love you to get Hisashi to do whatever he wanted. His dad probably knew Izuku was manipulating him—he’d taught him to do it, after all—but part of Izuku still thinks that the Devil of Japan’s Underworld was secretly a soft family man.

But this? Sneaking out of the protected manor to go have secret rendezvous with his frightfully normal boyfriend?? If Hisashi ever found out, Izuku might as well be another body on a slab.

He pouts at his cousin. “You’re no fun.”

“Bite me.”

Izuku nearly does, but he doesn’t know the last time Tomura took a shower, and doesn’t want to have to wash the taste of dirty gamer skin out of his mouth.

Izuku knew he shouldn’t have trusted Tomura to keep his mouth shut.

That night at dinner, Hisashi casually asks how the new nomu experimentations were going.

“One of them has enough shock absorption that it could get hit with a train and walk away just fine,” Izuku reports cheerfully. “It’s not at the strength we want it at yet, but it’s getting there.” The strength they wanted was to take a punch from All Might, who according to his father, could punch with the strength of two hundred locomotives at once.

“Would probably already be there if you weren’t so distracted,” Tomura mutters under his breath. Izuku kicks him under the table with his iron-toed boots, praying his father didn’t hear it.

Unfortunately, the gods of fate aren’t smiling down on him today. “Distracted?” Hisashi repeats. A warm, knowing smile pulls at his lips. “You aren’t one to drop a project mid-construction. Did you find something else to hyper-fixate on?”

Tomura coughs a way that sounds suspiciously like the word someone, and if his father wasn’t looking, one of Tomura’s spidery hands would already be skewered on Izuku’s fork.

“It’s nothing,” Izuku says quickly—too quickly, he realizes too late. He feels his mouth go dry when his father’s eyebrows raise. “I just…” God, should he lie? Play dumb? No, with Tomura being in this kind of mood, doing either of those things would probably dig himself deeper into the hole he was already being thrown into. “I uh, made a friend when I was out excavating.”

“A friend?” Hisashi’s smile has turned into a frown. “Izuku, you know that talking to outsiders is dangerous.”

Izuku hates how the disappointment in his father’s voice makes him want to cringe. He’s heard the warnings hundreds of times; interacting with anyone outside of the Shigaraki clan circles was risky. If a someone discovered they were stealing bodies for Nomu, the police could get involved, or worse—heroes. And of course, Tomura could leave the manor and talk to whoever he pleased, but the older boy never chose to leave unless he was going out to play D&D with Twice and Himiko or killing someone.

Tomura’s homebody tendencies used to drive Izuku crazy when he was younger, but now, he doesn’t feel all that jealous anymore. He really doesn't have a reason to leave. All he could ever want is under his father’s roof—food, shelter, enough nomu experiments and research projects to keep him busy. Izuku doesn’t remember the last time he actually took a trip into town before he met Kacchan.

And really, even meeting Katsuki was purely an accident.

“He’s not an outsider,” Izuku lies. “He’s got Yakuza cousins.”

Did Katsuki have gangster cousins? Well he did now, because that took a bit of the edge off his father’s expression. Still, his eyes were calculating, and that was never a good thing.

“What clan?”

“The Hassaikai,” Izuku answers smoothly, ignoring Tomura’s sharp glance in his direction. He knows Tomura knows all the Hassaikai members thanks to a few deals they’ve done in the past. They’ve proven to be trustworthy to his father. And really, dragging Tomura into his lie isn’t a good idea, but Izuku is bitter and wants revenge.

He and Tomura share a Look over the table. Screw this up for me and I’ll perform an autopsy on your switch, Izuku tries to relay with his eyes. It seems to work, because his cousin sighs loudly and slumps down into his chair. Hisashi looks like he wants to talk about it more, but the tinny sound of one of their lab alerts rings out through the dining room. The doctor only rang that one when he needed Hisashi’s approval for something.

Hisashi was already on his feet, “Excuse me, boys, I have to attend to that. Oh, and Izuku.” His father’s crimson gaze pierces him like a butterfly on a corkboard. “I’m interested to hear more about your friend.”

Izuku has no idea if the horror he feels inside of him shows on his face. With the click of dress shoes, Hisashi exits the dining room.

The instant he's gone, Izuku launches himself over the table, crashing into Tomura so hard he knocks them both backward on the floor. He hears the wood crack from their combined weight hitting the floor, but he doesn't care. He’s got one foot pressing down Tomura’s left wrist onto the floor, both hands throttled around the other boy’s throat.

“You dirty snitch,” Izuku hisses, “You ratted me out.”

Tomura raises the hand not pressed into the ground dangerously close to Izuku’s face. He knows the older boy would never use his quirk against him—at least, not anywhere permanent—but the movement is enough to make Izuku shift back just enough for Tomura to shove him off.

“You were being annoying. And why did you drag me into this? I have other things I need to do besides be your little wingman.”

Like what, plan attacks on high schoolers because one of them made fun of your greasy hair?  Izuku can’t even muster the energy to sass, he feels so completely drained at the idea of his father knowing about Kacchan.

He presses his face into his hands. Maybe he could invent something that could reverse time and send him back fifteen minutes before the word ‘friend’ had ever left his mouth. “Just… don’t mention it again. I guess I have to tell him now.”

Tomura stands up with feline grace, grabbing a roll off the table and stuffing it in his mouth. “Good luck with that.”

//

Izuku doesn’t like to brag, but he knows he’s a genius. As the son of a highly intellectual villain who fostered his analytical mind from an early age, he can solve and destroy most problems that get in his way. Even if those problems happened to be people with annoying quirks.

This problem, of hiding his boyfriend from his father, he doesn’t know how to solve. And most surprisingly, it’s Katsuki that ends up providing a solution.

“They want to what?! "

That doesn’t mean it doesn’t come as a shock, though. Izuku stares, gaping at the blond from across the diner table. It’s one of those 24-hour places near his high school’s campus that is known to have visits from teenagers at odd hours. They’ve met up here a few times, enough that the staff is starting to smile at Izuku when he enters. Kacchan likes it because it’s close and has absurdly spicy noodles. Izuku likes it because no one bats an eye at his all-black and slinky appearance.

Katsuki slurps his noodles obnoxiously. The sound reminds Izuku of how it feels to squeeze a bunch of intestines between his fingers. He’d much rather be dissecting something right now than facing the consequences of what Kacchan has just proposed.

“It’s my hag’s idea,” he says flippantly once he’s swallowed. “She and the old man think since we’ve been seeing each other for a while, it would be good to get to know you ‘nd your family.”

“But isn’t it a little early?” Izuku protests weakly, grasping at anything to get this conversation away from where he knows it’ll end up. “We’ve only been hanging out for a couple of months. And we’re not even technically in a relationship.”

“D’you wanna be?”

“Yes,” Izuku’s stupid mouth betrays him before his brain can catch up. It’s worth the reaction, though—Katsuki’s sharp, satisfied grin sends Izuku’s stomach fluttering.

And truly, it’s not fair. Kacchan is too damn handsome, with his low-hanging sweatpants and black tank top that reveals so much. His muscles were absurdly defined—what did they have fashion students doing these days??—but his skin is what really enchanted Izuku. It was clear, pure, and unscarred. Izuku wants to drag one of his knives over his skin and lick up all the blood.

Christ, now he was sounding like Himiko.

“’Kay,” Katsuki nods, “We’re boyfriends now. And my parents want to meet you and your parents.”

“My mom’s dead,” Izuku says bluntly, “and dad’s out of the country.” The practiced lie rolls off his tongue like water.

“No he ain’t. You were complaining about what he said about your curfew last night. When you were breaking it.”

Izuku bangs his forehead into the table, making the noodle bowl rattle. He hates it when Katsuki gets to prove a point. His voice takes on a more whiney timbre, “You don’t want to meet him, I promise he’s not that interesting. He’s just a boring businessman.” Who just so happens to run the entire underworld of the country, but that was neither here nor there.

“My parents are boring as hell too,” Katsuki shrugs. “But if we’re gonna start doing this for real, they want to make sure the person I’m seeing is a good choice. Or whatever.”

Izuku barely keeps the hysterical laughter bubbling up in his throat down. A good choice? He was the worst choice, but he didn’t want to tell Katsuki that.

“Besides,” the blond reaches across the table and weaves their fingers together. Izuku feels his heart jolt, hitting every one of his ribs in a xylophone. “Can’t show off what’s mine by hiding it.”

Something in Izuku purrs at the possessive in the other boy's tone. He wants to tie Katsuki up and keep him in a locked room on some remote island so they can be together forever.

Before that happens, Izuku supposes that it would be polite to meet his parents. Villain or no, Hisashi taught him good manners.

But Hisashi knowing about Kacchan was bad enough. The idea of his father actually meeting Katsuki is so much worse.

“I- I don’t know,” Izuku says, pulling his hand back. “My dad doesn’t like meeting strangers.”

Katsuki shrugs. “So? Tell him to deal with it. ‘S for you, so he can be man enough to handle one night.”

As absurd as the argument is, he supposes Katsuki has a point. There was little Hisashi wouldn’t do for Izuku when he genuinely wanted something. The perks of being the favorite child did come in handy.

“One night.” He repeats the words slowly, trying to convince himself this was a good idea. It would put his father's suspicions to rest. Still, the rational side of his mind knew this probably wouldn’t go well, but if Katsuki wanted it… “Okay.”

The blond smirks. “Knew you’d be a pushover.”

“I’m not,” Izuku snarls, bearing his teeth and immediately going on the defensive. Katsuki’s personality teetered on a knife’s edge—one moment, he was charming, the next he was sharp as barbed wire. Even though they’d only known each other for a short time, he somehow knew just how to get under Izuku’s skin.

It was intoxicatingly alluring.

“Yeah?” Katuki’s eyes glint with a hunger that made Izuku’s stomach flip. “Prove it.”

He’s barely finished speaking before Izuku grabs him by the collar of his shirt, already towing the grinning blond to the diner’s shitty bathroom. It was a good thing Katsuki liked to snarl, because Izuku liked to bite back and make him bleed.

//

He had been working on a project when he first met Katsuki.

Well, calling it working might be a stretch. Fixing a mess was probably more accurate.

He had been tinkering with splicing one of Mocha’s genes before the little creature had the audacity to double itself and break out of the tubes that were holding it down. By the time Izuku had stood up the thing was scurrying out of the basement's back door.

Izuku swore in a fashion that would have made his father cut out his tongue, and grabbed a net.

It certainly wasn’t the first time Mocha had run away from him, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. The little thing only preferred Garaki's hands, even though Izuku’s knowledge of quirk splicing was far superior to the doctor’s.

This was the first time Mocha had actually escaped outside, though, which was a Problem.

Izuku doesn’t even bother taking off his goggles, swinging the net over his shoulders as he dashed out the door following the creature. Their manor sat in the middle of a heavily wooded area near a public park, so there were plenty of places the little nomu could hide. The last thing he needed was the creature finding one of the hiking trails and taking a bite out of some poor jogger. It was already late evening, the sun tinting the sky a hazy orange before it disappeared over the treeline.

“Mocha, come here!” Izuku calls sweetly. “I have a special treat for you.” He didn’t, but the nomu didn’t need to know that.

His eyes scan the ground, searching for a hidden fox hole where the little creature could have hidden. It was early August and the late summer heat was making the cicadas go crazy. He started to get nervous, walking farther toward the park area, his attention was so focused on the ground that he didn’t notice the person sliding up next to him.

“Hey.”

Izuku shrieks, whirling around to face the stranger who had spoken. He takes quick note of the man’s long, dark hair, bloodshot eyes, and jumpsuited appearance.

The man’s eyes squint a little as he observes Izuku. “You lost, kid? The trailhead’s back that way.”

I know, I live here, Izuku wants to say, but thinks better of it. “O-oh, I- I’m not lost." He notices the man’s eyes drift toward the net in his hands. “I’m, uh, looking for my cat. The little stinker got out through the back door and ran through the park.”

He isn’t sure if the man buys his lie. “So you dressed up in your Halloween costume to catch it?”

Izuku cringes and feels his ears heat, realizing just how ridiculous he must look to an outsider. He’s still in his lab coat. He subtly hides his hands behind his back, hoping the man didn’t notice the ichor-stained gloves. “Hahaha, ooooh this? It’s just protective measures. He bites.”

“Uh-huh.” Something about this man is putting Izuku on edge, but he can't put his finger on why. The man lets out a tired sigh, eyes finally leaving Izuku to drift to the wooded area around him. “Okay, well hurry up and find them before it gets dark. This area’s had lots of reports of suspicious activity, and we don’t want any civilians out here getting hurt if a villain shows up.”

Izuku suddenly realizes why this man is making him nervous: he’s a hero.

And wasn’t that just the icing on the cake? There’s a hero lurking around on the edge of their property and Izuku lost his fucking nomu. Great, just great.

“I- I’ll keep a lookout,” he promises with a shaky smile, then practically sprints away before the hero can say anything else.

So yeah, his social skills weren’t exactly top-notch, what of it? Izuku barely talks to anyone outside of his family and his brain-dead experiments, he has very little experience socializing. Especially with a hero. That man in particular looked as though he could look into Izuku’s very core, and Izuku didn’t want to stick around long enough for the man to realize the sixteen-year-old in front of him didn’t have a soul.

“Mocha!” He hisses with new fervor, clutching the net a little tighter as his eyes nervously drift around the trees. “Get your butt back here, you little shit!” God, he hoped no other heroes were around. He knows how to kill a person, but Tomura was usually the one who dusted people. Izuku just liked messed with them after they were dead.

A noise on the trail to his right makes him freeze. Without thinking, Izuku jumps out of the bushes, swinging the net out onto the trail and tugging the cord taut. An instant later, there’s an outraged cry and a small explosion fires off. The loud noise makes Izuku jump, and he fights his way through the foliage to see an irritated-looking teenager, caught in a crouch where he had been tying his shoes.

Izuku didn’t catch a nomu. He caught a boy.

The teen looks about Izuku’s age, with spikey blond hair and a face that’s pinched in anger. He's sweaty; must have been pausing on his run to fix his shoelaces. The fabric of Izuku’s net is now singed, the metal pole hanging limply around the boy’s broad shoulders.

The boy shoots to his feet, lips twisted in a snarl. “What the hell do you think you’re—”

Izuku tears off his goggles and drops to the ground, burying his face in his hands with a groan. “Fuck me.” Great, now he’s lost Mocha, interacted with a hero, and ruined his net. Dad was going to murder him while Tomura uses his intestines to play jump rope.

Speaking of, should he go back home and get Tomura? Would adding another person to this rescue mission help find Mocha faster? Or would Tomura go directly to Hisashi and tattle on how terribly irresponsible Izuku was? Would the reprimanding be worth it if they caught the damn nomu before it ate someone and caught the attention of that hero?

The blond, who Izuku honestly forgot was still there, sniffs, “The fuck is a Mocha?”

Shit. Mumbling under his breath was a habit usually his family only had to deal with. Ignoring the way his cheeks felt hot, Izuku stands and faces him. “My cat.” Might as well stick with the lie he already told. The little thing did kind of resemble a cat. If you were squinting at it in the dark and you weren’t wearing your prescription glasses.

The blond snorts, picking at the half-torn net still around his shoulders. “You’re using a net to catch it?”

Izuku frowns. Something about this boy’s sneering makes his fingers itch to claw at it. “You don’t have to tell me how to take care of my pets.” He grabs the net off the boy’s shoulders and rubs the burnt edges of the fabric between his fingers. “What’s your quirk?”

“Hah? Why does it matter?”

“I heard the sound of firework, and this part of the fabric is singed,” Izuku launches into the observed facts. “You have a flammable quirk, but the scent lingering smells like nitroglycerine, which would mean explosions, not fire. Something would have to light that, of course,” he leans in, peering curiously at the boy, who was wearing workout shorts and a black tank top. “Do you carry around matches?”

The boy shoves Izuku away with a growl. “Get off of me! Who even are you?”

Izuku has the right mind to growl back because no one was allowed to touch him without permission, but a sick crunching noise makes both boys look up.

Mocha is in the tree above them, wide mouth clamped down on what looked like a very unfortunate bird.

“No! ” Izuku snaps, “Bad, Mocha. Spit that out!”

The little creature does not, and Izuku lets out a growl before throwing down his net and tearing off his coat, then turns to scale the tree. The nomu didn’t even have a stomach, but has recently become fascinated with the sensory of chomping with its stupidly large mouth.

“Swallow that and your intestines are going to be very upset later. I’ll feel zero pity for you,” Izuku threatens as he swipes at the creature. His fingertips brush on Mocha’s spinal tail, but the damn thing is too far out on the branch, dancing just outside of his grip.

“The fuck,” he hears from below. “That thing is your cat? ”

“Ah—" Izuku hesitates. "It got hit by a car?”

“Better have been a truck. That thing looks like my dead aunt’s ugly stepsister.”

A laugh suddenly punches out of Izuku’s stomach, loud and unexpected. It’s enough of a surprise to make him lose his grip on the branch, and his feet slip. Pain radiates up his spine when his ass hits the ground. He blinks past the stars in his vision to see the blond boy leaning over him with a smirk.

“Dumbass,” he snorts. Izuku shoots up in an instant, hackles raised, hands already curled into fists, but the other boy doesn’t look like he wants to fight. “Here.”

The boy isn’t offering a hand to help Izuku up—which he wouldn’t have taken anyway, thank you—but instead stands on his tiptoes and opens a palm up toward Mocha on the tree. There’s a poppoppop and sparks come to life on his palm, lighting up the semi-darkness with tiny, contained explosions. The noise makes Mocha let out a high whine and jump down from the tree into Izuku’s arms. He’s not paying attention though, too busy being absolutely starstruck by the boy in front of him.

Self-igniting explosions? But that meant the nitroglycerin had to come from somewhere on his skin—was it like a self-secreting mucus? No, because then his entire hand would have lit on fire, not just his palm. Then it had to be a controlled released from his pores somehow!

“Your quirk’s really cool,” Izuku gushes before he can stop himself.

“I know. You’re welcome, by the way.” The blond’s grin is sharp and smug and for some reason, it makes Izuku’s heart skip a beat.

With a rush of sudden fascination, he suddenly has to know everything about this boy. “What’s your name?”

The blond sniffs. “Why would I tell you that?”

“Because if you don’t I can force it out of you.”

The blond throws back his head and barks a laugh. “A scrawny pipsqueak like you? I’d like to see you try. Your quirk ain’t got nothin’ on mine.”

And oh, the adrenaline that rushes through Izuku is absolutely delicious. Something about this boy is making him want to bite and claw and tear into him until they’re both bloody and bruised.

“I don’t need any quirk to kneecap you,” Izuku points out simply.

The boy tilts his head, ruby eyes sizing him up as if to see if he was worth the fight. It makes Izuku want to squirm and snarl at the same time.

Mocha shifts in his arms, burping up some feathers in a much-needed distraction from the other boy’s gaze. Izuku scratches underneath its chin in sympathy, making the creature coo. It was probably going to throw up next, which meant he should probably head back to the lab.

“Katsuki.”

Izuku’s head whips up. “Huh?”

“’S my name.”

“Oh.” For some reason, the boy suddenly looks bashful, but Izuku has no idea why. “Hello, Kacchan.”

“The fuck is a Kacchan?”

“You, you just said that was your name.”

“I said Katsuki, moron, not Kacchan. Don’t call me that.”

“Too late,” Izuku says with a shit-eating grin. It wasn’t like he was ever going to see this boy again. And pushing the blond’s buttons was so much more fun than messing around with Tomura.

“What’s your name, then? I told you mine, it’s only fair.”

Izuku hesitates. He certainly can’t reveal his identity to this random stranger. Admitting he was a Shigaraki was basically asking for that jumpsuited hero to come back and cause trouble. “Deku.”

The blond frowns. “Your name is Deku?”

“It’s a nickname,” he clarifies. It wasn’t a complete lie. Tomura called him that once when he was learning how to read and mispronounced the last kanji of Izuku’s name.

“It fits you,” the blond nods. “You look like a dork.” Then, Katsuki leans forward and flicks him on the nose.

Izuku lets out an indignant squawk and feels his cheeks flush. Katsuki snickers, then calls out a quick see ya and continues on his jog down the trail.

He has half the mind to drop Mocha and chase after the boy to flick him back, but the nomu belches again. This time there’s a foul smell accompanying it, so Izuku pushes thoughts of the blond aside and high tails it back to the lab before he gets covered in half-digested bird bones.

//

As a scientist, Izuku is very observant. He has to be, to be able to tell when his hypotheses are executed correctly. His father is a much harder subject to read, but over the years, Izuku’s gotten good at that, too.

So, he waits carefully until Hisashi is in a good mood to break the news to him.

His father is in his study, scouring the hero news like he always does this time of day. Apparently, the hero commission has been under a lot of fire recently, so Izuku knows that the ravenous opinions of angry journalists always keep his spirits up.

Hisashi looks up a steaming mug of his favorite tea is placed in front of him.

(Izuku wanted to come extra prepared, shoot him.)

Hisashi leans back in his chair and laces his long fingers together. “Well, this is a pleasant surprise. A visit from my little bundle of malice and a cup of tea? You must want something extra special from me.”

“Wh-what?” Izuku tries to feign innocence. “This isn’t a bribe! Nooo, I just…” Hisashi raises an eyebrow, and Izuku gives up immediately, unable to stand the weight of his father’s gaze. “Don’t be mad.”

Hisashi casually blows on the tea, “You telling me not to be mad before admitting something doesn’t bode well for you.”

“I have a boyfriend!” Izuku blurts out, his nervous mouth vomiting up words before his brain can catch up. “His name is Katsuki and I’ve been seeing him for a few months, but now his parents want to meet you and get dinner together and I’m running out of excuses to tell them no!”

Hisashi blinks. Izuku bites his lip before any other treacherous words can come out, watching as the cogs turning in his father’s head.

“Oh,” he says. “Is this that same friend you mentioned?”

“Yes,” Izuku hangs his head miserably.

“I take it he’s not a Yakuza.”

Izuku shakes his head miserably. “I know I wasn’t supposed to get close to a civilian, but he’s different. He drives me crazy. Whenever I’m around him I want to tear off all his skin and wear it.”

“Hmm.” Hisashi takes a long, agonizingly slow sip of the tea, letting Izuku stew in his anxiety. God, he hated it when his father did that. Izuku’s brain could work itself up into mush if left unchecked for too long. He’s halfway there now, nervous energy making his hands tremble.

So that’s why it surprises him when his father says, “Okay.”

Izuku stares dumbly, the word sounding foreign to his ears. “Okay?”

“I’ll meet them.” Despite everything, Izuku feels an excited grin crack across his face. “I’m interested in getting to know the boy who has enraptured my little Atilla, especially if you’ve been sneaking out to see him.”

Izuku normally would have cringed at the obvious dig, but he’s too happy to care right now. “Great! It’s only one dinner, then you’ll never have to interact with them again. They’re free next Saturday.”

“I’ll tell Kurogiri to start preparing a menu.”

Izuku blinks. “Why would he need to do that?”

Hisashi’s lips pulled up in an amused smirk. “Do you not want our guests to eat while they’re here for dinner?”

It takes a split second for Izuku to put together what his father was saying. When he does, his stomach drops through the floor.

“Wha—Dad, no, they can’t come here! ”

“Why not?”

“The Bakugous are normal! ” Izuku cries, “They’re fashion designers. We’re not exactly…” He trails off, trying to think of a word that would best describe the Shigaraki household. His father was a 200-year-old cryptid, his cousin/brother had a hand fixation, and Izuku experimented on dead bodies for fun.

“…Like that,” he finishes lamely.

His father gives him a funny look. “Izuku, you honestly don’t expect me to go over to a stranger’s home and show my face in society.”

“No one has to see your face. We have Kurogiri! He can just teleport us straight to their house!”

“I haven’t been part of a social party in a century,” his father continues. “If I’m going to get acquainted with this Katsuki of yours, I want it to be on my terms.”

Damn his father and his controlling nature. Izuku can tell when the man won’t be pushed from a decision, and now is one of those times.

Well. At least Hisashi had said yes. And for the most part, their home wouldn't indicate that they were a family of villains. There were a few loose jars of body parts and capes Hisashi kept from past hero conquests, but all that could be thrown in a storage closet. Izuku could lock the door to the basement so no nomu got out, and force beg Tomura to wear those gloves so he didn’t dust anything. Or, better yet, he could lock Tomura in the basement and pretend he was an only child.

Surely their family could pretend to be normal for one night.

He lets out a sigh, “Okay. Thank you.”

“Don’t sound too excited,” his father teases. “You know, as much as it offends me that you kept this a secret from me, I do find myself incredibly curious about this boy. What’s his quirk?”

“He secretes nitroglycerin in his sweat and ignites explosions in his palms.”

Hisashi hums, interest alight in his eyes. “That sounds powerful.”

Fear prickles at Izuku's skin. He knows that look. “Dad, you can’t steal it.”

“Do you think so little of me, my child? I’d put it back before he noticed it was gone.”

“That’s not the point,” Izuku stresses. “Normal people can’t take other people’s quirks.”

“That’s why your precious ‘normal people’ are so boring.”

“Please,” Izuku begs, “don’t be weird about this. Just one night, with no quirk stealing or killing or hero politics.”

The Demon King of the Underworld pouts. “You’re no fun.” But then he leans back in his chair with a wistful sigh. “I can pretend to degrade myself for one evening, I suppose. You’ll have to convince Tomura to go along with your little charade yourself, though.”

Izuku groans. “Can’t I just lock him in a vault?”

Hisashi raises a dubious eyebrow. “Do you think the vault would hold him all night?”

“No,” Izuku grumbles miserably. He’d probably have to subject himself to a beating through Super Smash Bros to get Tomura to agree to do anything. He sighs and scrubs a hand across his face, truly wondering if the Bakugou's knew the hell they were getting themselves into.

[myherowritings]

slip of the tongue

— overview: during a charity interview with the top three heroes, deku and shouto “accidentally” give away ground zero’s crush on you. you’re asked about bakugou in an interview of your own and, during a fit of excitement, accidentally let your crush on him slip.

— pairing: pro hero!bakugou katsuki x [fem]pro hero!reader

— word count: 2.2k

— genre: pro hero au, celebrity crush au vibes, fluff

— author’s note: [y/h/n = your hero name] this is literally so self-indulgent i’m sorry but this was so much fun to write lolol. i hope you give in and enjoy this fic with me ;)

“Being a Pro Hero can call for a taxing lifestyle. You work day in and day out and, even during your vacations, it’s hard to catch a real break.” The interviewer waited for the three of them to nod before continuing, “Do you have any advice for young, aspiring heroes on how to balance work and personal wellbeing?”

“That’s a tough one,” Midoriya replied, tilting his head to the side as he thought of his answer. “Being a hero requires a lot of time and sacrifice, and sometimes it’s difficult to remember to take care of yourself in such a high stress environment. But if Aizawa-sensei taught us anything during our years at U.A., it’s that…”

Deku continued to talk on and on and Bakugou found himself counting the number of threads present on the arm of the sofa.

For the majority of the interview, Katsuki sat near the edge of the couch ready to bolt out of his seat. His manager claimed the special “Top Three” interview was a good way to raise money for charity, but he was almost certain it was simply a thinly veiled publicity stunt and an extra way for the crew to bring cash to their own pockets.

“To be honest, I’m still trying to figure that out myself,” said Todoroki after a long pause, inciting loud cheers and deep sighs from the audience.

Bakugou narrowed his eyes. That fucker could say he ate nail clippings for breakfast and the response would be the same.

So far, the interview had consisted of Deku blabbing on until the host directed the conversation elsewhere, Shouto piping in with a stupid comment in a low drawl that made the entire audience swoon, and Ground Zero almost bursting with annoyance at the vain questions asked.

(The question the host asked Midoriya was probably the most--if not only--question of substance. The rest were about who was dating who, how long did it take to develop such toned muscles, and other bullshit he didn’t care for.)

He found himself zoning out until Todoroki nudged him on the side.

With a blink, Bakugou turned to the interviewer who cleared his throat with a nervous chuckle.

“As I was saying…” started the host, trying to find his words. “You guys are the Top Three everyone is striving to become, but are there any heroes that inspire you? An individual who stands out as someone you trust to keep Japan safe?”

Midoriya nodded fervently, a sparkle lighting up his eye as he began to speak. “Plenty! It’s not possible to choose just one. There are so many heroes I’ve met along the way that helped make me the person I am today--”

And that’s when Bakugou stopped paying attention.

Not for lack of interest, per se, but simply because he’s heard Deku say this millions of times before. Everyone other time he opens his damn mouth, it’s to shout praises of any quirk someone possesses.

“...but ever since our U.A. years, I’ve always had a good feeling about Y/H/N.”

And that’s when Bakugou started paying attention again.

His neck snapped towards Izuku at the mention of your name and Todoroki stifled an amused snort.

You met them as a student in U.A., exactly two grades below theirs. Like Half-and-Half, you got accepted through recommendations and easily blew everyone in your class away during the Sports Festival.

Bakguou didn’t give a single fuck about you back then. He thought you were a spoiled princess who had her life handed to her on a silver platter, but as long as you didn’t get in his way, you weren’t important enough to worry about. But years have passed and, through a variety of encounters during hero training and internships, he began to realize maybe you weren’t all that bad.

In fact, you were rather...admirable.

He grimaced at the thought.

“I’m quite fond of her as well,” said Shouto, a small smile on his face as he met the audience’s captivated gaze. “She makes the best cold soba. And the control she has over her quirk is impressive.”

Katsuki snorted. “Glad to know your priorities are in check.”

“Making good soba is a noteworthy talent,” defended the interviewer, head halfway up Icy Hot’s ass. “And what about you, Ground Zero. We only have a few minutes left together, but are there any young heroes who caught your eye?”

He shrugged. “There’s--”

“He’s mentioned Y/H/N before, too,” Todoroki answered for him, sharing a look with Midoriya. “In the break room earlier, the news channel was on and Ground Zero had his eyes glued to the screen when she appeared.”

Izuku hummed in agreement. “And he wouldn’t stop talking about how powerful and pretty she looked during her debut as a Pro--”

“For fuck’s sake, I told you not to tell--”

“Sir, language! This is a live recording.”

Bakugou glared at the host for interrupting, then gave an even harsher glare to Deku and Icy Hot for opening their big mouths. Shouto quirked his head to the side, peering at him with an oblivious look that Katsuki wanted to punch off his face. Izuku simply avoided his gaze, taking a sip from his glass of water.

Todoroki blinked. “The more I think about it, the more it seems Ground Zero might actually like Y/H/N.”

Midoriya spluttered out the remnants of the drink in his mouth, coughing uncontrollably as his face reddened. He glanced nervously at Bakugou to check his reaction and gulped. Katsuki’s left eye was twitching and the crackling noise of the nitroglycerin on his hands igniting grew louder.

“Ah, S-Shouto?” Deku said with a forced chuckle, trying to take control the situation. He turned to the audience. “I-I think what he means to say is that Ground Zero likes Y/H/N...as a person. Right?”

Todoroki looked confused. “No? I meant that he likes her and wants to--”

Izuku clamped a hand over Shouto’s mouth and Bakugou jumped up from his seat, sparks flying off of his forearms. So much for being stupid enough to trust these idiots with his personal feelings ever again.

“ARE YOU A FUCKING MORON OR--?!”

“And that’s all we have time for today, folks!” the interviewer interrupted, desperately trying to take the attention away from the chaos unfolding in front of him. Midoriya placed himself between Bakugou and Bakugou’s newfound target, and the audience had their phones at the ready. The host let out a strangled cry. “A big thank you to Deku, Shouto, and Ground Zero for all that they do for Japan. Now, please-- Just leave! And tune in next time on JNN!”

- - - - -

“We’ve had an amazing time tonight with you here,” the host paused, smiling as the audience cheered, “but before our time comes to an end, there is one last thing I think we’re all dying to know.”

“Of course!” you said with a smile, crossing one leg over the other as you leaned towards him intently. “I’m all ears.”

You could’ve sworn his cheeks turned pink with a swoon before continuing. “Ahem. A few days ago, we had the Top Three heroes visit the studio for an exclusive interview.”

At the mention of the Top Three, you almost bounced out of your seat in excitement. You had known them since high school, yet you continued to be starstruck at the intelligence and talent they brought to the field. Just hearing about their accomplishments pushed you to strive to become a better hero.

“I heard! I haven’t watched it yet, but I really need to,” you exclaimed, a bright smile on your face. “I look up to them all so much and they’re such a joy to be around. The interview must’ve been so fun!”

The host muttered, “Fun… That’s a way to put it.”

You let out an awkward chuckle.

As if just now remembering the camera was rolling, he cleared his throat and straightened in his seat. “Yes, they were certainly a joy to be around. There was never a dull moment with them, to say the least.”

“Right…”

“And when they were here, they told us which talented young heroes they admired.” He gave you a pleasant smile. “Your name just so happened to be at the top of their lists.”

Your eyes felt like they were going to bulge out of their sockets. The Top Three admired you? “R-Really?”

“Yes, really. Deku said he had a good feeling you were going to make it big, ever since U.A. Shouto even said he liked the cold soba you made him,” the interviewer said and you flushed.

You were a big fan of Todoroki’s ever since his Sport’s Festival performance during his first year. Of course you had to make him his favorite food any chance you could. And Midoriya-- There were no words to describe how much you looked up to someone so powerful yet so… good. There was simply no one else quite like him.

“But what was even more interesting was what we heard from Ground Zero.”

Now, while you looked up to and loved Deku and Shouto, Ground Zero had a special place in your heart.

You looked up to him as well, there was no denying that, but lately your feelings felt like something more than admiration. The more encounters you had with Bakugou, the less you viewed him as the same arrogant (and annoyingly powerful) kid from U.A. No-- He was different now. Big-headed at times? Yes. But there was a kindness and warmth deep inside him you never quite noticed until recently.

“What did he say?” you asked, hoping your voice wasn’t as jittery as you felt.

“Well, he really admires your talent and strength, as well as the hard work and effort you put into being a Pro Hero.” The host drummed his fingertips along the desk as he sang your praises. Leaning closer to you, he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “And--just between you and me--Shouto and Deku let it slip that he wouldn’t stop talking about you after your debut as a Pro, either. Ground Zero seems to be absolutely entranced by your presence on screen.”

Every logical part of you knew this man was exaggerating for the sake of show business, but you were too ecstatic to really care.

This was Bakugou fucking Katsuki he was talking about. Ground Zero himself!

You could hardly contain your excitement as you practically bounced in your seat. “He admires me?” You shook your head. “That can’t be possible! He’s one of the best heroes the world has! Deku may be ranked number one--and he absolutely deserves it--but Ground Zero has always been a personal favorite of mine.”

Your interviewer raised his eyebrows at your admission. “Is that so?”

“Most definitely!” you said with a zealous nod. “He’s always so determined and passionate in everything he does. Ground Zero’s a natural born hero, but that doesn’t stop him from pushing himself everyday to be the very best he could possibly be. He…inspires me, really.”

“That sounds like a little more than inspiration to me,” replied the host with a thinly veiled smirk.

You felt your cheeks heat up and, if you had Bakugou’s quirk, you knew you’d be popping off some nitroglycerin at the embarrassment. The interviewer couldn’t possibly expose you for having a crush on a certain Pro Hero, right?

“I… Ah-- What do you mean?” you coughed out.

“Oh, nothing,” he said simply, enjoying the doe-eyed expression on your face a little too much. “Well, I hate to end such an amazing interview, but that’s all the time we have for today! Thank you so much, Y/H/N, and tune in next time on JNN!”

- - - - -

“So, I heard you might have a small crush on me.”

“Tch.”

“Or did the interviewer totally blow it out of proportion and now I’m just making a fool of myself?”

“Pfft.”

“Oh, my God, I’d be mortified if--”

“Is now really the time to talk about this?!” Bakugou grunted in a strained voice. His ears were a bright red as you continued to move closer to him.

You blinked up at him innocently. “What do you mean?”

There was a crashing noise behind you as Ground Zero took down a dismembered, yet fully mobile, appendage of the Storm Villain, Karmegan. When another came up behind you, he stretched his hands out to do his famous AP Shot and you almost swooned on the spot when he aimed the perfect circle.

“I mean maybe we can talk about us after we defeat all these loser mutants?”

“Loser?!” the villain roared shooting off another army of appendage-sized mutants in your direction.

Easily dodging his attack, you retaliated with your long range specialty move and looked at Bakugou with a smile.

“So, what I’m hearing is there is an ‘us’?”

“Are you trying to flirt with me while we save Musutafu?” he asked. When you nodded sheepishly, he snorted in begrudging amusement. “That’s some nerve you’ve got there, pipsqueak.”

Bakugou punched Karmegan, who came up from your back, and gave you a slight smirk.

“How about after we survive this attack, I take you out on a date?”

The grin on your face was almost uncontrollable as you took out an enemy behind him. Katsuki ducked right as you kicked, in perfect synchronization.

“Sounds like a plan, Ground Zero.”

“We better end this quickly then, Y/H/N,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Now I’m looking forward to our date.”