If the rest of the class notices the change, they do not speak of it. But Izuku cannot help worrying.
"Are you okay?"
They are passing the grove on the east side of campus, towards the dormitories, when Izuku slows his pace to match Katsuki’s. The breeze is refreshing, warm and sweet like the cherry blossoms. War has not taken all of the beauty of spring, much to Izuku’s relief.
"Why the hell wouldn't I be?" Katsuki reaches for the strap of his backpack and readjusts its weight. His sling shifts with the movement, and Izuku notices the grimace before Katsuki has the chance to hide it.
"Here." Izuku reaches for the backpack, avoiding Katsuki’s casted arm as he pulls it away.
It is not the first time someone has offered to carry Katsuki’s things---but it is the first time that Katsuki has allowed it. His eyes narrow on Izuku, considering, before he scoffs and continues walking.
"I don't need your help." But he does not try to retrieve the bag, either.
Despite himself, Izuku smiles. The bandage across the side of his face creases into his skin, pinching irritably, but he cannot stop the elation at being allowed this small opening. He takes the window as permission to step in closer, and their elbows knock when Katsuki shoves his free hand into his pocket.
"You've been pretty quiet lately," Izuku says absentmindedly while the rest of their classmates hurry ahead. They take their time---Katsuki, who is careful of his recovering stamina, and Izuku, who has nowhere else to be. "I don’t think the others have noticed, but I have. Are you really okay, Kacchan?"
Katsuki stops walking. Izuku turns over his shoulder.
Katsuki is standing ramrod straight, watching him. He is utterly motionless, frozen except for his rising and falling chest.
(Izuku has taken a great deal of attention watching his chest over the last week, especially when battlefield memories turn bloody.)
"You’re such a hypocrite," says Katsuki.
Izuku jolts with surprise. He does not know how to respond, so he stays silent.
Something opens up in Katsuki’s expression, and Izuku almost mistakes it for vulnerability. "At least I'm not putting on a false pretense like everyone else, including you. Don’t fucking pretend that you're fine. Because you ain't fooling anybody."
Izuku wants to feel offened. "I didn’t bring this up to..." His mouth flops around. "This isn’t about me."
Katsuki snorts. "Okay. Whatever. Then don't make it about me." When he continues to walk, passing Izuku, Izuku does not want to accept the end of conversation. He jumps ahead of Katsuki, walking backward so he can face him from the path.
"So you admit it," he pushes. "You’re not okay."
"Holy fuck, Izuku. Do you ever stop?"
"You should see someone, Kacchan!" Izuku cuts over him. "Yuuei has some great counselors, I've heard. And if you're still in pain, Recovery Girl always has her door open. Maybe she can talk to your doctor about the physical therapy sessions; she might have some useful tips! You'll still be an amazing hero, Kacchan, so don't worry about your--"
Katsuki reaches out and covers Izuku’s mouth. His palm is warm against his lips.
"Why don’t you try taking your own advice, huh?" Katsuki’s voice deepens, almost angry. "I know you haven't gone to a single therapy session, and I know you've already convinced yourself that your career is over. If you think I can still be a hero with this," he limply shrugs his casted arm, "then why can't y--"
He does not finish. He bites his tongue between his front teeth before scowling and darting his gaze away.
Ah, Izuku thinks. So that's what this is about.
He gently moves Katsuki’s hand from his face, gripping his wrist.
"So... you're mad at me, then. That's why you've been quiet?"
A pause.
"If you decide not to be a hero," says Katsuki, "it feels like my younger, shittier self has won. And I hate it. I hate you for giving me that victory."
Something must have been added to Katsuki’s heart when Edgeshot stitched it back together on the battlefield; Izuku has never seen him more open, more susceptible to his emotions. Unlike Ground Beta---when fists and bruises were used to mask Katsuki’s vulnerabilities after All Might’s retirement---he does not seem to hide anything. He is hurt. And Izuku is the who who plunged the dagger straight through his chest.
But, hate? Izuku ponders, eyes drifting down to where he is still holding Katsuki’s wrist. Does he really hate me?
It is a good thing, Izuku tries to convince himself, that Katsuki has admitted to the inevitable. He should hate him. What good could come out of wanting Izuku around?
"I know that it feels like I've given up," Izuku responds carefully. "But Nezu's offer to hire me after graduation---it's a better future than I ever would have expected. Being a teacher is an amazing opportunity, and I still get to be involved with heroics by helping the new generation--"
"Cut the bullshit," Katsuki snarls. "This ain't about teaching. It's about you assuming that you aren't good enough to go pro."
"I'm not!" Izuku shrieks, suddenly at his limit. "I’m broken, Kacchan! I... I don't have a quirk, and there aren't enough support items in the world that could help me in the long run. I'd be a risk to the Commission. Every time I'd step out on patrole, someone might get hurt for faulty mechanics... or, maybe a villain damages a piece of armor and I can't run fast enough... or, when my support items need weekly repair, and I can't afford--"
Izuku’s pulse jumps when Katsuki yanks his wrist away. Katsuki grips the front of his blazer and pulls until they are nearly touching noses. "These are all stupid excuses. I would never allow anything to get in the way of becoming a hero. You used to say the same. Why the change?"
Izuku hesitates. Then, "I don’t deserve it."
The admission only manages to frustrate Katsuki more. "I'm sick of your self-pity. That's another reason I hate you."
"But, I... I killed someone, Kacchan. What kind of hero does that? I won't start a career in heroics with blood on my hands, so hate me as much as you want."
Izuku does not mean to share so much; he steadies himself before Katsuki, and his mouth is dry. He can hear the sound of his throat as he swallows. There is an intensity in Katsuki’s eyes, and he looks at Izuku in a way that no one else has ever managed. It is not compassion or sympathy, but careful consideration, as if he is trying desperately to understand Izuku’s mind.
It is unexpected, the determination to read Izuku... but it is not nearly as unexpected as when Katsuki leans forward, and their lips land on each other.
The touch shocks Izuku. He falters backward, horrified, and Katsuki lets him go. There is a silence, and Izuku feels the tightness in the air around them. Katsuki’s face looks dumbstruck, as if he had not been the one to initiate the kiss, and a flush stains his cheeks.
Izuku can still taste his mouth---warm, sweet and refreshing like the spring. He trembles as he raises a hand to brush his lips.
He almost flees, but he cannot make his legs move. He blinks wordlessly at Katsuki, willing his heart to slow and waiting for the heat rising up his neck to cool.
Finally, Katsuki swallows. "Shit."
Izuku’s hand is still covering his mouth when he begins to stutter. "Are... what... what was that?"
Then, just like that, Katsuki’s embarrassment seems to abandon him. His face is closed over, distant and inaccessible, and for a moment, Izuku fears that he will deny everything: That never happened. It's only your imagination.
However, Katsuki breathes and answers with an exhale. "Even an idiot would know what a kiss is."
Izuku’s heart does not slow; it stops completely.
"B-but you hate me," he squeaks between his fingers.
Katsuki's eyes are deep red on his. He rolls his shoulders like they are stiff and clears his throat. "Sure," he begins. The angles of his face sharpen with the setting sun. "You’re a hypocrite, a dweeb, and a masochistic asshole on the best of days. You have a fucked up idea of what it means to be a hero, and I can't stand the self-deprecating pity party you're always shoving down everyone's throat. I hate you more than I could ever put into words." He takes a stoic step closer. "But I like you even more than that."
It is as if language is stolen from Izuku's lungs; his tongue moves as if to speak, but not a noise escapes. Katsuki watches him. It seems that he is waiting for something.
Izuku shifts, an imperceptible movement, towards him. What should he do? How can he respond? There are not enough words in the dictionary to describe his thoughts and emotions, all of which are swirling through him like winter blizzard. In all of his daydreams, he had never once pictured Katsuki’s lips on his, never imagined a day where his childhood friend would be confessing to him, of all the people.
Katsuki and romance simply do not fit into his vocabulary.
And yet. One movement to the next, and Izuku finds himself inexplicably leaning in, wanting to try again.
Katsuki lets him come, but his eyes widen in surprise when their lips meet for the second time.
(First kiss scene. I wrote this in a strict 50-minute window during the Ao3 maintenance shutdown last night. Wasn't planning on posting it anywhere, but eh. Tumblr might like it.) Tbc, maybe.
WIP: Quirk accident where Izuku and Katsuki switch quirks for several days. (I really just wanted to write Katsuki with Blackwhip).
“You’ve gotten better with it,” Izuku grunts, flinching when Blackwhip tightens around his bicep. It crawls up his arm, around his shoulder, before pinning his wrist to the arch in his back.
Katsuki stands above him, hand extended while the tendrils flicker out from his palm. When Izuku looks over his shoulder, the blonde is grinning almost sadistically with pride. “Fuck yeah, obviously I’ve gotten better. Told ya it wouldn’t be that hard.”
With Izuku’s chest pressed into the mat and both hands restrained, there is very little he can do to negate the effects of Blackwhip. If he uses an explosion, Katsuki would only tighten his grip more. He doesn’t want to lose—but what choice does he have?
He opens his mouth to tap out, to call Katsuki’s victory, when Katsuki laughs.
“Already quitting, Izuku? It hasn’t even been five minutes.”
Izuku clenches his teeth. The tendrils are pressing him into the floor, constraining the simplest of twitches, and his body heats with pressure. He’s never been on this side of his quirk before, and he understands now why villains give up so easily after Blackwhip binds them. It is unnerving the way it wraps and slithers over skin, over his muscles and joints, between his legs and—
Izuku swallows. Katsuki must not notice it, but one of the tendrils is inching its way up Izuku’s inner thigh, over his gym clothes toward his lower stomach. It drags dangerously close to a part of Izuku that should not be prodded during sparring. Especially around Katsuki.
“I can’t do anything else,” Izuku gasps with a flinch. He begins to panic when the tendril laps around his quad, under the curve of his glute muscles. “You win—”
He cannot finish the words. Suddenly, there is something prodding against his face, his mouth.
“You’re giving up? Huh. Didn’t take you for a wimp,” Katsuki smirks, redirecting the tendril on Izuku’s jaw to press between his lips.
What do I do, what do I do—Izuku squeaks as it enters his mouth.
“You think and talk too much,” Katsuki continues, oblivious to Izuku’s panicked flush. “My explosions won’t work unless you act impulsively. Trust your instincts to get out of a situation.”
Holy—Izuku cannot think straight, cannot do anything except feel the tendril brushing against his tongue and teeth. It tastes like static.
Katsuki scoffs when Izuku continues to lie pliantly beneath its control. “Come on, fight back!”
Completely against his better judgment, Izuku bites down.
Izuku startled and turned. Behind him, so close he could almost feel the heat from his proximity, Katsuki smirked. The grip on Izuku’s briefcase slipped, and he had to readjust before it clattered into the street.
Around them, the class groaned.
"Oh, come on!" Denki draped over Katsuki’s shoulder. His tilted smile grew as he glanced between them. "We just got Deku back on the playing field. Can't your little one-on-one wait until after celebratory drinks?"
Ochako, who'd been in the middle of congratulating Izuku before Katsuki's interruption, slipped into the conversation. "Exactly," she said, placing a hand on Izuku’s shoulder. A short, pink-tipped fingernail pointed straight at Katsuki. "We deserve to celebrate this together as a group. We haven't caught up in months! Your macho-e-macho match can wait."
Katsuki's eyes were calculating, and when Izuku only rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, his expression flickered.
"Fine," he said at last. "Drinks, but then we spar. I haven't had a decent challenge in eight God-damn years."
Somewhere to Katsuki’s left, Eijirou snorted. "Sorry none of us extras are good enough for ya."
It felt as if Izuku had tumbled through time, landing face-first in the world he thought had left him behind. Eight years of missed lunch appointments and irregular catch-ups, the sting he'd admantly ignored when his messages went unread... all of it was interrupted by a single, neatly-folded suitcase.
Izuku did not know whether to be relieved or saddened by the sudden familiarity.
Lunch was as extravagant as expected for a group of pro heroes. All Might chose to rent out a local grill, and the announcement of Hero Deku's return must have trickled through the city. By the end of their meal, journalists were crowded outside the windows, cameras and mics pointed inwards as if they could confirm the rumors through the walls.
Katsuki, who had claimed the seat beside Izuku, scoffed, finishing his drink in a single gulp. His cup hit the table loudly.
"Gatherin' like a pack of flies to shit," he murmured, eyeing the tinted windows.
Izuku smiled with a quiet chuckle. Katsuki, unlike a vast majority of his ex-classmates, had remained a constant in Izuku’s life. Despite the chaos of hero work and their mismatched schedules, he could depend on Katsuki's renewed friendship (or whatever title best described their tentative rivalry). Katsuki often planned lunches between their friend groups, even when everyone else would eventually cancel. He joined Izuku’s lectures almost weekly. Their messages, though texting was not Katsuki’s forté, never went unanswered.
Izuku’s fist tightened against the handle of his case beneath the table.
He hadn't forgotten All Might’s words. The entire class had pitched in for the suit---but especially Katsuki. He wondered, not for the first time, if he deserved it.
"Stop that," Katsuki said suddenly, elbowing Izuku in the ribs. "I can hear you overthinking."
Izuku jolted, raising his eyes to the rest of the table. Everyone, thankfully, was distracted with their own conversations.
"Sorry, just daydreaming again."
Katsuki squinted and leaned backward. "Uh huh." When Izuku didn’t say anything else, he continued. "I'm serious about sparring. As soon as we are out of here, meet me at Jeanist's agency. There's a gym we can use."
Despite his attempt at staying positive, Izuku frowned. "You must have really missed your punching bag, huh?"
He saw the surprise and hesitation on Katsuki’s face.
"The fuck?" Katsuki’s eyebrows drew down and inward. "You ain't my punching bag, dipshit. Thought we already established that."
Realizing his mistake, Izuku’s hands fluttered like startled birds between them. "Ah, bad joke! I--I didn’t mean it like that."
Katsuki schooled his expression. Little by little, like a curtain being drawn, it morphed into something neutral. "You really think I spent several years' worth of my salary on you, just because I want something to beat up again? Don’t kid yourself."
Izuku's shoulders sagged. "Sorry," he apologized.
"I know you're stressin' about something," Katsuki pushed on, waving over a waitress to refill his drink. "I can see the smoke rising from your ears. Why? Today was supposed to be... ya know. A party, or whatever."
Izuku flinched. Against his better judgment, he trusted Katsuki. "It's just... odd," he admitted quietly. "Tsu and Uraraka invited me out to drinks this weekend. Iida, Shoto, and some of the others want to see a movie with me tomorrow after work."
Katsuki lifted an eyebrow in response but did not interrupt. Izuku fidgeted with the breifcase.
"Before today, everyone always canceled on the stuff we had planned. I haven't seen anyone in so long." He dropped his eyes. "Why are they so eager to hang out now? Was being a hero all it took to be a part of their lives again?"
For a moment, Katsuki’s neutral expression splintered and slipped. He looked as if he would say something, but a loud voice cut in from down the table.
"Midoriya!"
Izuku looked up. Sero was leaning forward in his seat, jammed between Mina and Kaminari near the end of the table.
"Do you want any dessert? It's on us!"
Out of politeness, he almost accepted. However, before he could answer, something firm and hot wrapped around his forearm. Katsuki stood from his seat, yanking him up. Surprised, Izuku stumbled as he was dragged away from the group, and his briefcase clattered to the ground.
"Hey!" Mina was shouting behind them. "That’s not fair, Bakugou! We want more time with him!"
"He'll be back," Katsuki mumbled over his shoulder, just loud enough for the room. "We need to talk."
When Izuku glanced over his shoulder, his classmates and All Might were watching him curiously. Some, disappointed. He avoided meeting their eyes and turned to follow Katsuki’s back once more.
The empty bathroom was pristine and smelled of expensive cologne when they stumbled through the door. Katsuki pulled Izuku around to face him in front of the mirrors. Then, he dropped his arm.
"What's this about, Kacchan?" Izuku asked when Katsuki didn’t say anything. Katsuki seemed unable to look at Izuku, staring past him at a framed painting on the wall. His mouth twitched and twisted, forming and reforming words without voice.
Finally, he grunted.
"Don’t be mad," he said, and Izuku instantly prepared for the worst.
"Mad about what?"
Katsuki swallowed. "You shouldn't blame those extras for not hanging out with us."
Izuku felt his hackles rise, and he waited.
"They never meant to avoid you," Katsuki explained. "You not being a hero wasn’t the reason that they didn't show up to our plans. I... it was..." The uncertainty looked out of place on Katsuki, and it only left Izuku more paranoid.
"What do you mean, Kacchan?"
The toe of Katsuki's boot scuffed against the tile. "It was my fault, okay? I was lying." He swore loudly. "I told you that I would invite them to whatever we planned, but, uh, I never actually... invited them. They didn't know about any of our plans."
Whatever Izuku had been expecting---it was not this. Flabbergasted, he blinked as his jaw slowly dropped.
All of this time? Every week, for eight years? He wanted to interrogate Katsuki, felt himself sinking into an anger he hadn't felt in a long, long time.
Then, just as quickly, the guilt.
It was wrong to assume the worst of his friends---of course, they wouldn’t have purposefully avoided Izuku! Even if they missed his occasional texts, it shouldn't have been an indication that they'd forgotten about him altogether. How could he think so poorly of them?
More importantly, why did Katsuki feel the need to lie?
"Why?" he asked quietly after a moment.
Katsuki's face pinched. "I don’t know. I guess I thought that you wouldn’t show up if you knew it was only me."
Disbelief and anger grew. "Why would you assume that? You didn't need to lie to me! For eight years... all the times you told me they canceled... that's low, Kacchan, even for you."
The glare Katsuki cast at the floor could have melted marble. "I know. I didn’t expect---I had no idea that you would assume they didn't want to be around you."
"What else was I going to think?!" Tears bubbled in Izuku’s eyes, but he refused them to fall. "I thought that they'd all moved on. I never reached out to them after all the times you told me they canceled. I thought... I thought I was a burden by staying in touch."
"You were never a burden."
"How was I supposed to know that? I trusted you, Kacchan! I thought you were done with this... this bullying."
Katsuki flinched hard. Izuku almost felt bad enough to apologize again, but the words caught in his throat.
"I... I have to go," he said instead, turning for the door. He wiped his face with the sleeve of his work suit. "I have eight years' worth of explaining to do. I'm sure they hate me now."
Something was snapping in Izuku’s chest. Perhaps it was his heart.
Then, as he slid the bathroom door open, Katsuki grabbed him again.
"Wait," he said. When Izuku turned to glance at him over his shoulder, Katsuki had never looked more desperate. "I... I was embarrassed, alright? There's no good excuse. I was a fucking asshole. I was too embarrassed to ask you... that..."
The hand that wasn't holding Izuku’s arm brushed roughly through his blonde hair. Izuku squinted, willing his emotions to stay down.
"What, Kacchan?" Izuku demanded.
Katsuki groaned and swore under his breath. "Sometimes I just want you to myself, alright?!"
Surprise instantly replaced Izuku’s anger. Katsuki was flushed, but he pushed on confidently.
"I thought it'd be weird asking you to hang out with me alone. I was selfish and, fuck---I didn't want to split up our time between everyone. I already had to share with them throughout school. So when we started planning the lunches and game nights and bar trips, I made up the story that I invited them. Despite your obnoxious mumbling and self-deprecating comments, I fucking liked hanging out with you. By myself."
Izuku had nothing to say. His mind felt twisted in knots. If he pulled too hard to get it loose, he was sure he wouldn't be able to understand anything, ever again.
"I can admit---I'm oblivious as hell. I had no idea what you were feeling or that you were upset. I was too focused on what I wanted."
"What you wanted?" Izuku parroted dumbly.
Katsuki ducked his chin to his chest. "I've already embarrassed myself enough. I'm not repeating any of this shit. But... yeah. I wanted you to myself. I'm sorry for lying."
Izuku could not begin to comprehend his avalanche of thoughts. They froze him inside out.
Katsuki must have read something on Izuku’s face. His hand dropped, and he backed away. "You can leave, I won't stop you. If you don't want to... hang out anymore, I understand." Before Izuku could form an answer he tacked on, "I originally had every intention of inviting them out with us. But I just... enjoyed it too much."
There were a plethora of ways in which Izuku could respond. He could question Katsuki's sanity more, ask for clarification or demand that he explain everything to their friends. Despite the options, he very intelligently decided on, "Oh."
Shamefully, Katsuki sighed. "For what it's worth, I am sorry. I'm an oblivious ass. You can tell the others everything---I deserve whatever blame they throw my way. I think... I'll just leave. You don't have'ta talk to me."
Izuku almost let him go. If he was thinking more clearly, perhaps he would have.
However, as Katsuki's hero uniform brushed past him in the doorway, Izuku’s fingers instinctively reached out. They twisted in Katsuki’s back beltloop.
"Wait," he said, still utterly stupefied. He pulled on the beltloop, and Katsuki halted.
He could see how Katsuki's throat bobbed, how his shoulders hiked to his ears, reddish at their tips.
"I think I understand," Izuku began slowly, testing his words. "I never expected... this. I wish you would have told me sooner, but you have to know by now that I enjoy spending time with you, with or without the others."
Izuku’s heart was fluttering in his chest, lighter than a feather and equally as fragile. Katsuki swallowed again.
"I agree---you are hopelessly oblivious," Izuku continued. "You are the most selfish, most sensitive, and most dramatic person I know. You can be mean without realizing it. In spite of this, I am really, really grateful that you are a part of my life, Kacchan."
The pupils of Katsuki’s eyes expanded slowly as Izuku finished. Izuku felt as if he was floating in some subnautical abyss; he couldn’t believe that Katsuki would admit to something so personal. It came as no surprise that he'd be embarrassed about---dare Izuku believe it---wanting to be around Izuku. Alone.
(Izuku refused to read much more into that fact.)
Still, he wasn't used to the hesitancy. Katsuki was typically the first to voice his opinion, the quickest to tell the truth. Why would he be scared now?
Izuku tried to clear the dryness in his throat. "I've missed my friends, but I would have missed you the most. If anyone had to stay in contact with me, I'm glad it was you."
The redness on Katsuki’s ears brightened, though Izuku pretended to be ignorant.
"Do you still want to go to the gym?"
Katsuki blinked and blinked again. "Really?"
"Only if we invite the others to our outings every once in a while," Izuku bartered. "As much as I lo--like our one-on-ones, our friends deserve to be a part of our lives, too."
"You're forgiving me? Just like that?" Katsuki's lips pressed firmly together. "You have low fucking standards, Izuku."
"You have a lot to make up for," Izuku assured. "I am angry about you lying, but I can kind of understand. If I had known that you wanted to hang out more in school, I would have rearranged my entire schedule. You're just making up for lost time, right?"
A pause. Then, rubbing his face with his hand, Katsuki tilted his head up to the ceiling. "Out of this whole conversation, out of everything I've admitted, this is your conclusion? That I wanted more time with you to make up for school?"
Confused, Izuku stuttered. "I mean, isn't that what you said? What other reason would there be?"
Katsuki mumbled something else, too quiet for Izuku to hear. He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then exhaled before looking back down at Izuku.
Then, he flicked his forehead.
"Ouch!" Izuku rubbed the spot on his head, scowling. "What was that for?"
Katsuki only smirked and shrugged. He turned to leave the bathroom.
"Come on, let's go. I'm sure those idiots will strangle me if I keep you any longer."
Izuku ran to catch up.
"And then we spar?"
Katsuki huffed in amusement and cast him a playful gaze. "Sure. It's only fair that I get to see my investment in action."
(Pre-relationship obliviousness, immediately after anime ending when Izuku gets his suit.)
Izuku knows—surprisingly—exactly what’s about to happen. For a split second, he prepares his hands to push back, to fight against the sensations that have gotten him into more trouble than any villain, but as soon as his fingertips touch Katsuki’s chest, as soon as he feels Katsuki’s lips against his, that resolve crumbles completely.
Kacchan kisses him.
And now, it’s like the chains in his chest have been broken. There is nothing left but to fall deep into the experience—it’s vivid and all-encompassing, unfolding in crystal clear detail, every fractal of sensation bleeding into the next. Katsuki bites into his lip, and Izuku sighs.
A thread of panic pierces through the desire, and the back of Izuku’s head smashes into the wall when he tears himself away. He feels a violent blush burning over his face, cooling where Katsuki’s breath brushes against it. His lips are wet and swollen, trembling with each shallow inhale as he attempts to come down from the overwhelming astonishment.
His fingers dig into Katsuki’s chest, unsure whether to push or pull.
Katsuki leans further into them.
(Snippet from newest Ao3 work. Last chapter posted tomorrow. Explicit, quirk-accident.)
Katsuki is not sure how it starts, when his evasion exchanges for desperation, but reasoning it would be pointless; what’s the origin of the universe? How is dark matter formed? All the top scientists in the world could gather together to discuss Katsuki’s internal dilemma, and there would be no concrete answer. The trees are green, and Katsuki wants Izuku.
This is not how he thought he’d find out, but his tongue can’t be bothered to shape words of complaints about it.
He would think about it if he could—except when Izuku’s fingertips bunch in the front of his shirt and slowly back him against the edge of the bed, any feasible explanation promptly leaves his mind. He’s still stuck in a frozen bundle of panic (or, is it anticipation?) and Izuku is faring no better.
Their mouths move as if in a silent conversation, but neither of them know what to say.
At last, Katsuki breathes, “You are such a fucking tease.”
Katsuki can admit that he is oblivious to many things, especially when it comes to the desires and necessities of others. In his defense, he has never needed to look beyond his own reflection for a clear path to victory—he has never needed to rely on anyone else for his own successes. He does not heed the mundane glances Izuku shoots at him during class, or the occasional (boyish, sometimes inappropriate) compliments after training. Izuku can be weird, so what?
He is starting to think—maybe he should have paid more attention.
Katsuki has long since collapsed from his elbows to his back, burying his head into the pillows below, hands grasping at the sheets in an effort to ground himself within the moment. It’s not working very well...
(DkBk excerpt, obliviously and obsessively jealous Bakugou, Rated Explicit)
(Sad by the Ao3 shutdown)
Izuku’s body begins to jerk in oversensitivity. And yet, to Katsuki’s delight and amusement, he does not soften.
“K–Kacchan,” he groans.
He moves one leg, knee bending upward, and brackets Katsuki’s hip.
Unprompted images of last night come to the forefront of Katsuki’s mind. Izuku, sideways on the carpet, Keiko’s hand sweeping where it does not belong up his leg. The memory sparks something in Katsuki. His jaw tightens, his teeth grit together, and his nostrils flair.
In a viper-quick movement, he releases his hold on Izuku’s wrist and ducks his face to the junction of Izuku’s knee beside him. He bites on the inner skin. There’s a sound that’s similar to a yelp, startled from Izuku’s throat.
Before he can really think about his actions, his mouth travels up the thigh, tongue pressed against the spots he remembers Keiko’s hands. His lips drag along the skin, up the hinge of muscle, under the material of Izuku’s shorts. Izuku trembles at the action, his chest heaving, leaning his head back.
Katsuki’s other hand, having not left the other’s pants, tightens to the point where he can feel Izuku flinch, his body unsure if he should lean in or away from the touch.
“Kacchan,” Izuku calls again, more insistent.
The sounds of their bodies moving together grow sharper, more pronounced, as Katsuki seems to find a purpose. He doesn’t like those memories, he doesn’t like the reminder of Keiko’s hands claiming possession of Izuku’s body. They have no shame, they have no regret, and Katsuki wants…
