Shooting Stars

by imnotpoppunk

Summary:

"Don't know, but people go crazy for him. He's vulgar and rude and doesn't care what people think of him. And his songs are really catchy," Denki explains. Izuku isn't sure about that last part, but whatever.

 

 

Izuku doesn't have to like the music in order to take pictures of the musician.

--

Photographer Izuku is dropped from his publication when he gets into a social media feud with pop sensation, Katsuki, over an unflattering photo. Out of spite, he then takes a job offer from a trashy, but well-known, tabloid magazine. It's not his dream job, but he'll definitely be able to get his revenge on the singer by taking paparazzi photos and getting paid for it.

Maybe it'll blow up in his face. Maybe not.

Notes:

welcome to my new chaptered fic! I plan on this being a long one!

buckle in!

And as a reminder: I write for fun because I want to share this story with people who may also like it. I am not looking for critique or negativity.

Chapter 1: Setting the Stage

Izuku can’t help the way he beams with pride when he flashes his press pass at the ticket booth. The girl running the booth checks her list and nods that he’s good to go. Excitement buzzes in his chest as he clears the gates and looks around. 

He’s never been to a festival quite this big before. Usually when Izuku's on the job, he's taking photos for indie bands and going to local punk rock shows at dive bars. 

So landing a job like this is huge. He never imagined he'd get the opportunity to take photos for a global entertainment publication like Plus Ultra.

"Hey! Don't run off yet," Shouto says, catching up to him. Izuku spins around and grins. 

"I'm not! I'm just taking it all in," he explains, eyes darting as Denki joins them. Another perk of working for Plus Ultra is that they were able to get him a couple of comp tickets for his friends. 

Of course he'll be working, so he can't really hang out with them. But it's still pretty neat. 

"Who do you have first?" Denki asks. "Because I really need to get barricade for Jirou Kyouka." 

"Good luck with that, I'm sure it's already packed," Izuku laughs as he fishes the folded-up list out of his pocket. He knows several of the bands on his list for earlier in the day -bands the publication is specifically requesting him to get photos of. "First are the Wild Wild Pussycats." 

"Oh man they're so weird," Denki says. 

"I've heard they're good live," Shouto shrugs. 

"They are! I've seen them a couple times I think," Izuku says. 

"Of course you have, who in that list have you not seen live?" Denki teases, snatching the list from him. Izuku huffs and reaches for him to hand it over. 

"Probably none of the bigger acts, but I doubt they're my assignments anyway," he says, just as Denki's eyes start to widen. 

"What? What is it?" 

Denki holds up the paper and jabs a finger at the very last slot. "You're shooting for Katsuki. Like, the fucking headliner."  

"Oh," Izuku says, grimacing at the sheet. "I'm not sure if I even know anything about him." 

"I'm sure you've heard him before," Denki insists. "He's always posting wild shit and he's got like, what? Four songs on the radio right now?"

"Hmm, maybe. I don't listen to a lot of pop music," Izuku sighs, but he still looks out of curiosity when Shouto holds up his phone. 

It's on Katsuki's social media profile, 1.2 million followers, blue checkmark and all. Maybe he is a bit of a celebrity.

The first photo in his feed is one of him dressed only in a towel and sitting on the hood of one of his million-dollar sports cars. 

"Oh yikes," Izuku says. He's never been a fan of celebrities who like to flaunt their wealth. "What's the point of that?" 

"Don't know, but people go crazy for him. He's vulgar and rude and doesn't care what people think of him. And his songs are really catchy," Denki explains. Izuku isn't sure about that last part, but whatever. 

Izuku doesn't have to like the music in order to take pictures of the musician. 

"I heard that when he dropped his most recent album, he took a video of himself blowing it up with a stick of dynamite. You know, because it's called Dynamight," Shouto says, nudging him. "That's pretty clever I think." 

"That's ridiculous actually," Izuku scoffs. 

Well, maybe he doesn't have to like the person either. 

Shouto slips the phone back into his pocket and mentions that he and Denki are going to head off to find a good spot for the band they want to see. That leaves Izuku with just a few minutes to head to his first assignment. 

It's going to be a long day, but he's ready for it. 

-

Or maybe he's not. 

By the time evening rolls around, Izuku is ready to pass out. He's been on his feet all day- so he's tired, sweaty and gross. 

But he still has one more act to shoot, and that's the mononymous Katsuki. 

The guy seems like a piece of work based on everything Shouto and Denki have told him. And when he gets into the photo pit, he already feels a bit more out of his element. He personally witnesses not one but two instances of security guards breaking up fights over "blocking views" at the barricade. 

Denki was right, people really do go crazy for him. 

Some distorted electronic riff blares over the speakers and the crowd shrieks. Izuku does his best to just focus on his viewfinder. 

But then Katsuki struts out onto center stage wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt and orange cowboy boots. It's not the outfit that's shocking so much as it is his legs. For a moment, Izuku makes the mistake of letting himself notice how long, lean and muscular they are. 

And how he's so much taller in person. 

Ah, crap! It doesn't matter! Why is Izuku even looking?

"What's up, motherfuckers?!" Katsuki shouts at the crowd and everyone screams as if being addressed as a motherfucker is something worth being excited about. 

Despite the way he acts, Izuku can’t help but notice the way that Katsuki has full command of the stage. He struts around, holding his microphone with this incredible air of confidence as he begins to sing. 

Izuku snaps several photos. He hates the songs, but he loves the way that Katsuki moves. He’s so . . . interesting that Izuku can’t help but be taken with him. Every movement, though rehearsed, seems so natural to him. Maybe he’s been performing for a long time, or he’s just a natural. Either way, he’s very comfortable in his own skin. 

After the set is over, Izuku dips out of the photo pit as soon as he can to avoid the crowds. Denki and Shouto had texted him a meet-up location so they could regroup and catch the train home together. 

“Hey!” He says when he finally locates them. His ears are still ringing and his entire body is sore from standing all day, but it’s a great feeling in its own weird way. 

“Holy shit, dude, what was it like being so close?!” Denki asks, gripping him by the shoulders. Izuku blinks, gripping the straps of his camera bag tighter around his shoulders. 

“Close to who?” he asks. 

“Uh, Katsuki? You should have seen that crowd, we could barely see the stage we were so far back,” he groans. 

“It was like watching a small ant of a person,” Shouto confirms. Izuku sighs as they start walking towards the station, thinking of how exactly to word his experience of watching Katsuki through his lens. 

“It was . . . Well, he's really something, that's for sure," he muses.

“Really? Is that all you have to say?” 

“What? It’s true! I don’t like his music, and he seems like a diva, but he’s a great performer. I can give him that,” Izuku says. 

“I can’t believe that,” Denki says, shaking his head. “I think he’s cool. I’ve had Dynamight on repeat since it dropped.” 

“Ew, why?” Izuku scoffs. “It’s all just electronic, marketed garbage.” 

“One man’s electronic garbage is another man’s favorite song,” Shouto says, and Izuku has to roll his eyes. 

“That was almost clever,” Denki tells him. 

“Whatever, I’ve just never been a fan of pop music . . . it doesn’t evoke the same amount of emotion for me. I’d much rather listen to something raw and unedited than something mass produced,” Izuku explains. “And I totally get why other people like it, it’s just not for me.”

They pause their conversation for a moment, so that they can enter the station and board the train. 

“I want to see the pictures,” Denki says once they’re seated. Izuku nods and pulls his camera bag into his lap so that he can go through what he has on the camera’s preview screen. 

“I literally took over a thousand pictures today,” he sighs, quickly thumbing through until he gets to the photos of Katsuki. 

“That’s so fucking cool,” Denki marvels as he peers over Izuku’s shoulder. Izuku nods as they go through them, his confidence starting to waver as he realizes how much he has to go through and edit before he sends them all in. “Holy shit, look at this one.” 

Denki jabs a finger towards the screen, careful not to touch it. He knows that Izuku is very protective of his camera. 

Izuku stops at the picture in question and squints. 

In this one, Katsuki is on his knees, belting into the microphone in his hands. It’s kind of cool because it looks like he’s screaming. His eyes are screwed shut, his mouth as wide as it can go. The black eyeliner around his eyes really emphasizes the intensity there. Up close, it's so messy and smudged from sweat.

“He’s really into it in this one,” Izuku comments, staring at it some more. He’s glad Denki stopped him because holy shit it’s quickly becoming his favorite. Now this! This is passion. It’s exactly what Izuku strives to capture in all of his photos. 

“Dude, not that,” Denki snorts. “ Look.”

He points again and Izuku follows the path of his finger to . . . oh. 

With the way that he’s kneeling, that oversized t-shirt he was wearing rides up a little, and the strap of his underwear is visible, stretching across his hip. 

“Does that count as a wardrobe malfunction?” Shouto asks. Izuku shrugs. 

“I mean, from what you have told me, it seems like it might have been intentional. He wasn’t wearing any pants for a reason, I’m sure,” he hums. 

“Yeah, it’s called fashion,” Denki reminds him. 

“Well it looked like he forgot to finish getting dressed,” Izuku retorts, giving Denki a small smile. Even though they don’t always agree on things when it comes to pop culture, he really does enjoy the banter he can share with his friends. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll give you that,” he laughs. “When do you have to turn these in?” 

Izuku slumps back in his seat and groans. 

“By five a.m.,” he explains. 

“Oh, gross, that’s a ridiculous window, isn’t it?” Shouto asks. 

“Not for how much they’re paying me,” Izuku says, reminding himself why he agreed to this assignment in the first place. Plus Ultra is compensating him very well for his time or lack thereof. And typically Izuku likes to edit very minimally anyway. 

All he needs is a few more cups of coffee and he’ll be fine. 

As soon as he gets back to his apartment, he heads to his computer desk and curls up in his chair, ready to work. He’s exhausted, but it’s worth it. He tells himself that it’s all perfect anyway, because he wouldn’t be able to sleep after so much excitement! 

It’s a painstaking process, but he organizes all of the bands and artists into folders and adds all of the best shots from each. He’s aware of what they’re looking for - shots for the cover of their next magazine edition. Shots that can go on their website - flashy, eye-catching. 

Some decisions are harder than others, and the hardest to make by far is when he gets to the photo he’d found on the train. Izuku finds himself saving it for last and staring at it. 

On one hand, it's not very flashy or glamorous. But on the other hand, it's gritty and it's real and it's different . Maybe they'll like that? 

For a moment he contemplates whether or not the underwear thing will be an issue. But then he quickly throws that idea out the window when he remembers he wears far less in most of his social media posts. 

Seriously, it's like the guy is clothing-averse or something! 

Finally, he adds the photo to the folder and sits back in his chair. When he tries to blink, his eyes are so dry that they sting. The last thing he has to do is send them all over to Plus Ultra and he can call it a night! 

Or a morning. 

He is turning it in with with only an hour to spare, after all. 

He's exhausted both mentally and physically, but he's satisfied. 

--- 

Two hours later, Izuku jolts awake. Crap! He fell asleep at his desk again. 

It doesn't help the fact that he'd already felt like he had been hit by a bus. 

As he painfully makes the transition from his computer chair to his bed, he grabs his phone to check his email. His stomach drops into a pit when he sees one new one from Plus Ultra.

It's a very simple, straight-forward email. They chose what they were taking for their publication and indicated which ones they were rejecting. 

Among the rejects is his favorite shot of Katsuki. 

His heart sinks.

Maybe he had been giving the publication too much credit. Of course they wouldn't want something like that. 

They want a photo where Katsuki looks flawless and glamorous so that they can continue to play a role in constructing his public image. 

It sours Izuku’s mood a bit, and his lack of restful sleep only exacerbates that feeling. 

Well, if they don't want it, the photo still belongs to Izuku, and he can do whatever he wants with it. 

So, out of spite (and hurt pride), he opens up a new social media post and uploads the picture. 

[@Midoriya_Photography: Music isn't about the costumes or the make up or how much money you make. It's about the way music makes us feel. It's raw and it's powerful. ]

And then he tags Katsuki in it. Not that he'll ever see it. 

With that out of his system, he's finally able to just toss his phone aside and roll over into his bed. Now that he's comfortable, he's sure to sleep for hours. 

And he does sleep for hours. Twelve more hours to be exact. Which is honestly even more disorienting than not having enough sleep. Izuku stretches and sits up, grabbing his phone to check the time. 

As he stares at his lock screen, it takes him a moment to process the sheer number of notifications he has. Social media, emails, text messages, missed phone calls. 

What the heck? 

He heads to his call log first because his first and most panicked thought is oh shit, someone must have died! But then he sees that most of the missed calls are from Plus Ultra and a private number. 

He's got at least twenty unread messages between Shouto and Denki. But the biggest source of activity comes from social media, and as soon as he clicks through to the post he finds out why. 

The top comment on the photo is from a user with a little verified checkmark next to their name. 

[@katsuki: take this shit down right now I look ugly as fuck ]

Izuku stares at the comment, struggling to process it at first. Because first of all, he never expected the singer to even see the post. Let alone comment something so . . . Rude.

His entire face pulls downward into a frown as his frustration begins to build. Because what the hell? Why should he take it down? 

[@Midoriya_Photography: I will not be taking it down. I think it's a great photo. A musical performance shouldn't be about looking good. It's about PASSION and EMOTION.]

He groans loudly and then switches back to his texts with Denki. As expected, he's freaking out because he had seen Katsuki's comment. 

Izuku to Denki : I replied! What a rude person honestly. 

Before he can move onto the next thing, he gets another notification. 

From Katsuki. Ugh. 

[@katsuki: you can take ur fake ass bullshit and shove it. Take it down or I'll take you down.] 

What the fuck? 

[@Midoriya_Photography: is that a threat????]

The audacity of this guy! He probably thinks he can just say whatever the hell he wants because he's famous! It makes Izuku’s blood boil.

The next response comes through even more quickly. 

[@katsuki: ITS NOT A THREAT ITS A PROMISE U FCKN NERD.] 

Oh. 

What.

Izuku knows he shouldn't let himself get this worked up over social media drama, but this one is really getting to him for whatever reason. Maybe it's because he really truly loves that photo and it hurts his pride a little that Katsuki hates it. 

But also Katsuki is clearly an asshole. 

Finally, he goes back to his call log and just as he does, his phone starts to ring with yet another call from Plus Ultra. He sighs and answers it. 

"Hello?" 

"Midoriya! Hi there, we've been trying to call you all day," a voice says. He's not sure who it is. 

"Sorry about that! I've been sleeping," he says, opting not to add in the fact that he'd been up all night for them. So, sorry he's tired? He stays cordial of course. "Is everything okay?" 

"Well, not really. See, Plus Ultra is a well respected publication in the music industry. In light of recent events, we would like to end our professional relationship with you as a photographer," she continues, and as she does Izuku can feel his entire body go numb. 

"What?" Is all he can manage to say. 

"We will of course still honor the contract we just completed with you - your stipend is in the mail! Please do not contact Plus Ultra after this phone call," she says. 

And then hangs up. 

Izuku is left staring at his phone, speechless. 

This is because of his argument with Katsuki? What the hell? Well if he wasn't pissed before . . . Now, he‘s livid.  

Who the heck does Katsuki think he is drumming up drama and getting Izuku fired?! Of course, Katsuki is a fucking celebrity so he can do whatever he wants and still have a job at the end of the day! It's this kind of special treatment for artists as big as Katsuki that Izuku hates most. 

And it fuels him. 

Maybe he's being too petty. 

But he's mad!

So he goes back into his computer and finds the photos of Katsuki's set that he didn't even bother to edit- blurry shots, unflattering facial expressions, pictures where he's blinking- and he uploads as many as he can.

And then he turns off notifications. 

He calls Denki next. 

"Dude, what the hell is happening with your page?" Kaminari gets right to the point, not even bothering with a greeting. 

"I snapped," Izuku admits. 

"You had a conversation with Katsuki," he points out, as if it's an accomplishment. Izuku rolls his eyes. 

"Yeah, and it got me fired," he scoffs, the word rolling uncomfortably from his mouth. He's still trying to process this Rollercoaster of events. 

"Shit! Really?" 

" Plus Ultra just called and said they don't want to work with me anymore," Izuku elaborates, feeling his anger start to rise again. "It's not fair! I worked so hard to get that job and now it's getting taken away just because a pop star doesn't like me?!" 

"That's fucked man, I'm sorry," Denki apologizes. Izuku sighs and shakes his head. 

"So then I snapped and posted more photos," Izuku says. 

"Yeah, I can see that," he mutters. "Katsuki posted about you." 

"He did what? Why does he care so much?" Izuku groans. "I can't have been the first person to ever post a photo of him that he doesn't like. This is ridiculous right?"

"Yeah, well, I guess this one caught his attention. That's the algorithm for ya," Denki laughs. Izuku just groans, not sure how to contain his ever-growing frustration with the situation. 

He goes to pull the phone away so he can see the post in question, but as he does, his phone beeps with an incoming call from that private number again. 

"Sorry I'll call you right back," he tells Denki before switching over. He clicks the new call and presses the phone to his ear again. "Hello?" 

"Hey! Midoriya?" 

The voice belongs to a very loud and cheerful sounding woman. 

"Yes? Who is calling?" 

"Hi there, nice to finally get a hold of you! I would love to make you an offer." 

"An offer? For what? Who is this?" He asks again, wildly confused. Actually he's about to hang up because the vague wording makes her sound suspiciously like a telemarketer. 

"My name is Ashido Mina and I'm representing UA-Z. I'm sure you've heard of us," she says, smugly. Izuku blinks. 

Yeah he's heard of them, all right. 

UA-Z is a popular tabloid magazine that has a reputation for publishing trashy paparazzi photos and calling it journalism. Izuku rolls his eyes. 

"I don't want to be interviewed," he says, certain that they're calling to get a comment on his "feud" with Katsuki. If you could even call it that. 

"Oh, I don't want an interview," Ashido laughs. "I want to offer you a job." 

Izuku nearly chokes. "Excuse me, what?" 

"Well, I can see you're good with a camera, you have a knack for calling out pop stars on their bullshit, and I'm sure you were just fired by Plus Ultra."

"How do you know that?" Izuku asks. 

"Because I know how they operate. They don't like conflict and treat celebrities like they're untouchable gods. We don't operate that way here. Celebrities don't deserve special treatment," she assures him. And Izuku can tell that she's just playing into his own beliefs to try and persuade him. 

But he's curious. 

And still angry. 

So he'll bite. 

"All you do is post celebrities doing stuff that normal people do every day," he points out. "I'm sorry but I don't want to take pictures of movie stars getting groceries." 

"Ah yeah because we're pushing the agenda that celebrities are human too! Just like us! It's great," she laughs. It's ridiculous and he doesn't have the energy to dive deep into his thoughts on why that is so not accurate or the message they give off to their readers. 

"I'm sorry, I think I'll have to pass." 

"Even if I said I'd like to specifically assign you Katsuki? You don't have to do any of the leg work. We do the snooping, you get the pics and then it's payday! Easy as pie. What do you say?" She pauses for a minute and then adds, "And just so you know, we have one of the best legal teams in the country. Think about it, Midoriya. We'd love to have you." 

Maybe Izuku's fatal flaw is that he acts on emotions alone far too often. Or, who knows? Maybe it's his best quality. 

Either way, it's the part of him that kicks in and tells him that no he doesn't need to think about it. 

"Okay, I'll do it." 

As they say, when one door closes another one opens. 

He just has to hope this open door isn't a huge mistake. 

Chapter 2: STUPID

Summary:

Katsuki's nostrils flare as he scrolls through the shitty nerd's page. His eyebrows furrow deeper and deeper with every blurry, crappy photo of himself he passes. 

What the fuck is his problem? 

---

In which Izuku and Katsuki finally meet face-to-face

Katsuki's nostrils flare as he scrolls through the shitty nerd's page. His eyebrows furrow deeper and deeper with every blurry, crappy photo of himself he passes. 

What the fuck is his problem? 

All Katsuki did was tell him to fucking take it down, and instead of just doing it, the idiot decided to go on some preachy soap box spiel about music and shit. Does he know who he’s fucking talking to? Katsuki knows more about music than this guy does- he’s sure of it. 

“Ooh, what are ya doing? You look angry.” 

Katsuki glares up from his phone as Camie enters the room with a cup of tea. She makes herself comfortable on the other side of the couch and stares at him, waiting for an answer. 

“That annoying photographer,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. 

“Is he still going off?” she asks, pursing her lips to blow on the hot liquid. Katsuki nods and goes back to scrolling. “Ugh, babe, I don’t know why you’re letting this get to you. It’s just some silly wannabe photog. Not worth your time.” 

He knows that she’s right, and he knows that as his best friend she always tells it like it is. But he still couldn’t help but be bothered by the photo. Maybe he could have scrolled past it, like he does with the thousands of other photos he gets tagged in. 

But this particular one got noticed by someone else first. 

He’d just been sitting next to his manager at breakfast, scrolling through his feed when she happened to glance over. 

“Ugh, you’ve got tan lines on your thighs. I thought I told Hana to even that out.”

And then he just couldn’t get it out of his head. The stupid ass tanlines and her stupid ass comments. It’s always something with her - his hair’s a mess, his clothes are ugly, he must have skipped the gym this week. 

So maybe he snapped and this no-name photographer got the brunt of it. 

But the way he responded was so fucking pretentious and annoying that now he’s pissed at this guy, too. 

“Who the fuck even is this guy?” he scoffs, scrolling back up to the top of the page. It’s a photography account, and beyond the mess of awful pictures of Katsuki, it’s just a collection of photographs of bands and musicians. Not a single picture of the guy himself. Heh. He’s probably a loser, anyway. 

“Oh shit, he’s hot,” Camie says, and Katsuki immediately looks up again to see that she’s on her phone now, too. 

“What? How do you know?” 

“Because I snooped. He’s got a personal page, too,” she says. “It’s zuzumidoriya9 if you wanna look him up.” 

“Tch, why would I want to do that?” 

Camie smirks. “Because I just said he was hot, and now I bet you’re curious.” 

“Fuck you,” he scoffs, and types the username into the search bar. He clicks and it brings him to a page with significantly fewer blurry photos of Katsuki’s face. Actually, there are hardly any photos to begin with. 

He can’t help but stare a little at the most recent photo. This guy - Midoriya Izuku or whatever - appears to be his age, with green hair and freckles. In this photo in particular, he’s sitting on the curb of a sidewalk outside of a small concert venue, holding his camera in his lap. It looks like the photo was almost candid, like someone meant to snap a picture of him looking at his camera, but then at the last moment he looked up and flashed this dumb smile. 

Katsuki clenches his jaw as he stares at the photo, analyzing it. 

“He’s okay,” he says, not willing to admit anything past that. He’s not going to call someone he hates hot. Midoriya Izuku does not deserve that kind of a compliment. So, no, he’s not ugly, but he sure as hell looks like a douche bag. 

“Yeah, sure, liar,” Camie chuckles. “He’s a cutie, and you know it.” 

“Shut up, fuck,” he groans, slouching back against the couch even more and kicking his feet up. Just as he starts to get comfortable, he hears the bell to the elevator ding from across his penthouse apartment. Almost immediately, he sits up and sets the phone down on the coffee table. The sound of high heels clacking against the tiled floor echoes through the halls. 

“She sounds pissed,” Camie whispers, also noticing the cadence of her stomps.    

“What the fuck is it now?” Katsuki mutters under his breath, frowning when his manager finally steps into the living room and makes an appearance. 

“Katsuki, we are royally fucked and it’s all your fault,” Mitsuki says, hands on her hips as she wastes no time before barreling in with baseless accusations. 

“What are you talking about?” he groans as Mitsuki crosses her arms over her chest and scowls. 

“You went and started shit with some random person online, that’s what I’m talking about,” she points out. 

“So? I start shit with people all the time, leave me alone,” Katsuki responds, rolling his eyes. 

“Yeah, well this is different.” 

“How?!” 

“Because you threw a goddamned fit about that picture and insisted that we take legal action to get it removed,” she says, her lips twisted into a scowl. Katsuki narrows his eyes in her direction. “And we did, thinking this was some random fucker who’d get scared off by a cease and desist but no. That son of a bitch just signed with UA-Z.”

“Holy shit,” Camie snorts. Mitsuki shoots her a disapproving look before turning back to Katsuki to continue reaming him out. 

“So now, we’re going to mediation over a fucking picture. I hope you’re happy, you brat,” she sneers. 

“Over the moon with joy,” he mutters sarcastically. Katsuki does not want to validate her frustrations - it’s her own damn fault any of this happened in the first place. Apparently neither of them know how to shut up when they need to. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, or whatever. 

His manager may technically be his mother, but she seems to assume the latter role less and less over the years. So he’s stopped addressing her as such. 

“Whatever, get dressed,” she barks. 

“What? Why?” 

“Did you not just hear me? We have a mediation to get to. I have a car out front, so go put on something nice,” she instructs. He glances over at Camie who just shrugs back at him. “Come on, Katsuki, get a move on.” 

“Fine, I’m going!” Katsuki says, exasperated. He rolls off of the couch and stomps away down the hall to his bedroom. While he’s tempted to wear something ridiculous, he’s not in the mood for another spat with Mitsuki, so he throws on a simple t-shirt and a pair of dress pants. 

As he checks himself in the mirror, a thought crosses his mind that leaves him feeling a little uneasy. 

Is that nerd gonna be there? 

__

“So you know that cease and desist letter you brought in this morning?” Ashido asks Izuku. He stops what he’s doing to look up at her and nod. “Cool, so I sent it over to our legal team, and they’ve requested a mediation.”

“Excuse me what?!” Izuku shrieks, just as he finishes signing a stack of paperwork. He’s sitting across from Ashido at a conference table at UA-Z headquarters, now officially a member of their scummy paparazzi team. He doesn’t feel great about this decision, but he also doesn’t regret it. 

Not yet, anyway. 

He’s already pretty close to it, now that Ashido is dropping this bomb on him. 

“Oh relax, it’s not like, an actual lawsuit or anything,” she says, brushing it off like it’s nothing. It definitely doesn’t feel like nothing to Izuku. “But they sent you a cease and desist, and if you really want to stick it to them, you gotta bring it to mediation.” 

“I don’t know what any of that means,” Izuku groans, his stomach churning. Is it bad? It sounds pretty bad. 

“Don’t worry! They sent it to scare you off and make you feel like you have to take it down.Total intimidation tactic. But, if we bring it to mediation, it’s not going to go any further than that. They have no leg to stand on. Katsuki is about as public as public figures can get.” 

"Um, okay?" Izuku says, nodding. He at least knows that. Katsuki is a public figure and the photo was taken at a public event. They can't sue him over a photo. "So then why are you taking it to mediation?" 

He winces, unsure if he's even using the verbiage correctly. 

"Because Katsuki's management team is a nightmare and they deserve to feel stupid for this one," Ashido says, with a wink. Izuku just stares, not sure what to say. "Sorry, sorry! It's your first day, I should go easy on you. But in all seriousness, we believe in doing everything to protect our employees and to stick it to the man or whatever . . . But there are certain lines you cannot cross. Or we can't help you." 

Izuku nods, eyeing the stapled handbook Ashido had given him that still lays out on the desk with the rest of his paperwork. There's a section in there somewhere about the legalities of certain things. Maybe Izuku will read it later. 

“Anyway, let me take a look at all this,” she says, sliding the stacks of papers towards her. She thumbs through them quickly to make sure he’s signed everything that he needs to and then sticks her hand out across the table. “Good to go! Welcome to the team, Midoriya!” 

He smiles and shakes her hand. 

“Thank you,” he says, and he can’t place a finger on why, but he’s nervous. Everything is happening so fast and he’s not sure which way is up anymore. 

“Of course! Now why don’t you come with me and I’ll show you to your desk,” she says, nodding towards the door of the conference room. He agrees and follows her out down a hallway and up an elevator until she arrives at a row of cubicles and leads him down to what he assumes will be his own. 

Izuku stops and stares at the empty cubicle. Or well, empty isn’t exactly the best word to describe it. There are file folders stuffed with papers scattered across the desk. His nose turns up at the photos of Katsuki pinned to the wall. 

“Sorry, this stuff is all just here from the last person we had following Katsuki. She couldn’t handle the job,” Ashido sighs, shaking her head. 

“What do you mean?” 

“It’s a high-stress job, right? You don’t want to get caught especially since Katsuki is not known to be fond of us over here,” she grins. Izuku blinks, not having thought of that. But it makes sense. If he was that pissed over a photo that Izuku posted from a concert, he can’t imagine the pop star being too thrilled about paparazzi photos. 

He shivers as the word paparazzi slides through his mind. 

Is this really what his life has come to? Becoming the exact kind of photographer that he hates? It’s fine, though, he tells himself. This is different because Izuku is not like these other people here. He’s not obsessed with stalking celebrities and he doesn’t actually give a shit about what they’re doing with their personal lives. 

His eyes flicker to the young woman in the cubicle that neighbors his. She wears a bright pink gaming headset and has her knees pulled up to her chest as she clicks through photos on her screen. 

“This is Uraraka,” Ashido says, catching his gaze. She knocks loudly against the wall of the girl’s space and Izuku watches as she jumps and scrambles to remove her headset. She spins in her chair to face them and gives them a flustered smile. 

“Sorry! I was really focused!” she apologizes. 

“I could see that! And we love that,” Ashido says, sweetly. “Whatcha got for us today, Ura?” 

“Oh! Um, here, this morning I saw Nejire-Chan getting coffee and oh my gosh, she looked so pretty! It’s amazing, right? Man, I wish I looked that beautiful in sweatpants!” she laughs, and then spins back to look at her computer, beaming with admiration for the supermodel in question. “ALSO I forgot - look!” 

She zooms in on her hand, revealing what looks to be a shiny silver ring. 

“Is that what I think it is?!” Ashido exclaims. 

“I think so! They’ve been dating forever! It’s about time!” 

“Why didn’t you lead with this! Get it to publishing immediately,” Ashido exclaims. “Engagements, babies, breakups - these are all breaking news.” 

“Are they though?” Izuku asks, wincing. “It sounds kind of personal.” 

Uraraka and Ashido both look up at him at the same time, like they’re waiting for some sort of punchline. And then Uraraka laughs anyway. 

“Oh, you must be the new guy!” she says, as if that makes a difference. New or old, Izuku would never get caught up in this sort of stuff. 

“Yep! This is Midoriya, he’s tailing Katsuki, and he’ll be your neighbor,” she says, patting him on the back between the shoulders. 

“Oh! So cool! Katsuki’s really mean, though, so you gotta be quick,” she says, as if she knows. Her eyebrows knit together for a moment. “I used to have him and once he caught me and threw an ice cream cone at my head.” 

“Oh my god,” Izuku says, eyes going wide with concern as she just waves it away. 

“It’s fine, really, it was pretty tasty, actually,” she says. Izuku just swallows and nods. He doesn’t like judging people based on the first meeting. (Even though he does it a lot.) But he can already tell that he has nothing in common with this girl. 

“Alright, well, Midoriya here has a mediation to get to, so he can’t talk,” Ashido suddenly says, and Izuku nearly chokes. 

“Wow, already?” she blinks, and then gasps. “Oh, wait! I do know you! You’re that guy that got into that argument with Katsuki, aren’t you?! Holy crap, that was so crazy!” 

“Ah, yeah, it was - hey what do you mean I have a mediation to get to?” he says, swerving away from Uraraka’s question to address Ashido’s insinuation. 

“I told you already!” 

“And it’s today?!” 

“Yep, things move fast around here, get used to it,” she says, clapping her hands together. She gives Uraraka a smile, a thumbs-up, and a “You’re doing great sweetie,” before nudging Izuku back out of the cubicle space. 

“When is this mediation?” Izuku asks, anxiety bubbling in his chest. 

“In an hour, you’ve got time to get yourself composed, okay?” she says, then in a more serious tone adds, “ Please use it to get composed. I do not want you freaking out, it will only make things worse for you.” 

Yes, because anytime he’s been told to not freak out really helps. Not. 

“O-okay,” he mumbles. 

“So get some air, take lunch, whatever you have to do- do not bring this energy into the meeting. You won’t be doing any of the talking anyway, we just need you to be there. We’ll be in conference room 6.” 

And then she struts away to her own office, leaving him standing in the middle of the hallway on his own, wondering just what the hell he’s going to do. 

It definitely seems too late to turn back now. 

But he decides to take Ashido’s advice and leaves the building for a bit. He’ll need fresh air and food and really any sort of distraction he can manage for the time being. 

There’s a little coffee shop next door to UA-Z headquarters, so he tries that first. He walks in and stands in line, scrutinizing the list of coffee concoctions they have to offer. Twice whipped mocha swirl - what?

He gets to the counter and lets out a big sigh. 

“I would like a regular, normal cup of coffee, please,” he asks. The guy behind the register gives him a tired look. 

“So . . . black coffee?” he asks. 

“Yes, thank you,” he sighs, and ignores the way that the cashier shakes his head. He pays for his drink and then takes it to a small booth in the back of the cafe. It’s not too busy for this time of day, but Izuku is thankful for it. The lack of commotion gives him time to breathe. 

But he’s apparently a masochist, so he takes out his phone and goes to Katsuki’s profile, only to scoff when he gets to it. 

You are blocked from viewing this user’s posts. 

He rolls his eyes, but then smirks because he’s got his personal account, too. With a couple of clicks, he switches over to that one and goes back to Katsuki’s page - 

You are blocked from viewing this user’s posts. 

Izuku’s jaw hangs open. 

How would he know to block his personal account, too? Unless he dug through and stalked him to find his personal account. His stomach flips over and he’s not quite sure what it means. On one hand, it’s a little morbidly satisfying to know he’s gotten under Katsuki’s skin that much. But it’s also infuriating. 

Izuku drinks his coffee and sends a screenshot of the page to his group chat with Shouto and Denki. 

Izuku: lol im blocked???

He finishes the coffee and still has some time to kill, so he heads to the restroom. As he passes, he notices a bit of a commotion at the front door of the shop, but he shrugs it off. Maybe there’s a lunch rush or something? 

Anyway, he heads to the bathroom. It’s a single-stall bathroom, which Izuku is pleased to find has been well-cleaned. He stands in front of the toilet and sighs as he begins to relieve himself. 

And then suddenly the bathroom door flies open and slams shut as someone else enters, clearly not noticing that he’s already in here! 

“Crap! Wait, I’m in here!” he shouts at the person as he struggles to shield his dick and also not make a mess of himself. 

“Shut the fuck up,” the person hisses. There’s something eerily familiar about the guy’s voice but Izuku can’t quite place it until he zips himself up and turns around. The intruder is still holding the bathroom door shut, like he’s keeping something out. 

He’s tall and slender, dressed in nice shoes and pants, but then dons a black sweatshirt with the hood up over his head. 

Finally, he takes a deep breath and steps away from the door, seeming satisfied that it’s securely shut. Maybe Izuku should have done the same when he first got in. 

But then the man turns around too, and the dots start to connect as he realizes where he’s heard this man’s voice before. At the music festival.

“Katsuki,” he breathes, staring him down as the singer rips the sunglasses from his face confirming that yes, he is indeed the very same Katsuki that has been igniting so much chaos in his life just these past few days. 

He’s just standing right in front of him in this suddenly too-small coffee shop bathroom. And he might have seen his dick. 

“It’s you,” Katsuki scoffs, his shockingly red eyes narrowing in on him. Izuku doesn’t know what to be more taken aback by - the fact that he recognizes him, or the fact that he sounds so pissed off. As if he has any right to be! 

“Why are you here?!” he shrieks, gesturing frantically to the fact that they’re in a public fucking bathroom! Hello!

“None of your fucking business, you asshole,” he says, rolling his eyes and taking down his hood so he can turn to the mirror. Izuku scoffs, watching as Katsuki just starts casually checking on his appearance as if he wasn’t the one who just barged in here. 

“I think it is considering the fact that I was trying to pee,” he says incredulously. The nerve of this guy!

“Your fucking fault for leaving the door unlocked,” Katsuki huffs. 

“That doesn’t answer the question,” Izuku points out, then makes a point to push past him so he can wash his hands. Katsuki even has the nerve to look and sound annoyed. 

When it becomes clear that the diva isn’t going to answer him, he moves to just push past and pull open the door. But then Katsuki jumps and slides in between to block him from doing so. Izuku’s arm bumps against his, and he can’t help but notice how warm he feels. 

Or that he’s close enough to smell whatever expensive cologne he’s wearing. 

“Don’t, you have to wait,” he says quickly, before pursing his lips and staring Izuku down. 

“Why? I have somewhere I need to be,” he explains, looking at his watch. And then he remembers. “Or is this yet another way you’re trying to sabotage me? It’s not enough that you got me fired.” 

“I got you fired? I didn’t do a damn thing,” he snaps. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Oh, yeah, sure,” he scoffs. “I wouldn’t have been dropped from Plus Ultra if it wasn’t for your diva fit online.” 

“ My diva fit? Okay, nerd,” he scoffs, shaking his head. He sounds amused. Izuku just glares and tries to get around him again, but finds that Katsuki is a lot stronger than he looks. 

“Come on! I don’t have time for this!” Izuku protests again, getting flustered. Katsuki stares him down, face taut like he’s torn on whether or not he wants to admit to Izuku whatever weird as heck thing he’s doing. 

“Fine,” he says, his voice quieter. “ If you open this door, you will likely get trampled or mauled.” 

Izuku rolls his eyes. 

“Seriously! You don’t fucking get it. Some asshole recognized me and drew in all this attention. This was the only place I found to hide, and now I’m just waiting on an escort to get me out,” he explains, and Izuku doesn’t even know how to respond. Katsuki says it like he’s been through this before. 

But Izuku also assumes he probably loves all the drama and attention. 

“Well that’s just great, isn’t it,” he mumbles. “So now because of you, I’m going to be late to the mediation meeting that I have to go to also because of you. Where do you get off ruining my life?” 

“Oh, shut up, I asked you to take one lousy photo down and you didn’t, so my mo - my manager sent you a cease and desist to make you take it down. You’re the one being a dick and digging your heels in,” he argues right back, stepping forward and backing Izuku further and further until he’s up against the wall opposite the door. 

There’s not much space, afterall. It’s not supposed to be a two-person bathroom. 

Izuku presses his lips together in a firm line, refusing to back down or let Katsuki think that he’s intimidated in any way, shape or form. He also has to hold his breath because holy crap what is that cologne? It smells too good. 

Of course Katsuki smells good! His cologne is probably exorbitantly priced and bad for the environment! 

“Trust me, asshole, I don’t want to be dealing with you any more than you want to be dealing with me,” he continues, his breath swirling against Izuku’s cheek. 

His chest flutters involuntarily. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid! 

Because the smart thing to do would be to just drop it and push Katsuki away and keep silent until he’s allowed to open the stupid door. But he’s always been a sucker for an argument. Always has to have the last word. 

“Then leave me alone,” Izuku says, his heart suddenly hammering in his chest as he allows himself to think about how close Katsuki’s lips are. 

“You first.” 

“I hate you and your music,” Izuku says, and he mentally kicks himself. God, maybe he should just stop while he’s ahead? But alas, here he is. 

“Well you’re a shitty photographer,” he fires back, still impossibly close. 

“Fuck you.” 

“Fuck you.”

Maybe it’s the rising tension. 

Maybe it’s because Katsuki is just too close and his brain doesn’t have the space it needs to make any rational decisions. 

But regardless of the reason, Izuku still ends up making yet another stupid decision when he closes the small gap between them and presses his lips to Katsuki’s. He’s not sure why he does it, but he does and it only gets weirder when Katsuki doesn’t pull away. 

Izuku leans his head to the side ever so slightly and Katsuki’s lips part. His lips are on fire and his throat is so tight as time seems to move in slow motion. It feels like forever, but really there are only a few seconds until someone bangs on the bathroom door from the other side and they break apart as if suddenly removed from a trance. 

“Katsuki, are you in here?!” a muffled voice yells. Katsuki doesn’t dare make eye contact with Izuku as he turns around to exit. 

“Yeah, I’m here,” he says, pulling open the door to find an older woman who looks just like him accompanied by a few large and burly men. Izuku just stares wide-eyed as they usher him away through the crowd and leave Izuku behind. 

Stunned. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket with a new text message. A response to his earlier text to his group chat. 

Denki: Holy shit he really hates u man haha

Notes:

I hope u are all enjoying this so far! I know it seems super fast for now but there is a lot to set the stage for (ha) so get ready!

Thank u for reading

Chapter 3: Bathroom Humor

Summary:

Maybe he could just turn around now and never see any of these people ever again. He could cut his losses and delete the photos and run away from this entire mess! But that would be the more cowardly thing to do and Izuku is not  a coward. 

At least, he’s pretty sure he’s not. A coward wouldn’t have kissed his sworn enemy in a public bathroom.

Maybe an idiot would. But not a coward. 

Izuku stares at the closed door of the meeting room in front of him, frozen in his place as he tries to make up his mind about what to do. More than likely, Katsuki and his team are already inside . . . right along with his own team probably wondering where the hell he is. 

As much as he would like to deny it, it took longer than expected for him to pull himself from that coffee shop bathroom. After Katsuki had been ushered out, Izuku just stayed behind, shocked. 

Maybe he could just turn around now and never see any of these people ever again. He could cut his losses and delete the photos and run away from this entire mess! But that would be the more cowardly thing to do and Izuku is not  a coward. 

At least, he’s pretty sure he’s not. A coward wouldn’t have kissed his sworn enemy in a public bathroom. Maybe an idiot would. But not a coward. 

Izuku takes a final deep breath before he finally pushes the door open and peers inside. He can’t tell if they were already in silence before he opened the door, or if everyone had stopped talking just because he opened the door. 

Either way, the silence is stunning. 

He tries his best not to make eye contact with the blond on the other side of the table, but as fate would have it, the only open seat he can get to without causing more of a scene is directly across from Katsuki himself. Casting his eyes downward, he mumbles a weak apology to Ashido for being late and slumps into his seat. 

“Perfect! Everyone’s here then,” Ashido says, grinning. 

“Looks like it,” says the blonde woman next to Katsuki. The same woman from the coffee shop who looks just like him. Izuku wonders if they’re related or if it’s just a coincidence. 

“Alright, so we are here to discuss a cease and desist sent by representatives of Bakugou Katsuki,” another woman states from the other side of the table. She has a stack of papers in front of her and has a very serious look on her face. 

Izuku makes the mistake of glancing over to Katsuki, freezing when he catches the other man glaring at him. It’s startling and unnerving, and at first, Izuku thinks it may have been a one-off thing, but then he doesn’t stop.

He just looks so angry. What’s it for? Is it because of the picture still or is it because Izuku kissed him? He didn’t seem too upset about it earlier, but maybe he’s had time to think. 

Holy fuck Izuku has never felt more stupid in his entire life. 

But he also doesn’t want Katsuki thinking he’s won anything, so he furrows his brow and glares right back at him. 

His heart is pounding in his chest, unsure of what to do next. 

Katsuki isn’t looking away - well, Izuku isn’t going to look away either! 

It does kind of give him an excuse to get a good look at Katsuki. Izuku’s eyes scan over his face looking for imperfections - but dammit he can’t find any! Katsuki’s skin is smooth and glassy - something that Izuku can easily chalk up to fancy skincare products and treatments that Katsuki has the luxury of affording. 

But his eyes. Izuku has trouble with those. His lashes are long and frame his sharp red eyes so perfectly. Unlike the time Izuku saw him performing, he can’t make out a single trace of makeup, meaning his eyelashes really are that dark and amazing.

However, his eyebrows are perfectly tweezed or waxed or whatever, and his hair is soft and shiny in a way that is not natural. Izuku twists his lips into a pout. So maybe Katsuki is naturally gorgeous, but he still has some form of cosmetics to help him out. 

But is he rich because he’s hot or hot because he’s rich? 

That’s the question. 

Izuku is pulled from his thoughts when he feels the dull force of something kicking him under the table. For sure, he’s imagining things. No way Katsuki is that immature that he’d resort to kicking Izuku under the table, right? 

“Midoriya.” 

“Hmm? What?” He asks, when he realizes Ashido is asking him a question. She gives him an odd look and nods towards the lawyer. 

“Mr. Midoriya, under what premises did you take these photos of Mr. Bakugou?” 

Izuku blinks, his mind taking a moment to register that Bakugou is Katsuki. 

“I had a press pass for the photo pit at the Riverside Festival and was simply taking pictures of the headliner,” he says, trying to sound as professional and reasonable as possible. Because, hello! Katsuki is an idiot for thinking people can’t take pictures of him. 

“And was this a private event?” the lawyer asks. 

“Um, no, there were thousands of people there,” he laughs. “I’m pretty sure Katsuki’s performance was streaming live on television.” 

The lawyer sighs deeply, seeming like she’s trying her best to keep herself composed or hold back what she really wants to say to them. 

“So, then, from what I see, Mr. Midoriya was well within his rights to take that photo and post it,” she explains. 

“It’s an unflattering photo, that’s a defamation of character or whatever, isn’t it?” Katsuki finally speaks up. Izuku feels the kick again and this time he’s not imagining it. What the hell? Frowning, he kicks Katsuki right back, earning another heated glare. 

“Excuse me, I have a question for Mr. Bakugou,” Ashido speaks up. She’s still on Izuku’s side, but he’s definitely wary of the looks she’s giving him. Something tells him he’s about to get an earful when they’re done. 

“Certainly,” the lawyer says at the same time Katsuki scoffs. Izuku notices the way the blonde woman next to him mutters something to Katsuki under her breath and nudges him with her elbow. 

Ashido sighs and opens up her laptop to one of Katsuki’s social media sites. She shows the screen to the rest of the room as she clicks on the tab of photos that Katsuki has been tagged in. 

“There are hundreds of thousands of photos that Katsuki has been tagged in,” Ashido explains. “Most of them are from concerts where people - even without press badges- have taken pictures and posted them online. Are you really going through this whole tag and ask that every single unflattering photo get removed?” 

“Tch, no,” he scoffs. “I don’t have time for that shit.” 

The woman nudges him again. 

“So then why are you targeting my client?” she asks, more forcefully. 

“Okay, that’s enough,” the lawyer sighs, shaking her head and looking over her papers again. “This case would not stand in a court of law, and I’m done talking about this. My professional advice would be to stay the hell away from each other and move on.” 

Izuku is a little taken aback, but just sits there and watches as the lawyer packs up her things and heads out of the room. 

And then Izuku gets kicked again. 

“Stop it!” he finally says, out loud. 

“Shut up, nerd,” he hisses. 

“What the hell is your problem?” Ashido asks, looking absolutely aghast. 

“He’s kicking me!” Izuku insists, exasperated. He’s well aware that he sounds like a child but Katsuki started it! He’s the immature one, clearly. 

“The fuck are you kicking people for, Katsuki?” The blonde woman scoffs, giving him a scolding smack against the back of his head. He scowls at her and shrugs away. 

“Get off me, hag,” he growls, getting up from the chair. Izuku watches as they finally get up to leave the room, still squabbling as they go.

So weird. 

"Oh my god," Ashido groans, rubbing at her temples once they're gone. "Is there something else going on here that I should know about?"

"No!" Izuku says quickly (and probably way too defensively).

"Well, I have to say this is not what I was expecting- you guys were bickering like an old married couple, not like total strangers that got into it once on social media. It was very unprofessional, Midoriya," she scolds, her dark eyes narrowing in on him, scanning up and down like she's analyzing him. Izuku purses his lips and shakes his head. 

“That’s a weird thing to say,” he scoffs. “It seems like we’re just two very different people who just naturally clash.” 

“Uh-huh, sure,” she sighs, shaking her head. “I swear, if this is some weird shit and you end up screwing us over -” 

“I won’t, I promise,” he says. It’s not like he wants this job. But he wants a job, and this seems like it’ll get him a decent paycheck while he searches for something more meaningful. “Please just give me a chance? I won’t screw it up, I’ll stay professional.” 

Ashido deflates with a final, deep sigh. 

“Fine,” she says. “You’re lucky I need you still.” 

“Of course,” he smiles his best fake smile. Izuku nods along and listens as Ashido moves on to explain to him the rest of his duties and everything that he’s expected to do. It’s a lot. Actually, it’s more than he had originally expected from the job. 

There’s a strict deadline schedule he has to adhere to, and he’s expected to get some kind of content submitted each week, meaning he has to find ways to get pictures of Katsuki that frequently. It’s a bit of a daunting task, but Izuku is a seasoned photographer. He’s taken photos in mosh pits without ever getting a scratch on his camera or himself. 

It should be a piece of cake! 

Once Ashido finally leaves him alone again, he dips into the men’s restroom in the hallway for a moment. It’s been a crazy day, and it isn’t even over yet. Izuku goes to the sinks and runs cold water over his fingers before splashing some of it over his face. The water is cool against his skin. He hadn’t even realized how warm and flustered he had gotten. 

That damn meeting was a whirlwind for sure. 

He flinches slightly when one of the stall doors swings open, but he doesn’t look up. Izuku just grabs a paper towel to dry his face. It’s probably best if he doesn’t make eye contact with anyone right now, because clearly he can’t handle social interactions without getting all worked up- 

“Hey, what the hell?” 

Izuku chokes. 

And looks up to see Katsuki.

Why the hell does he have to keep using the bathroom! Hell, maybe he’ll never be safe from Katsuki while he’s in the bathroom ever again! 

“Why are you still here?” Izuku asks, shaking his head. 

“Had to take a piss while they do paperwork, is that okay with you? You gonna lose your fucking shit? Nerd,” he spits, rolling his eyes before he goes to wash his hands. Izuku frowns and stares him down, not willing to validate his words with a reaction. 

That will only make it worse, for sure. 

“You can’t just take the fucking picture down, huh?” Katsuki continues. He sounds bitter. Frustrated. 

“It’s just a picture,” Izuku mutters, turning on the sink again. Ah, fuck, wait, he’s already washed his hands. He turns it back off. 

“You wouldn’t fucking - nevermind, I don’t know why the hell I’m even talking to you,” he mutters, looking up to examine himself in the mirror. Without turning towards him, Izuku glances over at Katsuki in the mirror. The lighting in the bathroom is surprisingly flattering. It makes Katsuki’s skin look even softer. 

Izuku’s ears start to feel hot again as his mind suddenly flashes to a couple hours earlier when they were in the other bathroom. You know, since they’ve had multiple encounters in the bathroom today. Fate is like a sick, cruel joke sometimes.

“The fuck are you looking at?” Katsuki barks, causing Izuku to coil back in on himself. Izuku frowns and turns his body towards Katsuki, who crosses his arms over his chest. 

“I’m just gonna go,” Izuku sighs. 

“Wait,” Katsuki says, in a voice so quiet that Izuku isn’t even sure he heard it. He stops at the door, waiting. 

“What?” 

“Why the fuck did you kiss me earlier?” 

Izuku grimaces, screwing his eyes shut as he freezes. And curses himself for not getting out of there sooner. Crap! 

“Why did you kiss me back?” Izuku returns, without turning around. His face is red-hot and his heart is pounding heavy in his chest. This is bad. Argh. 

Silence. 

Without waiting any longer for an answer, Izuku zooms out the door and heads back to his cubicle as fast as he can. The tension is far too intense for him to handle it any longer. 

 

---

 

The next day, Katsuki finds himself sitting in a chair in front of a lit mirror while a stylist pulls and picks at his hair, trying to tease it to the exact right angle. Or whatever they’re trying to do. Katsuki’s not fucking sure. 

“Ooh, lookin' fierce,” Camie hums as she comes up to him from the side. He glances over to the side, taking note of the scant outfit she wears and the way her hair is freshly blown out. “I can’t believe your hair and makeup takes longer than mine.” 

“Shut up,” Katsuki grunts. “It’s because everyone’s looking at me, not you.” 

“Oh, uh-huh,” Camie laughs, shaking her head. 

They’re on the set for Katsuki’s newest music video - featuring Camie playing the role of . . . girl running through an abandoned house in a skimpy red dress? Katsuki doesn’t get it. He didn’t direct the fucking video. 

Or approve it. 

He’d explained to his manager time and time again what the meaning of the song actually is. But she never fucking listens. Just takes it upon herself to book actresses and producers and directors who are popular and will make him look good.  

“Are you okay, fam? You seem like, sad and stuff,” she sighs, leaning against the dressing table. He shrugs as the stylist spins him to the side and uses her thumb to smudge out his eyeliner just a bit more. He flinches - as anyone would after practically being poked in the fucking eye! 

“Nothing, it’s just weird shit,” he breathes, relaxing as the stylist finally backs off and starts packing up their train case. 

"Yeah? Weird how?" She presses further. 

Katsuki frowns. "You know that fuckin' nerd photographer?" 

"Mmm, I do remember. What about him? Is he still being annoying?" She asks, then adds, "You look so fucking bad ass right now, by the way." 

"Tch, yeah," he says, cracking a small smile. But it quickly dissipates when he remembers what he had been talking about. "We had that mediation meeting yesterday."

"Oh? How'd that go?"

"Fucking stupid," he sighs, his gut twisting as his mind is already moving onto the next thing. "But that's not the point. Before the meeting I ran into him and . . . He kissed me." 

He lowers his voice significantly when he says the last part, glancing around to make sure no one else hears him. 

"Holy shit, what a perv!" 

"And I kissed him back. "

"Oh my god." 

"Fuck! I don't know why I fucking- it was so stupid and he's a fucking asshole but now I can't get that shit out of my head," he groans. Camie stares at him for a minute, lips slowly spreading into a grin. "What?" 

"You've got the hots for him!" 

"Are you out of your damn mind?! I don't know him!" 

"Yeah? So? This is like, classic sexual tension. You're both good looking dudes with a lot of animosity between each other. Next time you see him you'll probably end up fucking."

Katsuki scoffs, giving her an incredulous look. How can she say shit like that? 

More importantly, why does Katsuki want to test her theory? This whole fucking thing is annoying. Just thinking about that guy’s dumb face is infuriating. He’s so smug and cocky and thinks he’s better than Katsuki. 

“We’re not gonna fuck,” he finally says, shaking his head. “I don’t even know him.” 

“Should I remind you of all the people you’ve had one night stands with and then never saw again?” Camie laughs and tosses her hair aside. 

“Well . . . whatever. I’m not going to see him again anyway,” he mutters, slumping back in his chair. Katsuki takes out his phone and opens up the camera. “Come here.” 

Camie hops away from the table and leans in close to Katsuki. They don’t smile - just pose like they usually do. Camie is a model, so she’s great at making things look effortless, and Katsuki always likes to learn from her, even if he’d never admit it out loud. 

He’s seen what people say about her online. They think she’s a slut and that she’s an airhead. But the great thing about Camie is that she doesn’t give a fuck. Katsuki tries to embody that same attitude of not letting shit affect him. Plays that role so perfectly for his fans. For the most part, he doesn’t even look at comments on his shit. 

However, he most certainly gives a fuck. 

Just as he’s about to snap the photo, Mitsuki strolls by and plucks it right from his hand. 

“Hey, what the fuck?” He grunts, twisting around in his chair to scowl at her. 

“No pictures! What the fuck is wrong with you,” she scolds. “If you were listening at the production meeting, you would know that we are not releasing any information about the video until after it’s been wrapped.” 

Katsuki rolls his eyes. He’s not about to get into it with her. Not that she’d even listen to him explain that he doesn’t pay attention because his opinion doesn’t fucking matter anyway. It’s his own song that he wrote, but what the fuck does that matter, right?

“Fucking fine,” he snaps, just trying to get her off his back. She decides to hold onto the phone and then stalks away, her heels clicking loudly against the hard floor. “Fucking cunt.” 

“Yikes,” Camie says. “What a buzzkill.” 

“Tell me about it,” Katsuki sighs. 

 

---

 

“Midoriya!” Uraraka yells over the half wall that divides their cubicles. Izuku jumps and nearly spills his coffee, alarmed by the sudden intrusion. 

“Wh-what?” he stammers, blinking quickly. He’d been falling asleep at his desk as he tried to check email. Sleep last night did not come easily . . . or at all. 

“I was just saying hi,” she responds, sinking down until Izuku can only see her from her eyes up. “It’s nice to have an office buddy.” 

“Yeah,” Izuku says, clearing his throat. “Um, so you . . . wait for an assignment to come through?” 

“Sometimes,” she shrugs. “Once you get to know your assignment, you get a feel for the places they frequent and stuff, so it gets easier. I can tell you all about Katsuki if you want.” 

Izuku flinches at the name. 

“He goes to pilates on Thursdays, and his best friend is Utsushimi Camie, the supermodel?” she says, and Izuku shakes his head because he does not know supermodels by name. Uraraka lets out a shocked little gasp and rummages around her desk for something before she returns to her spot from before. “Look!” 

She holds up a photograph. Izuku has to squint to see what the grainy photo is even depicting, and then when he sees it, he yelps. 

“What the hell!” he shouts, backing away. 

“It’s from when I found both of them at a private nude beach,” she says, grinning wide. She has a bit of a crazed look in her eye as she looks down at the photo, and is clearly very proud of it. “It’s not fair, Camie has like, the nicest boobs I’ve ever seen! And they’re not even fake!” 

“How do you know that?” Izuku asks, sitting back down at his desk and trying not to think about the fact that she just showed him a naked photo of Katsuki. 

“Um, I just know,” she says, with  a small giggle. “I really like this photo set but I wasn’t allowed to publish it because Ashido said it wasn’t approved and also it was illegal to take photos at a private nude beach or whatever.” 

“Well yeah,” he says, wondering why it doesn’t seem obvious to Uraraka. Maybe  she’s just so disillusioned when it comes to celebrities. Whatever. Izuku is glad he’s not like that. If anything, he just feels bad for her. “And none of the other things you take pictures of is illegal?” 

“Well, not when it’s approved,” she says, smiling. “Ashido and all the other like, higher-up people have a system or something.” 

“A system?” 

“Yeah, like, they’re very careful about making sure what they do is legal or whatever,” she shrugs. “I don’t really get it, as long as the legal team keeps me out of trouble, I’m fine with it!” 

“Hmm, so they find things that are approved . . . how do they know? Like who is the person who finds out where celebrities are going to be at what time?” he asks. Really, he had always assumed that paparazzi photographers were just stalkers with no lives following around stars they’re obsessed with. 

You know, like Uraraka types. 

He never expected he’d be working for a magazine like UA-Z and sitting at a desk in an office. It’s very bizarre, and there’s something unsettling about it that Izuku can’t quite put his finger on.

“I guess they just have other people who do research? That’s what I gathered anyway. I always get in trouble when I try to do my own research.”

Izuku nods, turning back to his computer just as he gets another email notification. He’s thankful for the distraction, because he does not want to hear about Uraraka’s own personal research.

IMPORTANT: ASAP!!
From: Ashido Mina

He clicks to open it and quickly scans over the message. As he gets what he needs to do, his heart flips over and over in his chest.

“I think I got my first assignment,” Izuku says. 

“Oooh, exciting! What is it?” 

“Looks like Katsuki’s shooting a music video,” he says, scanning over the message again. “Shit, I have to go now I guess.” 

“Oh, yeah! That’s so cool! You have to tell me all about it later!” Uraraka squeals. Izuku’s mind starts to race a mile a minute as he scrambles to pack up his camera bag and head out of the office. 

He shouldn’t be nervous - he doesn’t care about this job. He doesn’t care about Katsuki! 

Yet, still, his stomach is in knots. 

Notes:

hehe so the plot thickens!

I love getting past the hurdle of expository chapters, I feel like the story is really starting now! (hints were dropped - did u pick them up?)

anyway follow me on twitter for more nonsense

@imnotpoppunk_

Chapter 4: This is Serious!

Summary:

It’s much different trying to take pictures when he’s not allowed to be somewhere. You know, like on the roof of a building, trying to get a good photograph of a music video shoot that’s supposed to be a secret. The whole operation is shady, Izuku can recognize that. 

But it’s Katsuki.

Notes:

cw for talking about body image, diets etc

Izuku is completely out of his element on this new assignment. 

When he’s shooting for concerts and public events, he has free range to shoot what he wants or he can flash a press pass and get to where he needs to be. It was easy for him to navigate a venue that way, when he knew he was allowed to be there. 

It’s much different trying to take pictures when he’s not allowed to be somewhere. You know, like on the roof of a building, trying to get a good photograph of a music video shoot that’s supposed to be a secret. The whole operation is shady, Izuku can recognize that. 

But it’s Katsuki. What’s really going to happen to that jerk if Izuku leaks a couple of photos from a music video shoot? If anything, it will probably just get Katsuki even more undeserved attention anyway. 

So Izuku isn’t worried. 

He perches himself at the edge of the roof and peers downward over the ledge. In the supposedly private lot below, there’s a very elaborate set up. A haunted house? A garden? Something like that, it’s hard to tell exactly what they’re going for from where Izuku is. 

It doesn’t seem like they’ve started shooting the video yet. But Izuku’s eyes travel across the set and land on the star of the show standing on the stairs of the old abandoned (haunted?) house. He has his arms crossed over his chest. 

In attempts to get a closer look, he holds up his camera and squints through the viewfinder, zooming in as much as he can without totally compromising the image. Katsuki is scowling where he stands, clearly pissed off about something, but that’s no surprise. 

Snap.

He pans out just a bit as a mildly familiar woman leaps into the  frame. She’s young and very pretty, and her dress reveals a shocking amount of cleavage. And then it clicks in his mind that this girl is that supermodel Katsuki is friends with. 

His face burns as he remembers that one photo Uraraka had shared with him. The one where they were both at the nude beach. 

“Crap,” Izuku mutters to himself, pulling the camera down as he tries to clear his head. He doesn't need to be thinking about that right now. 

But! The more he squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to think about it, the image seems to flash even brighter and clearer in his mind. Specifically of Katsuki’s perfectly chiseled chest, right down to his—

Izuku groans and sits back on his knees. What the heck is wrong with him?!

After a few more deep breaths, Izuku holds the camera up again and snaps a few more photos, determined to just get through the night. He zooms in on Katsuki again. His outfit isn’t any more modest than his friend’s though. 

His top is mesh and see-through, his bottoms tight as hell and leaving very little to the imagination. Izuku snaps a photo, and then several more. 

For his last shot, he pans to Katsuki’s face, only to be met directly with the star’s crimson eyes. Izuku gasps and panics, quickly pulling back and scrambling to hide around the corner. His heart pounds in his chest as he freezes there, listening for whether or not anyone actually saw him. 

After a few moments, he looks back over the ledge, to see that Katsuki is talking to someone else, completely unconcerned. Maybe he was looking at something else. Probably. But for a second there, it felt like Katsuki was staring him down. 

He shouldn’t be scared or threatened. And he’s not! He’s definitely only afraid of the fact that he had to trespass to get to his vantage point and he would rather not deal with the legal repercussions there. 

One close call seems like more than enough, so he packs up his camera and heads back to the office. 

 

“Back already?” Ashido teases as soon as he gets back to his cubicle. “Did you even get anything?” 

“Yeah, I got plenty,” Izuku shrugs. Or at least he thinks he does. Maybe he should have stayed longer— he is getting paid for this, after all. Even though he hates it, and considers himself to be way above it all, perhaps he could stand to take his job a little more seriously. 

“Let’s see it,” Ashido says, clapping a hand against his shoulder. He nods silently and plugs in to start uploading the pictures. As he waits, his eyes flicker over to see Uraraka peeking over the top of their shared wall. 

Weird. 

“You took these?” Ashido asks, leaning forward and invading Izuku’s personal space in order to get a better look. She even reaches for his computer mouse so she can scroll through on her own. 

Izuku grimaces and leans away, making the mistake of looking over at Uraraka again. She’s grinning and giving him a thumbs-up. 

“Shit, newbie, these are perfect,” Ashido says, in amazement. “Email them to me right away.” 

“I have to edit first,” he reminds her, and she just laughs and shakes her head. 

“These are fine just the way they are,” Ashido assures him. Izuku gives a wary look back to the grainy photos that could definitely go for some more fine-tuning. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah! It’s not a glamor shot, don’t worry. When the photos look like this, it seems more raw and real and exclusive,” she says, even though Izuku isn’t sure he agrees. Maybe he just does not know this side of the industry. 

“Um, okay,” he mutters, and opens up a new email. 

“Great! They’ll go out ASAP,” she grins, ruffling Izuku’s hair. “Oh, and here’s your next assignment. You exceeded my expectations with this one, so I’m trusting you’ll be able to handle something a little more risky.” 

And with that, she drops a folder onto his desk and strides away. Izuku opens his mouth to question her or protest, but nothing comes out. She just drops the bomb on him so fast, he doesn’t know what to think. 

“Ooh, what did you get?” Uraraka asks, eyeing the folder. “I think Ashido likes you, you’re so lucky!” 

“Ah, I don’t know? What does she mean by more risky? This was already way too stressful,” he groans, scrolling through the photos he needs to send along. “I thought he saw me once and I freaked out.” 

“Oh my gosh, I would have freaked out too if he looked at me! How amazing,” she sighs. Izuku rolls his eyes and doesn’t bother to correct her and say that he definitely didn’t mean it that way. He just didn’t want to be caught, that’s all! 

It’s not like he forgot how to breathe the second he felt Katsuki’s eyes on him. 

That would be stupid. 

“And I was on the roof of a building,” he adds. 

“Aw, that’s nothing, one time I scaled the side of a cliff to get to someone and it was pretty scary,” she laughs. “And I got really good photos! But then on my way back down I slipped and fell and my camera broke! It was awful.”

“That sounds terrible,” he says. He can’t imagine the pain he would feel if his camera got smashed. Not only is the thing super fucking expensive— it’s also very much a part of who he is. 

“I also broke my wrist, but I was way more concerned about the camera,” she chuckles. Izuku actually finds himself cracking a smile at that. Maybe he does have something in common with her after all. He’d probably react the same way. 

“Wow, that’s rough,” Izuku says, finally leaning back in his chair and picking up the folder. 

“Open it!” Uraraka encourages. Izuku lets out a big sigh and opens the folder, his eyes scanning over the first page. “So?” 

And then for the second time in one night, he forgets how to breathe 

____

 

Katsuki is on a very intense exercise regimen. He cares about his body and he cares about being healthy and active . . . but he’d be lying if he said he liked this part of his day. The part where he finds himself squatting under a weight rack at the guidance of a personal trainer hired by his manager. 

“Three more!” the man shouts, causing Katsuki to scowl as he pushes through the last three reps of his set. 

“Fuck,” he groans as he finally re-racks the weight. He rolls his neck to the side and takes his water bottle from Inasa, the massive and obnoxious fitness guru hired to make his life miserable. 

“Small sips, don’t forget! Thirty second recovery!” he says, urging Katsuki right into a set of lunges. 

Maybe he wouldn’t mind it if he could pick out his own trainer. Or his own workout regimen. Because this is grueling and embarrassing, because his plan is based on whatever Mitsuki tells Inasa his “problem” areas are. 

His arms aren’t defined enough, his ass is too flat, and so on. 

It’s fucking ridiculous. 

He works his ass off for the day, and then collapses onto the floor mats, making a point to ignore Inasa as he drones on and on about how he shouldn’t just lay down after a workout. 

“Alright, talk to me, Katsuki, what have you eaten this week?” Inasa asks him, sitting on the floor next to Katsuki. Katsuki rolls his eyes and recounts his meals. “Still not getting enough protein, man.” 

“Shut up,” Katsuki grumbles. “I’m following the fucking meal plan you gave me.” 

“Not quite,” he sighs. “You need more protein and less sugar. I definitely didn’t add cake or alcohol to your diet plan.” 

“Well, maybe you should,” Katsuki says, scowling as he sits up. “I’m not gonna deprive myself every fucking week. I know how much Mitsuki’s paying you. Figure out a way for me to get fit and eat cake.” 

Inasa presses his lips together, like he’s biting back a response. But Katsuki just stares him down as if to say I dare you.

“You got it,” he finally says, defeated. 

From across the gym, a door swings open, and the familiar clack of high heels alerts him that she has arrived. 

“What now?” he groans, laying back down on the floor. Inasa stands up to greet Mitsuki, droning on about how much progress Katsuki is supposedly making, and definitely kissing ass. 

“That’s nice, thank you, dear. I have noticed a difference since he started with you!” she says, her voice sickeningly sweet. “Katsuki, I thought I told you not to fucking tell anyone about the video shoot.” 

“What? I didn’t,” he scoffs, shaking his head and giving her an incredulous look. 

“Then how did those dirty paps get photos this time, huh?” she asks, scrolling through something on her phone before turning towards him and showing him grainy, shitty-ass photos of him standing on that stupid set with Camie. 

“I don’t know?! How do they ever figure these things out?” he scoffs. 

“I don’t know,” she sighs, shaking her head. “They’re nasty little stalkers, aren’t they? Well, whatever, it’s out now, so we’re pivoting.” 

“Pivoting?” 

“Instead of dropping the video next week to announce the new album, we’ll be announcing it this Saturday at the party,” she explains. 

“What party?” 

“Oh, the one I just started planning for. I already have everything coming together, all you need to do is be there and dressed . . . and perform the new single,” she says, smiling brightly as Katsuki’s scowl deepens. 

“That’s not what we agreed on! The video was supposed to be the new single’s debut,” he insists. “And now you want me to instead perform it at a private party? How the fuck is that supposed to get people excited?”

He’s furious, but he can’t say he’s not used to it. Mitsuki’s always pulling this bullshit with him. Changing plans at the last minute, not telling him where he needs to be until he’s already there. And he knows why she does it— she knows he wouldn’t agree to half the shit she does unless she waited until he had no more time to back out. 

“Because, people are already talking, trying to figure out what song you’re shooting a video for! People are buzzing like crazy. And of course, we’ll livestream the performance, that way everyone gets to hear it live first.”

Katsuki purses his lips. 

“I hate that,” he tells her. 

“Oh Katsuki, don’t be so damn negative all the time. This is going to be your most successful album yet,” she says. “Most people don’t get to see this kind of fame and success in their lifetimes. Don’t be an ungrateful brat.” 

Katsuki doesn’t respond. Just stays silent as she begins to give him the run-down of everything he needs to do in order to be ready for this stupid fucking party. 

__

 

“This is going to be the worst night of my life, I already know it,” Izuku whines as gathers up the bag of clothes he’s supposed to put on. 

“You mean the best night, right?” Denki corrects. “This is so fucking cool.” 

“Yeah, you get to meet Katsuki,” Shouto says, and then stops. “Or actually, you don’t. I guess your goal is to explicitly not meet Katsuki, isn’t it?” 

“Um,” he says, his gut twisting as he realizes he technically has not told his best friends that he has, in fact, already met the singer. “I’ve already met him.” 

There. He said it. Now he can move on. 

“Wait, what? How?” Denki asks, eyes wide. “You just said you went to mediation with his lawyers, you didn’t mention that he was there. Why would you not mention that?!” 

“It’s not a big deal,” he insists, trying to brush it off. Even though he knows for a fact that that’s not the reason he’s neglected to tell his friends. 

“Did something happen?” Shouto asks, catching onto his discomfort immediately. 

That’s why he didn’t tell them. 

They know him too well! 

“Nope!” He says, lying through his teeth. It’s not going to work against them, but it’s worth the effort to at least try. 

“You’re so full of shit,” Denki laughs. “Did you actually talk to him? Did you . . . oh my god, you punched him didn’t you?” 

“What? No!” he groans. “I just . . . it’s not important.”

“Clearly it is,” Shouto points out. “If you didn’t care about what happened or thought it was nothing, then you would have had no problem telling us.” 

Dammit!

“Fine! You really want to know?” 

“Yes,” they both say at the same time. 

“He walked in on me while I was in the bathroom while I was peeing and then . . . we um,” he mumbles, nearly dropping the bags in his arms. “We kissed.” 

He disguises that last part with a cough, unable to say it with a straight face. 

“You . . . he kissed you after he walked in on you in the bathroom?” Denki says, spelling it all right out. 

“Wow, I didn’t think Katsuki would be into watersports.” 

“Shouto!” Izuku shrieks, his face bright red. 

“I’m going to need like, way more information,” Denki insists. “You don’t just kiss a famous person and act like it’s not a big deal.” 

“Why not? He’s just a person, Denki,” Izuku insists. Really, kissing Katsuki should be no different than kissing anyone else. He’s just a normal person. 

Though he can’t quite explain why it still feels like a big deal, anyway. 

“Yeah, and he’s a really hot person,” Denki reminds him. Not that he has to remind him. Izuku is aware, whether he wants to admit it or not. 

“Whatever! It was weird! And he’s awful,” Izuku scoffs, shaking his head. “I don’t really want to talk about that though.” 

“What did he taste like?” Shouto asks. Izuku just groans and shuts himself into his bathroom so he can change. This whole thing is just ridiculous. 

He has to crash a stupid party in disguise. It’s ridiculous! But Ashido reminded him that Katsuki’s team could possibly recognize him, and that he needed to at least be wearing sunglasses or something. And he needed to match the dress code for the party. 

So he’s wearing his nicest suit, sunglasses and a backwards baseball cap. It looks stupid, but it isn’t far off from some of the ridiculous shit he’s seen celebrities wear before. 

“Wow, you look ridiculous,” Shouto says as soon as Izuku emerges from the bathroom. Izuku sighs and shakes his head. 

“I know, and I hate it,” he says. 

“It looks pretty cool, I guess,” Denki shrugs. “Definitely not like, super cool though.” 

Izuku grimaces at the weak attempt at a compliment. 

“Listen, don’t look like that - you’ll be fine. You said you did well on your last assignment, right? Hell, I saw those pictures you took on the internet. People are freaking out over them. They think Katsuki might be dropping a new album or something.” 

Izuku shrugs. 

“Don’t listen to him,” Shouto sighs. “You’re very awkward, and you’ll most likely mess something up and embarrass yourself.” 

“Gee, thanks.” 

“It’s true!” Denki offers. "We just don't want to give you false confidence. Lay low and do what you have to, then get the hell out. Also tell us everything when you get back." 

"Yes, I'd like to know details," Shouto confirms. Izuku looks between his two supposed best friends and then drops his head into his hands. 

"This is gonna be awful," Izuku whines. 

"It'll make for a good story though, I can tell," Denki says, slapping him against the back. Izuku glares at him through his fingers. 

"I just need to leave and get this over with, I guess," Izuku sighs, finally standing up straight and turning back to his mirror. 

He looks like a tool. 

But he doesn't look like himself, which is a good thing. He'll slip in, slip out and it'll be painless and easy. He won't spend more time there than he needs to. 

It's fine. He's fine. 

"Just make sure you don't wind up in a bathroom with Katsuki again," Denki says. 

"Or do. Maybe you're into that." 

And just like that, Izuku is back to panicking. 

 

Notes:

Again thank u for reading! This was kind of an in-between chapter. I think the shenanigans at this party are going to take up an entire chapter if u know what I mean ;)

Check out this song that is always in my head while I write this story:

 

stupid for you- waterparks

 

Twitter

Chapter 5: How Not to Hide From Your Enemies.

Summary:

When Katsuki was a child, he loved performing. 
He still has very fond memories of setting up concerts in his parents’ living room and forcing his family to sit down and watch him sing and play the tiny plastic keyboard he’d gotten for his birthday. They’d always clap and tell him he was amazing and Katsuki really believed it. 

When Katsuki was a child, he loved performing. 

He still has very fond memories of setting up concerts in his family's living room and forcing them to sit down and watch him sing and play the tiny plastic keyboard he’d gotten for his birthday. They’d always clap and tell him he was amazing and Katsuki really believed it. 

Especially because that very same year, his mother bought him a real keyboard. Katsuki thought he had hit the jackpot. 

He couldn’t have been older than four or five— he remembers that he couldn’t even reach it properly when the keyboard was on its stand. He had to set it on the floor and sit on his knees to be able to play with it. At that time, that’s all it was to him— playing. It was fun and exciting and Katsuki loved playing different melodies and making up songs of his own. 

But then his mother hired a piano teacher, and then a voice coach, and then a percussion instructor. 

Everything was fun at first because Katsuki knew it was because his mom thought he was talented and wanted him to get even better. It felt good to know that he was great at something that other kids his age weren’t great at. But he got less and less time to just play.

A few years later, his mom got him to be able to have a real concert. Not just in his living room, but for a crowd of strangers in a park. It was all Katsuki ever wanted as a kid— but as soon as he took to the stage that first time, he froze and had to leave before he was even able to sing a single note. 

So Mitsuki hired another coach to help him get over his stage fright. 

—

“What’s wrong with you?” Camie asks, nudging Katsuki with her elbow as they sit in the private lounge behind the stage. Katsuki can hear the buzz of the party already as people start to file in and mingle with one another. 

“Nothing,” he mutters, listening to the noises once again. “What’s the point of having a party if I don’t even get to fucking be at the party?” 

“You are!” Camie insists, smiling and holding up her champagne flute. Katsuki sighs and clinks their glasses together, but doesn’t drink. He can’t stop thinking about how, yet again, Mitsuki has planned what’s supposed to be a “small, intimate gathering.” 

But as far as Katsuki is concerned, “small and intimate” doesn’t usually mean renting out an entire black box theatre and forbidding Katsuki from coming out before his performance. The so-called “VIP lounge” Is actually just one of the green rooms decorated and serviced by a single bartender to give the illusion that he’s still having fun. 

“If it’s my party, I should be able to just go out there and talk to people, though,” Katsuki explains. “And it’s fucking weird that I can’t.” 

“Is it? You have to perform your new song though. I’m sure after that you can mingle all you want.” 

“Doubtful,” Katsuki scoffs. “Mitsuki’s pulled this shit before. As soon as it’s over, I’ll pose for a photo and then she’ll make me go home to rest my voice or some shit.” 

“True,” she says. 

“She’d probably have an aneurism if I just went out and started pounding shots,” he says, grinning at the thought. She already hates it that he’s made a name for himself as someone with a bad attitude. If she could seize and take control of his social media accounts, she would. 

But then again, Katsuki also likes to choose his battles wisely. 

“Oh, for sure,” Camie laughs. “Imagine getting caught by the paps all drunk and disorderly.” 

“Yeah,” he says, his mind wandering. “Though they shouldn’t be here, right? This is a private event that no one is supposed to even know about. Mitsuki said that she’s not even announcing the livestream until it starts.” 

“Paparazzi always get in anyway,” she sighs, running her fingers through her hair as she talks. “It’s kind of scary but, what can you do about it, you know?” 

“Someone has to be leaking shit,” he scoffs, shaking his head. “Even if it’s someone doing it by accident or something.” 

“Or people are really that creepy . . . I wouldn’t worry about it too much, Kats, I think you’re just getting a little paranoid. It’ll be fine. It always is,” she reassures him. And she’s right. He’s made it this far in his career without any significant issues. 

But he's exhausted, and with his exhaustion his tolerance for bullshit has decreased significantly. 

They both look up as the door to the green room opens and Mitsuki walks in with her eyes glued to the tablet she holds. 

"They're finishing setting up the stage now. Give it about thirty minutes and you're on," she says without even looking at Katsuki. 

"Whatever," he mutters. Mitsuki stops scrolling and looks up, her eyes scrutinizing. 

"Excuse me? Could you at least show a little bit of enthusiasm here? This is your album," she reminds him. He bites back his words and clenches his jaw shut. Don't you mean your album? 

"Fine! Leave me alone then," he scoffs. She moves like she's about to lecture him, but then ends up thinking better of it. 

"Oh, I don't fucking have time for this," Mitsuki sighs before stomping away.

---

 

Izuku parks his car a few blocks away from where the party is being held. His entire body feels like one massive bundle of nervous energy. He's never been to a party like this before, let alone had to sneak into one. 

Really, he shouldn't be nervous. These people are all just a bunch of rich assholes just like Katsuki. Nothing for Izuku to be worried about. 

And yet here he is. 

Sitting in a car trying to hype himself up enough to sneak into a private party. 

More often lately, he's been questioning his choice to even start that argument with Katsuki. Why couldn't he have just deleted the picture? Or just ignored Katsuki's comment? 

In the moment, it felt so important to Izuku to take a stand, or whatever. He wanted Katsuki to know that he couldn't just bully people online and get away with it. 

But, as he sits and waits, he wonders what he's even gained from doing so. Not too long ago, he'd roll his eyes at the tabloids that line the shelves of convenience store checkouts. 

And now, he's one of those sleazy photographers taking photos for those trashy magazines. It doesn't quite sit well with him. 

But he is getting paid. 

After some more overthinking, Izuku finally gets out of the car and checks the folded up piece of paper in his pocket. 

Ashido had given him pretty detailed instructions for how to get in through the back door. He has to take a back alley and take a set of stairs down to the basement door of the theatre. 

It's strange that Ashido just knows this. That she was able to anticipate that the door would already be unlocked or that it would be the perfect way to slip in unnoticed. 

It's already pretty noisy. 

Izuku follows the sounds until he finds himself standing in the room by the bar. Everything is so nicely and elegantly decorated. The floor space reminds him of a general admission concert. (Just with nicer decorations and fewer puddles of beer.) He freezes, thinking for sure that everyone will notice his entrance. 

He holds his breath. 

And—

Nothing happens.

Everyone is too absorbed in their own mingling to notice that Izuku has entered the building. They all just stand around, talking and laughing and holding expensive looking drinks while waiters make their rounds with trays of finger foods. 

Izuku chews on the inside of his cheek and turns to the stage. It looks like it's set up for a performance. Is someone supposed to perform? Heck, is Katsuki supposed to perform? 

Come to think of it, he doesn't see the angry blond anywhere. After two or three scans of the crowd (not because he wants to see him of course, he just needs to know which areas to avoid.) 

Nothing interesting is going on yet, so Izuku makes his way to the bar. No one said he couldn't have a drink. 

"What can I get for you?" The bartender asks him. 

"Um," Izuku panics for a moment. "Just whatever is on tap." 

The guy just shrugs and turns to get it for him while Izuku fumbles for his wallet. 

"Dude, it's an open bar." 

Izuku nearly jumps out of his skin as someone comes up next to him. His eyes go wide as he turns to see a man with red hair leaning against the counter next to him. 

He looks so familiar, but Izuku can't quite place it. The man is dressed in a grey suit with the sleeves ripped off, and Izuku wonders if he did that or if the suit was designed to look like it had been through a shredder. Either way, it makes Izuku feel slightly less ridiculous in his own outfit. 

“Oh,” Is all Izuku says as he slides his wallet back into his backpack. 

“What’s your name? I don’t think we’ve met before,” he says, smiling. He seems friendly enough, not like he’s suspicious. But Izuku still gives him a fake name. 

“A-ah, um, Yamada Sake,” he says, grimacing. But he tries not to let it show. The red haired man gives him a strange look, and for a moment Izuku think he’s going to be called out for the obviously fake name. 

“Cool name, bro!” he grins, his smile bright and friendly. “I’m Kirishima Eijirou.” 

Izuku’s eyes go wide as it clicks in his mind why this guy looks so familiar. He’s an athlete of some sorts (Izuku doesn’t keep up with that stuff to know exactly what he does). But he’s recognizable because he’s always on these commercials and billboards for an international pizza chain. They’re stupid commercials— usually just him flexing his arms and yelling about their low, low prices. 

“Oh! From the commercials,” Izuku says. The bartender puts down his drink and Izuku immediately scoops it up and takes a big swig of it. 

“Sure!” he says, brightly. “I’d rather be known for playing rugby, but man, everyone loves those commercials, huh?” 

“They’re kind of weird,” Izuku shrugs. 

“Yeah, for sure,” Kirishima laughs. He pats Izuku on the back, nearly making him spill his drink. “What do you do?” 

“Me? I’m . . . I’m an artist,” he says, swallowing. Vague enough. “Invited by a friend of a friend.” 

“Cool man,” he nods. “I think that’s most people here . . . Do you know Katsuki personally?” 

Izuku’s mind immediately flashes to their kiss in the coffee shop bathroom. 

“Nope.” 

“I actually went to high school with him— well, for the first couple of years, I think he was homeschooled for third year,” he says, rambling on. “But I got my invite from his mom.” 

“His mom?” Izuku asks, curious. Not that he cares. It’s just interesting to hear more about Katsuki. Because so far Izuku only knows him as rude, immature, and a great kisser. 

“Yeah, she does all his management and PR stuff,” he says. “Tried to get us to date a few years back, but it was weird and it didn’t work out.” 

“Oh,” Izuku says, watching as Kirishima receives his own drink. Some sort of hard liquor. 

He recalls the mediation meeting, and about that woman who looked just like Katsuki . . . is that his mother? Weird. 

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, Katsuki’s a cool guy,” he clarifies. “Just complicated.” 

Izuku just nods, not sure what to say. He doesn’t want to pry, and at the same time he doesn’t want to sound too interested either. Because he’s not interested. Totally not. 

“Is he performing?” Izuku asks, craning his neck to look back towards the stage. Kirishima shrugs. 

“Don’t know, I didn’t get a lot of info,” he explains. “It was pretty last minute, but maybe? It always happens like this though. Pictures of a project someone’s working on get leaked, and the next thing you know, they’re dropping something huge.” 

Izuku presses his lips together, running his fingers through the condensation on his glass as he thinks. 

“But Katsuki is always doing something exciting, I’m sure it will be fun!” He grins, scooping up his glass and giving Izuku a short wave. “Anyway, I gotta go find some people. It was nice to meet you, Yamada Sake!” 

Izuku nearly chokes at the sound of the name, nearly forgetting that he’d said something so strange. 

But then, Kirishima blends in with the crowd and Izuku is alone again. He feels out of place standing at the bar and not talking to anyone, so he attempts to move around the space. It’s loud and growing more and more crowded. But Katsuki is still nowhere to be seen. 

Maybe he has time for a quick break. 

He won’t miss anything, right? 

With that in mind, he slips back out through the door he’d entered at and stands in the empty hallway. Immediately he feels a sense of relief and calm just being away from the buzzing energy. It’s not that he doesn’t like being in crowds. Usually, he doesn’t mind it one bit. But this just feels like too much of a culture shock for him. 

He closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths, trying to re-center himself. It usually works like a charm. But then on his final exhale, he hears a door being swung open. 

Izuku gasps and turns towards the sound, his stomach immediately dropping when he meets the gaze of the other person who had just entered the hallway from another door. 

Katsuki. 

Crap. 

Maybe it would be less strange if Izuku just slips back into the party or plays it cool. But instead, he turns on his heel and runs down the darkened hallway. 

“Hey!” He hears Katsuki shouting after him, but it’s too late. He’s already made his stupid choice, now he has to commit to it. 

Izuku makes two quick turns and then finds a door that is slightly ajar and unoccupied. Without thinking too much, he slips through and slams it shut. After that, he turns to assess his situation: He’s just shut himself inside a dressing room that looks like it’s being used as a storage space for racks and racks of costumes. 

No big deal. At least it’s not a bathroom. 

But Izuku can’t relax yet. He can still hear Katsuki’s footsteps stalking after him from out in the hallway, so he dives in between the racks and hides behind the costumes. It’s perfect. He’ll just stay here for a while and then attempt to venture back out. 

Izuku is confident in that plan for all of two seconds until he realizes that actually he’s made a huge mistake. Now Katsuki is probably going to call security and then Izuku won’t be able to get back in or get the pictures. And then Ashido will probably fire him or something. 

Basically it’s all bad anyway Izuku looks at it. 

But it gets even worse when the door to the room opens and then closes again and Katsuki steps inside. Izuku squeezes his eyes shut and stays as still as he can. Maybe he’ll realize that the dressing room is empty and just go away. 

“I know you’re fucking in here,” Katsuki says. “I saw you. Are you really that stupid?” 

“I’m not stupid,” Izuku scoffs, and then claps a hand over his own mouth. Fuck. 

Katsuki chuckles and Izuku thinks that, well, this can’t get any worse than it already is. And now that Katsuki is laughing at him, he’s starting to feel less anxious and more pissed off. Because that’s the whole reason he was pissed off by the other man in the first place! 

He always fucking wins— no matter what Izuku does, Katsuki will always have the privilege of being someone with money, fame and good looks. Everything is always going to tumble in his favor and it makes Izuku sick to know that the world is so biased. 

So Izuku gets up and emerges from the costume racks to face the singer. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Katsuki asks him, his arms crossed over his chest. His tone is different . . . Izuku can’t quite place it. 

“I can’t believe you recognized me,” Izuku says, dodging the question as he pulls off his sunglasses. 

“I didn’t, but then you ran and I saw your stupid backpack,” Katsuki scoffs. Izuku frowns— his backpack is not stupid. “You gave yourself away.” 

“Crap,” he mutters, shaking his head. “So . . . what then? Are you going to kick me out? Call security? Just do it already, I don’t care.” 

He does care. He needs a job. But what’s the point of delaying the inevitable? 

“I want you to tell me how you knew about this party,” he says, keeping a straight face. Izuku stares at him, eyes searching his face for any sign of what might be going through his mind. Is he angry at Izuku or someone else? It’s hard to tell. 

“My boss told me where to go,” he admits. 

“Your boss?” He asks, blinking, as if it wasn’t the response he had expected. 

“Yeah, she just tells me where to go and what to take pictures of, I’m just doing a job,” he says, defensively. Maybe there’s some part of Katsuki that will realize Izuku is not the one he should be mad at. 

That really, he should be mad at the society that places so much worth and importance on what celebrities are doing. 

“How does she know?” He asks, his tone changing slightly. He sounds . . . confused? Concerned? Ah, crap. 

“Listen, I don’t know! I’m just here to get the stupid pictures and then get paid. If I’m being honest, I don’t want to do this, I think it’s stupid. But you got me fired from my other job, so I don’t have a lot of options right now,” he says, firmly. 

“Oh fuck off, you can’t just stop and think for one moment, that maybe you got your own damn self fired?” he scoffs. “Fucking sucks for you, but you can’t just blame me for your problems.” 

“Whatever!” Izuku exclaims, exasperated. “Fine, just  . . . kick me out so I can go ahead and get started on my next job search.” 

He balls up his fists and stomps towards the door. His face feels hot and his heart races. 

“Wait, hold on a damn minute,” Katsuki says, just before Izuku gets to the door. He takes a step closer, just close enough to where Izuku can smell that same expensive cologne he’d been wearing the last time they were this close. 

Katsuki has a few inches on Izuku height-wise, but he’s more slender than Izuku. And he can tell because the outfit he’s wearing consists of a skin-tight black tank top and similarly fitted leather pants. 

Izuku gulps. 

“I’m trying to figure something out,” Katsuki says, evenly. His voice is surprisingly calm as his red eyes flicker over Izuku’s face. 

“Okay,” Izuku whispers. 

“Maybe it’s nothing, but I think something is going on,” he explains, and Izuku’s heart squeezes in his chest. Going on? With What? Them? No way, ha— “No one was supposed to know about this party. No one was supposed to know about the video shoot either, but now both things are being leaked and it all just feels . . too fucking convenient, you know?” 

“Um, maybe?” Izuku shrugs, blinking as Katsuki turns away and paces a few times around the small room. 

“I want to find out who’s leaking information,” Katsuki says. 

“I don’t know anything about that, and I’d rather not be involved, I just take the pictures,” Izuku laughs. 

“You’re already involved, nerd,” he snaps. “Here’s the thing— I’m not going to kick you out or turn you in. But I want to know what you know.” 

“Why should I help you?” Izuku asks, defensively. 

“Did you not fucking hear me? I said I’m not going to kick you out,” he says, as if Izuku should be grovelling at his feet for giving him such a generous offer. It is sort of generous, but he’s not willing to give Katsuki that much credit. 

“I don’t understand why you want that information anyway, don’t you like all this attention? If it ultimately benefits you, then why does it matter?” Izuku asks. Maybe Kirishima was right. Maybe Katsuki is more complicated than he thought. 

“Listen, I don’t expect you to get it,” Katsuki says. (Patronizing, Izuku thinks.) “But this is not how I wanted to announce my new album. It fucking sucks to have everything upended last minute only to end up dropping a song at a party I don’t even get to enjoy.”

Izuku just stares, trying to wrap his head around the shreds of personal information that Katsuki has just given him. It’s strangely humanizing.

“Hey, if it helps, I think this party is stupid, too,” Izuku says.  He doesn't know why he feels the sudden urge to be kind to the other man.  Katsuki’s eyes flash to him, staring and calculating. He doesn’t trust Izuku, clearly. 

“Fucking tell me about it,” Katsuki finally sighs, shaking his head. “I’ve been sitting in a fucking vip lounge for the past hour. And sure, the name sounds cool, but it’s really just me and one other friend sitting in a room by ourselves. It’s fucking boring.” 

“So you’d rather be out there?” he asks, nodding in the direction of the party. 

“I don’t know,” he groans, leaning against the dressing table and folding his arms across his chest again. “‘Cause out there are just a bunch of people who think they’re all my best friends.” 

Izuku considers this for a moment. 

“Whatever, I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” Katsuki huffs. 

“What did you want to do?” 

“For?” 

“You said this isn’t how you wanted to release the album . . . how did you want to release it? If everything was completely up to you?” 

Katsuki pauses for a second, and it makes Izuku wonder if anyone has even asked him that before. The blond takes a deep breath and considers the question for a few moments before answering. 

“I probably wouldn’t release it at all.” 

For a moment Izuku feels frozen to his spot, stuck by Katsuki’s response. It’s the first time that Izuku realizes that maybe . . . maybe everything he thinks he knows about Katsuki is wrong. 

“Anyway, I’ve got to fucking go, they’re going to start calling me soon,” Katsuki groans, pushing off from the edge of the dressing table. 

“Wait, um, here,” Izuku mumbles, pulling out a folded up piece of paper from his pants pocket. The one with all of Ashido’s instructions on it. He hands it to Katsuki. 

“What’s that?” 

“The um, directions for how to get into the building,” he says. “That I got from my boss.” 

“Shit,” Katsuki says, taking the paper and unfolding it. “This is weird. So fucking weird. When did you get this?” 

“The other day? Right after I turned in the photos from the video shoot.” 

Katsuki frowns and raises an eyebrow at him. “That was you?” 

“Um . . . yes?” he sighs. 

“Whatever, that doesn’t matter, shit is clearly being leaked, I just have to figure out who’s the rat and smoke them out. Tell me next time you get shit about me, okay?” he asks, folding the paper back up and handing it over again. 

“How?” Izuku asks. Katsuki blinks, and turns back to the dressing table. He opens a drawer, rummages around in it for a moment, and then pulls out a black permanent marker. 

Without warning, Katsuki grabs Izuku’s arm without warning and pushes up his sleeve to start scribbling something on the inside of his forearm. 

“Hey, what the— “ 

Katsuki’s hands are really warm, and he’s standing close enough to where Izuku can feel his breath against his skin. Izuku shivers, his chest buzzing as Katsuki stands up straight again to face him. 

Their faces are only inches apart, and Izuku is immediately sent back to that one moment where their lips were connected. It’s a moment that has clearly had an effect on him whether he likes it or not. 

Izuku wets his lips involuntarily. 

“Don’t give that to anyone,” Katsuki rasps, clearing his throat. 

And then he’s gone. 

Izuku stays in the dressing room for a few more moments, his cheeks burning hot as he looks at the phone number sprawled across his arm. Katsuki’s handwriting is very neat, and Izuku finds that cute for some reason. 

Not that he thinks Katsuki is cute. It’s different. Maybe. 

“Crap,” Izuku says to himself. 

Eventually, Izuku wanders back out to the party, just in time for Katsuki’s performance to start. He stands in the crowd with his camera, looking up as Katsuki graces the stage in leather pants. 

The song is energetic, sure to be the nation’s next big pop hit. 

Izuku watches the way that Katsuki moves on stage, jumping around and still managing to belt out the lyrics. The song is happy and upbeat, but for some reason it makes Izuku feel sad. 

Because the Katsuki on stage doesn’t look anything like the Katsuki he had just finished talking to in the dressing room. 

It makes Izuku wonder which one is real and which one is just a persona. 

Notes:

hehehehehehe don't worry they're definitely not on good terms yet.

here's another song: deathwish by stand atlantic

Chapter 6: A Lesson in Stalking

Summary:

Izuku pulls his feet up onto the seat of his computer chair and rests his chin against his knees. His eyes ache from staring at the screen for so long— he should probably turn in for the night, but he can’t bring himself to do so yet. 
His photos from Katsuki’s party have been turned in already. In fact, he’s already seen most of them posted on UA-Z’s website. It’s funny how quickly they work, but it’s kind of sad how little effort they put into editing. But maybe that’s the point. Grainy, candid images seem more genuine and realistic. 

Izuku pulls his feet up onto the seat of his computer chair and rests his chin against his knees. His eyes ache from staring at the screen for so long— he should probably turn in for the night, but he can’t bring himself to do so yet. 

His photos from Katsuki’s party have been turned in already. In fact, he’s already seen most of them posted on UA-Z’s website. It’s funny how quickly they work, but it’s kind of sad how little effort they put into editing. But maybe that’s the point. Grainy, candid images seem more genuine and realistic. 

He definitely wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, but he has so many extra photos of Katsuki that the publication decided not to use. As Izuku scrolls through them, he can’t help but replay the events of the evening in his mind. 

One of the photos in particular has his attention. 

Katsuki is standing center-stage, his head thrown back with his microphone to his lips. His free hand is caught on the hem of his shirt, peeling it upward just enough to reveal toned skin. Izuku wets his lips and crops it. 

But he can’t just stop there. The next thing he knows, he’s toggling the lighting and the colors, creating a masterpiece that he’s actually proud of. 

And then, the next thing he knows, it’s four o’clock in the morning. 

Crap. 

He leans back and stretches before saving the photos and rolling into his bed straight from the chair. What a fucking night. When Katsuki chased him down, he really thought he was about to get in trouble or have the cops called on him or some shit. The last thing he expected was for Katsuki to be relatively civil.

He seemed so concerned about where Izuku was getting his information from, and clearly trusted that Izuku didn’t know anything. Izuku was surprised because he thought for sure someone like Katsuki would love the attention. That he would love everyone talking about him as long as it was something that made him look good. 

But maybe Katsuki isn’t the person Izuku thinks he is. 

"I probably wouldn’t release it at all.” 

Come to think of it, what does Izuku actually know about the other man? That he’s a famous pop star that people worship? That he’s a jerk that only cares about himself? That his lips are warm and surprisingly soft . . .

Izuku groans and pulls one of his pillows over his face. He can't stop thinking about that, either. It was so wild and exciting, but at the same time so embarrassing. 

And he still doesn't know what Katsuki thought of it, or if he even still thinks about it like Izuku does. Maybe he kisses so many people that kissing Izuku was nothing to write home about. The thought alone makes his stomach turn and he’s not sure why. 

He doesn’t care if Katsuki kisses other people. He barely knows the guy. 

With a thoughtful sigh he holds up his forearm and squints at the phone number that’s already starting to fade from his skin. Maybe he should write that down before he forgets about it. Rolling over, he grabs his phone again and enters the phone number into his contact list. His thumb hovers over the “ send message” icon, wondering if he should text him to let him know what his number is. 

That’s what people normally do. It’s what Izuku would do with literally anyone else’s number isn’t it? So what’s the difference here? Maybe in the back of his mind, he knows there’s a perceived difference, but he’s not about to admit that. 

Finally, he sends a quick “ This is Midoriya Izuku” and sets his phone back down. Okay. Now he can sleep. 

But. 

Just as he rolls over to close his eyes, he can hear his phone vibrating with an incoming message. Should he check it? No, probably not. He has to sleep. 

Stubborn, he scrunches his eyes shut. But then it vibrates again. And again. 

Groaning, he rolls over and holds the phone up over his face to find not one, but three text messages from Katsuki. 

Katsuki: Who? 

Katsuki: Just kidding - NERD

Katsuki: Thought your name looked like fuckin Deku at first 

Izuku scoffs, giving his phone screen an incredulous look as he reads the text messages. What the hell kind of a response is that? Well, he knew Katsuki could be rude, but that kind of response seems weird, even coming from him. 

Izuku: ?

There. Simple response; that kind of nonsense doesn’t deserve much more of Izuku’s energy. Or, at the very least, Izuku doesn’t want Katsuki to think he’s giving any time or energy to his antics. 

Katsuki: sorry im drink

Katsuki: drunk*

Izuku stares at the message, unsure of how to respond. On one hand, he could keep responding just to see what happens. On the other hand, he could just continue to ignore Katsuki. You know, just to keep up the image that he doesn’t want to be interacting with the other man. Because he doesn’t. 

Izuku: Still? 

There. Minimal effort. 

Katsuki: wym “still” 

Katsuki: Didn’t get to drink until after the stupid party. 

Katsuki: I didn’t see u after the set 

Izuku sighs, wondering why it even matters. What if he decided to hang around? It’s not like Katsuki could have hung out with him or acknowledged him. 

Izuku: I had to get home. Editing pictures and shit

It takes Katsuki a little longer to respond this time, and Izuku almost wonders if he’s finally fallen asleep or something. Maybe Izuku should get to sleep too—

Katsuki: Damn they’re already online??? 

Katsuki: That’s some shitty editing, Deku

Izuku rolls his eyes. But he agrees. He didn’t even get to edit those. However, he still doesn’t like the fact that Katsuki is making fun of his photos, so he opens up the folder on his phone to download the one photo he had edited for himself. Not that the photo was for himself. The editing was. 

Izuku: <image attachment> 

He holds his breath, watching as Katsuki starts typing and then stops again. And then starts again. 

Katsuki: nice

Izuku rolls his eyes. It’s not a big deal, but he can’t help but think that, wow, that’s all he has to say this time? It’s better than telling him it looks like shit and to take it down. But still. 

Finally, Izuku is able to just put the phone down and opt to ignore Katsuki. Clearly the guy is done being talkative, so Izuku will leave him on ‘ read.’

---

 

Izuku gets to drift off to sleep for maybe thirty minutes before he’s woken up again. This time, by a pounding coming from his front door. He groans and sits up, pausing for a moment because he hopes it’ll be someone who’ll just go away. 

But then it keeps happening. 

So he mutters a few choice words under his breath and rolls out of bed. It better be important for someone to be waking him up before his alarm, especially when he’s gotten so little sleep. He makes it to the front door, and the person bangs again. 

“Hold on! I’m coming,” he groans, then pulls it open. He freezes, surprised to see Uraraka of all people standing outside with her fist raised. 

“Oh! I knew you had to be home!” she grins. Izuku blinks and rubs at his eyes, still attempting to wake up. 

“What are you doing here? I’m sorry, but it’s really early, and I haven’t gotten much sleep,” he sighs. 

“No worries! I just had a special request to take you on a field trip today!” she says, grinning wide. Izuku leans back, a bit put off by the phrasing. What the hell? 

“A— what now?” 

“A field trip! Ashido isn’t always going to have assignments for you, so sometimes you have to stake your person out by yourself!” she explains. “And I happen to know most of Katsuki’s daily routines, so I was asked to help you!”

He grimaces, not really liking the idea of actively stalking Katsuki. It’s one thing to show up at events with prompting . . . but just seeking him out and learning his routine? That’s weird, right? 

“Can it wait? I’m really tired,” he sighs. 

“Nope! Katsuki wakes up early to go to the gym every day and if you want to get a good picture of him in his workout clothes, you have to get up early, too. Ashido says you have to!” she says, beaming. Izuku grumbles to himself. 

“Fine,” Izuku finally says, even though it sounds like an awful idea. He does have the passing thought that he could just text Katsuki and see where he’s at. But they don’t really know each other well enough for that.

Then again, he did want to know about things like this, right? Or was it only for when he had an assignment? This seems less like an assignment and more like a lesson in stalking.  Ultimately, he decides not to give a heads-up. 

“Come on!” Uraraka insists, excitedly. 

“At least let me get dressed,” he groans, stepping back and allowing her to step inside. “Just . . . I’ll be two minutes.” 

“Okie-dokie! Be quick! We don’t want to miss it!” she laughs. Izuku just rolls his eyes and heads back to his room. He pulls on a clean pair of jeans and grabs his phone, feeling an odd pang of disappointment when he sees that he has no new messages. 

Whatever! 

He slides it into his pocket and slings his camera bag over his shoulder before he leaves to meet Uraraka in the living room. She’s sitting on the couch, grinning as she scrolls through her own phone. 

“Ready, I guess,” he sighs. 

“Look! Katsuki updated his profile picture!” she giggles, shoving the phone towards his face. He rolls his eyes— he so doesn’t care. But he gasps when he actually sees the picture and takes the phone from Uraraka’s hand. 

“That motherfucker,” he mutters under his breath, frowning at the fact that Katsuki is using the photo that Izuku edited as his profile picture now. And all he had to say about it was “nice.” 

Stupid! 

“What’s wrong with it?” she asks. 

“Ah, nothing, whatever,” he sighs, handing it back to her quickly. There is no way in hell Izuku is about to tell her that he has Katsuki’s phone number and had texted him that very same picture last night. 

“Hmm, okay then,” she hums. “Let’s get going then, shall we?” 

“Sure.” 

They head out, and the entire time Uraraka just keeps talking and talking. Izuku does his best to not be rude, but the fact of the matter is that he does not want to be on this “field trip.” He wants to be home where he can sleep uninterrupted. 

“One time I saw Jirou Kyouka at that pastry shop over there,” Uraraka says, catching his attention. That’s one musician he is pretty familiar with— decent music, though not his favorite. Still, she’s not the same sort of electronic pop nonsense that Izuku had thought Uraraka would be into. 

“You like her?” he asks. 

“Of course I do!” she says, grinning. “I got a few pictures of her, but then I also went up to her and asked for an autograph and she was super nice about it.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Sure! A lot of people are really nice,” she says, warmly. Izuku wonders how she can work in this industry and still have such a positive outlook on everything. 

“Except Katsuki,” Izuku chuckles. 

“Yeah, well, there’s always gonna be a diva somewhere,” Uraraka laughs as they continue to walk. “I still would like to believe that Katsuki can be nice. I think he’s just so famous that he gets too much attention sometimes. Maybe it stresses him out, you know?” 

“And knowing that, you continue to stalk him?” Izuku chuckles. Uraraka flashes him a briefly defensive glare, but then sighs. 

“I just stay out of his way and give him space,” she sighs, then changes the subject. “The gym is over there, but we’re going to cut through this alleyway.” 

Izuku nods and follows her between buildings. She maneuvers through like she’s done it a thousand times before and climbs up on top of a dumpster at the back of the alley. 

“That doesn’t look safe,” Izuku winces. 

“It’s fine,” she sighs. Izuku shakes his head and climbs up anyway. The dumpster gives them enough height to see over the back wall and into the parking lot of this supposed gym. 

“Doesn’t look like a gym.” 

“It’s a private gym,” she explains. “Could you imagine if he went to a public gym? The poor guy would get trampled.” 

Perhaps she has a point. 

“So did you just find this place yourself or did someone tell you about it?” Izuku asks, his mind wandering to his conversation with Katsuki from the previous night. About how he was paranoid that someone else was leaking information on him on purpose. 

“What do you mean?” she asks. Izuku sighs, leaning his elbows against the top of the wall. 

“I don’t know . . . do you ever wonder how we end up with assignments for things? Like the party I covered last night— how did Ashido know about that?” he asks. Uraraka blinks, pressing her finger against her lips. 

“Ashido knows a lot of people. She probably had an insider source,” she explains. “But it happens, you know? One person talks to another person, and then that person spreads it to more people? News travels fast, especially when it comes to drama with celebrities.” 

“It’s just weird,” he sighs. 

“Nah, I think it’s normal,” she shrugs, looking out as a black sedan pulls into the lot. Uraraka gasps and ducks down. “There he is! That’s his car, I’m pretty sure!” 

“Huh?” Izuku looks out, staring as the car pulls up to the front of the building and the door swings open. Sure enough, Katsuki gets out of the car, dressed in basketball shorts, a tight black tank and sunglasses. 

“He looks rough,” Uraraka comments. 

“Well, he was out drinking all night last night,” he says, then catches a quick, calculated look. “Er, I mean, probably, right? He had that party.” 

“Hmm, maybe,” she says. “Get your camera.” 

He nods and pulls it from his bag, zooming in just a bit to snap a few quick pictures before Katsuki disappears into the building. 

“These are shit,” Izuku groans, looking down at the preview screen on his camera. Uraraka peers over his shoulder and sighs. “All that for three seconds of shitty quality pictures.” 

“Yeah, but UA-Z will love them,” she shrugs. “They don’t like anything that looks too professional.” 

“It’s frustrating,” Izuku admits. “Don’t you ever feel like you’re sending in work that you know isn’t your best?” 

“All the time!” she exclaims, grinning. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my job, but it does kind of suck having my name attached to photos where I know I could do so much better.” 

“Yeah,” he says, his lips quirking into a grin. 

“Do you wanna see my photography account?” she asks, and Izuku nods. She slides back against the wall into a sitting position and pats the spot next to her. Izuku slides down, too and glances over. 

He’s surprised to see a collection of beautiful landscapes and old buildings. She’s actually a pretty talented photographer. 

“Wow, that’s amazing, Uraraka,” he says. 

“Thanks! When I have free time I like looking for abandoned buildings to take pictures in. You could say I have a knack for finding places that I’m not allowed to be in,” she laughs. 

“Yeah, for sure,” he grins. To be honest, he’d always been a little wary of taking his camera anywhere he wasn’t supposed to be. When he went to shows, he’d double check every venue site to make sure he was allowed to have a professional camera, or put in an application for a press pass just to be safe. 

“What do you like to take pictures of?” she asks. 

“Ah, you know, concerts and stuff,” Izuku shrugs, pulling up his own photography account. He shows her his feed, full of pictures and such from the different shows he’s been to. 

“Ooh, this was the one Katsuki got mad at you for, isn’t it?” she asks, placing her finger against that one photo that he still hasn’t taken down. 

“Yeah,” he sighs. “I think it’s a nice picture.” 

“I think so too!” she insists. “I don’t know why he hated it so much.” 

He gasps as his phone vibrates in his hand, and he sees that the text coming through is from Katsuki. Quickly, he rips the phone away from Uraraka’s gaze, leaving her looking stunned and confused. 

“You didn’t see that,” he insists, even though saying something like that would only lead her to believe that there was something incriminating for her to see in the first place. 

“Did that say Katsuki?” she asks. 

“It’s a different Katsuki, obviously,” he scoffs, shaking his head. “It’s a very common name.” 

“If it’s a different Katsuki then why are you getting so defensive?” Good point. Ahh, crap. Uraraka is a lot smarter than Izuku had pegged her to be. 

“Because this Katsuki is sending me nudes,” he lies, unintentionally leading himself to imagining what it would be like if this Katsuki actually was sending him nudes. Hah. 

“Oh,” she says, pressing her lips together to hold back a grin. “Nudes this early in the morning? Okay, Midoriya.” 

“Don’t judge me,” he chuckles. 

“Of course not!” 

Izuku clears his throat and turns away from her enough that he can open the message. Because curiosity is killing him. 

Katsuki: am i hungover or did i just see you on the fuckin roof

Izuku groans to himself. This is so stupid and embarrassing. 

“Something good, I assume?” Uraraka teases. 

“Ah, sure,” he chokes, his thumbs shaking as he tries to come up with a reasonable response. 

Izuku: dont know what ur talking about

Perfect. 

Or not. 

Katsuki: the roof of the damn gym. I saw you

Katsuki: I am hungover as fuck though

Izuku sighs and suppresses the urge to throw his phone across the parking lot. 

“You’re acting so weird,” Uraraka laughs. “You’re funny, though. I like you.” 

“Thanks,” he mumbles, even though he wants to hide. 

Izuku: sorry! A coworker is showing me around 

Hopefully he understands. 

Katsuki: thought I told you to text me if you got another assignment?

Katsuki: Who told you to come here? What the fuck?

Izuku groans to himself. 

“So you’re like, aggressively sexting right now?” Uraraka asks him. Izuku grimaces and shakes his head quickly. 

“No! It’s not like that. Just . . . personal stuff, okay?” he sighs. Uraraka gives him a small smile and nods. 

Izuku: no assignment 

Katsuki: bullshit. Whatever. 

Izuku rolls his eyes and puts the phone away, not prepared to deal with that quite yet. 

“Well, we’ll just hang out here until he’s done, okay?” she suggests. 

“You’re not afraid of getting caught?” Izuku asks. Uraraka shakes her head. 

“Nah, it doesn’t matter,” she says. “If you feel better about it, we could head to the next location— maybe get something to eat before we see him?” 

Izuku sighs. 

“That’s fine,” he gives in, sliding down off of the dumpster. As long as they can get somewhere else and not be in Katsuki’s line of sight. 

He’s not sure how much more confrontation he can handle.

Notes:

I feel like this fic isn't as popular as others I've written, but I still enjoy writing it so much and I hope you all do too.

Here's another song.

 

Drift Away by Chunk! No, Captain, Chunk!

Chapter 7: Bespoke or whatever

Summary:

Come to think of it, though, Midoriya doesn’t seem to like Katsuki at all. And it bothers him for reasons he can’t quite place yet. Maybe it’s because he’s just so damn confusing! 

Seriously, one minute the guy is acting like he knows more than everyone else like a cocky asshole, and the next he’s kissing Katsuki in a fucking bathroom. He’s still not quite sure what to make of that, and he hasn’t dared to bring it up again with Camie. 

Sometimes, Katsuki resents his lifestyle. 

He’s grateful for what he has and all that jazz, but sometimes he wishes he could just slow down and stop for a minute. Maybe he shouldn’t have been drinking last night knowing that he had to be up and about so early the next day. But still. Does he get to rest after the gym? Nope. 

As soon as he showers and finishes up, he’s being whisked away to the next thing on his endless list of chores for the day. He slides into the back seat of the car that his manager sent for him, and pulls out his phone. 

That stupid photographer never texted him back. What the fuck is he up to, anyway? It has Katsuki second-guessing his decision to give out his phone number. Maybe this guy is secretly a crazy stalker and Katsuki just signed over his own death sentence. 

Fuck. 

Come to think of it, though, Midoriya doesn’t seem to like Katsuki at all. And it bothers him for reasons he can’t quite place yet. Maybe it’s because he’s just so damn confusing! 

Seriously, one minute the guy is acting like he knows more than everyone else like a cocky asshole, and the next he’s kissing Katsuki in a fucking bathroom. He’s still not quite sure what to make of that, and he hasn’t dared to bring it up again with Camie. 

Probably because he already knows exactly what she’ll say. And it will be stuff that he definitely doesn’t want to hear. 

“So. I’ve got Best Jeanist’s store next on the list,” the driver tells him, reminding him of his own schedule. Katsuki just nods, staring out the window as he drives. 

According to Mitsuki, Katsuki has a reputation for being “creatively fashionable” and needs to keep up appearances. So every so often she places an order for him to be outfitted with an updated, bespoke wardrobe. Katsuki doesn’t mind it— he does enjoy fashion. But today he’s just exhausted and isn’t sure he has the energy to try on twenty different outfits just to make sure they fit perfectly. 

“And then, who knows, maybe we can take a detour after that and get some ice cream,” the driver adds. Katsuki looks up and grins. 

The driver, Mr.Toshinori, had been working with his family for the past several years. On the occasion that Katsuki was out and about without his mother, Mr.Toshinori had always been good about slipping in the little things that Katsuki actually wanted to do. 

“Don’t tell Mitsuki,” Katsuki adds. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, boy,” he chuckles. 

When Katsuki was sixteen, there was a day where he had been in tears over the fact that he would have to be pulled from his high school. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he enjoyed going to school and feeling like a normal kid. But then his mom made the claim that he was ‘too famous’ and she was worried for his safety. The day he found out, he’d climbed into the back of Mr.Toshinori’s car and cried. He just couldn’t help it. 

And Mr.Toshinori just let him yell and rant about it, even taking extra detours home so that he could have more time to himself. That day they also stopped to get ice cream. 

“Sorry, I’m sure you don’t want to be listening to me whining like a dumb brat.”

“Not dumb . . . I think you forget sometimes that you’re just a kid. You’re allowed to whine if you need to.” 

 

Katsuki feels a little bit lighter by the time they get to Best Jeanist. He walks in and meets the designer— a tall, sharp man whom he’s known for years. The store is open to the public, but with it being so up-scale and expensive, there aren’t many people that just walk in to shop the racks. 

“Good Morning Katsuki, I’ve been waiting for you,” he says, nodding towards the back of the store. Katsuki shoves his hands into his pockets and follows him back to the dressing area, where he has a rack filled with his clothing waiting for him to try on. 

“This it?” Katsuki asks, thumbing through the racks, and blinking at the sheer amount of sequins and fringe. It’s a little out-there, even for Katsuki. 

“Mhm,” the designer nods. “Fashion is an art, and we’re embracing that this season. Think of yourself as a canvas.” 

“Uh-huh,” Katsuki mumbles, while Best Jeanist pulls out the first outfit and hands it to him. Without another word, Katsuki takes it from him and heads into the nearest fitting room. This particular outfit is a pair of tight pants with orange sequins running up the sides of the legs, paired with a t-shirt and a fringed leather jacket. 

He steps out of the dressing room and onto the little platform by the mirrors so he can inspect himself. It looks better on. 

“Very nice,” Best Jeanist says, with a grin. Clearly very proud of his own work. He comes up behind Katsuki, tugging on the material in a couple different places just to make sure it all fits the way it’s supposed to. 

Katsuki follows the same routine with the next several outfits until he’s finally on the very last one. He’s looking at himself in the mirrors again, admiring the way the outfit fits his body, when the bell rings to signal that someone has entered the store. 

“I’ll be right back. Feel free to browse and let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to add to your order,” he says, before leaving him to greet his new customers. Katsuki sighs and heads back into the fitting room, taking his time. 

He takes off the outfit and slips back into his jeans and t-shirt, ready to head out of the room. But then he pauses when he can hear Best Jeanist talking to the new customer right outside. 

“Any of these fitting rooms are open, just let me know if you need any help,” Best Jeanist says. And he wouldn’t think anything of it . . . if it weren’t for the fact that the voice that responds is suspiciously familiar. 

Fucking Midoriya! 

Katsuki stops himself from exiting the dressing room, though. He could burst out and cause a scene if he really wanted to. But what would that do? Make Katsuki look like a giant asshole? 

But it’s less about that, and more about this intense, overwhelming curiosity. How the fuck did he know he’d be here? What fucking game is this asshole playing? 

He listens until it sounds like he’s gone into another fitting room until gently peeling back the curtain to his own fitting room. He peeks outside, just checking to make sure the coast is clear. No one. Just Best Jeanist. 

“I’m going to take your purchases up to the front to package them up for you. I’ll meet you up there when you’re ready,” he tells him, pushing along the wheeled rack of clothing. Katsuki nods, thanks him, and then waits for him to leave before he spins around and looks for the fitting room that looks like it’s occupied.

Without thinking it through too much, he draws back the curtain quickly and invites himself inside. 

And well, Midoriya is definitely in there. In his underwear! 

“Why are you naked?” Katsuki hisses at him, trying to keep his voice down while the other man stumbles backwards onto the dressing room bench. His stupid face is bright red as he scrambles to cover himself with his discarded clothes. 

“Why did you walk in on me?!” he hisses back, in a panicked whisper. Katsuki narrows his eyes, trying not to think too hard about the fact that Midoriya is in better shape than he would have guessed. 

“Trying to figure out why the fuck you’re following me around everywhere,” Katsuki whispers. “What the hell is your problem?” 

“I told you! I’m just doing my job, okay?” He scoffs, standing up and pulling his jeans back on. When he stands like that, he’s closer to Katsuki. Close enough for him to feel his body heat and smell his shampoo.

Katsuki falters for a minute, staring down at Midoriya’s bare chest with the strange urge to reach out and touch it. Fuck.

“How did you know I’d be here?” 

“I don’t know! Uraraka found out,” he scoffs. 

“Who the fuck is— “

“Don’t worry about it, okay?” 

Midoriya looks up, his big green eyes boring into Katsuki’s in a weak attempt at being menacing. Katsuki’s eyes flicker over his face, noticing the little details; like the faint freckles that litter his cheeks and the way his eyelashes curl upwards. His face is soft and subtle, yet rigid and masculine at the same time. 

They stare at each other for a moment, both silent as the air changes to something a little heavier and a little more tense. He listens to the way the shorter man lets go of a shaky breath, trying his best not to falter under Katsuki’s gaze. 

This is insane, isn’t it? Katsuki’s jaw feels rigid as he contemplates the situation— him and Midoriya, only inches apart, crammed into the small space of the dressing room. There’s even less space in there for the two of them than there was in that cafe bathroom where they kissed. 

Come to think of it, he never found out why that nerd kissed him that day. Neither of them ever brought it up again. But now they’re here and Katsuki has the opportunity to try it again, to get another taste. 

Ah, fuck, what the hell, right? 

Katsuki cocks his head to the side slightly and leans in, his lips brushing against Midoriya’s ever so slightly. He shivers as their lips touch, like he’s afraid to go any further. What the fuck is he so afraid of? It’s not like he’s never kissed anyone before!

It feels as though an eternity passes before Midoriya finally leans into the kiss. This time, there’s nothing to interrupt them, and separating just means that they might have to face each other and talk about why the fuck Katsuki decided to do this again. 

So he presses deeper, letting his lips mold against Midoriya’s, moving against them slowly at first, and then accelerating to a pace that’s a bit more desperate. Katsuki’s head spins, not allowing him to think very clearly. It especially becomes hard to do so when Midoriya’s hands find Katsuki’s hips, squeezing tight and making him feel small. 

Katsuki pushes against the other man’s shoulders until he’s stumbling backwards against the bench. They break from the kiss momentarily, sending a panic surging through Katsuki’s chest. Not ready to face consequences for his actions, he digs himself deeper by straddling Midoriya’s lap and reconnecting their lips. 

Midoriya gasps, breathing in sharply but graciously accepting Katsuki’s advances, keeping his strong hands at the small of his back as Katsuki hooks his arms around the back of Midoriya’s neck. He tries not to think about the way this position lends itself to something way more sexual than he’s intended. His own dick betrays him by stirring in his pants at the unintentional friction between them.

Eventually, he has to stop. Even though it pains him to do so, he pulls back with his chest heaving for air. Midoriya leans his head back against the wall, breathless and with his hands still resting at Katsuki’s hips. 

“What was— “

“Shut up,” Katsuki hisses, not wanting to let him in on how fucking nervous he is. God, this was fucking stupid, wasn’t it? What the fuck is he doing? For all he really knows, this guy is the real creep here, stalking him and leaking things on his own accord! 

But something deep inside his gut tells him that that’s not the case. Despite him being an asshole, and despite the fact that Katsuki does not want to admit it, the guy seems well-intentioned. 

“You started it that time,” Midoriya says. Stupid little shit! 

“I said shut up,” Katsuki hisses. “I should call the cops on you for stalking me.” 

“‘M not stalking you,” he mutters, his hands lazily drifting from Katsuki’s hips to his thighs. Katsuki shudders at the slow and gentle touch. 

“Then why do you keep showing up everywhere?” he asks. 

“I told you, I’m just doing my job,” Midoriya responds. Katsuki rolls his eyes and glances down between them, at the way that he’s still seated in Midoriya’s lap, their crotches pressed together. He blinks, his mind drifting to the night before. 

After his set, and answering lots of questions from nosey ass people, he was finally able to attend his own party. But it wasn’t fun. No one there wanted to talk about anything other than how his new song was going to be a billboard hit, or whatever. He remembers vaguely sitting at the bar and ordering a drink, looking around to see if Midoriya was still there. 

Their conversation from earlier that night had been plaguing his mind that entire time. No one ever seemed to give a shit what Katsuki wanted. But for some reason, Midoriya did. 

Maybe it was a good thing that he never ran into Midoriya after the set. With all that alcohol, there’s no telling how out of hand he might have let things get. 

“What is going on?” Midoriya asks softly, breaking Katsuki from his thoughts. “With us.” 

He cringes at the choice of words. Because when he says it like that, it sounds like an actual thing he might have to put a name to. He would have much preferred to just keep going and not talk about the fact that they’ve kissed on two separate occasions now. 

They’re supposed to hate each other. 

They should hate each other. 

“Nothing,” he says, pressing his lips together. His chest feels tight as he slides backwards and stands up, turning away from the other man. It’s fucking embarrassing. 

Of course, it would be more embarrassing if Midoriya had, like, rejected him or pushed him away or some shit, but it’s still weird, right? Fuck. He’s not usually this weird about things like this. Whatever this is. 

“So is it common for you to just kiss people wherever you go?” he sighs. Katsuki whips around, glaring at him. 

“The fuck is that supposed to mean? Are you calling me a slut?” 

Midoriya blinks, then pulls his t-shirt back on. He shakes his head and stands up. 

“I didn’t say that. I don’t slut shame,” he insists. Katsuki rolls his eyes— of course he’d jump to say something like that. “But if it’s not a common thing for you, I don’t see why it would be just nothing.”

“So are you saying this means something to you?” 

Midoriya purses his lips, his stupid eyebrows knitting together in frustration. Katsuki almost wants to laugh because hah, got him. The nerd doesn’t want to fucking admit anything either. Not that there’s anything to admit. 

Maybe Camie’s right. There’s a weird sexual tension, but that doesn’t have to mean anything. 

Right? 

“Whatever, I got shit to do today,” he groans, slipping out of the dressing room before he has the chance to do anything else he might later regret. As soon as he steps out and starts to exit the dressing room area, he swears he hears the snap of a camera somewhere, so he spins around to see the curtain suddenly swinging closed on another dressing stall. 

He narrows his eyes. That wasn’t Midoriya’s stall. 

Maybe he really is here with a coworker. 

Katsuki decides he doesn’t have the time to keep dealing with bullshit, so he heads off to collect his purchases. Now he just needs some damn ice cream to take his mind off this shit. 

__

 

Izuku stays hidden in the dressing room stall longer than he needs to. 

Because what the hell just happened?

Katsuki just barged into his stall, made out with him, and then left. And yet somehow Izuku is the crazy one in this scenario. 

He knew it would be risky when Uraraka suggested sneaking into this place. That she knew when he placed orders to pick up his clothes and they could potentially get photos of him in new outfits. What he wants to know is how the hell she hasn’t been banned from a place like this yet. 

Finally, once he’s got his head on mostly straight, he emerges from the stall to see Uraraka already outside waiting for him. Her eyes bore into him and his stomach sinks. Because she seems way too suspicious. Crap. 

“Will you guys be purchasing anything today?” the tall store clerk asks them. The way he looks them over tells Izuku that he wants them to leave. And that he’s probably suspicious that they’re there too shoplift and not actually to buy anything.  

“Ah, no, sorry,” Izuku apologizes, watching as the guy’s eyes flicker over to the rack as if he’s making sure they put everything back that they were supposedly trying on. To be fair, Izuku actually would have tried stuff on if it weren’t for Katsuki barging in. (Seriously, the opportunity to try on a sweater that costs 65,000 yen was enticing.) 

“Hmm, well that’s too bad,” the man sighs, judgment lacing his tone. Izuku hates it, and bites back at the urge to explain to him that he’s being a jerk for assuming they can’t afford his clothes. Hell, he wants to buy that stupid sweater out of spite! 

But he can’t. Because he has no money. That’s not the point! 

“Who knows, I might be back to buy if I find something I actually like,” Izuku says, just to feel like he’s made a point. Maybe it lands, maybe it doesn’t. Whatever. 

“Ahaha, let’s go,” Uraraka laughs nervously, hooking her arm around his elbow and practically dragging him out the door. She’s silent as they walk down the block, and it’s actually more terrifying than when she’s talking. 

“Did you get any pictures?” she asks, after a while. Izuku swallows. 

“Ah, n-no,” he stammers. “Sorry, just didn’t get a chance.” 

“Mhmm,” she says, pressing her lips together. So scary.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, picking up on her sudden hostility. She frowns, and then pulls him into the nearest alleyway. 

“No, everything is not okay!” she hisses. Her eyes are watery and her face is bright red. “I saw Katsuki walk out of your dressing room!” 

“Crap,” he mutters. He’s not going to be able to make excuses for that one. What is she going to do? Is she going to tell Ashido or leak that to the public? Did she take a picture of him leaving the dressing room? Oh no. This is bad. 

“He recognized me?” he offers. 

“What were you doing in there?” Uraraka asks him. Her gaze is fierce and surprisingly intimidating. 

“N-nothing.” 

“You’re lying. I can tell you’re lying,” she says, sniffling. “You know, I know you don’t like me very much, but you don’t have to lie to me. I’m not stupid.” 

Izuku’s heart falls in his chest because yikes; that makes him feel like the asshole of the century. It’s not that he doesn’t like Uraraka. It’s just that her uh, methods freak him out a bit and he’s not sure they have that much in common. 

But they did have a nice time at lunch. She didn’t bring up celebrities once the entire time. In fact, they mostly talked about camera stuff and editing software. So maybe they do have a lot in common.

“I never said I don’t like you,” Izuku sighs. “I’m sorry you thought that.” 

“You didn’t have to. I thought maybe taking this little field trip with you could help us be friends, but now you’re just lying to my face,” she says. “That’s not very nice.” 

“I know, I know, I just . . .” he trails off, trying to think of the best way to explain his situation without sounding even more like a dick. “It’s complicated, okay? I don’t even know what’s going on right now, so how could I explain it to someone else? Also . . . please don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re super into all the celebrity gossip and stuff, I was afraid you’d tell someone about it.” 

She gasps and shakes her head. 

“I don’t think you know me very well at all,” she sighs. And that’s probably true. “You’re right. I love celebrities. But I don’t really have any friends . . . so if a friend trusted me with a secret I would take it to my grave.”

And for a reason he can’t quite place, Izuku believes her. 

“Okay,” he says. “So you’re not going to tell anyone what you saw?” 

She shakes her head slowly. “What did I see, exactly?” 

Izuku gnaws on the inside of his cheek. This is so messed up. He doesn’t necessarily want to tell her. Hell, he hasn’t even had a chance to tell his actual best friends that he has Katsuki’s phone number and has now made out with him. But he’s also dying to get it off his chest. 

“He saw us when he was going into the gym this morning,” he confesses. Uraraka blinks, her mouth forming the shape of an ‘o.’ “He texted me.”

“So you were texting Katsuki this morning. Like, the  Katsuki,” she says, then her eyes go shockingly wide. She covers her own mouth to stifle an excited scream. “Oh my god, you were sexting Katsuki?!” 

“What! No!” he sputters, shaking his head. “No, I just said that so you wouldn’t think— gah, nevermind.” 

“So then did you tell him you were going to be here, too? Oh my god, this is so crazy,” she says, running her fingers through her hair. 

“No! I didn’t. He must have heard us talking or something,” he groans. 

“So what were you doing in the changing room?” she asks, her eyes locked onto his. Izuku gulps, not sure how much information he should actually offer up. He presses his lips together into a firm line and shrugs. 

“N-nothing.” 

“Liar.” 

“Fine! We were m-making out, okay?!” 

“Areyouserious?!” she shrieks, pushing against Izuku’s shoulder. “You were making out with Katsuki?!” 

“Shh!” He hisses, glancing at the edge of the alleyway, afraid that someone might hear her. 

“Oh my god, you’re dating Katsuki.” 

“What? No! We’re not dating,” he says, cringing at the word. No, no, no, he would not date Katsuki. Just because he’s attractive and his hips fit perfectly in Izuku’s hands— fuck, no.

“Ah,” she says, blinking. “Then why were you making out?” 

“I don’t know,” he sighs, shaking his head. “I don’t really know what’s going on. I thought I hated him . . . and that he hated me. But now I’m not so sure. He’s really hard to get a read on sometimes.” 

“Wow, that’s so wild, I can’t believe this,” she says, sounding totally amazed. Well, to her, it would be a dream come true to kiss someone like Katsuki, wouldn’t it? Ah, he shouldn’t be thinking things like that. 

Uraraka is clearly making an effort to be nice to him. He should be nicer to her, too. 

“You can’t tell anyone,” he begs. 

“I won’t, I swear,” she promises, holding out her pinky. Izuku grimaces, but locks his pinky with hers anyway. Something tells him that she’ll treat a pinky promise like a blood oathe. 

So it’s for the best. 

Probably.

 

Notes:

tbh i like writing uraraka's character in this- she's trying her best!!!!!

and katsuki and izuku are both so stupid. and they will continue to be stupid. absolute idiots!!!!!!

anyway, thank u for your nice comments as always. ilysm

Chapter 8: Developments

Summary:

When Izuku says he's always loved live music, he's being honest. Ever since he was a little kid, he's wanted to go to shows and experience what it was like to be at a rock and roll concert. All of his earliest memories revolve around music. 

Notes:

Mind the tags! Brief talk about drug over doses

When Izuku says he's always loved live music, he's being honest. Ever since he was a little kid, he's wanted to go to shows and experience what it was like to be at a rock and roll concert. All of his earliest memories revolve around music. 

Izuku has this one memory from his childhood that comes back to him every now and then. 

Of throwing random items into his superhero themed suitcase— you know, items that were important to an eight-year-old. Socks. Stuffed animals. Trading cards. A few snacks. 

He had been so proud of the way he packed everything up by himself. The suitcase was stuffed so full he could barely pull it down the hallway by himself. 

He was so sure that this would be the day he'd get to go. 

But as soon as he made his way into the foyer, suitcase in tow, his little heart sank in his chest. His dad was sitting by the door, already tying his shoes. His mom had her backpack strapped to her shoulders while she went over a paper list with a girl Izuku recognized as the usual babysitter. 

"I thought I was going with you," Izuku said. His mother looked up, like she was surprised to see him. She let out a sad sigh and walked over to him before crouching down to his eye level. 

Her face was kind and soft even as she spoke words that broke his heart. 

"I said someday you could come, sweetie," she said, wiping away the stray tear that rolled down his cheek. "But daddy's tours are no place for a kid, okay?"

It wasn't the first time he was left behind with a babysitter, and it certainly wasn't the last. His father was in a band that toured up and down the coast. Never anything big or far— but all Izuku ever wanted was to be a part of it. 

 

----

 

"Ugh, I can't believe those rats ended up at our party," Mitsuki says as she steps off the elevator, entering Katsuki's apartment unannounced. Nothing out of the ordinary, but still annoying as fuck. 

"Our?" Katsuki asks, rolling his eyes at her word choice. 

"I put it together, Katsuki, don't be a brat," she scoffs. Katsuki just shrugs and goes back to what he had been doing before— stuffing random ingredients into a blender and hoping they turn out tasting okay as a smoothie. 

"Okay?" 

"Anyway, those nasty paparazzi—" 

Katsuki pushes a button on the blender, making direct eye contact with the woman across from him as he intentionally drowns out the sound of her voice. He has to hold back a smirk as he watches her sigh and cross her arms over her chest. 

"Sorry, what?" Katsuki quips, taking the lid off of the blender and setting it aside. Mitsuki just shakes her head.

"Nevermind," she scoffs. "Regardless, the song did really well. I had the studio send the radio demo out yesterday morning while you were at the gym." 

"Already?" Katsuki groans, scowling as he pours his smoothie into a cup. It's not a very appealing color, but it's supposed to be healthy. Fuck. 

"What do you mean already? These things move quickly, you know this. If we wait too long, we become irrelevant," she says, snapping her fingers repeatedly. "It's all about keeping up."

"Mhmm," he mumbles. It's not like anything he says can change what she did. Or even what she's going to do. 

His phone vibrates against the countertop as Mitsuki continues to lecture him about the 24-hour news cycle and how that somehow pertains to Katsuki. Ignoring her, he scoops it up to check his messages. 

Deku/Nerd: new assignment. Something about a talk show? 

"Oh, by the way, we have you booked for next Monday on Musutafu Morning Show," she says, proudly. Katsuki stays quiet, glancing down at his phone. 

"What for?" He asks, resisting the urge to bring up the fact that Midoriya somehow knew about this appearance before Katsuki did. The last thing he needs is his manager going on a rampage on his behalf before he even has all the answers. 

Also, he doesn't really want to tell her that he's been texting the photographer she tried to sue. 

"To promote your new single, duh," she says, shaking her head. "You'll answer a few questions and then perform the song for their studio audience." 

Katsuki's stomach churns. He hates these types of performances. There's something about bigger crowds and concert venues that's much easier on his anxiety. For those performances, the crowd is just this nameless, faceless mass of people. 

Sometimes, with the stage lighting, he can't even see them properly. He prefers it that way. 

But with talk shows everything is bright and set up for television. They film the audience, too, so nothing is tucked away in the shadows of the limelight. 

No, on talk shows he's performing for a tiny crowd of people who are all staring at him and watching him. He can see their expressions if they're displeased and hate him. It's so much more distracting and intimidating. 

"Do I have to?" Katsuki asks, even though he knows he won't be able to worm his way out of it. 

"The fuck kind of question is that?" Mitsuki scoffs. Thankfully, her phone starts to ring and it distracts her for a moment. "Hang on, this is wardrobe, I have to take it. Don't forget, we have the studio booked bright and early tomorrow so we can finish up!" 

Katsuki rolls his eyes. There it is again— we. As if she puts any effort into songwriting and performing outside of exploitation. 

He leans against the counter and watches as she stalks out of the apartment just as quickly as she had arrived. His phone buzzes again with a new text message. 

Deku/Nerd: so I guess I'll see you there? 

Katsuki stares at the screen as he tries to decipher the message. What the hell does that mean? Isn't seeing Katsuki the whole point of his stupid job? 

Unless he means he's looking forward to seeing Katsuki. Just the thought of that has him closing out of the messaging app and sliding his phone clear across the counter. 

Fuck!

Whatever it was that was happening between them in the dressing room at Best Jeanist's . . . Now that is something that Katsuki would be interested in re-living. As much as it pains him to admit it, the nerd is a great fucking kisser. 

Ah, fuck, he's getting ahead of himself already. He's had daytime television appearances before— he knows how these things always go. They're all just busy, busy, busy with no down time. 

He takes in a long, deep breath and tries to calm himself before he walks around the island counter and picks up his phone from where he slid it to. It's not a big deal, Katsuki reminds himself. 

Katsuki: you'd like that, wouldn't you?  

He slams the phone down against the countertop once more and bites down hard on his knuckle. Why the hell did he say that? He didn't have to respond at all.

Well, whatever. Fuck him.  

---

Izuku raises one eyebrow as he reads Katsuki's text message. He had put himself out on a ledge trying to be friendly with the guy and this is the response he gets? You'd like that, wouldn't you? 

What the hell is he supposed to say to that? Should he assume Katsuki is flirting and say something flirty back? Should he ignore? Or maybe he should just tell him to fuck off. 

Izuku: maybe

He winces as soon as he sends the message off. It doesn't feel great but luckily he's blessed with the distraction of his doorbell ringing. Izuku sighs and sets his phone face-down on his desk so he can go answer it. 

When he pulls it open, he relaxes just a bit when he sees it's only his mother. She's looking a little better these days— she doesn't look like she's been crying, at least. 

"Hey," Izuku says, stepping back as she maneuvers her way inside with a large cardboard box. "What's all that?"

"I was going through the attic today and thought I'd bring this by in case you wanted any of it," she explains. She sets the box down on the living room floor and pulls open the top. "It's mostly your father's old stuff." 

Izuku swallows hard, his stomach immediately dropping at the reminder of the man. 

"I don't want any of it," Izuku says, keeping his voice quiet. 

"Are you sure? There's a lot of stuff— " 

" No. I don't want any reminders of him," Izuku says. Maybe he says it a little too quick; he feels bad about the way his mother jumps ever so slightly. 

"Don't say that, Izuku," she says sadly. Her voice doesn't have any conviction behind it, though. "He loved you." 

"He loved drugs more." 

A heavy, somber silence falls between them. 

It's been almost a year, actually. A year since Izuku had gotten the call that his father had overdosed again. Izuku had actually hung up on his mother because he was so angry at the man. 

And because he didn't realize that this time it was fatal. 

"I'm sorry Mom, it just hurts too much," Izuku says. 

"I know honey," she whispers, staring down at her feet. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I know you liked his old records; I thought you might want them."

He did like those records. But that was back when he thought his dad was cool and punk rock and all of that bullshit. It wasn't until Izuku was a teenager that he realized his dad was just a deadbeat junkie. 

Addiction is a disease; Izuku knows this. But it still doesn't stop him from harboring resentment towards his late father. 

"I miss you. You're always so busy these days," his mother says, thankfully changing the subject. 

"I know, I'm sorry. It's just that with this new job I keep weird hours and all that," he sighs. 

"Oh with Plus Ultra, right?" She asks. Izuku grimaces as he realizes he hasn't filled his mother in on how hectic his life has been as of late. 

"Er, no I got fired— " 

"Izuku!"

"It's fine! It's fine, I got another job with um, with a different publication," he says. 

"Oh? Which one?" 

"Um. UA-Z?"

"That's that trashy magazine isn't it? I thought you hated those." She isn't wrong. He did hate those. Still does, technically speaking. 

"Yeah, but it pays the bills for now, so it will do," he sighs. 

"Okay, I'll take your word for it. I know my Izuku isn't a sell-out," she jokes. Izuku sighs and nods. He doesn't bother to mention anything about Katsuki. If Izuku doesn't even understand what's going on with them, there's no way he would be able to explain it to his mother. 

"Do you want to stay for dinner?" Izuku offers as he checks the time. 

"I'd love to," she replies. 

And it's kind of nice. Dinner with his mother is a change of pace from how things have been going so far. It feels strangely normal, despite the fact that they never actually ate meals together when Izuku was growing up. 

Usually it was TV dinners on the couch, or a note taped to the refrigerator telling Izuku he could order something himself because his parents didn't know when they'd be home. 

A few hours pass before his mother leaves, reluctantly taking the box of his father's belongings with her. The apartment is quiet yet again, reminding Izuku that he does, in fact, live alone. 

He trudges back into his bedroom, realizing that he's left his phone on the desk this entire time. What a nice way to disconnect from the internet for a while, Izuku thinks. 

Momentarily, he considers just turning the device off for the night . . . But then he sees the unread messages from Katsuki that are waiting for him. So, instead he takes the phone and rolls into his bed, holding the device above his face so he can read. 

Katsuki: Maybe?? Bitch you know you would 

Katsuki: bet ur already thinking about me

Izuku's chest tightens as he reads the texts, wondering what the hell he's supposed to say to that. It's frustrating to be overhanging the conversation this much! Katsuki is just a person. Nothing to be afraid of. 

Izuku's fingers start to move before he can even think to stop himself. 

Izuku: yeah thinking about that ass

"Oh fuck," he breathes, staring at the message as it starts to send. In a panic, he sits up and starts furiously tapping at the message, desperately trying to stop it from sending. "Crap!" 

Why did he say that!?

He watches in horror as the message finishes sending. And then, not even a full minute later, the icon at the bottom starts to move, signaling that Katsuki is typing. His heart hammers in his chest. He's gonna fucking throw up. 

Katsuki: yeah? What are you gonna do with it? 

Izuku blinks. He's not sure what he was expecting. A nasty message telling him off? A phone call from his manager berating him and accusing him of sexual harrassment? 

But, now that Izuku thinks about it, Katsuki was the one who initiated their last kiss. And escalated it to something a little steamier. Hmm. 

Izuku: squeeze it. 

Katsuki: is that all? 

Oh. 

How far does he want this to go? Are they flirting? Hell, are they sexting? 

Betting on the latter, Izuku starts typing again. 

Izuku: if you want more, I'll give you more. 

Katsuki: go for it, nerd

Izuku takes a deep breath and lays back down. He's not proud of it, but his cock is already half-hard in his pants. It's not his fault that Katsuki is attractive and flirting with him. Of course he's going to react to it, right? 

Izuku: First, I'd eat you out nice and slow. 

His fingers shake as he types, partially from nerves, and then partially from imagining what it would be like to spread the other man's ass cheeks apart so he could swirl his tongue around his hole. 

Katsuki's rich, right? He probably has a nicely kept asshole. Waxed, bleached, etcetera. 

Katsuki: fuck yes

It's all the encouragement he needs to keep the fantasy going. He slips his hand down his pants to palm at his own erection, attempting to provide himself a bit of relief as he types again. 

Izuku: Then I'd bend you over a table or a counter or something. I'd start slow, teasing you with my dick before pushing in and fucking you. I'd touch you and make sure you cum first. 

Izuku closes his eyes and flips away from the message, getting himself all worked up. He opens another tab and scrolls until he finds the photos he took of Katsuki at the music festival— the ones where his underwear could be seen. It's the closest he can get to something lewd in the moment. 

He jacks himself off until his balls are tightening and he's spilling over his own hand and cursing himself for making a mess. Crap. 

Izuku sits up and looks back down at his phone, a little nervous about the fact that Katsuki hasn't responded yet. Was that too much? Dammit. 

Trying not to think of it, he gets up and waddles over to his bathroom so he can clean himself off. He pulls on a new pair of sweats. 

Crap. He really sent that to Katsuki. What an idiot! They went from sensual flirting to explicit sex way too quickly and Katsuki is probably majorly creeped out. 

But then his phone buzzes again. 

With a multimedia message. Oh fuck. Izuku bites down on his knuckle as he opens the message, curious. And when he finally gets it open, he nearly dies. 

It's a picture of Katsuki. His face isn't in the photo, but that doesn't matter. What does matter is that it's a photo of Katsuki wearing nothing but a tank top, cock hard and purple while holding a dildo against his hole. Izuku shivers, his own dick starting to stir again. Fuck.

Katsuki: are u bigger or smaller than this? 

Well, this time Izuku is determined to not make a mess, so he kicks off his pants and sits down in his computer chair. 

Izuku: don't know— see for yourself? 

He's never sent nudes to anyone before, but that doesn't stop him from snapping a picture of his dick and sending it off in a heartbeat. 

He makes himself cum again, now fully confident that they're on the same page with this sexting thing. He doesn't really consider how this will affect their relationship (or lack thereof) until Katsuki texts him again. 

Katsuki: can't fucking wait to get you alone again. 

Notes:

And so the plot chickens

Chapter 9: Gossip

Summary:

“Arch your back a little more,” Camie instructs, her eyebrows knitted together as she inspects her phone screen. 

Katsuki scoffs and bends back just a little more, wincing at how uncomfortable the pose is. He’s seated on the edge of the hot tub in Camie’s backyard while she snaps a few photos for her social media. He looks back over his shoulder and earns a delighted squeal from his best friend. 

Notes:

cw for drinking and body image

“Arch your back a little more,” Camie instructs, her eyebrows knitted together as she inspects her phone screen. 

Katsuki scoffs and bends back just a little more, wincing at how uncomfortable the pose is. He’s seated on the edge of the hot tub in Camie’s backyard while she snaps a few photos for her social media. He looks back over his shoulder and earns a delighted squeal from his best friend. 

“Was that good?” He asks, relaxing his back and twisting more naturally to face her. She pads over to him and leans against the edge of the tub so she can show him the photos. Katsuki blinks, thoroughly scanning over the images. 

He looks pretty good, he thinks. Camie’s posing helped him to look nearly flawless in the tight, black, swim briefs he dons. At first glance, one might think that he’s naked from the angle of the photo. 

“Send that one to me,” he says. 

“Sure thing, babe,” she says, nails clicking against the screen a few more times. Katsuki sighs and slides into the hot water until it covers him to his shoulders. “How is it?”

“Fuckin’ perfect,” Katsuki groans, leaning his head back against the ledge. “Stupid Inasa changed my routine again. I’m sore as shit.” 

“Yeah, I bet,” she says, setting her phone aside and climbing into the tub with him. “So do you, like, love working out with him or what?” 

“Who? Inasa?” he asks, confused by the question. “It’s fine, I guess. I’d probably enjoy it more if that hag hadn’t forced it on me.” 

“Right, of course,” she hums, pressing her lips together pensively. 

“Why?” he presses, wondering what her motives are for  asking such a question. She’s never been that interested in fitness either. As a model herself, she’s often subjected to the same strict fitness routines and diets. 

“I mean, he’s hot, right?” she asks, grinning. “Dude’s the size of a tank.” 

Katsuki lets out a long, tired sigh, rolling his eyes. “Not interested.” 

“Are you sure? You two would be totally hot together,” she insists. “Think about it— people would just eat that up. Hottest couple of the year for sure.” 

“I don’t care about that,” Katsuki mumbles. Besides, his mind has been a little bit more preoccupied with a certain pesky photographer. Ever since their last texting conversation, Katsuki has had this weird attraction to him. 

“When was the last time you got laid, honestly?” she asks, pivoting slightly. Katsuki groans and sits up. 

“Like, actual sex?” he asks, involuntarily biting down on his lower lip as he thinks about the photo that Deku sent him of his cock. 

“Um, yeah? Why? What else have you been up to?” she presses, catching on to his implications. 

“Nothing!” he insists. She stares him down, grinning wickedly. Fuck. 

“How about that photographer that kissed you? You see him anymore?” she asks, and for a moment Katsuki pauses. It’s kind of nice having this little secret all to himself, but he knows that Camie will see right through him and know he’s hiding something if he denies it. 

“Uh,” he mumbles, trying to think of the best way to explain it. “So the nerd was stalking me when I went to Best Jeanist’s last week.” 

“Ew, what a creep,” she scoffs. Right. It is creepy, but Katsuki isn’t sure how to explain to her that he understands he’s not just a stalker. Probably. 

“Yeah,” he says, feigning disgust. “I went to confront him in one of the changing rooms because I caught him there . . . and we ended up making out.” 

“Sexual tension, I told you,” she laughs.  

“And then the other day he sent me a picture of his dick,” he says, trying to say it in the least incriminating way possible. 

“Unsolicited? This guy sounds gross, Kats.” 

“No, shit, we were sexting or whatever,” he says, frowning as he sinks down further into the water. He’s not ashamed of his sexual encounters, but for some reason talking about Deku out loud like this does something to him. Makes his chest feel all light and flippy and he doesn’t like it. 

“Holy shit,” she laughs. “So is it big?”  

“His cock? Yeah,” he sighs, relaxing just a bit. 

“Are you gonna let him fuck you?” 

Katsuki sighs, mulling over the question for a few extra moments. 

“Yeah.” 

___

Izuku is not proud of himself. 

Not because of sexting with Katsuki or for sending him a picture of his penis. He’s comfortable with his sexuality and knows that sex is a natural and normal thing for people to be interested in. Point is, he’s fine with sex.

What he’s not proud of is what he did the next day. 

In the privacy of an incognito tab on his home computer, he’d searched for something very shameful: 

Katsuki nude leak

It’s awful, right? A direct invasion of Katsuki’s privacy— whoever uploaded the pictures he found is an awful, nasty person. And maybe Izuku is also a nasty, awful person for downloading a handful of pictures to jack off to. 

Despite the fact that he’s well-aware of how despicable this act was, he had just been so curious! At first he told himself it was just a scientific thing— he wanted to make sure the picture he got from Katsuki was actually his body. 

And, really, Izuku could have checked his own photos to see if the hips matched up right. 

Whatever, what’s done is done, and he can’t undo his decision now. But he’ll just carry that guilt with him, tucked far away in the back of his conscience. 

He tries his best not to keep thinking about it as he walks down the street, hands in his pockets and camera bag strapped to his back. It’s his day off, and an actual day off at that. No Uraraka banging down his door to drag him to sketchy places. No additional assignments cropping up that need his immediate attention. 

So he’s on his way to meet Denki and Shouto at a local dive bar. He’s been there before— it’s dirty and smokey, but they have great drinks and local punk bands that play most nights. Izuku likes being able to snap pictures while he’s there. Some of his friends, some of the crowd, lots of whatever act is playing. 

He pays the cover charge at the door before he heads in to find his friends waiting for him at the bar, seated on the far side away from most of the crowd. It’s still pretty early— another hour until the first act comes on, at least. 

“Hey man, nice of you to show up,” Denki says as Izuku slides onto the barstool next to his. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Izuku frowns, leaning against the counter. 

“We haven’t seen you as much lately,” Shouto clarifies. Izuku sighs and shakes his head. 

“Sorry! This job just eats up all my time, you know?” He groans. “Whatever! I don’t want to talk about work, this is fun! I haven’t shot one of these shows in forever.” 

“So you’re not at work,  but somehow you’re still working,” Shouto comments as Izuku pulls his backpack into his lap so he can take his camera out. He sends his friend a mostly playful glare before shaking his head again. 

“It’s not work, it’s fun,” he says, quickly snapping a photo of his friends. Shouto blinks, watching as Izuku checks the preview screen. “Aw, crap, that looks like shit.” 

“See? Working,” Denki complains. 

“Nope,” he insists. He does put the camera back, though. For now. He’ll get photos of the band later, for sure. 

“Speaking of work, have you talked to Katsuki anymore?” Denki asks, changing the subject ever so slightly. Izuku nearly chokes. 

“What? Why does it matter?” he scoffs. 

“That’s not a no,” Shouto points out. Izuku groans. 

“I don’t want to talk about him,” he mutters, hoping they don’t notice the way his cheeks burn red in the dimmed venue lighting. 

“That means there’s something to talk about!” Denki shouts, banging his fist excitedly against the counter top. “Spill it!” 

“No!” Izuku whines, closing in on himself. No way is he telling his nosey friends about the nudes he has saved of Katsuki. 

“Did you kiss him again? I bet you did,” Denki teases, laughing at the way Izuku grimaces and squirms at the insinuation. “God, you’re lucky, I wish I could kiss him.” 

“Stop it,” he mutters, a weird pang of jealousy surging through his chest at the thought of Denki kissing Katsuki. Not that it matters. Katsuki can kiss whoever he wants to, it’s not like they’re together or anything. A-and it’s not like Izuku even wants that anyway!

Fuck. 

“You should just tell us, you know we’re going to bother you about it all night if you don’t,” Shouto says. Izuku rolls his eyes, but he knows he’s right. He pauses for a moment to order a drink before turning in his seat to face his friends. 

“Fine,” he says, swallowing hard. “You’re right. Except . . . he kissed me this time. And he was like, in my lap . . . it was kind of, uh, kind of nice, actually.” 

His cheeks burn at the thought and the admission. 

“Oh damn,” Shouto says. “And you’re not making this up?” 

“No, why would I?” he groans. “You know I don’t give a shit about Katsuki.” 

“You kiss him but you don’t care about him?” 

“I don’t have to have feelings for someone to have sex with them,” he spits, not realizing his Freudian slip until Denki reacts to it. 

“You’ve had sex with him?!” he hisses, leaning across Shouto. 

“No! Well . . . no, I haven’t,” Izuku insists. “Stop asking questions!” 

“Clearly, our Izuku is in the middle of a crisis,” Shouto says to Denki. “Maybe we should go easy on him . . . and by that I mean buy him more drinks and hope he’ll let the details slip later.” 

“Hey, if you want to pay for my drinks, be my guest,” Izuku says, with displaced confidence. He’ll show them. They’ll pay for him and then still be disappointed when the end of the night rolls around and he still won’t budge. 

Or, at least, that’s what he thinks. 

And he sticks to that conviction until the show is over and he finds himself laying down on the pavement outside the venue. 

“The sidewalk is so cold,” he slurs, pressing his cheek against the cement. He’s not quite sure how he ended up on the ground. Whether he fell or purposely laid himself down is beyond him. 

“And it’s filthy, get up,” Shouto tells him, as he and Denki hoist him up by the shoulders. As he tries to stand, the world definitely feels like it’s spinning, like the ground is moving under him. 

“Oh wow, I love you guys,” Izuku says, leaning against his friends as they lead him down the sidewalk. “Where are we going?” 

“Uh, home?” Denki suggests. “I think your place is the closest.” 

“Mmm,” Izuku hums. “You guys don’t have to walk me, I'm fine.” 

“No you’re not, you’re drunk,” Shouto says. Izuku rolls his head back and scoffs as if that’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “I forgot you were so messy when you’re drunk.” 

“Hey, it was your idea,” Denki teases, earning an eye roll from Shouto. 

They manage to get him into the elevator in his building and ride with him up to his floor. The journey there is a blur, but they somehow make it into his apartment and the next thing Izuku is mildly aware of is sitting on his couch, wrapped in a blanket with a bottle of water in his hands. 

“Are you gonna stay?” Izuku asks, looking up at his friends. The world seems a little less fuzzy, but he’s still very much intoxicated. He blinks a few times, trying hard to focus on them. But then he jumps and nearly spills his water as his phone starts to ring. 

He scrambles to pull the device from his pocket and then gasps when he sees who’s calling him. 

“Oh no,” he says. 

“What?” 

“It’s Katsuki.” 

Immediately, Denki and Shouto sit back down on the couch on either side of him. 

“Well, go ahead, answer it,” Denki insists. Izuku stares at the screen, contemplating. When he finally decides to answer it, he presses his thumb down against the screen and accepts the call. 

“Hello hello!” Izuku says, a little more chipper than he meant to sound. He clears his throat and tries to tone it down a bit. 

“Um, hey,” Katsuki responds. Izuku glances to his left and then to his right as Denki and Shouto lean in closer. “You said you’d be at the talk show tomorrow morning, right?” 

Izuku winces, kicking himself for letting himself get so wasted the night before an assignment. He really didn’t think he would drink so much! Crap. 

“Yeah,” he says. “But you’re not supposed to know that so don’t tell anyone.” 

“Why would I— what’s wrong with you?” Katsuki scoffs, already sensing that something is off. 

“Nothing! I’m great, I’m super,” he slurs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m definitely not drunk.” 

“Which means you are drunk,” Katsuki sighs. “Damn, Deku, you like to party, huh?” 

“No, not really,” he says. “I was at a concert with my friends and they bought me drinks.” 

“Sounds like some good friends,” Katsuki snickers. Izuku melts a little at the sound of his voice. He can just picture the sly little grin on his lips. Ahh. 

“Yeah, they’re great, they’re annoying,” he says, shooing said friends away from his personal space as he talks. “They only bought it because they wanted me to slip and tell them that I wanna suck your dick.” 

The other line goes silent for a moment, and it takes Izuku’s intoxicated brain another few seconds to realize what he had just said. 

“Oh crap.” 

“And, uh, you told them that?” he asks. 

“No!” he says, laughing nervously. “Why would I tell them that? They just wanted me to tell them that— you know how it is. Friends are always asking whose dick you wanna suck.” 

He shoots a dirty look at Denki and Shouto, who are clearly trying very hard to stifle their own laughter. 

“Are they?” Katsuki asks. 

“Yup, uh-huh,” he gulps. “Anyway I’ll see you tomorrow, bye—” 

He tries his best to end the conversation there, and hang up, but Katsuki is too fast for his drunken mind to keep up with.

“So do you actually want to suck it?” Katsuki asks, his voice lower and darker. Izuku presses his lips together and thinks about it for a moment. About all the pictures he’s seen of the cock in question. It’s a perfectly sized penis, too. Not too long, not too short. Hair trimmed and neat. 

“Yeah,” Izuku breathes. 

“Hah, nerd,” Katsuki laughs. Izuku frowns and is about to go off and give Katsuki a piece of his mind for being a stupid tease— “Maybe if you’re good, I’ll let you.” 

And then he hangs up. Izuku freezes for a moment, baffled by the short, strange phone conversation. Laughter coming from either side of him reminds him that he’s not alone. Hopefully they won’t notice that he’s semi-hard. 

“So you do like him?” Shouto grins. Izuku lets out a defeated sigh and slides off the couch so that he can lie down on the floor. 

“No, I hate him,” he insists, stubbornly. “He’s awful and annoying and stuck-up.” 

“But?” 

“But,” Izuku says. He pauses to take a breath. “I do want to have sex with him.” 

“Shit, man, your life is wild,” Denki says. “Do you even understand how famous Katsuki is? If you dated him, it would be a huge deal— literally everyone would be talking about you.” 

“His fans would hate you.” 

“Hell, I kind of hate you! Kidding . . . “ 

“You’re getting too far ahead,” Izuku says, shaking his head and taking another large swig of his water. “And plus also, Katsuki is just a person. Being famous doesn’t make him special and . . . also we are not even dating so shut up.” 

His words are still jumbled, but he’s pretty sure he’s getting his point across. 

“You don’t even listen to his music,” Denki sighs. 

“Because it’s all trash,” Izuku insists. 

“See, even drunk he's as pretentious as ever,” Shouto says, patting him on the back. “We love you, you dick.” 

Izuku groans and slumps back against the couch cushions. Their sarcasm is harder to keep up with when he’s intoxicated. He knows they mean well, but it’s frustrating. 

“But you also need to get us a meet and greet with your boyfriend because unlike you, we’re big fans,” Denki explains, tossing his arm around Izuku’s shoulders. 

“Not my boyfriend,” Izuku mutters. 

“Still, think about it,” Denki insists. “For now, though, you gotta get your drunk ass to bed.” 

Izuku grimaces, but agrees. 

He’ll need at least some sleep if he’s going to survive tomorrow. 

Notes:

thank u for reading I can't wait for the next few chapters where things really start to pick up.

Chapter 10: Sequins and Stage Fright

Summary:

Izuku sits in his car the next morning, forehead resting against the steering wheel as he mentally prepares himself for the day. In the wake of his morning sobriety, he had remembered the very embarrassing phone call he had with Katsuki the night before. 

Notes:

cw for body shaming

Izuku sits in his car the next morning, forehead resting against the steering wheel as he mentally prepares himself for the day. In the wake of his morning sobriety, he had remembered the very embarrassing phone call he had with Katsuki the night before. 

Is it embarrassing that he said those things? Really, their texting conversation from a few nights ago had been far more incriminating. But it feels different when spoken out loud. 

It's not as easy to pretend he didn't say it. 

His phone buzzes with a text message and he groans before checking it. 

 

Ashido: remember to get photos of him entering the building AND leaving. 

 

Izuku shoots back a quick "got it" and slumps backwards in the seat. He picks up the cup in the holder next to him, gently blowing on the hot coffee (black) inside. 

Thank God for caffeine, really. 

Finally, he figures he's wasting too much time and might as well just get the whole thing over with. Izuku grabs his camera bag and gets out of the car. He has to walk a few blocks before he gets to the studio. And even there, he has to sneak around the back way where Katsuki is supposedly entering from. 

Ugh. 

He’s still hungover, but thankfully he’s not too miserable. And he has no problem securing a spot near the back door, either. It’s a little embarrassing how comfortable he already is dipping behind trash cans and such just to get a photo. This is not the type of job that he wants to be comfortable with. 

Maybe one day he’ll be in a place where he can start looking elsewhere for employment. However, as much as it pains him to admit it, he is pleased with the stipends he’s already received from UA-Z. It’s odd how a publication with considerably lower-quality photos could be worth just as much as something like Plus Ultra.  

Izuku’s stomach lurches as he hears the sounds of a car pulling up in the alley. There isn’t anyone else around him— almost like he’s the only one who somehow knew that Katsuki would be entering from this side. Huh. 

He peers between the trash bins, squinting as he makes out a black car with tinted windows. It looks like Katsuki’s car, but then again, cars like that all look the same. But his suspicions are confirmed when the back door of the car swings open and Katsuki climbs out. 

Izuku holds his breath. 

This is the first time he’s seen the other man in person since their conversations that were uh, sexual in nature. Flustered, he holds up his camera and peers through the viewfinder. He has a job to do! He can’t be thinking about sex! 

Even if Katsuki does look good. So annoying how someone can look that put together in a stupid pair of sweatpants and a plain t-shirt. 

He snaps several photos. None of them are really that interesting— just a guy walking into a building and doing literally nothing else. But he’s famous so people will eat it up anyway. 

It really is appalling what people consider to be entertainment these days.

Anyway, the photo session with Katsuki lasts all of thirty seconds before he’s alone in the alleyway once more. He frowns, remembering Ashido’s text about getting him leaving, too. So, what? Now he has to just sit here next to the stinky cans until Katsuki is finished? That could be hours. 

He groans and leans back against the wall of the building. Maybe he could leave and come back, but then he would run the risk of missing important shots and therefore miss out on his much-anticipated pay day. 

Paralyzed by indecision, he ends up crouched in the alley and scrolls through his social media, hoping to pass the time with something mindless. After a while, though, he gets a text message. 

Katsuki: where are you?

Izuku stares at his screen, genuinely surprised for a moment. He takes a long, deep breath before he decides to reply. 

Izuku: outside by the back door

Katsuki: ??? 

Katsuki: Come inside

Izuku scoffs at the demand. First of all, he’s not too keen on the idea of Katsuki thinking he can just tell Izuku what to do. Second of all . . . 

Izuku: i can’t they’ll kick me out if I get caught 

Katsuki: then don’t get caught, dipshit 

Fucking jerk. Izuku closes his eyes and groans, wondering why he even bothers humoring the guy. He’s clearly just interested in being flattered. Surely there are enough people in  Katsuki’s world that can attest to his attractiveness. Does it really have to be Izuku? 

Annoyed, he opts for simply ignoring Katsuki. It’ll probably make him mad. A little sick, sadistic voice in Izuku’s brain kind of likes the mental image of Katsuki getting worked up over being ghosted. Heh. 

He’s immediately torn from his devious thoughts as the backdoor swings open. Izuku gasps, making sure he’s hidden before he peers around the cans that are blocking him from view. 

“I know you’re out here, nerd,” Katsuki’s voice hisses, keeping his voice low like he doesn’t want anyone hearing him. Izuku scoffs and stands up, frowning. 

“You really don’t need to call me names,” Izuku insists. Katsuki spins to face him, caught off guard for a moment. But then he relaxes and smirks. 

Izuku presses his lips together as he tries his best to stop his eyes from scanning over Katsuki and picturing him naked. 

“Whatever, Deku,” he laughs. “Coast is clear, get your ass in here.” 

Izuku battles with himself— arguing between his head and his dick. The latter ultimately wins, and he trudges inside behind Katsuki. He follows close behind down a long hallway until he comes to a door with his name plastered across the front. Katsuki pushes the door open and pulls Izuku inside. 

It’s a dressing room. Much nicer than the one at that party. 

"Any intel?" Katsuki asks him as soon as he has the door shut and locked. 

"Intel?" 

"Yeah, about this whole thing. I still don't know how the fuck you knew I was going to be on this show before I did," Katsuki says, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"I don't know either," Izuku says, honestly. "All I do is take the pictures. My boss just told me to get photos of you going in and then of you leaving." 

"That's so fucking weird," he scoffs, leaning back against the counter by the mirror. 

"I'll say," Izuku mutters. He glances around the dressing room, his gaze stopping at the outfit hanging from the wardrobe rack. A bright orange sequined blazer and matching pants. "What the hell is this?" 

"What?" Katsuki asks. Izuku turns back to him, lightly shaking the sleeve of the jacket. 

"Are you seriously going to wear this?" 

"Yeah, it’s fucking cool," he insists. Izuku just shakes his head and drops it. "I'm not a nerd like you, I know about fashion." 

"Yeah, okay." 

"Like your outfit is better," Katsuki points out. Izuku frowns and looks down at his ensemble. Tight black pants and a t-shirt from some concert he went to years ago. "You look like a fuckin' scrub." 

"Okay, well, I don't need to just sit here and listen to you being an asshole," he huffs, moving back towards the door. 

"Fine, fine," Katsuki grumbles. "You did start it by making fun of my shit." 

Izuku spins around and glares at him hard. His eyes dart to the suit on the rack. Okay, maybe he did start it that time. But to be fair? That suit is objectively tacky. 

He lets out a long sigh and crosses his arms over his chest, feigning annoyance. 

And then Katsuki takes off his shirt and Izuku nearly chokes. His body is so perfectly chiseled it’s almost disgusting. Izuku is torn between being frustrated by him perpetuating unrealistic body standards for men . . . and admitting how incredibly attractive he is. 

“What are you doing?" Izuku asks, swallowing hard. Katsuki just tosses the shirt aside and smirks. 

"This is my dressing room . . . So I'm getting dressed," he replies with a teasing tone to his voice. "Why, you thought I was doing something else?"

"N-no," Izuku mumbles. 

Katsuki's eyes flicker to the door for a moment before he takes a few steps in Izuku's direction. He leans in close, and for a moment he thinks Katsuki might kiss him again. 

That would certainly not be an issue, but this all just feels so strange. Like he's not sure what their boundaries are anymore or if Katsuki is even someone he wants to be doing these things with. 

But then Katsuki boldly palms the front of Izuku's jeans. He gasps and involuntarily bucks his hips into the friction. His face burns bright red as he tries not to seem too affected. 

Not that it matters when Katsuki can probably feel him starting to get hard. What is he supposed to do? Not react to an attractive man touching his dick? Exactly. 

"You still wanna go down on me?" Katsuki asks, his voice low as he references their conversation from last night. Izuku shudders and nods. 

"And more," he blurts. Katsuki chuckles and gives Izuku's crotch a playful squeeze before he removes his hand. 

"Eager," Katsuki grins. Izuku frowns, ready to start arguing again until Katsuki shuts him up with his own mouth. Izuku gasps and then leans into it. 

Katsuki's mouth is hot and perfect on Izuku's. He pulls Katsuki closer by his hips. And rather than take things slow, Izuku decides to just barrel forward in full-force. Maybe if he just throws himself into it, he won't have time to think himself out of what he assumes they're about to do. 

Izuku's hands move over Katsuki's hips again and again before he finally pulls at the waistband of his pants and tugs downward. 

"Fuck," Katsuki breaths, pulling his hips back just enough to help Izuku get rid of the sweatpants. Izuku bites down on his lip as he looks down, appreciating the shape of Katsuki's naked body. 

Again, before he can convince himself not to, he's dropping down to his knees and gripping the base of Katsuki's dick. 

It's hot and hard in his hands as he leans forward to lick a long, slow stripe from base to tip. His eyes flit upwards to see the way Katsuki's lips part, clearly enjoying what Izuku is doing. 

It gives him more confidence to keep going, licking up and down before finally sliding his length between his lips and hollowing out his cheeks. 

"Ah, fuck," Katsuki moans, his fingers pulling at Izuku's hair. His soft panting encourages him to go a little faster, to be a little more enthusiastic about the ordeal. 

Frustrated, Izuku palms himself with his free hand. With a wet pop he removes his mouth from Katsuki's cock and looks up at him again. 

"What, why'd you stop?" Katsuki mumbles, rolling his head back. 

Izuku drags his bottom lip between his teeth as he thinks about what to say. 

"I wanna fuck you," Izuku finally says. Katsuki grins, and really looks like he's about to agree. 

But then someone knocks on the door of the dressing room. 

"Shit, you gotta hide," he hisses, immediately pulling his sweatpants back on as he ushers Izuku into the space behind the coat rack in the corner of the room. 

Startled, Izuku quickly complies and hurries to the corner. 

"Hold on!" Katsuki yells. A woman's voice yells something back, but Izuku can't make out what she's saying. Katsuki just lets out a frustrated groan as he collects himself, then pulls the door open in a huff. 

"What the hell, you're not even dressed yet?" The woman who enters barks at him. His manager . . . His mom.

"Getting dressed right fucking now," he snaps back, pulling the horrible outfit from the wardrobe and flinging it onto the counter. In an instant, Katsuki has gone from confident and sensual to defensive and angry. 

And Izuku isn't quite sure he understands why. Maybe he's just sexually frustrated? 

The woman crosses her arms disapprovingly as Katsuki changes. 

"Be careful with that, it's couture," she reminds him. 

"Yeah, I know," he snaps back. It's a very hostile conversation. 

From Izuku's hiding spot, he can see that the suit pants Katsuki dons are actually shorts , nicely showing off Katsuki's long, toned legs. 

It's even more disastrous of an outfit, but hell he somehow pulls it off anyway. 

"What is this?" The woman asks, frowning and pointing to one of his thighs. 

"What now?" Katsuki groans. 

"You've got cellulite all over the backs of your thighs, what have you been eating?" She scolds. Izuku gapes, shocked by the comment. For one thing, it's an awful thing to say— cellulite is perfectly natural. For another, Izuku can't even see what she's referring to. 

Katsuki is quite easily the most toned person he's given a blow job to. 

"I've been eating all the gross ass shit Inasa told me to eat, doing his stupid plan. I don't know what you fucking want from me," Katsuki says, clearly frustrated and upset by her comment. She doesn't seem to notice, though. 

"Well, nothing we can do about it now," she says, shaking her head. "We'll just ask that the camera not get you from the backside." 

"Whatever," Katsuki mutters, crossing his arms over his chest. "Is that all?" 

"You're due in the wings in ten. You'll sit for a quick interview, talk about your new album. Have fun, be charming. Then after the commercial break, you'll perform on stage for the TV audience." 

"Did you ask about the lights?" Katsuki asks, and Izuku isn't sure what that means.

"The what? Oh, honey you're going to just have to deal with that. They're not going to change their entire studio lighting because you're scared. It's a thee minute song, I don't see what the big deal is," she says. 

"I told you why it matters— "

"Stop being a damn brat, okay? Be a diva all you want on social media but don't jeopardize my professional relationships over some silly stage fright thing," she snaps back. She's so nasty. Izuku already knows that he hates her for talking to Katsuki like that. 

"Are you done?" Katsuki huffs. 

"Yes. Don't be late to your call," she snaps, and then storms from the room again. 

The silence she leaves behind is deafening. Izuku's heart hammers in his chest because he suddenly realizes that maybe Katsuki didn't want Izuku to hear all that. 

Maybe they were about to have sex, but they're certainly not that close. 

After a few moments, Izuku emerges from his hiding spot. Katsuki leans back against the counter, his glare focused on the floor by his feet. His face is bright red, too. 

"Katsuki, I— "

"Shut the fuck up, okay?" He says, sharply. Izuku shuts up immediately, not expecting such a harsh response. "You should leave." 

"Um, okay," Izuku mumbles. He's not really sure what the appropriate thing here would be to say. "I'll text you."

Katsuki doesn't answer him, just stays there, fuming, until Izuku leaves. 

He keeps his head down and thankfully makes it back outside and to his hiding spot from before. He can't quite put a name to what he's feeling. 

But it's almost like he feels bad for Katsuki. He had no idea his mother said such awful things to him. Does she always say stuff like that about his body?

Maybe that's why he went off when Izuku posted that one picture originally. Not that that gave him any right to be a dick, but . . . 

It makes a little more sense. 

And there was that talk about the lighting and mentions of stage fright. Izuku may not like Katsuki's music, but he's seen him perform twice now. He moves around and commands his audience with such confidence. No way he has stage fright.

He stays out there for what feels like forever. It's boring and agonizing. But eventually Katsuki emerges from the building again, heading back to the car. 

This time he's still wearing those gaudy orange shorts, but over top he wears a black hoodie. Izuku snaps a few photos, and that woman's voice plays back in his head again. 

We'll just ask that the camera not get your backside. 

Izuku snaps several more, clearly capturing Katsuki's wonderfully bare thighs. He looks amazing, and he hopes Katsuki knows that, too. 

His manager can kick rocks. 

Notes:

Izuku would rather die than admit he cars about Katsuki rn

Chapter 11: Community Forums

Summary:

Katsuki frowns as he stares into the obnoxious gym mirrors. They line the wall floor-to-ceiling so it’s virtually impossible to escape them. All he can do is stand there and glare at his own reflection as Inasa drones on about proper form or some shit. 

Katsuki felt like he was choking as he stood in the wings of the theater, hot tears spilling down his cheeks. He crouched down and hugged his knees to his chest, doing his best to shield himself from his mother. 

“Get. Up. Katsuki!” she barked, stomping her heel against the floor. “You need to get it together right now. This is embarrassing.” 

“I can’t do it, I can’t,” he sobbed, looking up at her with pleading eyes, hopeful that she might be sympathetic. All he got was a harsh glare and an annoyed eye-roll. 

“Is something wrong?” One of the stage techs asked Mitsuki. She was just some girl with a headset wearing all black. Katsuki never got her name. 

“He’s being a fucking brat and won’t go on,” Mitsuki snapped. 

“Is this . . . Katsuki?” she asked, checking her clipboard. Her voice was calm and kind even as Mitsuki yelled. 

“Yes, of course. He’s the guest star, he was on — “

“Mr. Aizawa’s Talent Search, yes, I remember, I saw him!” the girl chirped, recalling the talent show that Katsuki had won the summer before. He was young — only ten or so at that point, but he was able to recognize that this girl was much kinder and more patient than his own mother was. 

She crouched down in front of him, her face brightened by a friendly grin. 

“What’s the matter, Katsuki, can I help you?” 

Katsuki couldn’t speak; he just shook his head and clutched at his chest. The stagehand blinked a few times, and for a moment Katsuki thought that maybe she would start yelling at him, too. But instead she stood up and held out her hand. 

“Would you like to take a walk with me? Maybe some fresh air will help,” she suggested. 

“He needs to be onstage,” Mitsuki snapped. 

“His mark is in five, I’ll have him back in time, don’t worry!” the girl grinned, speaking to Mitsuki like it was nothing. 

The memory is fuzzy now, but the girl had taken Katsuki outside and distracted him enough to where he had forgotten about what had him so stressed in the first place. The next thing he knew, he was onstage and singing for a crowd of people he could barely see beyond the blaring stage lights. 

—-

Katsuki frowns as he stares into the obnoxious gym mirrors. They line the wall floor-to-ceiling so it’s virtually impossible to escape them. All he can do is stand there and glare at his own reflection as Inasa drones on about proper form or some shit. 

He twists to the side and inspects the backs of his thighs, doing his best to get a good look at them. There’s nothing wrong with them, right? Maybe if he pinches or shakes the skin there’s a little give but he can’t seem to find the big deal. His legs could be tighter. Firmer. How much would it really take to be perfect? 

“Is something wrong?” Inasa asks. Katsuki jumps and straightens himself out. 

“Nothing,” he mumbles. “Mitsuki was giving me shit about my thighs again.” 

“Listen! I know it’s my job to train you and maintain your image, but sometimes I have to disagree,” he explains, crossing his stupidly large arms over his chest. Katsuki has muscle, sure, but even he feels like a damn toothpick standing next to Inasa. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah! You have much more lower body strength than she realizes,” he explains, leaning over and pointing to his thigh. “These are beautiful quads! You’ve come a long way since we started working together, believe me!” 

“Thanks,” Katsuki mutters, turning back to the mirror and flexing his legs so he can see it again. 

“That, and I saw people going wild over that photo,” Inasa laughs. Katsuki stops and puzzles for a moment. 

“What photo?” he asks. Either way, that’s a vague thing to say when there are far too many photos of Katsuki circulating the internet. 

“This one,” he says, pulling his phone out of shorts pocket and scrolling through until he finds what he’s looking for. Katsuki stares as Inasa shows him the phone screen. 

It’s a photo of him from outside the venue that his most recent media appearance was held in. Where he wore that orange suit and Deku sucked his dick in the dressing room. In the photo, he’s still wearing those orange shorts, clearly walking away from whoever is taking that photo. 

“What the fuck,” he whispers, furrowing his brow as he examines it closer. 

[@Midoriya_Photography: Didn’t make the cut for publication, so I’m posting here because the world needs to see how stunning he is.]

Fucking Deku. 

Also . . . Katsuki can’t help but wonder if Deku actually thinks he’s stunning. The photo is just of his legs. And his ass. Katsuki smirks as he realizes the nerd was probably just horny from sucking his dick and couldn’t help himself. 

But then his smile quickly fades when he remembers that Deku heard every bitchy thing Mitsuki had to say about Katsuki’s thighs. Well, fuck! Katsuki doesn’t need his stupid sympathy. Fuck him. 

“Great,” Katsuki mutters. “That’s the same guy that Mitsuki tried to sue.” 

“Oh really? Shit,” he laughs, looking back at the screen himself. “The comments are all in support of you, though.” 

“Of course they are,” Katsuki scoffs, even though it’s really just to cover up the fact that he was a little worried about that. It doesn’t matter though, because the only reaction he’s really worried about is Mitsuki’s. Maybe she won’t see. 

“Well, I thought maybe you’d like to see that,” he explains. “But enough talk, we have work to do, right?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Katsuki sighs, heading over to the set of weights Inasa wants him to use. 

He goes through his normal routine—weights, cardio, more weights— and then ends in his usual position of laying on his back and staring up at the ceiling as he scrolls through his phone. He’s back on the post from Deku. (He had to unblock him, but that’s okay. Whatever.) 

Inasa was right. There are lots of comments about how great they think Katsuki’s legs look. Some are a bit much—very inappropriate comments coming from complete strangers. Others are funny. Like, ‘when the fuck did this become a Katsuki thirst account?’ There he goes putting his damn foot in his mouth again. 

It’s kind of endearing in a fucked up way. The way that Deku is so blindly passionate that he bulldozes his way into these situations without realizing  (or caring) that he’s making himself look like a fucking idiot. Katsuki almost wishes he could be more like that. 

It’s not that he’s not passionate. He’s plenty passionate. But with everything that he’s been through, all he’s able to show anyone is this façade of a personality he’s created over the years. If he acts tough and like he doesn’t care, people seem to think he’s more confident than he actually is. Fake it till you make it, right? 

Hah. 

But he’s not confident, not really. If he was, he’d have no problem telling Mitsuki to shove it. He could just grow a pair and get his own damn manager and rebrand his entire career. Shit like that is terrifying, though. It’s easier to just listen to Mitsuki if he wants to keep up with his career. 

The whole thing is confusing. He wants to hate Deku. Wants to write him off as a stupid, stuck-up nerd and never give him the time of day. But at the same time, he has this tiny, nagging feeling that he wants to get to know him better. 

It shows in small, seemingly insignificant ways. When he checks his phone notifications, in the back of his mind he hopes that one of them is from Deku. When he sleeps, Deku pops up in his dreams. And when he masturbates, he thinks of Deku’s cock. 

Maybe that last part isn’t so insignificant, but he wishes it was. He can admit that he wants to sleep with the guy—sex can be meaningless. Katsuki has certainly had his fair share of meaningless one-night-stands. What he will not admit is that there could be any possibility of that attraction extending to anything beyond sexual. 

That would be far too overwhelming. 

“Your ride is here,” Inasa announces, getting Katsuki’s attention. He nods and puts his phone away so that he can follow the trainer out of the building to where his driver usually pulls up. Inasa is friendly enough to walk Katsuki to the door and make sure he gets into the car okay. 

“See ya,” Katsuki mutters as he heads to the car. Inasa stops him for a moment, clapping a hand over his shoulder. 

“Great work today, Katsuki, really,” Inasa says, with an encouraging grin. He knows that he’s just trying to be nice, but it’s just a reminder that Katsuki slipped up and let someone else in on one of his insecurities. 

“Whatever,” Katsuki snaps, and quickly slides into the backseat. At least back there, he can feel like he’s alone for a while before he’s back in her presence. 

“Good morning young Bakugou,” Toshinori says from the driver’s seat. Katsuki lets out a frustrated sigh. 

“Morning,” he mumbles. 

“Everything okay?” he asks. Katsuki just shrugs. He knows he can trust the driver to keep a secret—he’s always been good about that. And good about treating Katsuki like a normal fucking person. 

“Not really,” he mutters. 

“Want to talk about it?” 

“No,” he says quickly, his mind flickering between his frustration with Mitsuki and his attraction to Deku. “I just want one fucking day where Mitsuki isn’t a bitch.” 

“I figured it was something like that,” Toshinori sighs. “What is it this time?” 

“She made a stupid comment about my thighs the other day and it’s messing with my head and I hate it,” he scoffs, going off on an unplanned rant. But once he starts, it’s hard to just stop. It’s not often he has the sole attention of someone who isn’t going to judge him. “And then fucking Deku goes and says nice shit about my legs?” 

“Who’s Deku?” 

“Deku is . . . this photographer,” he mutters, shaking his head. “It’s complicated.” 

“How so?” 

“Just! He’s fucking with my head too! Every time I see him, we end up making out or hooking up and I don’t know what to do about it. I should just stop, but I don’t want to. It’s stupid, right?” 

“Mmm, doesn’t sound stupid,” Toshinori shrugs. “If you don’t want to stop, then why should you?” 

“I barely know him,” Katsuki sighs, propping his elbow up against the armrest and staring out the window. He doesn’t know how his rant turned into being specifically about Deku, but it seems to be where his mind wants to go. 

“Get to know him, then,” he suggests. 

“How?” 

“The same way you get to know anyone, really. Just talk to him.” 

Yeah, right. 

Then again, Toshinori has never given Katsuki bad advice before. 

— 

“It’s not funny,” Izuku mutters, sliding back against the booth. He pulls his face into a scowl as Denki and Shouto sit across from him, laughing their asses off. This seems to be a pretty common scenario lately—Izuku making an ass of himself and his friends soaking it up as some form of sick entertainment. Whatever, at least someone is enjoying this. 

“It’s hilarious, actually,” Denki snickers, going back to reading comments on Izuku’s latest poorly thought out social media post. “It does make it look like you’re obsessed with him.” 

“I’m not!” Izuku groans. He wraps both hands around his coffee mug and glares into it. 

“Do you still talk to him?” Shouto asks. 

“Um,” Izuku mumbles, quickly taking a sip of the hot drink and accidentally burning the tip of his tongue. Crap. “That day was the last time I talked to him. I texted him but he hasn’t answered me.” 

“Well, what did you text him?” 

“Uh . . . hi?” he shrugs. “Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to me anymore. Not that it matters. He’s just some asshole anyway.” 

“He’s very busy, I’m sure there’s a reason,” Denki offers, quick to defend the celebrity. “You did tell him that you wanted to suck his dick, maybe that scared him off?” 

“It definitely wasn’t that,” Izuku mumbles, rolling his eyes. 

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Shouto asks, catching his tone almost immediately. 

“It doesn’t mean anything,” he says, defensively. He doesn’t need to give his nosy friends these kinds of details, right? 

Besides, once he starts talking to them about these kinds of things he always ends up leaving the conversations feeling way too invested in Katsuki. He’s trying not to care about him so much! But the two people who know Izuku best always seem to find a way to make sure Izuku is still thinking about the guy. Ugh. 

“Midoriya!” 

Izuku scrambles and nearly spills his coffee over the table as someone rushes to his table, slamming her hands down on the edge. Izuku gasps out loud and scoffs at the fact that Uraraka is right in front of him. 

“What are you doing here?!” Izuku hisses, looking nervously at his friends who seem very interested in the way that she’s made her entrance. They’ve never met her. Izuku never planned on letting them meet her. 

“I knew you’d be here,” she says, inviting herself to scoot into the booth next to him. She pulls out her laptop and starts furiously typing. 

“How? Uraraka, how did you know I would be here?” he asks. 

“Don’t worry about it,” she says, without looking up at him. “I’m just good at finding people.” 

“Hey, uh, who’s your friend?” Denki asks, leaning across the table. Izuku has to fight the urge to bang his head against the table. 

“She’s—” 

“Uraraka Ochako, I’m Midoriya’s friend from work,” she says, supplying the information herself. While he doesn’t dislike her as much as he originally thought, he’s not sure he would have introduced her as a friend. But he still doesn’t correct her. 

“Sweet! So you take stalker pictures of Katsuki, too?” he asks. 

“Stop it,” Izuku mouths to him, kicking him under the table. Denki winces and Izuku holds his stare firm. Sure, Uraraka is kind of a stalker and she’s weird, but Izuku doesn’t necessarily like the idea of anyone being rude to her. 

“Look at this,” Uraraka says, ultimately ignoring their side conversation as she turns her laptop screen towards Izuku. He blinks at the screen and then narrows his eyes to get a better look. 

It’s the UA-Z website, on the page where they have fans send in photos. He’s not quite sure what she’s showing him until he realizes that one of the photos is of Katsuki. It looks like he’s standing outside the gym (he only knows this because he and Uraraka saw him there that one time.) But he’s standing with this large, very muscular man who looks like he has his arm around Katsuki. 

“What am I looking at?” he asks, confused. 

“Someone sent this in today, and people are talking,” she says. 

“About what? Who else is sending stuff in, I thought I was assigned to Katsuki,” Izuku says, feeling almost slighted that someone else’s photo is being featured. Not that his photos would come up in the community forum, anyway. 

“Honey, you’re not the only one who takes photos of him,” she laughs. “You’re just the one who gets his assignments.” 

That explanation just adds to the strangeness of it all. If there are so many people always taking photos of Katsuki . . . what is the point of feeding Izuku these assignments? Maybe Katsuki really is onto something. 

“Okay,” he says, not ready to go into that with her. She’d probably dig way too deep with the conspiracy theories and get them all into trouble with . . . whoever is in charge of all this stupid crap. “So what are people talking about?” 

“They think Katsuki is dating his personal trainer,” she says, eyes wide like it’s the gossip of the century. Maybe it is, or maybe it isn’t. But Izuku chooses to ignore the way his heart squeezes in his chest at the new information. 

Is Katsuki dating someone? Would he have told Izuku? No, probably not, they don’t know each other like that, not really. Maybe that’s why Katsuki hasn’t texted him back, right? Crap. 

It doesn’t matter! 

“Oh my God, let me see,” Denki interrupts, leaning across the table. Uraraka blinks, but seems to get the drift that Denki is a friend and turns her computer towards him just a little. 

“That is a beast of a man, holy shit,” Shouto says, shuddering. 

“Who cares if he’s dating someone, he’s allowed to date people, it shouldn’t be newsworthy,” Izuku snaps, suddenly very annoyed with the way everyone is suddenly buzzing. The three of them all turn their attention to Izuku at the same time. “What?!” 

“Nothing, you’re just getting a little defensive there, buddy,” Denki says, with a grin. 

“I’m not,” Izuku says, ironically defensive. 

“Okay, sure,” he says. 

“Seriously! It doesn’t matter,” Izuku insists, but he’s not sure if he’s trying to convince his friends that it doesn’t matter, or if he’s trying to convince himself. “It is a little suspicious, though, considering I just saw him two days ago and he clearly wasn’t dating anyone then!” 

“Oh? You saw him?” Uraraka asks. 

“Yeah, when he took a picture of his ass,” Denki adds. Izuku groans. 

“Oh, I saw that. Ashido was mad that you posted it even though it got rejected,” Uraraka laughs. At least Ashido wasn’t mad enough to fire him, though. 

“Why do you say he clearly wasn’t dating anyone?” Shouto asks, again, picking up on Izuku’s subtle give-aways. He frowns and drops his forehead against the table. 

“Aw, don’t put your head on the table!” Uraraka whines. 

“Dude, you might as well just tell us, we’re not going to let it go,” Denki warns him. 

“Fine!” Izuku exclaims, then lowers his voice significantly. “I gave him a blow job in his dressing room.” 

Uraraka’s jaw drops as Shouto and Denki burst out laughing. 

“I knew it! Dude, I knew it,” Denki laughs, banging his fist against the table. 

“Oh my gosh,” Uraraka says. “Well! So, maybe they’re wrong. But also maybe Katsuki isn’t monogamous! It’s never been confirmed or explicitly denied.” 

Izuku groans and leans back in his seat again. He hates this entire conversation! Really, he can’t entirely deny the fact that he sometimes enjoys talking about Katsuki. Still! It shouldn’t be a big deal, and Izuku doesn’t want it to be a big deal. 

He certainly doesn’t want to be wondering who the heck this guy is and whether or not Katsuki is actually dating him. But, maybe he doesn’t have to. 

While his friends continue on with their theories about the mystery guy, Izuku’s phone vibrates in his pocket, signaling a new text message. He slides it out and checks, his lips unintentionally curling into a grin when he sees who the message is from. 

Katsuki: Hey, are you free later? 

Izuku: Hi! Depends. When and what for? 

Hi? Was that too excited? Fuck. 

Katsuki: don’t know. Like 10? 

Izuku: ummmm 

He grimaces at the screen, fighting between the urge to word-vomit into the text box but also not seem too interested. 

Katsuki: if you don’t want to just say that

Izuku: no I do!! Where? 

For a few moments after, Izuku’s stomach turns. Crap, did he come across too uninterested? Does it even matter? 

Katsuki: u can come over if you want. Don’t be weird about it 

Izuku: im not weird! 

Katsuki: ok loser 

Katsuki: seriously, though. Come over tonight. 

Katsuki: or don’t. Whatever. 

Izuku’s heart flips over in his chest as it suddenly occurs to him that Katsuki might be doing the exact same thing that he’s doing. Over thinking his level of eagerness. It would be nice to meet up with Katsuki in a way that’s actually planned for once. Maybe they could finish what they started last time . . . 

“Izuku, who are you texting?” Shouto asks. Izuku looks up from his phone, his lips twitching as he tries not to smile. 

“Katsuki,” he says, simply. 

“Oh my gosh, what is he saying? Is he dating his trainer?” Uraraka asks, gripping Izuku’s bicep and squeezing. 

“I don’t know,” Izuku says, pressing his lips together. “I’ll ask him when I see him tonight.” 

And, of course, that gets them into a whole other round of invasive questions, but for whatever reason Izuku isn’t bothered by it. 

Funny how a simple invite from someone he supposedly doesn’t care about can turn his entire mood around. 

Izuku: I’ll be there :) 

Notes:

thank u!!!

here are some more songs:

Gossip - Sleeping with Sirens

Strange Love - Halsey

Bad Entertainment - Trashboat

Criminal - State Champs

Chapter 12: Piano Man

Summary:

“Shit, are you baking? Why are you baking?” 

“Do I have to have a reason? Can’t a guy just make a fucking cake because he feels like it?” he asks, defensively. Camie snickers in response. 

“Yeah, sure, but I know you better than that. You bake when you’re nervous. What’s eating ya, Kats?”

Notes:

IM.EXCITED

As soon as everything is set in stone, it occurs to Katsuki that he is perhaps making a huge mistake. What the fuck is he thinking? Deku can’t just come over.  

But he is coming over. Katsuki set a time and gave the nerd his address and holy fuck why did he do that? 

He gets up from where he’s sitting on his couch and paces around the living room a few times. This is one of the few nights he actually has to himself—no Mitsuki, no Camie, no errands to run or events to attend. And for whatever reason, Katsuki had a lapse in judgement and thought it would be a great idea to spend the little free time he gets with stupid Deku. 

Then again, there was a reason he decided to reach out. 

Toshinori had made a great point when he suggested Katsuki just talk to Deku. He’s right! What’s so hard about just talking to a person if Katsuki wants to talk to him? Fuck. It shouldn’t be hard at all, yet here he is. 

On the upside, Katsuki never gets to see Deku unless they’re in some mixed-up situation in a closet or a bathroom or some shit. It’s been hot and heavy and all that, but it’s not ideal. Most of the time they’re rushed and hell, last time Katsuki didn’t even get to cum. 

He stares at the clock on his wall, dreading the fact that he now has only a few hours left to kill before Deku shows up. A little, nagging voice in his head tells him to just call and cancel and never have to deal with it. 

Another voice tells him to just head to the kitchen and busy himself with baking. 

So he listens to the latter. 

He breaks out the pans and bowls and flours and gets to work. As he does, he sets his phone on the counter and video calls Camie. It rings a few times while he props it up and gets back to shoving ingredients into a bowl. 

“What’s up babe?” she answers. He sighs loudly and glances over at the screen. She’s clearly in her pajamas, hair piled high on her head in a bun. No makeup on either, which tells Katsuki that she’s alone. “Shit, are you baking? Why are you baking?” 

“Do I have to have a reason? Can’t a guy just make a fucking cake because he feels like it?” he asks, defensively. Camie snickers in response. 

“Yeah, sure, but I know you better than that. You bake when you’re nervous. What’s eating ya, Kats?” she asks not buying his denial in the slightest. He sighs again and shakes his head. 

“Remember that photographer?” he asks. 

“Uh, yeah, of course. He’s the one you’ve been kissing in closets or something,” she says. Well, she’s not wrong. That is what they’ve been doing. “He still bugging you?”

“Not exactly,” he mumbles, lowering his voice even more. “I invited him over.” 

“Like, over over? To the penthouse?” she asks, incredulously. “Katsuki!” 

“What?” He scoffs, stabbing the whisk into the bowl so he can start to stir. He can hear the way his heart beats in his ears. This shit is so awkward. 

“You gave him your address? What if he turns out to be some weirdo?” Camie asks, concern lacing her tone. Katsuki pauses for a moment, blinking down at his bowl before turning back to his screen.

He hadn’t thought about that yet, which is strange. Usually he’s very private and doesn’t just invite people over that he meets. If he has hook-ups or whatever, he’ll even meet those in a hotel or something before his own home. 

For whatever reason, it never occurred to him that Deku of all people would be a stalker or something. It’s not like he’s some crazed fan. In fact, Katsuki’s pretty sure he isn’t even a fan at all. Which, in a weird way, is kind of nice. 

“I’m not worried about it,” he says. 

“That’s every fan’s dream, isn’t it?” 

“He’s not a fan,” Katsuki reminds her. “I don’t think he even likes me that much. Is it weird that that makes me feel better about it?” 

“Is it weird that you are hanging out with someone who you think doesn’t like you?” she repeats the question back to him. And yeah, okay, when she says it like that of course it sounds fucking weird. 

“No, I mean . . . fuck, this whole thing is weird, I never should have fucking invited him over in the first place,” he groans, dropping the whisk back into the bowl and leaning his elbows against the counter. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” she says, suddenly a lot more comforting. “I’m just looking out for you, It doesn’t mean it’s going to be bad.” 

He bites at the inside of his cheek. So many fucking thoughts swirl around in his head and they’re making him dizzy. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Katsuki admits, feeling a little defeated. 

“Can I help?” she asks. He shrugs. “So . . . is this a date?” 

Katsuki nearly knocks the bag of flour onto the floor. 

“What?! No, fuck no,” he scoffs, shaking his head as if the very idea of dating Deku is disgusting. (It’s not, he just doesn’t want to think about it. Ever.) “I just wanna fuckin’ talk to him without running into him in some random ass place.”

“Yeah, mhmm, you want to talk to him,” she teased. He glares at his phone screen as she wiggles her eyebrows. “Don’t play stupid with me, you already told me about the blowjob. I know you want to sleep with him.” 

“Shut up,” he mutters, but he doesn’t correct her. She’s right; he does want to sleep with him. But he’s not exactly sure how to go about doing that. What if it became a regular thing? Hell, what if people found out he was sleeping with a pap? 

“You okay? You got really quiet.” 

“Yeah . . . hey, don’t tell anyone about this, okay?” he asks, his tone serious this time. She nods, understanding, promising that she would keep it a secret. 

He can imagine what kind of a field day the press would have with that if they found out. 

—

Izuku isn’t sure how he’s managed it, but he gets his friends off his back long enough to be able to get ready on his own. Not that there’s much to get ready for, right? It’s not a date. Hah. 

What if it was? Would Izuku have agreed? 

Izuku gulps and shoves that thought way down deep. Nope, not going there. 

Maybe there’s something Katsuki needs from him, like something to do with his conspiracy theories. At the very least, maybe he wants to hook up. 

Oh God.  

He wants to hook up, doesn’t he? It makes sense! After last time, Katsuki didn’t even get to finish and Izuku certainly didn’t get anything out of that whole ordeal. And Izuku told Katsuki that he wanted to . . . This is really happening, isn’t it? 

Crap, he should probably shave his balls. 

In a panic, he heads into the bathroom and strips down so he can inspect himself in the mirror. He’s never given it much thought, but he thinks his body is okay. His stomach is much softer than Katsuki’s is—that doesn’t matter, right? Katsuki has seen Izuku mostly naked already, and he still seems to be plenty attracted to him. 

As his eyes travel downwards, he cups his own balls in his hand and inspects the area. It’s a jungle down there; clearly hasn’t seen the blade of a razor in months. After a few moments of seriously considering grabbing the razor and shaving cream, he finally stops and just grabs a washcloth instead.

Body hair isn’t gross! If Katsuki doesn’t like it, he can go fuck himself. (Literally!) 

However, he will make sure he’s as clean as possible and he takes the washcloth to his crotch and ass to make sure he’s not too funky. Usually he wouldn’t be over thinking like this. But for whatever reason, he wants to make a good impression. 

Once he’s sure he’s ready, and has given himself a few more pep talks and internal justifications for his actions, he’s out of the house. His heart beats so fast, his stomach is all twisted, and he’s pretty sure he’s already about to sweat through his first layer of deodorant. 

For something that is not a date, he sure feels nervous like he’s on his way to one. His dating history is nothing too impressive. He had a girlfriend in high school, but that didn’t last more than a few months. Not to be cliche, but his intense fear of commitment and deeply seated abandonment issues get in the way of him ever really opening up to people. Even his closest friends are kept at an arms’ length. 

Luckily, Shouto and Denki just happen to have known him for years and know how to break down his walls whether he wants to let them in or not. When his dad passed away, he was actually at a show with Denki. He hung up on his mother and didn’t mention it for the rest of the show. She called again and told him it wasn’t just another bender, that it was serious. 

At first, Izuku didn’t cry. He’s always been a crier, too. 

But this time, he just kept it to himself, walked to the bar next door with Denki and did shots. They walked back to Denki’s apartment and Shouto met up with them. It was a fun night, actually. A long night, too. They played video games and laughed and teased Shouto when he told them all about the disaster of a date he had been on that night. And then it all came crashing down pretty quickly. 

“Hey, do you think your dad can get us tickets to his show next weekend?” 

“No, he’s dead.” 

The way Shouto and Denki just stared back at him is what did it. The shock and hurt in their expressions broke the dam and Izuku just started sobbing. 

 

Izuku feels uncomfortably out of place as he enters Katsuki’s building. He knew to expect a little more luxury from a celebrity’s apartment than from his own, but it’s still mind blowing. The lobby reminds him of a five-star hotel and has floors that are so shiny Izuku is worried he’ll ruin them just by walking. 

Following Katsuki’s directions, he walks down the far hallway on the left until he reaches the elevators. When he steps inside, he’s not expecting to find an attendant waiting. The guy is dressed in a uniform and looks very serious about his job—is he like a bouncer or something? Seems like it. 

“What floor?” He asks, and Izuku checks his text message again. 

“Um,” he gulps. “Twenty.” 

The attendant raises an eyebrow and lets out a quiet scoff. 

“Nice try,” he says. “Leave before I call security.” 

“What? No, I swear, it’s twenty,” he stammers, checking his phone to make sure Katsuki has given him the right number. 

“The owner of the penthouse does not allow guests,” he explains, firmly. 

“He invited me, though, why wouldn’t I be allowed?” He asks, panicking. “I can call him, okay? I’ll call him and he’ll explain—” 

He’s cut off by the buzz of an intercom coming from somewhere in the elevator. 

<<Hey, Hitoshi, I forgot to tell you I’m expecting someone. Short guy with green hair. There’s an extra tip in it for you if you don’t tell Mitsuki.>>

His lips twitch as he fights back a triumphant grin. Hah, take that! (Also, he’s really not that short. It’s not his fault Katsuki is as long and lean as he is.) 

“Copy that,” The attendant sighs. “Apologies, I didn’t realize.” 

Izuku just swallows and nods as he watches the doors close. The attendant turns a key in the elevator that takes them up, up, up. It’s probably the longest elevator ride he’s ever been on. Especially since the attendant keeps glancing over at him, his eyes suspicious and judgmental. 

What does he think Izuku is here for? Clearly Katsuki doesn’t have guests very often. 

The elevator finally stops at the top floor and the doors slide open to a sleek, modern entryway. There’s a hallway that leads down a row, but Izuku doesn’t get a good look at it before he blurts out his question. 

“Which apartment is it?” he asks, stupidly. 

“What do you mean? This is the apartment,” he says. “Please step out so I can close the doors.” 

Izuku gasps and quickly exits the elevator into the dimly lit entryway. After taking his shoes off, he walks nervously through the hall to the end, where the apartment seems to just suddenly open up to a large, spacious living room. 

There's a large, black leather sectional facing a television hung over a sleek, electric fireplace. On the far side of the room sits a grand piano next to windows that stretch from floor to ceiling. 

"Hey." 

Izuku jumps and turns to see Katsuki coming from around yet another corner. He's dressed in tight-fitting jeans and an oversized t-shirt. It looks old and worn but Izuku has personally seen the store where Katsuki gets his clothes. They're not cheap. 

"Hi, um, sorry—you have a nice home," he says, wincing at how awkward he knows he sounds. This is Katsuki's house. Where he lives. Not that it's any more of a privilege to see where he lives than it would be for anyone else he knows. 

But he also has never been to a penthouse apartment before. 

"Thanks," Katsuki says. His responses seem oddly short and stiff, which is very confusing. He's the one who invited Izuku over in the first place!

"You live by yourself?" Izuku asks, still meandering down the path of excruciating small talk. 

"Yep," Katsuki replies. 

"I think my entire apartment is the size of this living room," Izuku says, stupidly. What a dull thing to say. He panics for a moment, his eyes darting around the room as he desperately looks for a new subject. They land on the grand piano. "You play the piano?" 

Izuku wants to laugh. He hasn't heard a lot of Katsuki's music, but it certainly isn't the type that's played on a grand piano. And when he saw him perform he never played any instruments. It's probably all just for show. 

"Yeah," Katsuki shrugs, a bit of an amused smirk playing across his lips. "Do you?" 

"Um, I can play Chopsticks ?" Izuku shrugs, and Katsuki laughs. Like an actual, real, genuine chuckle. 

It's kind of cute. 

"Everyone can play Chopsticks, " he shakes his head, and then starts walking over to the piano. Izuku watches curiously and follows him. He sits down on the bench and shakes out his wrists a few times. 

He's not sure what he expects. Maybe he expects Katsuki to be kind of bad at playing the piano. Maybe some sort of bad rendition of a pop song.

But instead of either of those things, Katsuki's fingers just glide across the keys so naturally as he starts to play. It's a classical song. One that Izuku has definitely heard before but wouldn’t be able to name for the life of him. He only plays a couple of measures before he stops and turns back to look at Izuku, a smug little smirk plastered across his dumb face. 

“Okay, you can clap now,” Katsuki says. Izuku can tell that he’s just kidding, but he chooses to argue anyway. 

“I’m not clapping for that,” Izuku snorts. “I think it’s a pretty well known fact that a lot of singers play the piano.” 

“You sure think you know a lot about music, huh?” Katsuki asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “Let me guess, you’re an expert because you go to concerts and press a button on a camera?” 

“Hey! Taking pictures is so much more than just pressing a button! I’d like you to try operating my camera in manual mode,” he rants, only stopping himself when he notices how amused Katsuki looks. “Stop laughing at me.” 

“No,” he chuckles. “But sure. Let me see it.” 

Izuku pauses for a moment, the bag on his shoulders suddenly feeling a little bit heavier. He’s not sure why he brought it. To be fair, he actually brings his camera with him everywhere he goes. 

“I don’t let other people touch my camera, sorry,” he shrugs. 

“Ooh, so sensitive,” Katsuki responds, rolling his eyes. 

“What? It’s easily the most expensive thing I own and the most important,” Izuku argues. 

“Then why do you bring it with you all the time? You like lugging that ugly yellow backpack around?”  

“You don’t have to be so rude!” Izuku says, exasperated. He furrows his eyebrows together in frustration as his mind drifts. “I didn’t always bring it with me everywhere, but this one time right after I graduated high school, I was out all day . . . I came home and found that my dad had taken it and sold it.” 

“Well, shit,” Katsuki says, blinking. “What an ass.” 

“Tell me about it,” Izuku mutters. He shifts uncomfortably, slightly regretting bringing his dad up at all. It always just puts him in a bad mood. 

“He was that strapped for cash he needed to steal your shit? That’s fucked.” 

“No, he was probably buying drugs or something,” Izuku says. “But I don’t want to talk about him. He’s dead and he’s not bothering me anymore. The point is, I worked really hard to save up for this one and have put a lot of money into getting new lenses and crap and I don’t trust anyone else to mess with it.” 

“Okay, okay, got it,” Katsuki says, going silent for a moment before scooting aside and patting the space on the bench next to him. “Here, come sit with me.” 

Izuku isn’t sure, but sets his camera bag down on the couch and walks over to the bench. He sits down next to Katsuki and gulps as he stares at the keys. It’s not the piano he’s worried about, though. It’s that he’s suddenly very hyper-aware of how close Katsuki is. Their shoulders brush together and Izuku’s skin burns under his shirt at the contact. 

“Show me what you’ve got,” Katsuki insists. Grimacing at the keys beneath his fingers, Izuku searches for the right key to start on. Was it C? He can’t remember, it’s been so long. Then, before he can make up his mind, Katsuki takes his wrist and guides his hands to the correct starting position. 

His fingers linger against Izuku for just a second too long before he pulls back and watches. The room is heavy with silence as they both watch and wait. 

And then Izuku’s clumsy fingers crash against the keys like a pile of bricks. 

“What the fuck?” Katsuki laughs, putting his hands over Izuku’s again to get him to stop. 

“I didn’t say I could play it well,” Izuku says. He’s trying to stay firm, but he can’t help but smile. Especially with the way that Katsuki is just absolutely losing it. Maybe laughter really is contagious. 

“I don’t think you played it at all,” Katsuki says, brushing Izuku’s hands away and positioning his own. Without even thinking it through, Katsuki just starts playing the simple song that Izuku couldn’t tackle. It’s amazing how he does it, too. Izuku usually goes in with his two pointer fingers doing all the work. But not Katsuki, he plays it with his fingers positioned properly. 

As he plays, Izuku notices the way the muscles in his hands move under his skin. Or how his fingers splay out across the keys. They’re so long and slender, yet clearly seasoned and strong. They move so fluidly and expertly that Izuku can’t help but stare.

“Okay, fine, so you’re a great piano player, I’ll admit it,” Izuku says, keeping his voice soft this time. Katsuki stops and turns to him. Izuku pretends like he doesn’t notice the way that Katsuki’s eyes flicker to his lips for a moment. 

“I play seventeen instruments,” he grins. 

“Yeah, okay,” Izuku says. “Now you’re just bragging.” 

“Maybe,” Katsuki shrugs, but then swings his legs to the side and stands. “Come this way, I’ll show you.” 

Izuku gets up and follows him down another hall beyond the living room and pushes open a door. His eyes go wide as he takes in the sight. It’s a room full of various instruments—guitars hung on the wall, a drumset, and several cases that hold instruments Izuku can’t identify. 

“You can play all of these?” Izuku asks. 

“Duh,” Katsuki says, grabbing one of the acoustic guitars from its stand and slinging the strap around his neck. “Why the fuck would I have them if I couldn’t play them?” 

“I don’t know, for show?” Izuku shrugs. 

“Stupid,” Katsuki mutters, positioning his fingers and strumming a random chord. 

“Well, I’ve seen you perform a few times now,” Izuku points out. “And you never play instruments on stage, what was I supposed to think?” 

“Don’t even fucking get me started,” Katsuki mumbles, rolling his eyes. Izuku watches, wondering what part has him so pissed all of a sudden. But then he just starts playing a song. Again, he makes it look so damn easy that it’s almost infuriating. 

He keeps playing, and as he goes, it occurs to Izuku that he knows that song. He’s heard it before for sure! But what the heck is it? 

“What song is that?” Izuku asks him. 

“ My Hero,” he says, smirking. Izuku puzzles. It doesn’t sound familiar. “It’s one of my songs.” 

Oh. 

“Oh gross,” Izuku says, without thinking. He just hates that he’s recognizing Katsuki’s garbage pop songs like that! That’s what he gets for going to his shows for work. 

“Gross? What the fuck?” 

“Sorry! No offense but I just . . . I really hate your music.” There. He said it. 

Katsuki just stares at him for a moment. Izuku holds his breath because holy crap Katsuki’s probably going to punch him or something for saying such a rude thing. He presses his lips together, and Izuku braces himself for an explosion. 

But then Katsuki laughs. 

“You hate it?” Katsuki asks, his smile way too wide. 

“Yes?” 

“God, same,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s not . . . I love performing and writing songs and shit, but fuck. You wouldn’t believe how much shit my producer changes every fucking time I submit something.”

“Really?” Izuku blinks. 

“Yeah, fuck,” he shakes his head and lines his fingers up. And then he starts singing. And playing. 

Izuku freezes and just stands there as he watches. As much as he’s been around music and musicians his whole life, he’s not quite sure he’s ever been in a situation where someone was singing just for him. 

Awkwardness aside, he’s more or less blown away. No backing tracks, no filtered microphone, nothing electronic clouding his voice. He’s actually very good. Still not Izuku’s favorite style of music, but it’s enough for goose bumps to prickle over his forearms. 

“I like that version better,” Izuku tells him once he’s finished. Katsuki gives him a small smile. 

“Thanks,” he says, quietly. He removes the guitar from around his shoulders and places it back on the stand. “Do you want to see my room?” 

Izuku swallows, his mind immediately going south. Um, yes.

“If you’re giving me a tour, you might as well, right?” he says, making it awkward instead of just being bold and honest. Katsuki nods and leads him out of the room with the instruments. He passes by a few more doors, pointing out which ones are guest bedrooms and which one is the bathroom. Izuku is more or less perplexed to find that the back end of the hall leads to a staircase which leads to a loft. 

This place is bigger than he thought, apparently. 

The stairs open up to a large, spacious bedroom. Even though he tries to avoid it, his eyes go straight to the bed, which is backed up against a large window that overlooks the city. The bed is huge , too, and perfectly made up. 

“This is nice,” Izuku says, as he starts to walk around. He moves to the window behind the bed and looks out. From where they are, the city lights glow and light up the room. At the same time, they’re high enough up that he can look out into the night sky and admire its beauty. “Wow.” 

“Yeah?” Katsuki says, walking up behind him. 

Izuku hasn’t even been over for very long. It would be rude to assume they could just jump into fooling around, right? He can hold himself back. Who knows, maybe Katsuki didn’t invite him over to hook up at all. 

“Hey.” Izuku clears his throat and turns around as Katsuki speaks. He can’t muster up the nerve to say anything intelligent, so he opts for silence. Katsuki doesn’t say anything, either. Instead, he just dips down and kisses Izuku hard. 

He’s caught off guard for only a moment before he lets his hands drop to Katsuki’s waist. His lips press back into Katsuki’s and he parts his lips slowly. On instinct, he wants to be fast and rough, but then he remembers that for once, they’re actually alone. They have Katsuki’s entire bedroom to themselves and no one around to interrupt. 

Knowing this, Izuku slides his hands into Katsuki’s back pockets and pulls him in closer so that they’re hips are pressed together. Heat radiates from Katsuki’s body, and Izuku shivers as strong hands run over his shoulders and squeeze. 

“Fuck,” Katsuki breathes against Izuku’s lips. He pauses for a moment, resting his forehead against Izuku’s as he thinks. Izuku can feel Katsuki’s erection pressing into his groin, hot and eager. Their heartbeats clamor in the space between their chests. 

“Do you want to—”

“Yeah,” Katsuki says, not letting him finish. “No talking.” 

Well, Izuku is good with that. No talking means no embarrassing himself. 

With that, Katsuki’s hands pull at the hem of Izuku’s shirt and he gets the hint to take it off and toss it onto the floor behind him. Katsuki’s eyes wander before he moves to remove his own shirt. Izuku’s hands tremble as he slides off his belt and pops open the button of his own jeans. 

He’s nervous, but his cock aches and all he wants to do is pin Katsuki down and sink into him. Fuck. Breathe. He kicks off his pants, leaving himself in nothing but his underwear as Katsuki takes off his own.  

This is really happening. They're standing in Katsuki's bedroom taking their clothes off so they can have sex.  

Holy crap. 

It's not that strange. If anything, all the talking they've done so far tonight has been strange. He's kissed Katsuki before. He's had the guy's dick in his mouth and they've sent each other multiple nudes. It's fine. 

Still, Izuku's fingers tremble as he slips out of his boxers. His cock bounces, hard and red and ready. Katsuki gasps and reconnects their lips, this time their naked bodies sliding together as they kiss. 

It's electrifying. 

Katsuki pushes him gently towards the bed until the backs of his knees hit the mattress and he's forced to topple backwards. The other man crawls on top of him, straddling his waist and pinning his shoulders. 

"Sexy," Izuku says, unable to help himself as he stares up at Katsuki. What is he doing to him? 

Katsuki's ears tinge red as he rocks his hips, letting their cocks grind together. Izuku shudders at the sensation. It feels so good, but it's not enough. 

He lets his hands fall to Katsuki's thighs, giving them a light squeeze. 

"Not too hard, can't have any marks," Katsuki reminds him. Izuku blinks, watching from beneath as Katsuki stretches to the side and fumbles around in his bedside drawer. He returns with a bottle of lube and a condom. 

Izuku reaches out to take it, but Katsuki just bats his hand away and opens the condom himself. The condom isn't anything special—just a normal brand and everything. Izuku bites back a laugh as a sick joke plays in his head. 

Stars—they're just like us! They buy the same brand of condoms!

But he doesn't say anything to ruin the moment. And besides, the thought is long gone as Katsuki's slender fingers roll the condom down over Izuku's shaft. 

"Ah," Izuku gasps, his head rolling back against the mattress. Katsuki doesn't respond, just pops open the lid to the bottle and squirts a generous amount onto his fingertips. 

Izuku props himself up on his elbows, watching eagerly as Katsuki positions himself over his dick, already guiding Izuku to his entrance. 

"Oh fuck," Izuku moans as his tip breaches Katsuki's hole. Katsuki's lips part, his face concentrated like he's trying not to let on how affected he is by Izuku's dick. 

He moves slowly, gently lowering himself down as Izuku holds him by the hips. 

"Shit," Katsuki finally breathes once he's fully seated. He's beautiful like that—legs spread across Izuku's hips, ass full of Izuku's cock. Izuku can't help himself. 

"Gorgeous," he whispers, grasping at Katsuki's dick. His hands move gently over the shaft a few times before Katsuki dips down and kisses Izuku again. Distracted, his hand leaves Katsuki’s length and he lets his arms hug his waist instead, giving him a better angle to start thrusting. 

His insides are tight and hot and squeezing, but he needs friction. Needs to move. 

"Fuck. Fuck, Deku," Katsuki moans, his kisses sloppy as he tries to focus. Ignoring the fact that he's still calling him that rude nickname. 

"So tight," Izuku whispers, thrusting up harder and faster and reveling in the way that Katsuki becomes increasingly debauched. 

Finally, he gets the confidence to flip the script. Without missing a beat, he rolls Katsuki over onto his back and hooks his arms around his legs so he can drive in deeper. 

"Yes, fuck," Katsuki gasps. "Fuck me." 

"Yeah," Izuku mumbles, snapping his hips faster and harder. He's not going to last like this. He has to had sex in months. 

"I'm gonna fucking cum," Katsuki growls, desperately grasping his own cock as Izuku continues to fuck into him. 

Everything reaches a booking point as Katsuki cries out and ropes of white spurt from his swollen tip. It's a beautiful sight that sends Izuku over the edge and he can feel his balls start to tighten before he cums, filling the condom while still inside. 

They both freeze for a moment, catching their breath and letting everything sink in. After a few beats, Izuku slips out and sits back on his knees. 

"Did you like that?" Izuku asks, realizing that he's not quite sure what to say. 

"Yeah," Katsuki says, still laying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. "I made cake." 

"What?" 

"Yeah, before you got here, I made cake." He still doesn't know why he's choosing now to let him know. "There's too much for me, so take some on your way out."

Izuku blinks. 

"You're already kicking me out?"

Katsuki props himself up on his elbows and gives Izuku an equally confused look. 

"Isn't that what you came here for? To fuck?" He asks. Izuku shrugs. "What, you want to stay and hang out?" 

"I mean . . . Yeah, kinda?" Izuku shrugs. He can't quite place it, and he's not sure what it means. But he doesn't want to leave. He wants to stay and maybe kiss Katsuki some more, but also hear about how his producer messes with his music or find out if he has any other hidden talents. 

He wants to know more, now that he's gotten this taste. 

"Well . . . Good," He says, his ears reddening again. How cute. "Should shower first. Then I'll show you my cake." 

"Is that a euphemism?" Izuku teases. 

"No! It's a fucking strawberry cake. And it's good as shit," Katsuki insists. Izuku just laughs.

There's something weirdly comfortable about their banter. It makes Izuku feel hopeful that maybe this means he and Katsuki can be friends. 

Maybe.

 

Notes:

Ahhhh wow they're such great friends

Chapter 13: Dress Rehearsal

Summary:

"Don't you have work to do?" He asks her, finally turning in his chair to face her. She sighs and props her elbows up over the wall. 

"I do! But I just want to hear all about your date," she says, dreamily. 

"It was not a date—" 

Izuku stares at his computer screen, trying his best to concentrate on the information in front of him. Kind of hard to do, though, when he can tell someone is staring at him. 

Someone being Uraraka peering at him from over their shared cubicle wall. He already told her he wasn't giving out details, yet here she is, still staring. 

"Don't you have work to do?" He asks her, finally turning in his chair to face her. She sighs and props her elbows up over the wall. 

"I do! But I just want to hear all about your date," she says, dreamily. 

"It was not a date —" 

"What's this about Midoriya going on a date?" Ashido’s voice is enough to make Izuku physically jump from his chair. 

"N-nothing!"

"Dude, I'm just teasing you, chill for a second," she smirks. "Good for you going on dates and all that."

"It wasn't a date, it's fine," he says, shaking his head, but also eyeing the folder she has tucked under her arm. 

"It was too a date and you're going to fall in love e and get married and—"

"Stop!" Izuku whines, shooting her a warning look. 

"Yeah? Who's this mystery . . . Girl? Guy?" Ashido asks, casually leaning against the wall. Izuku is tempted to change the subject by telling them both to stop leaning on the wall. Seriously! These things are cheap and not about to support everyone being nosy and leaning on them!

"One of my friends came in from out of town the other day and he and Izuku totally hit it off," Uraraka says, without missing a beat. He glances at her carefully, silently thanking her for coming up with such a seamless cover story. 

Ashido probably wouldn't be too thrilled if she found out the person he's assigned to photograph for work was also the person he had started sleeping with. 

Not that it was a date! It totally wasn't. 

But Izuku stayed at Katsuki's until almost four in the morning. They ate cake (which was delicious), watched movies, and drank wine but it definitely wasn't a date. When they were watching the movie, Izuku had his arm around Katsuki's shoulders and after it was over, Katsuki sucked his dick.

Still. Not a date. 

Then again, he lost track of time and six hours somehow felt like six minutes and he felt genuinely bummed when he realized he needed to get home. The night ended way quicker than he wanted it to, which is funny because usually it’s the other way around. (When he hangs out with new people, he’s exhausted and wants to leave immediately.) Then, Izuku left to go home and they kissed by the elevator door and Katsuki told him to text when he made it back safe.

Fuck, maybe it was a date. 

Is he dating Katsuki now? How fucked up is that?!

"Well, best of luck with that, then," Ashido says with a shrug. She stands up and hands Izuku the folder she had been holding. "I gotta talk to you for a minute, come with me?" 

He blinks and takes the folder, which is thicker and more durable than the assignment folders he usually gets. It's not labeled or anything, so he doesn't have any sort of clue what she might need to talk to him about. 

"Sure, okay," he says, then follows her away from the cubicles. For a moment, his mind meanders through several possibilities, stopping at one that's particularly terrible. 

What if she knows he's been sneaking around and talking to Katsuki when he's not supposed to? What if this folder is pictures someone took of them? Fuck. He can’t afford to get fired again. Who would hire him after being fired by two publications within the span of a month?! 

He’s doomed.

Suddenly the folder in his hands feels ten times heavier as he steps into Ashido’s office. She closes the door behind him and then plops down into her chair, leaving him to stand awkwardly in front of her desk. 

"Sit, weirdo," she jokes, pointing to the empty chair. She doesn't seem mad. But it's always hard to tell with her. One minute she's charming and playful and then the next she means serious business. 

"Is everything okay?" 

"Well, it depends on what your definition of okay is," she says, which does not help in the slightest.  "I just wanted to talk to you about this assignment." 

Izuku blinks at the folder and peels it open. It's much different than before, and contains a thicker packet of information along with a yellow envelope labeled "tickets." 

"What is this?" He asks, confused. 

"It's your itinerary," she says, casually. Itinerary for what? A business trip? What kind of business trip could he possibly be going on? As if reading his mind, Ashido turns her computer screen towards him and grins. Izuku's eyes grow wider as he registers what he's looking at. 

The homepage for Katsuki's website. 

Katsuki's Dynamite World Tour- Get your tickets now! 

He stares, slack-jawed. The screen shows one of Katsuki's promotional pictures from his new album, as well as the number of cities and countries and all of the dates that are already sold out. 

"The first leg of his tour starts next week. We don't usually do this, but we have some extra funding and your Katsuki pieces have been killing it lately. So we want you to follow the tour and see what kind of pics you can get. You have a press pass for every show, but we need more than just that. What is he wearing, where is he shopping, who's getting on his tour bus—"

She continues to go on and on as Izuku sits there, gripping the arms of his chair. He tries to focus on what she's saying, but he can only think of one thing: 

'Why didn't he tell me he was going on tour?'

 

---

 

"No, no, fuck no." 

Katsuki groans and grips the microphone stand in front of him just a little bit tighter. This is the fifth fucking time he's had to stop in the middle of the song so Mitsuki can go off on someone. 

"The backing tracks are way too loud, someone fix that," Mitsuki barks, just as her phone starts to ring. She groans and pulls it out. "Alright everyone take a short break and then we're getting right back into it. We have less than a week to make sure this is perfect." 

Katsuki's not sure how her role of manager ended up meaning she's in charge of staging his shows and giving them creative direction. 

He lets go of the microphone and storms off stage, not sure how much more of her dictatorship he can take before he snaps. Thankfully, his dressing room is empty and he can get at least a few minutes of peace and quiet. Once he's alone, he flops down onto the couch and pulls out his phone. 

Normally, he isn't one to give a shit about text messages. Hell, half the time he forgets to respond himself so he can't really expect others to be responding to him constantly. 

But this is different because it's Deku. Everything's fucking different with Deku! Katsuki doesn't get it. 

He came over last night. They had sex and it was really fucking hot. Even better was the fact that Deku didn't just dip right after. It was like silent confirmation that, even if Deku would never admit it, he liked Katsuki for more than just his body. 

But now all that stupid saplings is out the window. 

When he woke up, he had texted Deku. A stupid, dumb message that he never should have sent. 

 

Katsuki: morning :) 

 

It stares back at him, that stupid emote taunting him. What's worse is the read receipt right underneath it. 

What the actual fuck? Not only does Katsuki put himself out there by trying to be nice to the guy and end up being embarrassing—he also gets left on read.

Katsuki's thumbs hover over the keypad on his phone. He wants to text back and rescind his greeting. He also wants to say something else that changes the subject but also warrants a double text. 

Fuck. 

Things would be so much easier if Katsuki could just let it go, just ignore Deku and move on. 

 

Katsuki: already leaving me on read, huh? 

 

He types the message out, then thinks better of it. Before he can delete it, though, someone bangs on the dressing room door. Katsuki startles and his thumb slips. 

"No! Fucking dammit— What?!"” He shouts at the door, sitting up and desperately trying to stop the message from sending. With a bloop the message is sent. Katsuki groans and tosses the phone down against the cushions of the couch. Great, now he looks desperate! 

The door to the room opens, and Katsuki immediately glares at the person entering. It’s all their fault that Katsuki looks like an idiot now. Not that he should care what Deku thinks of him. But he does, for some reason. 

"The fuck are you doing here?" Katsuki scoffs at the fact that Kirishima Eijirou is the one knocking at his door. He hasn't talked to him in months. He certainly doesn't belong at a dress rehearsal. 

"Oh, ah, Mitsuki invited me," he says, awkwardly. "I thought I'd at least come say hi and then dip. Haven't seen you in a while, bro!" 

Katsuki rolls his eyes. 

It's true that he used to be friends with Kirishima. They went to the same high school for a bit and then he ended up going pro for some dumb sport. 

That's not why they aren't as close as they used to be. Time and space and all that shit definitely played a factor, but more so than that it was Mitsuki.

Mitsuki wanted them to date, or pretend to date or whatever and Katsuki wanted nothing to do with it. It was a big, ugly, awkward thing and Kirishima just got caught in the crosshairs. So in a way, yeah, Katsuki doesn't blame him for keeping his distance. 

"Why are you listening to her?" Katsuki asks, shaking his head. 

"I don't know, I just . . . I went to that release party you had. It was pretty cool, by the way. But I didn't even see you the entire time and it just made me miss the fact that we used to hang out a lot more," He explains. "And don't worry, I'm not about to try and humor any of her match maker crap."

"Good," Katsuki chuckles. Just as he does, his phone vibrates next to him. Katsuki audibly gasps and has to pause for a moment to prepare himself. 

"Dude, you okay?" 

"Yeah, fuck off," Katsuki mumbles, finally biting the bullet and checking the phone. 

  Deku: Sorry I need to think

Katsuki wants to scream. What the fuck does that mean?! 

"Fucking dick," Katsuki mutters at his phone. "What the hell does he need to think about?" 

"Who?"

Fuck, he forgot about Kirishima. Funny how two seconds of turning his attention to Deku could do that. Well, fuck Deku for being so distracting. 

“No one, none of your business,” he mutters, though he’s still reeling over the fact that Deku had the audacity to message him that. Who the hell does he think he is?

“Really?” he smirks, leaning against the nearest counter and making sure the door is fully shut behind him. “Sounds like you were talking to someone.”

Katsuki narrows his eyes a bit. The truth is, he probably never should have blamed Kirishima for any of that drama. He was never supportive of Mitsuki, just always caught in the middle. Mitsuki being nosy and controlling was what made it hard for them to be friends. 

So he can trust Kirishima. And he’s only convincing himself of this now because he knows he’s about to explode if he doesn’t get to complain about Deku’s text message ASAP. He would call Camie, but she’s off at some photo shoot. 

“Fine, there’s a guy,” he mumbles. 

“Does Mitsuki know?” 

“No, she fucking doesn’t. And I swear to God if you say anything—”

“Chill! I won’t say anything, bro, I’m not that cruel,” he chuckles. “So, yeah, some guy’s pissing you off?”

“Yeah,” he says, sitting back down. He glares at his phone screen so he doesn’t have to look at Kirishima while he talks. “He came over last night and it was nice, you know? I thought we got along great. Anyway, texted him this morning and he said ‘ Sorry, I have to think.’ What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!” 

“That he has to think?” 

“About what? What does he have to think about that he suddenly can’t be bothered to respond to me?” he rants, angry. He spent all that time being nice and vulnerable and shit with Deku and now he’s gonna be a dick? Fuck that. 

“Did you ask him?” Kirishima asks. 

“Ask him what?” 

“Ask him what he needs to think about,” he shrugs. “Maybe he still won’t give an acceptable answer, but at least it’s better than you just assuming he has bad intentions and cutting him off.” 

He glares at Kirishima, but types out a new message anyway. 

Katsuki: I’m confused- what the fuck do you need to think about? 

“Like that?” he asks, showing him the unsent message. Kirishima sighs, and takes the phone from him, ignoring his silent protests. He returns it to him only moments later. 

Katsuki: I’m confused- what do you need to think about?

“Fine,” Katsuki mutters, and hits send.

“Yeah, being so aggressive isn’t gonna help,” Kirishima suggests. “Who is this guy? Do I know him? Must be pretty great if he’s got you all worked up about him.” 

“You don’t know him,” Katsuki mumbles, shaking his head. Kirishima eyes him suspiciously, like he’s trying to figure him out. 

“He wouldn’t happen to be like, a shrimpy dude with green hair?” he asks. Katsuki nearly chokes. 

“Wha—How do you know that?!” he scoffs, his heart racing momentarily. Have they been caught? Is he that obvious? Fuck, fuck, fuck!

“Chill, I was just guessing! I met this dude at your release party. He said he was an artist and I had never seen him before. Looked kind of nervous, so I was wondering who he knew there,” he explains. 

“You talked to him?” Katsuki asks, blinking. 

“Yeah! Yamada Sake, right?” he asks. Katsuki just stares at him for a moment. That’s not Deku’s name. Hell, hopefully that’s not anyone’s name. “Met him at the bar.” 

Ah, that makes sense. Stupid Deku tried to give him a fake name probably. Oh well, it’s probably for the best that Kirishima doesn’t know his real name, anyway. And he probably shouldn’t know the real reason Deku was there, either. 

“Y-yeah, that’s him,” he stumbles over the admission. “We just met, he’s not used to being at events like that. Still, don’t tell Mitsuki. She’d be nosy as fuck and ruin everything.” 

More like she’ll recognize Deku immediately and demand that they stop seeing each other. 

His phone buzzes once more. Twice more. 

Deku: I got a new assignment following your tour. 

What’s the problem there? Katsuki’s fucking elated that he’s following it. That means they can hook up more on the road. 

Deku: you didn’t even tell me you were leaving next week or at all

Katsuki stares at the message, torn over how to respond. Maybe it did slip his mind to mention it. But in his defense, he thought it was common knowledge that he had a big tour coming up. Deku follows him around all the time for work— shouldn’t he have known? 

Katsuki: Yeah, thought you knew. 

Deku: Nope! And frankly I don’t want to get involved with a musician anyway, I don’t know what I was thinking. 

Deku: Good luck on your tour I guess, I’ll be keeping my distance. 

Chapter 14: Blackout

Summary:

"Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me!" Uraraka screeches, tangling her fingers in her own hair as she paces about Izuku's living room. He had just dropped the bomb on her that he wouldn't be messing around with Katsuki anymore.  Sure, Katsuki has more redeeming qualities than Izuku originally thought possible. But the whole tour thing was just a reminder that he is still a diva musician.

Izuku's calves ached from jumping up and down so many times. He had been so pumped watching the set from the wings. Anyone else waiting back there had enough tact to watch the band calmly. 

But Izuku was just that excited. He was only twelve, but had been deemed old enough to finally go to one of his father's shows. 

"Dad!" He shouted excitedly as the man exited the stage and handed his guitar off to one of the roadies. "Dad, that was so cool! Did you add that extra riff just on a whim or did you plan it that way? It was different than the studio version but I liked it a lot better actually—"

"Izuku, I don't have time to talk right now," his father responded, cutting him off mid-sentence. Izuku swallowed his words, definitely disappointed, but he understood. He thought he understood, anyway. Maybe Izuku was just speaking out of turn. 

He watched as his father and the rest of his band mates headed off, back to the room where they had left most of their things. Izuku stayed behind for a moment, not really sure what to do. His ears rang from the sudden lack of loud, vibrating music. 

"Big fan, huh?" A lady nearby asked. Izuku didn't know who she was, just that she was dressed in a lot of black and had interesting tattoos. "Hisashi doesn't really do the whole fan boy thing. Don't take it personally." 

"O-oh, no! I'm not a fan. Er, well I guess I am technically. He's my dad," Izuku said, proudly. And he never forgot the way the woman looked at him before she responded. 

"Shit, didn't know he had a kid." 

 

---

 

"Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me!" Uraraka screeches, tangling her fingers in her own hair as she paces about Izuku's living room. He had just dropped the bomb on her that he wouldn't be messing around with Katsuki anymore. 

Sure, Katsuki has more redeeming qualities than Izuku originally thought possible. But the whole tour thing was just a reminder that he is still a diva musician. Maybe it was a good thing Izuku found out about the tour this way.  It's like life just wanted to give him a sign that he should jump ship now before it's too late. 

"It's for the best," Izuku sighs, pushing away that annoying pang of disappointment in his chest. 

"How?! How is it for the best?" She demands, far more worked up than he could have expected. Or, actually, this is Uraraka. Of course she'd be upset. 

"If he's not going to tell me before he jets off for a month, then I'm not going to waste my time," Izuku shrugs. 

"You didn't know he was going on tour?" She asks. "Izuku! This is only the biggest tour of the century he probably thought you already knew about it."

"Well . . . That's another red flag then, isn't it? If he's so narcissistic that he thinks I just know everything happening in his life?"

"Counterpoint—You usually do know what's happening in his life, usually before he does!" She says, firmly. Izuku rolls his eyes. 

"So? What's your point?"

"My point is that you should have given him a chance. What's your deal with all of this anyway? Why is this tour such a deal breaker?" 

Izuku holds his breath as his mind flashes to instances of his teenage self coming home from school, only to find that his dad had taken off again. It was always the same excuse. That he couldn't possibly miss that opportunity. 

"I've been burned before, and I don't care to get screwed over again. If I dated—"

Uraraka gasps loudly, reminding him of his word choice. 

"Not that we were dating or going to date!" He clarifies, defensively. He shouldn't be getting so worked up, but he is. "It's just stupid, you know? Tour life? It's rough and you don't get to see people and you start to hide things and do drugs and cheat on your wife—"

"Whoa! Izuku," Uraraka says, cutting him off and rushing to sit down next to him. "You need to breathe for a sec." 

"Crap," Izuku says, standing up and moving away from her. It’s stupid to be getting so upset over things that happened in the past. He's very much subscribed to the fact that he can rise above his childhood traumas and live his own life. 

Completely ignoring the issues has been working so far. Mostly. 

 "Katsuki doesn't have a wife," Uraraka says, reminding Izuku of the stupid thing he let slip. "I feel like, maybe you're being a bit unfair? You were a music photographer so I'm sure you saw a lot of touring musicians doing shitty things but that doesn't mean Katsuki is doing those things." 

Izuku frowns and sits back down on the couch. He stares at his feet in silence, trying to think of what he wants to say. Part of him is actually considering telling Uraraka about what's really making him wary. 

But that means talking about it and talking about it means resurfacing a shit load of emotions he doesn't want. 

Thankfully, he doesn't have to fill the silence for much longer. His phone buzzes with a text from Denki. 

He quickly scoops it up and then turns back to Uraraka. 

"Denki and Shouto are at Smokescreen," Izuku says to Uraraka. 

"The bar?" She blinks. 

"Yeah, we should meet them there," he says, jumping up and fully embracing the distraction from their current conversation. 

"Like . . . Now?" She asks. 

"Yeah! Come on, it'll be fun," he insists. For a moment she looks unsure, like she's about to question his motives. But thankfully she just sighs and gets up. 

"Okay, okay," she laughs. 

And then Izuku is able to relax, even if it's only a little bit. 

 

---

 

Katsuki has his bedspread pulled up to his chin as he holds his phone against his ear. His eyebrows are angled into a deep frown as he rants to Camie. 

"Dude, so let me get this straight. You invited the guy over, had sex with him and now he's dumping you just because you're going on tour?" She asks. He discretely left out the part where Deku knew about the tour because of his job, but thankfully Camie can just assume he learned about it on the internet. 

"Yeah, fucking dick," he scoffs. "Fuck him." 

"Yeah! But also it doesn't make any sense. How dare he use you for your body and then toss you aside," she says. 

Katsuki hates to think of it that way. It feels so shitty and makes Katsuki look like a damn idiot. 

"Wasn't expecting that," Katsuki says, frowning as his stomach starts to twist all over again. Every interaction he's had with Deku plays back in his head on a loop. Should Katsuki be embarrassed? Had he been reading this entire situation wrong the entire time? 

Fuck.

"What do you mean?" Camie asks. "Were you really expecting more from someone who takes pictures of you for a living?" 

"When you put it that way it sounds weird," he pouts. "It's not like . . . It's hard to explain exactly." 

"Yeah, okay. This is why you should go for someone who's more in your league. Like, hello! I'm always telling you to hit up Inasa," she says. Katsuki can't help but roll his eyes. 

"No," he scoffs. "Not even thinking about it. People keep trying to push us together and it's weird as fuck. Besides, how is fucking my trainer better than fucking a photographer?" 

"I don't know, Katsuki," she sighs, and he can practically hear her shaking her head. "Why are you so stuck on him?" 

"I'm not, I'm just pissed because don't know why he fucking did this shit!" 

"Did you ask him?" 

"Of course I did; fucker won't answer me!" He growls. 

"Try one of his friends," she suggests. 

"How the fuck do I do that? I don't know his dumb friends," he points out. Would it be weird to find one of his friends and approach them? It would make Katsuki seem desperate as fuck, he thinks. 

"Easy," she shrugs. "Go to his personal account and see if there's anyone he tags in a lot of photos or who tags him in photos." 

Katsuki rolls his eyes, but immediately takes her advice. He heads right to Deku's page and starts to snoop. The first person who has tagged him has the username  @chargebolt69 and seems to tag Deku a lot. The photos are mostly candids of Deku or group photos of them at concerts. Huh. Whatever, they’re clearly friends, so he clicks the link to this person's account. 

For a moment, Katsuki debates whether or not to send a message to this person. What if they're less good friends and more acquaintances? That would be extremely suspicious. 

As he thinks, he clicks on the story this person has active on his feed—a video post featuring flashing lights and distorted music. He's ready to click out of it when the camera angle suddenly swings around to a stupid green haired nerd sitting at a bar. Deku is holding a plastic cup and putting his hand up to avoid being filmed. 

Funny how for someone who takes so many pictures, he doesn't seem to like being photographed. 

"Are you still there?" Camie asks, getting his attention as the video continues to play on a loop. 

"Yeah," he says, eyeing the timestamp on the video and the location. "That asshole is out at some club right now." 

"Are you serious?" Camie asks, incredulously. "He's gonna be a dick to you and then turn around and go clubbing? Sorry Kats, this guy sounds like a dud." 

"I'm gonna go," Katsuki says without thinking. He throws the covers off of himself and rolls out of bed, suddenly having the feeling of being on a warpath. 

"I'm— what? Are you kidding me? You can't go!" Camie exclaims. "What if you get recognized? You'll get bombarded and then the club will have to call a police escort; we've been through this before." 

"It'll be fine, I'll wear a disguise," he insists. It sucks being so preoccupied with this guy. He is well aware that he should have no problem just blowing him off and forgetting about him but he can’t. There’s just no way to shake this feeling that he’s just not done with Deku yet. 

And, at the moment, he doesn’t quite know what that means. 

___

 

“Izuku!” Uraraka calls after him, frowning as she leans against the bar counter. “I thought you said you were done?” 

“I said,” he starts to say, swallowing and bracing himself against the bar to regain balance. “I said I was thinking about being done.” 

“What the hell?” she groans. Izuku doesn’t know what she’s all mad for. They’re out at the club with Denki and Shouto and they’re having fun. He turns around to survey the clearly thinning crowd and his friends both slumped over one of the booth tables. 

“Last one, we’re closing tabs now,” the bartender says as he slides Izuku his drink. He groans, but takes the beverage anyway and puts the cup to his lips. 

“We really should get going,” Uraraka says. 

“Why are you being so annoying?” Izuku groans. “I’m just trying to have fun.” 

“We had fun! But now we have to go home! Or did you forget that we have to be at work in a few hours?” she asks. She sounds like she’s scolding Izuku. 

“It’s fine,” Izuku says, knowing full well that it’s not fine. He knows why he doesn’t want to go home and he knows why he doesn’t want to sober up just yet. 

“Hey buddy, we’re gonna call a cab, okay?” Denki says, tiredly, half-supporting a sleepy Shouto on his other arm. Izuku nods and says goodbye, wondering where the hell the night went. They ran out to meet them and Izuku immediately started drinking. And then the next thing he knows, the night is over and everyone wants to go home. 

“I think that’s our cue to leave, too,” Uraraka says. Izuku lets out a long sigh, but finally agrees. He gets his bar tab paid and reluctantly follows his friend out of the building. Outside feels so much quieter, like he’s stepped into a different plane of reality. 

Stumbling drunk down a sidewalk feels significantly less exciting than stumbling drunk around a dance floor. 

“Are you feeling okay?” Uraraka asks him. He shrugs. 

“I’m fine,” he says, shortly. “Why do you keep asking me that?” 

“Because you’ve been weird all day and I don’t know . . . You’re my friend and I’m worried about you, okay?” she says, still sounding all serious. 

“I’m fine,” he repeats, and he’s not sure who he’s trying to convince. He is fine. He’s disappointed and sad that Katsuki is turning out to be exactly who he thought he would be, but he’s fine. So what if they had one great night together—That doesn’t change anything! Hell, the guy tried to sue him. What the hell was Izuku thinking getting involved with him anyway? 

He wets his lips as he tries to think of a clever way to change the subject. But, he’s distracted as Uraraka suddenly grabs his elbow and leans in close. 

“Don’t freak out,” she says, which is totally not the right thing to say to get someone to not freak out about something. “But I think we’re being followed.” 

“What?!” Izuku shrieks, looking around. 

“Shh! Don’t look,” she says, picking up the pace and practically dragging Izuku with her. “There’s a car right there. Just follow me.” 

“O-okay,” he says. It’s insane, but it’s almost a welcome distraction from his affliction with Katsuki. That’ll be the last of his worries if he gets kidnapped. Hell, maybe his landlord will let this month’s rent slide if he gets kidnapped! That definitely seems like an extenuating circumstance. 

“Here,” She whispers, pulling him aside and in between two nearby buildings. They hurry behind a pile of boxes and crouch down. 

“What are we doing?” Izuku whispers at her. 

“We’re hiding. I’m gonna see if they’ll go away and leave us alone,” she whispers. “Maybe I’m overreacting, but you can never be too sure?”

“Oh crap, this is bad,” Izuku says, his drunken brain unable to fully process the situation. “Are we gonna die?” 

“Probably not,” she says. “The last time this happened to me, I was just being followed because Kamui Woods’ lawyer was trying to serve me papers.” 

“Oh,” is all Izuku can think of as a response. He wonders how many celebrities have restraining orders against her for stalking. 

Footsteps tap against the pavement at the entrance to the alleyway and Izuku’s stomach leaps into his throat. It certainly doesn’t help that the world is already spinning from the alcohol. 

“I fucking saw you run back here.” 

Izuku gasps at the same time Uraraka does, both of them instantly recognizing who the voice belongs to. Uraraka looks right at him, her eyes growing wide as if she’s about to enact some horrible, terrible thing. 

“Don’t you dare,” Izuku mouths to her. Katsuki is the absolute last person he wants to talk to right now! Why the hell is he following them, anyway? 

“Are you looking for Izuku? He’s right here!” Uraraka says cheerfully, popping up from behind the boxes. Fuck! 

“Uraraka!” he hisses, angrily. He stands up anyway, but then needs to support himself with the wall so he doesn’t topple over. Sure enough, Katsuki’s standing there in the alley, wearing a hooded sweatshirt and a black medical mask. “Why are you here?” 

“Looking for your stupid ass because you won’t talk to me!” he says, his voice rough and accusing as he marches right past Uraraka to confront him. Izuku presses his lips together firmly as he tries to think of something intelligent to come back with. 

“Well, I don’t want to talk to a liar,” he says, his words wobbly as they dribble from his lips. 

“A fucking—What?! I’m not a fucking liar,” Katsuki insists. He sounds angry. Maybe even hurt. Which doesn’t make sense because in order to be hurt he’d have to actually give a shit about Izuku, which he probably doesn’t. 

“Yes you are! You didn’t tell me that you were going away—I clearly am no one to you so I’m not playing these games, okay? I’m drawing my boundaries and sorry you don’t like it, but that’s how it is, buddy,” he says. He doesn’t know why he called him buddy. He’s never called anyone a buddy before. 

“So I have to bend over backwards to cater to you but it’s okay for you to act like it’s super fucking cool to not give a shit about me?” Katsuki fires back. Their conversation becomes very hostile very quickly. “Well guess what, Deku, you’re a fucking dick.” 

“Shut up!” Izuku shouts back, covering his ears with his hands. 

“Real fucking mature.” 

“Sorry, he’s really drunk, he probably shouldn’t be having this conversation right now,” Uraraka says, trying her best to intervene and draw Izuku away. 

“Fucking perfect,” Katsuki says, shaking his head. “Just go out and get fucking wasted instead of talking to me like a normal fucking person.” 

“Why are you so upset? Why do you fucking care so much?!” Izuku yells, his frustration boiling over. “You’re a celebrity, you can go fuck whoever you want probably!” 

“See? That’s all you think of me,” Katsuki says, his voice lowering significantly. “You spent all that time with me, and told me all that shit about your dad, and made me think you liked me only to go and break it off the next day. Maybe get your head out of your own ass for two seconds and you’ll realize how selfish you’re being.” 

“I’m not fucking selfish,” Izuku says. “And don’t talk to me about my dad.” 

“Tch, whatever, Deku,” he says, shaking his head. Even in Izuku’s drunkenness, he can tell that Katsuki is really, really mad. “If you’re not even gonna tell me a real fucking reason to cut me off like that, then I don’t even know why I bother with you.” 

“I don’t know, either,” Izuku mutters. “To pass the time?’ 

“God, shut the fuck up,” Katsuki groans. “Are you that fucked up that you think everyone’s out to get you? Maybe I just fucking like you and that’s it. You claim to be so laid back and indifferent when in reality you’re  the one that makes everything a bigger fucking deal than it has to be!” 

“You don’t like me,” Izuku says, without thinking. 

Katsuki says something else, but Izuku doesn’t quite catch it. He’s too distracted by Katsuki’s fist connecting with the bridge of his nose. With all that alcohol, he’d already been close to passing out. Katsuki punching him just seals the deal, and everything quickly fades to black. 

 

Notes:

I'm really excited to write these next several chapters of Katsuki being on tour now that their relationship is now even more complicated than before.

This is Izuku's journey on his path to realizing that he is, in fact, being an asshole. He makes all these assumptions about Katsuki and how people treat him like he's not a "regular person" and by doing so, he is actually doing the same dang thing. But maybe getting punched in the face will help him realize that he hurt Katsuki's feelings and needs to be the one to make the effort now.

gtgrfdjkls;' I love writing them I hope u are enjoy!!!

Chapter 15: Ready Ready

Summary:

“It’s okay, I think he deserved it,” says Deku’s friend. She looks vaguely familiar, but he can’t quite place it. “He’s been acting like a jerk all night.” 

“Shit,” Katsuki says, shaking out his arm as Deku slumps over onto the pavement. He wasn’t trying to knock him out. He was just so sick of listening to him run his damn mouth that he acted on impulse. Now the fucker’s probably going to turn around and press charges or some shit. “ Fuck.”

“It’s okay, I think he deserved it,” says Deku’s friend. She looks vaguely familiar, but he can’t quite place it. “He’s been acting like a jerk all night.” 

“Yeah?” Katsuki breathes, feeling slightly validated hearing that. At least Katsuki isn’t the only one getting this damn attitude. 

“He was really upset about your tour and something about cheating on your wife,” she says, which doesn’t make sense. It doesn't sound like she knows what was going through Deku's dumb head either.

“What?” 

“I don’t know,” she shrugs. “He’s got a lot of issues, I think.” 

Katsuki just nods, not really knowing how to respond. After all that, he still doesn’t really know what made Deku so upset. There has to be a reason, right? Doesn’t make it okay for him to be a bitch, but it would still help to make sense of it all. 

 

Katsuki feels like he’s just run an entire fucking marathon by the time he gets back into the car. His heart is racing and he can’t seem to catch his breath. His knuckles still sting from where they collided with Deku’s nose. 

“Everything okay?” Toshinori asks him as he starts to drive. Katsuki stares out the window at the alleyway, his mind reeling as he realizes that anyone could have seen that. What if someone happened to walk by the alley and saw him punch a guy? That definitely wouldn’t sit well with the public. 

Especially not with Mitsuki. 

“Not really,” he says, with a shrug. 

“Wanna talk about it?” he asks, glancing back at him through the rearview mirror. “Or about how you had me drive all the way out here to follow someone into a dark alley?”

“I don’t know,” he says honestly. “It’s fucked up.” 

“Try me.” 

“Shit,” he breathes, leaning back against the row of seats. Last time, Toshinori's insight helped. It just couldn't have predicted that Deku would turn around and change his mind. “You know that guy I told you about? Well, I took your advice and invited him over and it was . . . it was great, you know? We got along really well and . . . yeah, we got along really well I’ll just leave it at that.” 

“Uh-huh,” Toshinori nods along, prompting Katsuki to continue. 

“Well then he told me he didn’t want to see me anymore!” he exclaims. “And he wouldn’t talk to me so I had to track him down and I still don’t know what the fuck I did to make him change his mind. I hate feeling so fucking crazy. I don’t want to care what he thinks about me but I fucking do and I hate it.” 

“It doesn’t sound too crazy,” he shrugs. “It sounds like you really like him and he hurt your feelings.” 

Katsuki keeps his mouth shut on that one. He’s not quite ready to talk about whether or not he really likes Deku. 

“I punched him in the face,” he adds. 

“Ah, yeah, that sounds crazy,” Toshinori chuckles. “He must have really made you mad.” 

“Yeah, he’s always going on acting like he’s better than everyone because he doesn’t like popular music and shit and it’s annoying, right? He doesn’t think I should be treated any differently just because I have music on the radio but then he turns around and makes all these assumptions about me! It’s fucked up,” he rants, getting himself all worked up again. 

“It sounds like he’s very insecure,” Toshinori offers. 

“Tch,” Katsuki scoffs, shaking his head. “You know what’s really fucked up?” 

“Hmm?” 

“If he called me and apologized right now, I’d invite him over again in a heartbeat,” he mumbles. The side of his head rests against the window as he takes a slow, deep breath to calm himself. At this point, he’s just lying to himself when he claims to not like Deku. 

Because, asshole or not, he does like him. He likes his stupid freckles and his stupid green eyes. He likes the way he starts to ramble when he talks about his camera. And he really likes the way Deku’s lips feel against his own. 

“I hope everything works out,” Toshinori says. Katsuki nods along, his eyes tired both from how late it is and from the impending adrenaline crash. 

“Don’t tell Mitsuki I punched someone,” Katsuki adds, his voice growing quieter. “She wouldn’t let me hear the end of it.” 

“Secret’s safe with me,” he promises. 

He drops Katsuki back off at his building, leaving him to trudge back to the elevators on his own. Katsuki is silent as he steps into the elevator and as the elevator attendant on duty turns a key to take him up to the penthouse. 

The whole place feels eerily quiet.

It’s big and empty. When Deku was over, it didn’t feel quite as lonely. 

At least when he’s alone, he doesn’t have to worry about anyone seeing him cry. 

 

—

“Holy crap, you look awful,” Ashido says as she stops by Izuku’s cubicle the next morning. He resists the urge to shush her and give away how utterly hungover he is. And said hangover is amplified by the bruising across his nose and under his eyes. 

“Thanks,” he mumbles. 

“Who’d you piss off?” she asks, smirking. 

“No one. I fell,” he responds. How is he supposed to tell her he got into an argument with Katsuki and got punched in the face? Hell, how is he supposed to tell her that on top of the fact that Izuku definitely deserved it? 

He isn’t. And he won’t.

“It’s true,” Uraraka pipes up. “He was shit-faced last night and got himself hurt. Tried to get him to make better choices, but he didn’t listen.” 

Izuku’s stomach sinks as he hears the tone in her voice. She’s pissed at him, too. They haven’t really had a chance to talk yet. It’s embarrassing to think about how badly he’d spiraled last night. All that effort he spent trying not to think about his own father ended up causing more harm than good. 

“What a mess,” Ashido says, shaking her head. “Well, try to get your shit together before you leave to follow Katsuki’s tour. I hope you realize that this is a huge job I’m trusting you with.” 

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” he says, even though he’s not sure if he will be. Going on this tour means he’ll see Katsuki every night, even if it is from afar. And that will be insanely difficult, given that Izuku has no idea how to make things right between them. 

“You better be!” she laughs, before finally walking away and leaving him alone. As soon as she’s gone, though, Uraraka leaves her desk and invites herself into Izuku’s cubicle. 

“What the hell, Izuku?” she asks, sounding disappointed all over again. “I mean, I’m glad to see you made it in okay, but I’m really upset with you.” 

“I know, and I’m sorry,” he says, tired. He glances back at his computer screen, the homepage for Katsuki's tour staring him down and taunting him. 

"I think you really hurt his feelings," Uraraka says, catching his gaze. 

"Yeah," he sighs. "I was just . . . I didn't think he'd care so much. I don't like it when I feel like I can't trust someone. So I panicked." 

"Do you want to talk about it?" She offers. Izuku frowns, considering it for a moment. 

"Not really," he replies, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's not . . . It's really hard to talk about." 

"That's okay," she says. "I'll listen to you if you want me to, though. I hope you know that." 

He nods. It's just a lot to unpack while he's at work. And in general. 

"Thanks." 

"So are you going to apologize?" She asks him, leaning against his desk. He sighs again and shrugs. 

"I don't know what to say." 

"Maybe start with hey, sorry I'm such a dick!" She scoffs. Izuku rolls his eyes and then winces at the sting. 

"I have to think about what to say . . . Maybe I'll wait to say it in person. I doubt he wants to see me right now anyway," he sighs. 

"I think he probably does. How hard did he hit you? Did you forget what he said?" She asks, reminding him. It's not his fault Katsuki works out regularly and Izuku is basically a limp noodle. Even if he had been sober, he probably wouldn't stand a chance against him. 

"I just remember him yelling at me," Izuku shrugs. He stares at Uraraka as her lips start to curl into a devious grin. "What?" 

"Izuku, he told you he likes you," she giggles. 

"No, no, no, stop," Izuku insists, cutting her off from her nonsense right away. 

"Yes he did! He said he liked you and you told him he didn't so he punched you," she explains. "And man, you just instantly went lights out—"

"Ok, I get it," he says. 

"Maybe you should take a self defense class," she suggests. "If you're gonna keep being a jerk to people you're bound to get decked again." 

"I'm not . . . I'm not trying to be a jerk," he says, quietly. 

"I know. This is classic self-preservation behavior," she shrugs. "You've clearly had some sort of emotional trauma that makes you feel like you have to protect yourself." 

He narrows his eyes at her. Or, well, he tries to but it really fucking hurts. 

"What the hell?" He asks. 

"I have a degree in psychology. I wanted to be a therapist but then I didn't want to go to grad school," she shrugs. 

"So you stalk people instead?" He teases. 

She shrugs. "Photography has always been a hobby. And you said that you don't want to talk about it, so I'm not gonna bring it up again. Promise." 

He turns away from her slightly, thinking. 

"My dad was in a band," he says, his lips dry as he tries to find the words he wants to say. The words that won't make him cry. "When I was little I thought he was the coolest. I wanted to be just like him. But then I got older and learned how much he sucked." 

"Oh, Izuku," Uraraka says. 

"Don't do that, please," he sighs. “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me, I don’t want to unpack that right now but . . . Yeah. I just don’t think I could handle it if I accepted the fact that he likes me and then turned out to not be the person I want him to be.” 

“Well, I shouldn’t have to say this, but Katsuki’s not your dad,” Uraraka sighs, giving him a small grin. Izuku shakes his head. 

“Obviously,” he mumbles. 

“You should text him,” she says. “He obviously cares about you if he was willing to punch you over this.” 

“That’s a very strange way of showing it,” he says, even though he knows what she means. Izuku pushing back and putting his walls up clearly upset Katsuki enough that he needed to confront him. “Fine, I’ll text him.” 

Izuku: Hey can we talk? 

“Good luck,” she says. “Hopefully you can make up and this tour will be so romantic and—”

“Ochako, please,” he groans. She smiles and laughs as she pushes herself away from leaning on the desk. 

“Okay! Okay, fine,” she says. “I’ll let you get back to work.” 

Right before she turns to leave, Izuku’s phone vibrates with a new notification. He picks it up, his heart rate spiking when he sees it’s from Katsuki. 

“What did he say?” she asks, as Izuku sighs and puts his phone back down. 

“Nothing, it’s just the middle finger emoji.” 

—

Izuku decides to back off for the next couple of days. It’s weird to have been texting Katsuki everyday and then suddenly have no correspondence with him. But instead of fixating on it, he’s trying to focus on packing and getting ready for the tour. 

He’s never followed a tour like this before. Maybe like smaller bands that go around to nearby cities, but this? This is huge. The tour starts at a venue two hours from Izuku’s apartment, so he’ll have to stay in a hotel, and then that same night he boards a plane to follow the North American leg of the tour. It’s crazy. 

The doorbell rings as he’s in the midst of throwing clothes onto his bed. He welcomes the distraction and hurries out to answer it. It’s just Denki, who insisted on coming over to help him pack. 

As soon as he pulls the door open, though, the look on his best friend’s face tells him that he has neglected to tell him about the fight he lost. 

“Holy shit what happened to your face?” he asks, grimacing as he shuts the door behind him. “Who’d you piss off?” 

“It’s a long story.” 

“Is it though? Or is it just an embarrassing story?” he chuckles. Izuku grits his teeth and nods. 

“Both,” he mutters, trudging back to his bedroom as Denki follows along. “Remember when we went out the other night?” 

“Barely, dude,” he laughs. 

“Well, I was walking home with Ochako and Katsuki followed us. Which, now that I say it out loud seems really weird. I’m not sure how he knew where we were,” he says, pensively. Maybe he shouldn’t question it too much—That would make him a hypocrite, wouldn’t it? 

“Katsuki did?” 

“Yeah, he was mad at me and long story short, he punched me in the face,” he says,  turning back towards his closet so that he doesn’t have to face Denki as he admits it. 

“Shit, that’s crazy. What’s wrong with him?” he scoffs. 

“Ah, no, it was my fault,” he sighs. “I was being a jerk.” 

“What? You? A jerk? No,” he says, sarcastically. Izuku gives him a deadpanned look and then sighs again. 

“I found out from work that I was gonna be following his tour, and it was the day after I had gone to his house and—”

“What the fuck, you went to his house?!” Denki shrieks. “Shit, that’s right, you never told me about how it went.” 

He stares, backpedaling in his mind because he swore he told Denki about that. Maybe it was just Ochako. It’s wild; he’s not used to having more than just two people he tells things to in his life. 

“Oh um, it was good,” he says. “I stayed there until like, four in the morning and we had sex.” 

“You had sex with Katsuki?!” 

“I had sex with a person, yes,” he scoffs. 

“I’m missing something. You had sex, and then he punched you in the face?” 

“No! Well, yes, but no,” he says. “As I was saying, I found out about the tour from work. That entire time I was hanging out with him, he hadn’t mentioned a single thing about a tour and then I found out he was leaving for a month without telling me?!” 

“It’s only the most anticipated tour of the year,” Denki says, plopping down onto his bed. “But, let me guess, you pushed him away and tried to cut him off?” 

“Am I that predictable?” Izuku asks as he pulls another shirt from its hanger. 

“Well, to me you are. I’ve known you a long time,” he reminds him. “You don’t like giving people the opportunity to hurt you.” 

“Is that really a bad thing, though?” 

“It certainly isn’t a good thing,” he says. 

“He was trying to talk to me but I was really drunk and more defiant than I should have been,” he says. “I probably would have punched me, too.” 

“I have wanted to punch you before,” Denki shrugs. 

“That’s fair.” 

He stares down at his feet, not sure what to say. After a couple of days of healing, his face doesn’t hurt quite as bad. Still tender to the touch, but not painful every time he moves his face.

“Is this all you’re bringing?” Denki asks, thankfully changing the subject as he starts rifling through his suitcase. “Holy shit, I’m glad I came over. You do need my help.” 

“Good, I suck at this, anyway.” 

—

Katsuki can barely keep his eyes open as he listens to Inasa drone on and on about his workout plan for the tour. Something about making sure his hotels had gyms and something else about making sure each venue only brought him healthy shit for the dressing room. 

“Hey, don’t fall asleep on me,” he laughs, nudging his shoulder. 

“I’m fine,” he mumbles. 

“Have you been sleeping okay? Sleep is very important, especially if you’re going to be following this while traveling. You’re going to be tired and you need your rest,” he says. Katsuki rolls his eyes. 

“Fine,” he says, even though it’s not entirely true. He’s been having a hard time falling asleep the past couple of nights, and he’s not entirely sure why. 

Or well, he knows why but he can’t seem to figure out how to get himself out of this new cycle. Of typing out an actual reply to Deku’s last text message and begging for them to go back to flirting and sexting, then immediately deleting it before he can send it. Or scrolling through Deku’s social media feeds, refreshing to see if he’s posted anything new. 

It’s absurd to be so enthused by one person. 

But he can’t help it. He wants to talk to Deku again, but he’s also not willing to be a doormat for someone who doesn’t reciprocate. He has to keep reminding himself that Deku’s text message only said “Can we talk?”

That doesn’t necessarily imply that he wants to make things better. Fuck, that could mean anything. It could mean that Deku wants to be a prick and scold him for resorting to violence. Or to tell him he’s getting a restraining order or something.  (Which would be painfully ironic, since Deku is the one following him around for a living.) 

“So is this plan good, does it make sense?” Inasa asks, pulling for his attention yet again. 

“Does it matter what I think?” he sneers. It doesn’t. Katsuki knows this. Despite what people seem to think, there are actually very few things that Katsuki has control over. 

“Of course it does!” Inasa says enthusiastically. Katsuki rolls his eyes. 

“Sounds perfect,” he says, not willing to incite an argument between him or Mitsuki. It’s better to just keep his head down and go along with it. 

“Great!” 

“Hold on, I’m getting a call,” He says, noticing his phone lighting up near his gym bag across the room. Inasa holds back a sigh, clearly a bit annoyed by the fact that he knows Katsuki isn’t paying attention. 

He picks out the phone, puzzling at the fact that Kirishima is calling him. 

“Hey, what do you want?” Katsuki asks as he answers it. 

“Whoa, what a way to answer the phone, man,” he chuckles. 

“Sorry, I’m just in a fuckin’ mood,” he says, glancing back over at Inasa who has taken a ‘break’ to grab a couple of dumbbells and hit a few sets of arm curls. Absolutely insane. 

“Ah, gotcha,” Kirishima says. “I just wanted to let you know that Mitsuki sent me a pass for your kick off show.” 

“Jesus,” Katsuki mutters. “Did you take them?” 

“I mean, yeah,” he chuckles. “But don’t worry, I’m not gonna do anything else. I just thought it would be cool to see your show.” 

“Uh-huh, sure,” he says. “I don’t trust her. She’s probably back on her same bullshit.” 

“Maybe. Do you think she’d back off if you told her you were interested in someone else?” Katsuki winces at the question. At the moment he is not willing to talk to anyone about his interest in someone else. 

“No, that would make it a thousand times worse.” 

And he knows that for a fact.

Notes:

songs:

fences by paramore

stomach tied in knots by sleeping with sirens

Next chapter tour starts!!!!!!!!!!!

Chapter 16: Welcome Home

Summary:

Izuku fidgets nervously with the lanyard around his neck. It digs in where it crosses under his camera strap and slides against the sweat beading on his skin. He doesn’t know why he’s so anxious. If he thinks back, he can’t even count the number of times he’s been in a photo pit for a concert, or even simply stood against the barricade waiting for a show to start.

But this feels different.

Izuku fidgets nervously with the lanyard around his neck. It digs in where it crosses under his camera strap and slides against the sweat beading on his skin. He doesn’t know why he’s so anxious. If he thinks back, he can’t even count the number of times he’s been in a photo pit for a concert, or even simply stood against the barricade waiting for a show to start. 

But this feels different. The arena makes the festival he last saw Katsuki at seem tiny in comparison. The barricade behind him is lined with Katsuki superfans who wear his t-shirts and hold posters begging for him to notice them. It’s the first time he’s really gotten a taste for just how big of a deal people see Katsuki as. 

The other photographers seem calm and collected, and wear press badges from other publications much classier than his.  

“Hey, you look familiar,” one of them says. A taller woman who looks impeccably dressed—Like she’s at a professional work event compared to Izuku’s jeans and flannel shirt. 

“Me?” he mumbles, looking around. His eyes catch a glimpse of the badge hanging from her jacket. Plus Ultra.  

“Yeah, didn’t you used to work with us?” she asks, her smile friendly enough. He shakes his head quickly. 

“Nope, you must be thinking of someone else,” he laughs nervously. 

“No, I’m not,” she insists. “Midoriya, right? You’re the one who got into a fight with Katsuki and got fired.” 

He stiffens at the reminder of how their paths had crossed in the first place. Looking back it was so embarrassing to have gotten released from that contract simply for being too stubborn to take a photo down. He still very much feels like he should have been able to leave it up, but that’s not the point. 

Maybe the silver lining is that if all that never happened, he never would have started hooking up with Katsuki. Is that a silver lining, or is it a curse? 

“Busted,” he sighs, giving up on trying to save face. 

“For what it’s worth I thought it was pretty cool that you were so passionate about your work,” she offers. “But man, I wish I had been around to tell you not to get into it with him.” 

“Why is that?” Izuku asks, curiously. 

“Of all the public figures that we cover, his management team is the worst,” she says, shaking her head. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen them take legal action over the most miniscule things. Seriously don’t know how you guys get away with so much.”

He considers it for a moment, looking down at the badge that unabashedly announces to the world that he’s shooting for a grungy, sensational tabloid magazine. How do they get away with so much? It must have something to do with however Ashido gets her information. Or maybe it isn’t even Ashido, maybe it’s someone above her. 

“Probably because our management team is just as insufferable,” he shrugs, offering a vague yet accurate answer. 

“Yeah, that tracks,” she laughs. “I’m Yaoyorozu, by the way, it’s nice to meet you.” 

“Nice to meet you too,” he smiles. 

“So, it’s kind of ironic that you’re shooting Katsuki’s show isn’t it?” she asks. He nods and pulls at his itchy lanyard again. If only she knew how ironic it really was. 

“Yeah, I guess,” he says. “It pays the bills.” 

“I’ll say,” she says. “If I had my choice, I would not be shooting this tour.” 

“Why do you say that?” he asks her, puzzling. 

“Because the shots that Plus Ultra wants are nearly impossible,” she says, shaking her head. “They want tasteful action shots. And they can’t look too risque, which is ridiculous, because he always comes out looking like a hooker.” 

“Don’t say that,” he snaps, without thinking. She seemed nice, but her comment about Katsuki suddenly puts a very sour taste in his mouth. She responds with a strange, puzzled look. 

“What, I thought you didn’t like him either?” 

“I don’t,” he lies. “I just don’t support slut shaming.” 

And then he moves away under the guise of finding another spot in the pit to stake out. 

 

Katsuki has three opening acts that play for him. Izuku gets shots of each of those bands, even though they’re not technically his assignment. Most of the songs are even worse than Katsuki’s over produced tunes, and Izuku suddenly dreads having to sit through so many tour dates of listening to the same songs over and over again. 

After the last opener breaks for an intermission, he pulls out his phone. Because the closer he gets to seeing Katsuki again, the more he realizes that they haven’t made up yet and he might be running out of time to make things right. He’s given him a few days worth of space, right? 

izuku: i’m sorry for acting the way I did. I’m still following your tour, I hope we can talk at some point. 

His heart is racing as soon as he sends the message. Because then what if he did miss his window and Katsuki is already moved on, and it turns out Izuku is just a sad loser pining after someone who will never notice him again. 

He gasps as the venue lights suddenly go out and the crowd erupts into screams of excitement and adoration for their favorite pop star. Izuku grips his camera tight, looking up at the stage as the current drops to reveal a shockingly elaborate set. The stage is empty except for the backing musicians off to the side (Which Izuku thinks is ironic, given that he knows how well Katsuki could play his own instrumentals). 

The crowd goes wild again as flames the center of the stage opens up and the first  distorted notes of one of Katsuki’s hits start to play. Izuku can feel his heart racing and he’s not sure if it’s the crowd adding to his adrenaline or, if somewhere inside, he’s just as excited to see Katsuki. 

Just in time for the vocals to start, Katsuki rises up on a platform from the middle of the stage, eliciting a wild excitement as he graces his audience with his presence. 

Izuku has to try his best to focus on the job, which is difficult given the fact that Katsuki looks fucking hot. He’s dressed in a black bodysuit cut high enough to reveal his hip bones, adorned with a green garter belt, knee-high platform boots and sequined jacket. His hair is gelled to the side, tousled in a way the reminds him of how he looked just after they’d had sex. 

His palms sweat and he has to actively tell his dick to behave, but he snaps as many photos as he can, not quite sure if they’re for himself or for the publication. 

“How is everyone doing tonight?!” Katsuki yells into his microphone, his chest still heaving from finishing the opening song. The crowd cheers, and Katsuki struts to the edge of the stage, right in front of where Izuku stands. 

But he doesn’t even seem to notice him, and Izuku has this overwhelming feeling that he’s just blending in with every other faceless person in the crowd. That’s not true, though, is it? No one else in the crowd has been invited to his penthouse or fucked him in his own bed or stayed up until the early hours of the morning laughing with him. 

He only allows himself to feel sad for a moment, though, until he remembers that conversation he had overheard with Katsuki and his mother at the Musutafu Morning Show. About how Katsuki had wanted the stage lights set so he couldn’t see the audience and didn’t get his way. 

At his own tour, he probably gets more of what he wants as far as lighting goes. 

Ah, so he can’t see him. 

With that out of his mind, he throws himself back into his work, pushing past others to try and get better shots as Katsuki starts up his next song. And the next one, and the one after that. Part way through the set, Katsuki flings his jacket off behind him, and Izuku swears he catches the shot of the jacket flying up into the air. 

Overall, the show is far more of a production than Izuku had ever anticipated it being. Katsuki had wardrobe changes and set changes and pyrotechnics.  A much bigger deal than any concert he’d been to before.  What he also notices are the fans directly behind him who scream every word to every song, just as Izuku has done countless times when he’s seen his own favorite bands perform live. 

People really love Katsuki. 

The last song ends with showers of streamers and glittering confetti which is really fun to get a shot of. Katsuki exits the stage the same way he had entered, and just like that, the first show of the tour is over. 

The crowd buzzes around Izuku as he just stands there, taking it all in. Gold streamers hang from his shoulders and confetti is tangled in his hair. He’s caked in a layer of sweat and his entire body aches from being on his feet for so long, but he can’t bring himself to start heading out just yet. 

—

As soon as Katsuki exits the stage, he makes a beeline for his dressing room, ignoring anyone else who wants to get his attention. His heart is still racing, the adrenaline pumping through his body. 

The first thing he does is peel off that stupid body suit that’s been squeezing his balls the wrong way for the better part of his act. It looked hot as fuck but was super uncomfortable. 

A knock rattles his door and he groans. 

“Leave me the fuck alone!” he shouts back. “Read my fucking rider!” 

The only good thing about this tour is that he could put in his own requests in addition to all the ones his manager makes. And the most important one is that no one is allowed to disturb him in his dressing room unless the venue is on fucking fire. 

Shows get him so worked up that he needs time to cool down after. He knows from experience that people like to fucking bombard him as soon as he exits the stage when he just doesn’t have any mental energy left. Not that anyone really knows or understands how draining performances are for him. Or that he has to take prescription drugs before every show so he doesn’t have a fucking panic attack on stage. 

It’s nothing illegal, just prescribed by his psychiatrist at his manager’s request. 

“He can’t be breaking down on stage, it makes all of us look bad.”  

“Fuck,” he breathes, closing his eyes and sinking back down into his chair. And it’s only the first damn night of the tour, too. Sometimes it gets easier once he’s in a routine, but there’s always that worry that it’ll only get worse. 

He pulls out his phone and scrolls through the shitty fake messages from people who are suddenly his friends—It always happens. No matter where he performs these days, there’s always some random acquaintance or distant relatives that suddenly thinks they’re entitled to comp tickets. 

It’s a fucking nightmare. 

He stops and holds his breath when he lands on the message that is not from any of the above. 

Deku: i’m sorry for acting the way I did. I’m still following your tour, I hope we can talk at some point. 

He swallows hard, his lips twitching as his eyes suddenly threaten tears. This is what he wanted to hear from Deku, right? An apology? But of course it has to happen on the same night that everyone else’s insincerity is running rampant. It shouldn’t upset him; he knows Deku doesn’t think that way. He doesn’t give a shit that Katsuki’s famous. 

His breath hitches in his throat as another message comes through. 

Deku: you’re really amazing. 

And another.

Deku: I really mean that. 

Deku: I mean I still wouldn’t go out of my way to listen to your music, but you’re really great at what you do. 

Deku: I’ll leave you alone. I was trying to give you space, and now look at me! Lol 

Deku: Sorry again. 

A wobbly smile teases against his lips as he stares down at the screen, still blinking back tears. He can practically hear Deku’s stupid voice in those texts, so much that he realizes he actually wants to be listening to his stupid voice. 

And so he presses the call button and holds the phone to his ear. 

“Hello?” Deku’s voice says, answering the call on the first ring. Katsuki sniffles and smiles to himself. God, he’s an idiot. 

“Hey,” he breathes, reaching up to wipe a stray tear from the corner of his eye. “I got your messages.” 

“Yeah, sorry for rambling, I was being an idiot and I have a lot of issues and I was taking it out on you, and I’m sorry,” he says, and he sounds genuine. “Are you okay?” 

“Yep,” he lies. “Fine. I’m fine.” 

“Are you sure?” he asks. 

“Just tired. The first night is always the most exhausting,” he says, even though it’s not entirely true. Usually the last few shows before the actual last show are the most exhausting. And then the last show is as exciting as the first one because they’re done.  

“Yeah, you were really running around a lot,” he says, his voice a little muffled by noise in the background. “I’m still standing in the pit.” 

“Why? I’m not giving you an encore, nerd,” he chuckles. 

“I don’t know, I was just kind of blown away, I guess,” Deku says, and it makes Katsuki’s chest ache. Knowing that Deku is so close, yet so far is frustrating. He can’t exactly just march right back out there and kiss him. 

“I told you I’m amazing,” he says, smiling to himself. 

“Yeah,” he says, trailing off again. “Hey, I know I said a lot of rude things that I shouldn’t have. And I am sorry . . . I want to see you again.” 

“Okay,” Katsuki tells him. “I wanna see you, too.” 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Izuku asks again, sounding concerned. “You sound like you’re crying.” 

“Tch, why would I be crying?” he says, forcing a laugh and wiping at his eyes again. “You just have bad reception.” 

“Oh, okay, yeah,” he breathes. “Well, I guess I have to go catch a plane or something. I’m really glad you called.” 

“Yeah, me too,” Katsuki says. Izuku says goodbye and something about texting him the hotel he’s staying at in the next city. 

It’s strange. 

He’s relieved to hear Deku’s apology, but at the same time it makes him even more anxious. Loaded right back onto his shoulders is the weight of this secret he’s been carrying around named Midoriya Izuku. 

At first he could brush it off as a little fling. Someone he thought was hot that he could easily just brush off. 

But now? Now he’s someone that, while they don’t know each other super well, Katsuki doesn’t want to lose. His presence in his life is comforting and refreshing and maybe Katsuki has a bit of a crush. 

—

Izuku sleeps for the better part of the plane ride to Los Angeles. He’s never been overseas before, so he’s a little bummed that he doesn’t have a whole lot of time or energy to go sight-seeing. 

When he gets to the hotel, he’s too exhausted to move from the bed, but he does take his phone out and text Ochako that he’s landed. And Katsuki. 

And his mom. 

He doesn’t know when Katsuki’s flight was or what hotel he’s staying at in the city, all he knows is that he has one more night of rest before three back-to-back shows at the same venue. All three of the dates are sold out, which Izuku can hardly fathom. 

Out of curiosity, he pulls his laptop out of his bed and navigates to Katsuki’s website that shows tickets for his tour. Every single date is sold out, with tickets available at exorbitant resale prices. Even nosebleed seats were well over a hundred US dollars each. 

It leads him down a strange rabbit hole of searching the internet for more information on the person he’s sleeping with. His Wikipedia page outlines where he was born, what schools he went to, his entire discography and random snippets from interviews that try to make it seem as if people who read it could actually get a glimpse into what Katsuki is like as a person. There’s a list of other celebrities that people associate him with like athlete Kirishima Eijirou and supermodel Utsushimi Camie. Those he knew about. He wasn’t aware of people like actress Hagakure Tooru whom he hosted one season of a canceled game show with. 

It’s almost physically uncomfortable to see how much personal information people think they know about him. There are photos of him from when he was a kid, smiling and holding a trophy after winning that talent show that supposedly “discovered” him. Another of him sitting in a living room with a plastic keyboard. 

Just his entire life on display for the world to see. 

What if he did start dating Katsuki and they became a thing. Would people start prying into Izuku’s life, too? They would probably associate him with his drug addict of a father and his stupid band. Fuck. 

Izuku closes the laptop and takes a deep breath. He’s getting way too ahead of himself here. 

His phone vibrates again. 

Katsuki: room number? 

Izuku texts him back with the number right away. 

He wonders why he asked, and almost texts him back with the same question when a sharp knock sounds at his door. Izuku gasps and rolls off the bed. Who could possibly be—

As soon as he has the door open, he's greeted by Katsuki pushing him back into the room and shutting the door behind him. Izuku holds his breath, staring at the other man as if he doesn't actually believe he's there. 

"Hey," Izuku says, eyes scanning over him. 

"Hi," he replies, his pretty red eyes searching his face. Izuku watches the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallows. 

They both move at the same time; Katsuki's hands finding either side of Izuku’s face as their lips collide. A fire ignites in his chest as he kisses back. 

It's strange how someone he's still getting to know can feel so much like coming home. 

 

Notes:

I wonder if anyone caught on to the tiny foreshadowing

Chapter 17: Fan Behavior

Summary:

And then Katsuki very quickly ended up naked and bent over the side of the bed. After not talking for a few days, he surprised himself with how much he actually missed the guy. Even before Deku hung out with him at his apartment, he’d text him everyday. Sometimes with updates, sometimes just with random things . . . sometimes with pictures of his cock. 

Katsuki’s eyelids start to feel heavy as he waits for Deku to get out of the shower. Actually, his entire body feels heavy. After being tired and jet-lagged from the plane, he’d found Deku’s room as soon as he got a moment alone. 

And then Katsuki very quickly ended up naked and bent over the side of the bed. After not talking for a few days, he surprised himself with how much he actually missed the guy. Even before Deku hung out with him at his apartment, he’d text him everyday. Sometimes with updates, sometimes just with random things . . . sometimes with pictures of his cock. 

Now that they’re on good terms again, he feels as if a piece of him that was missing was put right back into place. He lays in Deku’s hotel bed, swaddled in the sheets and so comfortable he could fall asleep. 

His eyes snap open again as Deku emerges from the shower, wearing nothing but a pair of basketball shorts. There’s nothing conventionally spectacular about Izuku’s body. His stomach is soft and his shoulders are littered with freckles. But Katsuki likes it. Despite not being a chiseled Greek statue of a man, he still finds him exceptionally attractive. It doesn’t matter. 

He just wishes he could feel the same way about himself. 

“Do you have to leave?” he asks, before sliding into the bed next to Katsuki. He pulls the covers over both of them, which doesn’t make it any easier to convince himself to get up. 

“I have to get up at six,” Katsuki sighs, scooting closer so that he can rest his head against Deku’s chest. 

“Ew, why?” Deku chuckles, shifting his position so that he can put his arm around Katsuki’s shoulders. He’s really warm and smells like hotel shampoo. 

“That’s when Mitsuki reserved the gym so I can get my workout in,” he replies. 

“You have to reserve the gym?” 

“Well, I have to reserve it,” Katsuki explains. There’s no way to really explain it without sounding spoiled. “If I didn’t, I’d get bombarded and wouldn’t get anything done. People are fucking crazy.” 

“Yeah,” Deku says. “I saw people taking streamers home with them the other night.” 

“What, like the shit from the confetti cannons?'' he asks. It sounds absurd. 

“Mhmm, they were scooping it up to save as souvenirs. By the way, that was a lot of confetti,” he says. “I just found another piece of it that was still in my hair when I was showering.” 

“Get used to it,” Katsuki chuckles. “You’ll be covered in glitter by the end of this tour.” 

Deku makes a dramatic gagging noise, and Katsuki can’t help but laugh. He props himself up a little so he can see Deku’s face. He’s smiling, too. So handsome. 

“You really put a lot of work into making such a huge production, huh?” 

“Me? No,” Katsuki shrugs. “I think I like, helped pick out my outfits and that’s it.” 

“O-oh,” Deku says, his face growing pinker and pinker. Katsuki smirks. 

“What?” he asks, poking a finger against his chest. “You got a problem with my outfits?” 

“No, no, I like them,” Deku says, though he’s still bright red. “As in . . . I really like them. I had to really try to keep my mind out of the gutter when I was watching you.” 

“Pervert,” Katsuki teases, even though it gives him this weird sense of confidence knowing that Deku was turned on by his skimpy outfit. It reminds him of the time Deku posted the backs of his thighs and his followers were giving him shit for it. More importantly it reminds him of the fact that Deku is attracted to him.  

His chest flutters as he leans in to press his lips against Deku’s. It’s a soft kiss, open mouths but no tongue. After a few seconds he pulls back, looking over his face and trying to read the emotion there. 

“What was that for?” Deku asks, softly. 

“I just wanted to,” Katsuki whispers. He’s not sure why he’s whispering, but his heart is suddenly pounding in his chest. Was that too casual? Not sexual enough for whatever it is that’s going on between them? 

Maybe he isn’t ready to say it out loud, but he likes the idea of being able to just kiss Deku whenever he feels like it. Good morning kisses, good night kisses, hello kisses, goodbye kisses. 

It feels nice to be with Deku again, but there's still something weighing on his mind. He can still see the faded, greenish-blue hues under Deku's eyes, and he knows what the bruising is from without him having to say anything. 

"Are we going to talk about what happened?" Katsuki asks, his stomach churning. Deku lets out a deep sigh. 

"I told you I deserved to be punched in the face," Deku says, weakly. 

"No, before that," Katsuki says, quietly. The face that Deku makes is unreadable. His throat feels dry as he tries to keep talking. "Listen, if we're gonna keep seeing each other like this, I can't always have to fucking wonder if you're going to try to cut me off out of the blue again."

Deku sits up and for a moment Katsuki thinks that, well, he's doing it again. They'll start arguing and Deku will go back to being a cunt—

"My dad was in a band," Deku says, without looking back at Katsuki. He's about to question what that has to do with what they're talking about. "It seemed like he was always on tour when I was a kid. I never got to go to any of his shows until I was older." 

"The same shit head that sold your camera for drug money?" Obviously, but Katsuki wants to make the connection. 

Deku nods. "When I was old enough he let me start going to his gigs and I just . . . I found out he wasn't the person I thought he was.  And him going on tour wasn't some cool exclusive thing, it was him going out to play dive bars and getting high and having affairs. Lots of bad stuff." 

"Shit," is all Katsuki can think of to say. Deku sniffles a bit.

"I know it doesn't make it right, but when I heard you were about to leave for this thing, I panicked," he says. "I wanted to push you away before you could hurt me." 

"Next time just tell me that," Katsuki says. 

"I know, I will." 

"Besides, I’m not your fuckin’ dad. I'm nothing like that. I don't play dive bars ," he scoffs, earning a little smile from the other man. "I don't do drugs. Tours for me are mostly just doing interviews and signings and the little free time I do have I spend it in whatever hotel I’m staying in by myself. Also. . .  if I was sleeping around I would tell you." 

"You would?" Deku questions, sounding surprised. Katsuki nods. "Does that mean you're not sleeping with anyone else right now? You know . . . since you haven’t told me." 

Katsuki hesitates for a moment, realizing the direction he's unintentionally steered the conversation towards. 

"That's right," he says. Deku lays back down and opens his arms so Katsuki can cozy up to him again. "Are you sleeping with anyone else?" 

"Nope."

"Do you want to?" 

Silence. Katsuki can hear his own pulse in his ears. It shouldn’t be so nerve wracking. He should just be able to say exactly how he feels and what he wants without being terrified. 

“No,” Katsuki whispers. He relaxes as he feels Deku’s lips brush against his forehead. 

“I don’t want to either,” he replies. Katsuki smiles, snaking his arms tighter around Deku’s waist. It feels like a big step, even though it might seem small. Just simply agreeing that neither of them want to have sex with anyone else but the other. 

“Good,” Katsuki mumbles. 

“Would you get in trouble if you slept over?” Deku asks him, changing the subject to something a little less intense. 

“No one has to know,” he says. “I’ll just sneak out early before I have to be at the gym in case Mitsuki stops by.” 

“Good . . . just don’t wake me up when you leave, I am not a morning person,” he grins, rolling over quickly so he can turn off the nightstand lamp. The room goes dark and before long, they’re both drifting off to sleep. 

__

As expected, when Izuku wakes up, Katsuki isn’t there. For a moment, it almost feels like he just imagined the whole thing. It really did seem too good to be true at first, with the way Katsuki just came right over. 

He reaches over to the nightstand to grab his phone and check for any messages. 

Ashido: Call me to check in when you wake up. 

He groans and sits up in bed so he can call. It’s annoying, but a firm reminder that he is technically on this tour for work. There’s a job he has to do. 

“Mornin’ Midoriya!” Ashido says when she answers the phone. “How’s L.A.?” 

“Good, I guess? I haven’t seen much of it yet. The plan got in late and I just now woke up,” he explains. 

“Well, glad you’re up now, because I have some information for you,” she says. He furrows his brow as he listens to her explain. “Katsuki has an interview on an American daytime talk show this afternoon. It’s filmed, due to be released next week. I’m going to send you an email with the directions.” 

“Okay,” Izuku says. 

“Then, right after the interview, he has a VIP signing before doors open at the venue,” she continues. “See if you can get him leaving the hotel, or anything else while you’re at it. Your hotel should be the same one he’s staying at unless something’s changed.” 

“Yeah, it is,” he says, without thinking. “I um, heard someone talking about it in the lobby when I got in.” 

“Sweet,” she says. “I got the concert pics from the other night, everything looks great. Keep doing what you’re doing.” 

“Thanks, I will,” Izuku tells her. She makes a couple other comments about deadlines and emails and then hangs up. As soon as the call ends he switches over to contacting Katsuki. 

Izuku: just got orders to stalk your interview and signing today

Katsuki: image.jpg

Izuku grins to himself as he opens the picture from Katsuki. It’s a mirror picture of himself sitting on the floor of the empty hotel gym, shirtless like he’d just finished his workout. 

Izuku: hot! 

Izuku: Is it weird that she knows where you’re supposed to be even from another country? 

Katsuki: kind of. 

Katsuki: maybe someone who has access to my itinerary? Fucking weird

Maybe Katsuki thinks it’s weird, but the more he gets to know Katsuki’s situation, the less weird it seems. He has this whole public image that’s so carefully manufactured that he has an entire public relations team working for him. Staging his shows, promoting him, garnering attention in all the right ways to get people to keep talking about him. 

UA-Z is tied into it all somehow, they just have to figure out where and how. 

 

The next person Izuku calls is Ochako. Her phone rings a couple of times before she answers in a sleepy voice. 

"Hello?" She groans. Ashido sounded so chipper on the phone that Izuku had forgotten it was after midnight back home. 

"Hey sorry for waking you," he says. 

"No, no, it's fine! Is everything okay?" She asks. 

"Yeah, everything is great, actually," he says, a wide grin spreading across his face as he lays back down. "Guess who spent the night in my room?" 

"Oh my god, shut up," Ochako gasps, suddenly sounding far more energetic. "Tell me everything!" 

"I texted him after the last show and he called me back and we talked and . . .yeah! He came by my room and we talked some more," he shrugs, leaving out the parts where they couldn't keep their hands off of each other. Or their dicks in their pants. 

"Ooh! Izuku that's so exciting!" She exclaims. "I'm glad you guys are back together." 

"We're not together," he clarifies, heat in his cheeks rising. "But um, we did talk about not sleeping with other people."

"That's basically dating," Ochako squeals excitedly. "Oh my gosh, I can't believe you're dating Katsuki! Do you know how many people would kill to be you?" 

Images of crazed Katsuki fans rattling the barricade at the kick-off show flash in his mind. He had been standing in front of a crowd full of thousands of people screaming for the man he's currently sleeping with. 

Dammit. 

"I think I have a good idea," he says. He doesn't want to think of Katsuki's celebrity status, but he kind of has to now. As a public figure everyone adores him or wants to be him or wants to fuck him. Some probably hate him, too. 

Izuku would have to accept the fact that as a celebrity, Katsuki's life is different. 

"What's he like in bed? Who tops?"

" Ochako!" He hisses. "I'm not answering that." 

"I'm gonna guess—"

" No don't guess!" He insists, as she erupts into laughter. It's harder and harder to tell if she's actually being ridiculous or if she does it on purpose to get a reaction. Either way it's been growing on him. 

She's weird and intense but she's also passionate and determined. Izuku really underestimated her when they first met. 

"So what are you doing today?" She asks, changing the subject. Thank god.

He relaxes a bit and tells her about his plan for the day, and how he’s already exhausted from this whole tour thing. Eventually the other end of the line goes silent, and it takes a while, but Izuku realizes that Ochako has fallen asleep. He hangs up and with that gets ready to face whatever the hell he’s got to face for the day. It shouldn’t be too bad. 

Izuku knows what to expect with the interview. It goes very much the same way that the other talk show interview went, only with heavier security and more carefully-planned sneaking around. The photos he gets are of Katsuki walking into the building flanked by his security team. He wears a backwards baseball cap, sunglasses, and leggings. The way he looks so effortlessly cool in such a simple get-up is unfair. 

As he enters the building, a couple of fans attempt to run up to him, only to be stopped by one of his bodyguards as the other one ushers him inside. Two young girls shouting about how much they love him and begging for a photo with him. 

Izuku watches them get escorted off the property, while a sick thought forms in his head. Sorry, he’s not gonna sleep with you, he’s only sleeping with me!

Usually he isn’t that petty. (His friends would disagree with that sentiment.) But it gives him this sort of giddy feeling knowing that he has something exciting and special that other people want. 

Izuku: no pictures huh ??? 

He puts the camera back into his backpack and heads to a nearby coffee shop so he can upload the pictures and send them to Ashido. When he orders, he panics and in the moment forgets every word of English he’s ever learned and has to point to the menu to order. 

And that’s how he accidentally ends up sitting in  the back of a coffee shop scraping the whipped cream from the top of his drink. 

But, it’s caffeine and he’ll take it anyway as he opens up his laptop and gets to work. As he starts to send the photos off, his phone buzzes. 

Katsuki: stalker

Katsuki: that was the third time that’s happened today

Izuku stiffens at the message, wondering how exhausting that must be. 

Izuku: crazy!

Katsuki: eh, i’m used to it 

Katsuki: there’s this one photographer that follows me everywhere I go, super creepy :) 

Izuku smiles down at the phone, holding back a laugh. He missed this, whatever this is. The casual texting, the lighthearted banter they could get into. It’s nice. 

Izuku: he must reeeaaaallllyyy want to fuck you

He sends the last message quickly, and then instantly feels embarrassed. That was pretty embarrassing, honestly. 

Katsuki: keep it in ur pants! 

They go back and forth like that for a while, pausing as Katsuki goes for his interview. Normally a fling like this would be distracting, but Izuku thinks talking to Katsuki so much is actually helping him with his job. For one thing, he doesn’t have to sit around waiting for Katsuki to come back out. He can just wait for Katsuki to text him that he’s about to leave. 

It’s perfect. 

And everything seems smooth and amazing. Until he gets to the fan signing. 

“I don’t know what to do, I can’t get close enough,” Izuku says to Ashido, his phone pressed to his ear. He grimaces at the line that emerges from the signing area and wraps around the building. So many people. All willing to pay top dollar to stand in line and take a picture with Katsuki. 

“You should be able to get into the venue early with your press pass,” she says, sounding mildly annoyed. It’s not his fault! 

“I know, and I’m in, but the signing is onstage and the line is out the door,” he says, exasperated. 

“Fuck,” Ashido groans. “Can you see him?” 

“Yeah,” Izuku says, squinting towards the front of the ridiculous line. He can see Katsuki standing in front of a branded backdrop, standing in position while security watches each fan run up and take a photo with him. 

“Get what you can, don’t do anything risky, okay?” she advises, then mumbles that she needs to do something and hangs up. 

“Just a reminder that Katsuki is not signing personal items. You will get a photo and then receive an already autographed poster on your way out. There will be no hugging, kissing or prolonged touching,” a woman with a clipboard yells out. She wears a shirt with the venue’s name on it, so she’s probably not someone who works directly for Katsuki. 

Has that been a problem in the past? People trying to kiss him when he does meet-and-greets? Izuku doesn’t really like the thought of that. He knows they agreed to not sleep with other people, but what about kissing? Can they kiss other people? 

“Can I help you?” the girl asks, noticing the way Izuku is just standing around. Izuku sputters and holds up his badge. 

“S-sorry, I’m early,” he says. She eyes the badge and checks it against the list on her clipboard. For a moment, Izuku is sure he’s going to get kicked out or something, but then the girl relaxes and smiles. 

“No worries! If you want to wait to the side over here, that would be great, just so you’re not mixed in with the line,” she says, gesturing to the chairs set up in the middle of the arena. They’re set there for the concert later, in the middle of what is probably usually a basketball court or something. 

He thanks her and heads over to sit down. As he waits, he takes out his camera and acts as if he’s testing it out. Really, he’s pointing it towards Katsuki’s backdrop and seeing how far he can zoom in. The pictures come out terribly, but he supposes he at least needs something to show for it. 

It’s weird watching the line. Again, it gets Izuku thinking about how strange it is that all these people are just dying to meet Katsuki. They pay actual money for a chance to meet him, while Izuku is most likely going to see him later tonight in bed. Hopefully. 

Izuku: see u tonight? 

He obviously doesn’t answer right away. After that, Izuku just sits and waits for the line to die down. As soon as the last person in line gets their photo, Katsuki is whisked away immediately, his team not letting him linger for a second longer than he needs to. 

Katsuki: i’ll be there as soon as I get everyone off my back 

And so begins a routine that would repeat for each night of the L.A. shows - Izuku follows his press appearances during the day, then shoots his concert, and at night, Katsuki shows up at his door and they fuck. 

With each night that passes, Izuku isn’t sure what he likes most about the nights he spends with Katsuki. At first he’s convinced it’s the sex. But then it occurs to him that he also likes falling asleep with Katsuki in his arms. And that he likes talking to him and hearing about his crazy day and laughing and kissing. 

For the next stop, Izuku has to rent a car and drive to the next hotel. It’s frustrating and boring, but it gives him a lot of time to think. Mostly about Katsuki. 

And how he might actually be falling for him. 

Notes:

A Song is Not a Business Plan by the Rocket Summer

sorry I zoomed through it this weekend!!!!!!!!

rn im predicting maybe 25 ish chapterS?? maybe more? it depends

Chapter 18: Sources Say Yes!

Summary:

Katsuki's eyelids feel so heavy as his stylist teases at his hair, just putting the finishing touches on his hair for yet another guest appearance. It's his own damn fault he's so tired. The past few nights he's been sacrificing a few extra hours of sleep so he could sneak into Deku's room

Katsuki's eyelids feel so heavy as his stylist teases at his hair, just putting the finishing touches on his hair for yet another guest appearance. It's his own damn fault he's so tired. The past few nights he's been sacrificing a few extra hours of sleep so he could sneak into Deku's room. 

Was it a good idea in hindsight? Probably not. But he definitely doesn't regret it. 

Now that they've cleared the air between them a bit, things are suddenly easier. Their interactions are lighter and more gentle instead of rushed and heated. It's nice to not be limited to making out in a closet real quick before they get caught. Instead they can take things slow—makeout, have sex, and then afterwards cuddle up together and talk about whatever they want to. 

"Katsuki, don't tell me you're falling asleep already," Mitsuki’s voice snaps him out of his daydream immediately. He blinks a few times and scowls. 

"No," he lies. 

"Haven't you been sleeping? You've been turning in early every night," she points out, which makes his stomach drop immediately. 

"Yeah, but then I have to get up and the ass crack of dawn to hit the gym," he says, quickly turning it back onto her. 

"Don't be a brat, Katsuki," she says, rolling her eyes. "Point is, you can't be falling asleep now. And god, look at those dark circles."

Katsuki glares back at her, recoiling immediately as she reaches out to touch his face. He just barely catches the annoyed huff from the stylist as his movement throws her off. 

"We'll need a little extra for the eyes today," Mitsuki says to her, as if she has the final say on what Katsuki is allowed to look like. She does, kind of. At the end of the day, she always gets her damn way and Katsuki hates it. 

But what else is he supposed to do? 

The same thing he always does, he supposes. Just appease her until she goes away. What's the point in wasting his breath arguing with someone who won't listen? 

"You get a full face of stage makeup every night, you don't need anything extra," the stylist mutters once Mitsuki leaves, shaking her head as she finishes his hair and opens up her train case full of makeup. 

Katsuki holds back a smile; it's always more than a little validating when he hears others complain about her. 

His phone lights with a text message and he eagerly scoops it up to check. 

Deku: finally checked into the hotel! 

Katsuki smiles at his screen and closes it out. While he doesn't even have Deku saved in his phone under his real name, he doesn't want to take the chance of anyone peering over his shoulder. In reality, it's probably nothing. No one cares enough to snoop besides Mitsuki. But he's still paranoid that someone would see the nickname and somehow know.

In the distance, he can hear the heavy doors to the dressing area swing open. His ears perk up as he swears he hears someone familiar. 

"Katsuki!" 

"Camie! What are you— Huh?" He sputters, caught off guard as the supermodel comes strutting up to him with Kirishima in tow. "The fuck are you guys doing here?" 

"Coming to see you, duh!" Camie giggles, throwing her arms around his neck and earning an annoyed huff from his stylist. "Oh shit, sorry!" 

"You flew overseas?" He puzzles. Not that it's really that surprising. Both of their careers have taken them internationally. They travel all the time. It still just seems odd. 

"Hell yeah, dude, heard about your party of the century," Kirishima chuckles. Katsuki just stares back at him blankly.

"What party?" He asks. 

"There's a rooftop party after the show tonight," Kirishima supplies. "At least that's what we were told." 

"Okay so it's not Katsuki's party," Camie interjects, which allows Katsuki to breathe a little easier for a moment. "It's the American branch of your record label throwing it." 

"Oh," he says, leaning back in the chair and rolling his eyes. "Not going to that shit." 

"Aw, don't say that!" She whines, leaning her elbows against the vanity counter in front of him. "It's not like you have anything better to do, right?" 

"It's called sleeping," he huffs, quickly saving himself from admitting to what he's actually been up to in front of his stylist. 

"Boring," Camie sighs. Katsuki's phone vibrates against the counter. For a split second, they make eye contact before Camie scoops up the phone faster than Katsuki can. 

"Give it to me, dammit," he scoffs, his cheeks flushing at the thought of her seeing the messages he's been sending to Deku. Nothing inappropriate, not like that. 

But he doesn't know how to explain all the "good morning"s and "wish you were at this shitty event with me"s. 

There's no good explanation for it other than he's comfortable with Deku. And even that doesn't have an explanation. 

"There, I'll touch you up again before you go on," the stylist finally says, packing up her train case. Katsuki slides out of the chair and attempts to wrestle the phone back from Camie. 

"Relax! It's just an email," she snickers, handing the phone back to him. "What are you being so secretive about, hmm?" 

"Nothing," he grunts, scrolling through to see it really wasn't Deku texting him. He slides the phone back into his pocket to avoid any further incriminating shit. 

"Mhmm. Are you expecting a text from you-know-who?" She grins. Katsuki frowns and hushes her, looking around quickly to make sure Mitsuki isn't popping up out of nowhere. 

"Come here," he grits, stomping down the hallway and showing them both into his dressing room so they can talk privately. 

"This is totally about him isn't it?" Camie laughs once he has the door closed. "Shit, does Kiri know?" 

"Um, kind of," Katsuki says. Whatever. "I've been sneaking into his room every night since the tour started." 

"Oh okay, I see," Camie smirks. "You don't want to go to the party because you'd rather be banging your man." 

Katsuki groans. 

"So what?" He scoffs, folding his arms over his chest. "I can do what I want." 

"How are you going to explain why you won't be there to Mitsuki?" Kirishima asks. 

"Fuck." 

"We could cover for you—"

"No, no, that's too much fucking work. I'll survive," he sighs, shaking his head. But he can't shake the heavy feeling of disappointment in his chest. 

"Won't he be there?" Camie asks. Katsuki shrugs. Usually Deku texts him about this sort of thing before Katsuki even knows about it. 

"Well! It's fine, you'll have a fun night with us," Camie insists. "You can hang out with your boyfriend later." 

"What?! Don't say that; he's not my boyfriend," Katsuki scoffs, correcting her immediately. His whole damn face feels hot just at the suggestion, which is embarrassing. 

"Yeah, sure," she grins. "But I know you. If there isn't anything you have to do while you're on tour, you're holed up in your room hiding from everyone." 

"Yeah, so?" 

"Do you still put it on your rider that no one's allowed to go into your dressing room after the show?" 

"Of course, what's your point?" He sneers, getting defensive. Katsuki is well aware that he's not much of a people-person and needs time to recharge after a show.

"Probably that you're spending your precious free time with this person. Maybe you like him more than you realize," Kirishima suggests. 

"No, no, I don't like him," he scoffs. "He's annoying and pretentious and stubborn. I mean . . .he's attractive. And he listens to me, and he's really passionate and kind of funny." 

Katsuki presses his lips together into a firm line. He turns away from the expectant looks from his friends. 

"Fuck, maybe I do like him." 

 

---

 

This hotel room is even nicer than the one Izuku stayed at in L.A.. The bed is even bigger and the bathroom has a large tub, which gives him ideas. 

Katsuki hasn't texted him back in a while? But judging by the time, he is probably getting ready for the show. 

Izuku is starting to feel like an expert at this whole press pass thing. He knows what to do and where to go and it gives him an extra boost of confidence that he didn't even know he needed. Sleeping with the main act has helped with that, too.

As usual, he double triple checks that his camera is charged, and that everything he needs is in his bag and ready to go. 

When his phone rings, he's not sure why he feels disappointed that it isn't Katsuki. Maybe because it's Ashido calling to add another layer to his work. 

"Hello?" He answers, putting the phone on speaker and setting it down on the nightstand. 

"Midoriya, I'm pissed," she says, and Izuku's stomach drops. Oh no. Why is she pissed? Does she know? Crap!

"W-why?" 

"I thought I had you an invite to the stupid label party tonight but shit fell through," she groans. A party? 

"Oh," Izuku says, his eyes flashing to the screen as a text message arrives over her call. 

Katsuki: going to this stupid party tonight. Will u be there? 

Oh, the irony. 

Izuku: no :(

He's not sure why he sent that sad face. It's not like he would have been able to hang out with Katsuki at said party anyway. 

"I'm thinking maybe you hang around outside, but you have to be careful, this place is crawling with security. I can't cover for you as much when you're overseas," she sighs. 

Katsuki: bullshit. I'll have someone put you on the guest list

"I think I can get in, actually," he says, mindlessly. 

"What? How?" 

"Uh," he pauses for a moment. He can't say how. "I met someone at the hotel bar earlier who was looking for a plus one." 

"Are you serious? That's incredible. You're the best," she gushes, then excitedly starts to go on and on about who is supposed to be there and what to look for. 

 

After he is off the phone, he sighs and turns back to his messages with Katsuki. 

Izuku: won't that look suspicious though? 

It's exhausting to overthink every move they make, but it's necessary. Based on their very public feud and legal mess between their two teams, it just wouldn't look right. Katsuki's manager would try to sue him again or something. And Izuku would get fired from another job. 

Katsuki: Kirishima and Camie are here, I'll have one of them do it

He stares at the message. Camie is Katsuki's best friend. Izuku hasn't officially met her yet, but he knows who she is. It's hard not to when she's literally plastered over every other billboard and magazine. She's a very famous and stunning supermodel. 

And Kirishima .  . . Kirishima is that athlete he met at Katsuki's last party! 

Katsuki: kirishima can put you down under Yamada Sake ;)

Izuku puzzles for a moment, wondering what the hell he’s talking about. Oh. Oh. Crap, he gave him a fake name, didn’t he? Katsuki’s probably laughing at him for that one. Izuku can picture it so clearly in his mind, too. He really has such a nice laugh when it’s genuine. 

Katsuki: seriously though, that’s the name he’s putting you under, don’t fuck it up

Izuku lets out a long sigh and texts him back. 

—

Katsuki’s show is phenomenal as always. It’s kind of ironic that Izuku is thinking of it that way. Never in his life did he ever think he’d refer to a concert like this as phenomenal. And maybe Izuku still won’t like his music. But damn he’s a good performer. 

He loves the way Katsuki moves around, the way he commands the attention of his audience. The energy and passion that he puts into his shows is incredible, especially since Izuku personally knows how much shows exhaust him. Yet no one else would ever be able to tell. 

It’s sad, in a way. Sometimes it seems like Katsuki has to put on this whole charade for other people and everyone just assumes that he’s okay with it. Izuku is still getting to know him, of course, he’s not claiming to be an expert. 

But something about getting punched in the face that one night really made him start to think. And beyond that, he can’t ever get it out of his head that Katsuki is different when they’re alone. 

Maybe that’s why this party is so intimidating. Why his heart is hammering away in his chest as he makes his way to the front of the line. 

"Name?" The bouncer says, glancing down at a clipboard. Izuku swallows, hoping that the guy can't tell how nervous he is. Sure he's been to plenty of clubs and parties, but not like this. Not without the support of his friends. And the last party he went to where Katsuki was there, he had snuck in through the back. 

 "Y-yamada Sake," he stammers. It's so embarrassing, but thankfully the bouncer doesn't seem to notice how absurd his fake name is. All he does is scroll through his list, check his name off with a pen and then lets him in. 

Easy. 

The inside of the club is surprisingly upscale. Maybe he shouldn't be surprised, but he's used to going places that are grungy or trashy. He has always felt like rose places just had a certain amount of character. 

Places like this on the other hand. They have marble floors and velvet ropes and waiters who walk around dressed as if they're in a five-star restaurant. 

He scans the crowd, looking for Katsuki, which is nearly hopeless. Literally everyone else there is looking for him, too. 

Feeling immediately out of his element, Izuku makes a beeline for the bar and sits down. He has to somehow get out of his head and remind himself that he's not there to hang out with Katsuki. He's there for work. 

The only other thing that sucks about that is that he wasn't able to bring his camera along with him. So he's stuck trying to sneak pictures for UA-Z with his phone like some sort of amateur. 

After he orders a drink, he scans the room again and finally finds the man he's looking for. 

Katsuki. 

He's standing across the room with Kirishima and chatting with a group of people he doesn't recognize. Fans? Producers? Who knows? 

Izuku rolls his eyes and snaps a photo. It takes a surprising amount of restraint to not wave or otherwise get the attention of the other man. 

He frowns across the room, sipping on his drink only to find that it's empty again. Crap. Annoyed, he turns around again on the barstool, then startles when he comes face to face with someone else. 

A woman with shiny hair and glitter spattered across her face and chest; her breasts threatening to spill from the tiny sequined top she wears. Camie. Oh no. 

"Ah, crap," he whispers to himself, trying not to make eye contact as he orders another drink. He glances to the side again, confirming that Camie is not only sitting next to him, but she's also staring right at him. 

"Um, hello," he mutters awkwardly. She responds with a giggle. 

"Oh my god you're adorable," she grins wide. Izuku gulps, not knowing how to respond. "Chill, okay? Kats is like, my bestie you know? I had to come see you for myself." 

"Okay," Izuku says, stiffly. The implication that Katsuki talks about him to his best friend is enough to make his brain short circuit. "It's nice to um, meet you I guess?" 

"Yeah, totally," she grins. "So you like him?" 

"What?" He chokes, not sure how to answer. This Camie girl just exudes confidence in the way that she has no reservations about asking him questions like this. 

"Do you like him?" She repeats. Izuku sighs and looks back over at Katsuki through the sea of people crowding him. Part of him wishes he could just march right up and whisk Katsuki away from everyone. 

"Yeah," he says, turning back to her. 

"Good! We won't have any problems then," she laughs, standing up straight and smacking him on the back. Izuku winces and watches as she saunters away, dancing around the crowd. 

Moments like this have him wishing things were different. 

It would be nice to be over with Katsuki and his friends, and not across the venue pretending like they don't know each other. He understands why they can't. He knows it's not Katsuki's fault. 

But it's still sad. 

After he snaps several photos, he decides to head out early. No one pays him any mind as he exits the club and wanders down the street. It's really late, and something tells him he's probably not going to see Katsuki tonight. 

He shouldn't feel this disappointed. 

As he arrives back at the hotel, he notices a group of people standing along the sidewalk outside, away from the entrance. They're all hanging out and giggling with each other. Izuku wouldn't think anything of it if it wasn't for the fact that they all are wearing some sort of Katsuki merch and holding posters and flowers. 

Maybe he stops and stares for too long, because someone notices him. 

"Hey, if you're waiting for Katsuki, too, they aren't letting anyone past the property line for the hotel," one of them says. Izuku blinks, perplexed by the idea that these people are waiting just for a glimpse of Katsuki. 

"No," he says, shaking his head and hurrying past the group of super fans and slipping inside. This hotel is upscale just like the last one was, with elegant lighting and staff that look at him like he doesn't belong there. 

He really doesn't belong, does he? 

By the time he gets back to his room, he's all worked up again. His heart is racing and his thoughts can't keep up. Sending in his photos doesn't do much to distract him either, just reminds him of the night.

Katsuki: are you still here? 

Izuku sighs and flops down onto the bed. Why does Katsuki even bother asking if they aren't even going to see each other anyway. 

Izuku: no I left, sorry

Katsuki: it's okay, this shit is boring 

Katsuki: I'm about to leave, too … 

The last message is vague, and Izuku doesn't know what he should say. His gut instinct is to push and push and tell Katsuki he's too tired to hang out or to even ignore the message. Instead, he takes a deep breath and texts back. 

Izuku: You can come by if you want. I'm tired though

Katsuki: same 

Katsuki: I'll still come see you, though

Izuku can't help the smile that tugs at his lips. 

And sure enough, Katsuki holds true to his word and knocks on his door a little while later. Izuku invites him inside. 

"Hey," Izuku smiles, adding a yawn. "I'll be honest, I'm probably going to fall asleep any minute now." 

"That's okay," Katsuki says, sliding in next to him as he gets back into bed. He cuddles up next to Izuku, like it's the most natural thing to do, and sighs. "Already told Mitsuki I'm sleeping in tomorrow since she made me go to that stupid party." 

Izuku nods along, his eyelids so heavy. He slides his arms around the other man, holding him tight to his chest. It feels all too comfortable, too perfect. The only thing wrong with this picture is that Izuku still feels like he doesn't quite deserve it. 

---

The next morning, Katsuki wakes before Deku does. He sits up in bed, feeling refreshed from the extra hour of sleeping in this morning. Deku is still sprawled out under the covers, his hair wild and messy. It's fucking adorable. 

Part of him feels bad for last night; he'd invited Deku to the party and didn't even fucking talk to him. It was shitty, but Katsuki honestly hadn't thought it through until Deku had arrived and Katsuki suddenly realized he couldn't just walk right up to him and kiss him. 

When Deku wakes up, he'll talk to him. It's all gonna be just fine. 

He lays back down and grabs his phone from the nightstand to open up a new message from Camie. 

Camie: duuuude what is wrong with these people 

Camie: <image.jpg>

Katsuki squints at the image attachment. It's a screenshot of the front page of UA-Z's website, where the top story is a photo of himself at last night's party standing with Kirishima. 

Is Katsuki Getting Cozy With Kirishima Eijirou? Sources say yes! 

"What the fuck?" He whispers to himself, then glances over at Deku. As in the only "source" for UA-Z that Katsuki knows of. 

Why the fuck would Deku do that?

Notes:

Sorry for the slow update life has been crazy!

Chapter 19: Kacchan

Summary:

When Izuku wakes the next morning, he's expecting Katsuki to be gone already. That's what usually happens anyway; he has to jet off to the gym or wherever else his manager has him going. Really, his life must be so exhausting.

When Izuku wakes the next morning, he's expecting Katsuki to be gone already. That's what usually happens anyway; he has to jet off to the gym or wherever else his manager has him going. Really, his life must be so exhausting.

Which is why he's surprised when he opens his eyes, rolls over, and finds himself face-to-face with Katsuki. He's wide awake, sitting up as if he'd just been there the entire time, watching him sleep. 

"Oh my god, you scared me," Izuku breathes, rolling onto his back. He still feels a bit groggy from sleep.

"What the fuck is this?" Katsuki asks, shoving his phone into Izuku's line of sight. Izuku shies away from the brightness of the screen, still trying to adjust to being awake. 

"Hold on, what?" Izuku groans, gripping the other man's wrist to steady the screen. His brain is far too foggy to process what Katsuki is asking him right away. He furrows his brow, wondering why he's looking at the UA-Z home page. 

Is Katsuki Getting Cozy With Kirishima Eijirou? Sources say yes! 

The ridiculous headline is paired with one of the photos Izuku had sent in from the night before. He swallows, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. 

"Did you take that?" Katsuki asks, like he’s conducting an interrogation. 

"I mean, yes?" He says, blinking. "But I didn't write that headline. I never write the headlines, by the way." 

"You said nothing?" 

"No? Why would I want anyone to think you're dating someone?" He scoffs, defensive against the fact that Katsuki seems to think that Izuku had something to do with that nonsense. Katsuki pulls the phone back to himself and stares down at the photo again, frowning. 

 "I don't know," he says. "It's just fucking weird, okay?" 

He gets up and straddles Izuku's waist, sitting on top of him as he scrutinizes his phone screen some more. Izuku groans and squirms, trying to wiggle away but to no avail. 

"All I did was take the pictures and send them to my boss!" He insists. “I promise.” 

"Who's your boss?" 

"Ashido! You met her, remember?" He sighs, finally just relaxing and resting his hands against Katsuki's thighs. They're firm and muscular, so it takes almost no effort on Katsuki's part to keep Izuku pinned. Izuku makes a mental note to himself that maybe he should also start hitting the gym more often. 

"Did I?" 

"Yeah when you tried to sue me?" Izuku reminds him, and Katsuki gives him this blank look. "Are you kidding me?" 

"I didn't try to sue you, Mitsuki did," he mutters, furrowing his brow. Semantics.

"Same thing?" 

"Shut up," Katsuki scoffs, still glaring at the phone. For whatever reason, he seems to be really bothered by the headline. "It's really not. Mitsuki makes all the decisions with that crap. Hell, I never would have ever seen that picture if she hadn't made a comment about it first." 

Izuku blinks, taking a moment to try and wrap his head around that little-known fact. He thinks about the comments he's heard her make about Katsuki's body and how pissed Katsuki had been about the photo. Never in a million years would he have guessed the real story behind Katsuki's anger that day. 

Then again, maybe he should thank her, because he and Katsuki never would have met if it weren’t for that whole debacle.

"I'm sorry she's always giving you such a hard time, you don't deserve that," Izuku says, studying the other man as he avoids his gaze. Katsuki is dressed in nothing but a t-shirt and his boxers, but Izuku thinks he looks amazing. Without all the glitter and makeup and expensive outfits, Katsuki is still so effortlessly beautiful. 

"Stop looking at me like that, you're being weird," Katsuki mumbles, his face growing pinker. So cute. "You're fuckin distracting me, too. I'm trying to figure this out! If you didn't write this caption, then who did? And why?" 

Izuku shrugs. "I don't know." 

"Call her and ask." 

"What?! Call who?" 

"Your boss. Call her and ask who wrote that damn caption," he insists. Izuku sputters for a moment, not sure how to respond to that. But then Katsuki rolls his hips, knowingly grinding back against Izuku's morning wood. 

Izuku moans and drops his head back against the pillow. The devious grin on Katsuki's lips tells him that he knows exactly what he's doing. 

"Fine," he sighs, twisting and reaching for the phone on the nightstand next to him. His nerves are on fire, especially as he realizes he's not quite sure he has ever been the one to call Ashido. It's always the other way around. 

He presses the phone to his ear, his eyes flickering upwards to Katsuki, staying seated where he is as he watches intently. Izuku smiles. An involuntary reaction to looking at him at this point. 

"Midoriya, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Ashido answers the phone, a bit of an edge to her tone. Maybe Izuku woke her up. Or not. He doesn't have the timezone thing down quite yet. 

"H-hi, I just have a question," he says, clearing his throat. "I saw my photo from last night on our website but I was wondering . . . who wrote that caption? Because I can see how someone might think that but I definitely didn't get that vibe from them when I saw them together. Katsuki and Kirishima, that is. Definitely seemed like they were just friends and stuff." 

"Holy shit, slow down," she groans. Izuku bites down on his lower lip, realizing that he had started to ramble. "Those two have history, it's what the people want to see. I don't know what else to tell you." 

"But—"

"Listen, I know you're all about your pictures having meaning and message and all that crap, but this is not what we're about. We sell headlines; photos that tell a story the people want to read. Your job is to take the pictures, not to know what the public wants," she says, very matter-of-fact. 

A pit forms in Izuku's stomach as she speaks. He's not quite sure how to feel about what she's saying. On one hand, she's right. This is the job he signed up for. But it was a lot easier when he first took it on because he didn't know his subject nearly as well as he does now. 

On the other hand, he feels helpless. What if he decides one day that he wants to be in a relationship with Katsuki— Is it really just up to the public to decide whether or not they want to acknowledge him? Would he even want to be acknowledged? 

The whole thing is terrifying. 

"Right," Izuku swallows, not really knowing what else to say that wouldn't sound auspicious. 

"Unless, of course, you do happen to have any details that would make a better story," she says, her tone immediately changing to something more playful. 

"I mean, um, I heard they were just friends is all," he offers. 

"Lame, Midoriya," she yawns. "You're just reaffirming what I just said. Stay in your lane, bud!"

"Yeah, okay," he sighs. Ashido rattles off something quick about needing to get off the phone before hanging up, leaving Izuku to answer to an expectant looking Katsuki. 

"What did she say?" He asks immediately. 

"Not sure who wrote it. But they just write whatever they think is going to be the most sensational," he sighs, setting his phone aside and frowning. "I don't know how I feel about the assumption that people want to see you dating him." 

"Really?" Katsuki asks, finally rolling off of him and laying to his side. Glancing over and seeing the grin spreading across his lips, Izuku suddenly realizes what he's just said. 

"N-not that I'm jealous or anything," he corrects immediately. In order to avoid Katsuki's calculating gaze, he stares up at the ceiling. Katsuki props himself up on his elbow so that he's looming over Izuku again. 

"You sure?" He teases. "You can be jealous. That's kind of hot." 

Izuku sighs and drapes his arms over his face, shielding his eyes from Katsuki. He doesn't know what to say, and his heart just pounds in his chest. This is way too much conversation for first thing in the morning. 

"I'd probably be pissed if the entire world wanted you to be with someone else," Katsuki says quietly. He lays back down and slides in next to Izuku so that he can lay his head on his chest. 

"That's awfully presumptuous of you to assume the entire world is keeping up with you," Izuku points out, avoiding the question. Katsuki responds by jabbing two fingers into Izuku's side. "Ow! What the hell?" 

"Don't be a dick, you know what I mean," Katsuki scoffs. 

It's terrifying though. He may feel like he's known Katsuki forever at this point, but the truth is that they haven't known each other that long. Maybe it's been a couple of months. And then a month of actually talking to each other. 

Izuku closes his eyes because he knows what the truth is, and he knows he's digging in and looking for excuses to not make himself vulnerable. Katsuki is handsome, talented, passionate and amazing in bed. But he's also headstrong and isn't afraid to tell Izuku what he really thinks. 

He lets go of a breath he didn't know he was holding in. 

"I really like you," he admits, his throat dry and tight. A sense of relief floods his system as Katsuki's arm squeezes tighter around his waist. 

"I like you, too," Katsuki replies. Izuku drops his arms so he can hold onto him. So warm. 

"I think I already know the answer . . . But this is a secret, right?" 

"Yeah, probably," Katsuki nods. He can feel the way Katsuki takes in a slow, deep breath. "I think Mitsuki would flip shit." 

"I'd probably get fired again," Izuku says. "Does this mean we're in a relationship?" 

"Do you want it to mean that?" Katsuki asks, surprisingly calm and quiet. Izuku wonders if he's just as nervous as he is. 

He swallows. The silence seems to drag on forever.

"Yeah," he says, his head spinning and his gut twisting. Just saying that one word feels like he's just jumped from a cliff top. 

"Okay," Katsuki says. "It's official, then. You're my boyfriend. I don't give a shit if people think I should date Kirishima because it's not gonna happen." 

Izuku smiles and rolls onto his side. Boyfriend. Holy crap. Katsuki's words just light a fire in his chest and all he wants to do is exactly what he does— Places his hands on either side of Katsuki's face and kisses him. 

Katsuki melts into him, and just as he does, the phone rings again from his nightstand. 

"You gonna get that?" Katsuki asks, breath swirling in the small space between them. 

"Should I? Or are we gonna—" 

"Just answer it," Katsuki chuckles, placing his hands on Izuku's chest and pushing him back. Izuku groans and scoops up the phone. 

"It's my friend Denki, he's trying to video call," Izuku points out. He loves Denki and all, but Katsuki just called them boyfriends, so his head is deep in the gutter. 

"Answer it, I haven't seen your friends," Katsuki demands. Izuku lays on his back and answers the call. 

"Hey dude! I was hoping you'd be awake, we miss you," Denki says. He's sitting in his living room, swiveling the screen towards Shouto, who gives him a quick little wave. “Did we wake you?” 

“Ah, no, I was up,” Izuku says, nervously glancing over at Katsuki. This is a little awkward, though maybe he’s just overthinking it. Denki and Shouto haven’t met Katsuki yet, though he knows that they’re both fans of his. They’ll most definitely freak out when they realize he’s in the room. 

“Sweet! How’s the groupie life treating you?” he snickers. 

“Not a groupie,” he groans. “I’m working.”

“You’re following my tour and sleeping with me, you’re basically a groupie,” Katsuki adds, laughing as if it’s the funniest thing he’s heard in a while. Izuku frowns in his direction, his heart suddenly pounding as he watches Denki’s expression change. 

“Is that . . . Izuku is that Katsuki? Like, the actual Katsuki? You better not lie,” he says, his tone very serious for once. Not that Izuku has any chance to try and make an excuse, anyway. The next thing he knows, Katsuki is sidling up to him again, shoving his face right next to Izuku’s so that he can be seen. 

They both gasp as the phone screen suddenly blurs, as if the device had been dropped. 

“Great, you broke him,” Izuku mumbles. When the image on the screen clears up again, they’re looking at both Shouto and Denki who are now sitting right next to each other, both glued to the screen. One might think Izuku brought a unicorn on screen to show them the way they’re reacting. 

“Holy shit,” Denki says. “You know, I knew this was happening, but I never like, really believed it.” 

“That’s crazy,” Shouto says. 

“Can I just say I love Dynamight so much, it’s literally the greatest album of all time,” Denki says, gushing like one of Katsuki’s many fans. Izuku rolls his eyes at that one. 

“Debatable,” Izuku mumbles.

“Thanks, glad your friends have good taste at least,” he says, nudging Izuku in the ribs. 

“Stop that,” Izuku scoffs, squirming under his touch. 

“Adorable, I love this,” Shouto says, beaming. “Please be nice to our Izuku, he may act all tough but he’s very sensitive.” 

“ Please,” Izuku groans. “This is why I didn’t want to answer the phone, they’re ridiculous.” 

“It’s fun,” Katsuki grins. “And you met my friends last night, it’s only fair.” 

“Oh my god, you met more famous people and didn’t tell us?” Denki asks, dramatically. Izuku rolls his eyes. 

“It’s not a big deal, they’re just people,” Izuku insists. “Katsuki’s not going to run to his friends and tell them he met you guys.” 

“I might,” Katsuki adds, just to be contrary. Izuku both hates and loves the way he so seamlessly joins in on their banter against Izuku. He fits in so naturally. 

“So I’m guessing you guys are on good terms now?” Shouto asks. Izuku can feel his cheeks burning. “Last time we saw you, you had two black eyes.” 

“Yeah, we’re um . . . we’re good,” Izuku smiles. “You know you can’t tell anyone about this, right?” 

He’s sure they know, but now that they’re together together, he doesn’t want to leave any room for error. 

“Duh,” Denki says, laughing. “That would be a conflict of interest, wouldn’t it?” 

“Yeah, definitely,” Izuku breathes. 

They stay on the call a little while longer, asking Katsuki tons of questions, but thankfully behaving themselves pretty well. No matter how hard he tries to fight it, he can’t shake the feeling that it is pretty cool to have a boyfriend that other people are so in awe of. Part of Izuku really does wonder how the hell he ended up in this situation. 

After a while, they hang up and it’s finally just Izuku and Katsuki again. 

“They’re weird, but they mean well,” Izuku says. Katsuki nods, and cuts him off with a kiss. It catches him off guard, but it’s a welcome distraction from all of his racing thoughts. Katsuki straddles his waist again, this time in a way that lines their hips up in a much more sensual way. 

Izuku responds by kissing him back, and caressing his thighs. Lips part and tongue slide together, moving through this dance that they’ve come to know very well by now. He rubs his hands over smooth skin, slipping up under the legs of Katsuki’s boxer shorts. 

Izuku moans and rolls his hips upwards, his cock already responding to Katsuki’s advances. Talking about their relationship and their feelings for each other is difficult, but this part has always been easy. From the very beginning, they’ve had this undeniable chemistry that just draws their bodies together. 

“So sexy,” Izuku whispers against Katsuki’s lips. He sits up and Katsuki adjusts so that he’s sitting in Izuku’s lap, legs wrapped around his waist. In this position, he can feel how hard Kasuki is, how ready he is for Izuku to devour him. 

“We gotta be quick,” Katsuki mumbles. 

“Why?” 

“I only have an hour before Mitsuki stops by my room to see if I’m there,” he replies. Izuku fights off the urge to comment on how ridiculous that is; it’s a conversation they can have later. 

“Okay,” Izuku says quickly, pulling Katsuki’s shirt up and over his head. Once his shirt is off, Izuku lets his hands roam over Katsuki’s perfect chest and connects their lips once more. Katsuki leans into the kiss, lips firm and passionate, then removes himself so that he can find Izuku’s suitcase and grab the lube from it. 

While he does that, Izuku strips himself of his pajamas and sits up on the edge of the bed. He gasps when he notices the mirror on the wall, catching the sight of himself stroking his own cock. 

“What?” Katsuki asks. 

“Come here,” Izuku insists, pulling Katsuki backwards into his lap so he can see. Katsuki hands him the lube, both of them staring straight ahead at their reflection. “You’re perfect.” 

“I’m not,” Katsuki says, like it’s an automatic response. 

“I think you are,” Izuku insists. Katsuki shudders as Izuku reaches around and wraps his hand around his dick, gently stroking up and down. He peppers kisses over his boyfriend’s neck, careful to be gentle and not leave any marks. 

“Quick,” Katsuki reminds him, grinding back against Izuku’s member. He grunts at the friction, pausing a moment to collect himself before squeezing the lube over his hand. He rubs it over himself, making his cock nice and slick before guiding Katsuki backwards. 

“Ah, fuck,” Izuku moans, watching as Katsuki sinks down over his length. Katsuki’s heat squeezes and sucks him in, tight and hot. “So tight.” 

“Yeah?” Katsuki asks, rotating his hips nice and slow. 

“Mhm,” Izuku mumbles, his hands at Katsuki’s waist. He watches the mirror, reveling in Katsuki’s expressions as he rides his cock. After a while, he decides to take over, rolling them so that Katsuki is bent over the bed, the mirror now an afterthought. 

“Fuck me,” Katsuki gasps, grapsing at the sheets as Izuku drives back in. His hips slap against the backs of Katsuki’s thighs, fucking into him until he can feel the blood rushing further south. 

“Gonna cum,” Izuku moans, looming over Katsuki some more as he continues to jerk his hips. 

“You can cum inside me, it’s fine,” Katsuki says, desperately. That request alone is enough to send Izuku over the edge. He snaps his hips forward one more time and sees white as he releases into Katsuki, filling him up. 

“Shit,” Izuku breathes, his chest heaving as his hips continue to stutter until he’s milked dry. “That was amazing.” 

He slips out slowly, watching with a weird sense of pride as he watches his own cum drip from Katsuki’s hole. He then rolls over, obstructing Izuku’s view and reminding him that he isn’t finished yet. Catching on quick, he drops to his knees and takes Katsuki’s perfect cock into his mouth. 

“Yes, fuck,” Katsuki hisses, his head rolling back as Izuku bobs up and down over his cock, his tongue dragging along the underside as he goes. It doesn’t take much more effort before Katsuki is cursing again, shooting his own spend down Izuku’s throat. Izuku inhales deeply through his nose, concentrating on not letting a single drop spill from his lips as he swallows the salty substance. 

“Good?” Izuku asks, sitting back on his knees and looking up at Katsuki. The other man looks radiant . Just the way his cheeks are flushed and his hair is a bit disheveled. He looks thoroughly fucked and blissful. 

“Yeah,” Katsuki sighs. He lays back down on the bed for a moment, collecting himself before he sits up again. “I gotta shower. I fucking hate this.” 

“What?” Izuku blinks. 

“No, fuck, not this,” Katsuki clarifies. “I hate that everytime I see you, there’s never enough time. I always have to be somewhere.” 

“Yeah,” Izuku sighs. Katsuki’s right. Especially with being on tour, they’re pretty limited on the hours they get to spend together. Now that they’ve established a relationship, it might be even harder to stay apart than before. “I’ll still be here, though. Whenever you’re free, okay?” 

“Yeah, I know,” he says, reaching over and ruffling Izuku’s hair before he stands up and stretches. Izuku bites down on his lower lip as he watches the muscles strain beneath his skin when he does that. “I’ll shower and then I have to head back.” 

Izuku nods and gets dressed again as Katsuki slips into the bathroom. He picks up the remote and turns on the TV, hoping to just have some background noise as he scrolls through his phone. But, funny enough, the first channel he lands on is an entertainment news channel with that same photo from the party that was posted to UA-Z.

“This was last night - Hero Records’ VIP party was a hit in more ways than one. Looks like Japan’s number one pop star is really hitting it off with former flame Kirishima Eijirou,” one of the “news” anchors says to her co-host. 

“Allegedly, anyway. It never was confirmed that the pair had dated in the past, but man we love to see it, don’t we?” he laughs in response. “Anyway, Katsuki is in town on his North American Tour, his last California show is tomorrow before the tour moves on to Vegas.”

Izuku stares at the screen, an unknown emotion bubbling under his skin as he listens to these two strangers talk about Katsuki. For some reason, in that moment, he’s never been so upset by the fact that everyone in the world just calls Katsuki by his first name and nothing else. It’s like everyone thinks they know him or what he’s all about. 

He’s so tense just thinking about it, his fists clench in his lap as the image flashes on screen again before they finally cut to footage of fans lined up for the concert, screaming and cheering and holding up posters with his face on it. 

“The fuck are you watching?” Katsuki asks when he emerges from the bathroom and finds Izuku still glued to the screen. 

“I want to call you a nickname,” Izuku says, not answering his question. Katsuki looks a little taken aback, but then shrugs. 

“Uh . . . okay?” he says, sounding confused. And rightfully so. Izuku isn’t quite sure why he suddenly feels so amped up. He’s never been the jealous type before. “Like what?” 

“I don’t know,” he sighs, quickly turning off the TV and tearing himself away. “Everyone calls you Katsuki.” 

“That’s my name.” 

“Well, yeah . . .” he trails off, going over any other iteration of Katsuki’s name in his head. He’s never been very partial to pet names and weird stuff like that. “Kacchan?” 

“What am I, five?” he chuckles, rubbing his towel over his hair once more before tossing it aside. Katsuki strolls back into the bedroom and sits down on the bed next to Izuku, who is still frowning. “Fine, you can call me that as long as I get to keep calling you Deku.” 

“What?! Ugh, fine!” he hisses. 

“What’s gotten into you all of a sudden?” Katsuki asks. “That channel is the same trash as UA-Z by the way, don’t listen to what they say.” 

Izuku nods, though he still feels uncomfortable. “How do you deal with it all?” 

“Easy, I just don’t pay attention to it,” he says. “Or . . . I shouldn’t say easy. People are fuckin’ assholes. But I guess you get used to it after a while.” 

He leans over and presses a warm kiss to Izuku’s temple. 

“I gotta go,” he says. “I’ll text you later.” 

Izuku mumbles a weak farewell, his thoughts still stewing. Maybe Katsuki’s used to it. But now that it’s becoming more of a reality that he’ll have to face eventually . . . Izuku isn’t sure he’ll ever be used to it. 

He just hopes it doesn’t end up being an issue for their new relationship. 

Notes:

hehehe

I hope you all are enjoying still. I don't think this is going to be more than 30 chapters.

Chapter 20: Cloud Nine

Summary:

Katsuki is on cloud fucking nine.
He's still not entirely sure when his feelings for Deku shifted into what they are now, but it doesn't even matter anymore. All he can think about is the fact that they're boyfriends.
As in they're dating. Together. In a relationship.

Katsuki is on cloud fucking nine. 

He's still not entirely sure when his feelings for Deku shifted into what they are now, but it doesn't even matter anymore. All he can think about is the fact that they're boyfriends.

As in they're dating. Together. In a relationship. 

When he tries to think back, Katsuki isn't sure he's ever really had anything like that with another person. He's had hookups and dates and people that the tabloids assume he's dating. But aside from that, he's really been too sheltered and isolated to really get to know anyone. 

Not only that, but it's hard to date as a celebrity. Harder than most people would think. Yes, he gets plenty of flattering and flirtatious comments online and at meet and greets and whatnot. 

It's all so superficial, though. 

When Katsuki was in high school, it was exciting. He was in his first year at a new school and by the time classes started, he already had his first single on the radio. Everyone in his class wanted to be his best friend. 

Which, to a fifteen-year-old, it was fucking amazing. He got everyone's attention all the time and it only continued when he released his first album and started appearing on TV. 

It didn't take long for him to realize the truth, though. That people only wanted to be his friend because they thought they could get something out of it. Like backstage passes and party invites. 

The day he found out that one of his classmates interviewed with a tabloid was the day he decided he was done with public school. The guy had lied and said they were friends and several other untrue things. He had gone home and cried to his mother and begged her to get him a tutor instead. 

Of all the shit she pulled, it was the only thing Katsuki had ever asked her for, and Mitsuki saw it through. And despite the awful things she's said to him and continues to put him through . . . That one thing always hangs in the back of his mind. 

There was a time when she put his needs first, and it gives him hope that maybe she still cares. That maybe one day she'll stop all this crazy manager stuff and go back to being his mom.

Anyway, the point is that people can't be fucking trusted. 

That's why Deku is so enticing. He's always made it a point to let Katsuki know that he doesn't care about his fame. Maybe he's kind of a dick about it sometimes, but it's the principle. It helps Katsuki to feel reassured that he's into Katsuki for the right reasons. 

"You're like, really smiley today," Camie points out as they walk with each other to lunch. And by with each other he means with Camie and two body guards on either side of them to ensure no fans try to swarm them. She has some time off until her next shoot and has been accompanying him the past few tour dates. 

Camie is a good friend partially because she understands Katsuki’s struggles even if they don't always talk about it. She's been modeling since childhood, too. 

"What, I can't be in a good mood?" He grins, glancing between his security team. They're not supposed to be listening to their conversations or repeating anything they hear, but Katsuki can never be too careful. 

"I mean yeah, but you're like extra cheery today. Spill!" She urges, a big grin across her face. They turn towards their lunch destination, and Katsuki's eyes travel to the man sitting at a table on the patio. Green hair, sunglasses, acting all slick likes he's just messing around with his camera. 

"Jesus, the paps are everywhere," one of the bodyguards mumbles, noticing Deku as well. It puts Katsuki in a bit of an awkward spot. 

So to keep with appearances he flips off Deku's camera right before they enter the restaurant. 

Once they're seated, the guards give them a bit of space so they can talk privately. Their booth is in the back of the restaurant, tucked away from most of the crowds. 

"So was I tripping or was that your boo out there?" Camie asks, smirking. 

 

Deku: jerk!! :P

 

Katsuki chuckles at the text message. 

"Yeah, my um, my boyfriend," he stumbles a little, the word still new to his tongue. 

"Shut up!" She shrieks, banging her fist against the table excitedly. "Are you friggin' serious right now?!" 

"Yes, shhh," he urges. "You can't tell anyone, okay?" 

"Aww, why?" She pouts. 

"For one, Mitsuki would have a fucking field day. For another, he'd probably get fired," he explains. Those are the obvious reasons anyway. The other, more personal, reason is that it's really nice to have something that the world doesn't know about. It's like his relationship with Deku gets to be just between them and no one else, just as it should be. 

He knows what would happen if they went public. Beyond anything with either of their careers, Katsuki's fans would eat Deku alive. Among his fans are various factions. Some would be nice and supportive. Others would be jealous that Katsuki isn't dating them. And there's several other groups that would be mad he isn't dating the person they write fan fiction about. 

Deku would be overwhelmed by it all, for sure. 

"That makes sense," she nods. "That's so cute though. Is that where you snuck off to last night?" 

She wiggles her eyebrows at him, implying something mischievous. 

"Yep," he grins. “Spent the night, too.” 

“Look at you! Aw, I’m proud of you, Kats,” Camie says, her voice warm. Katsuki gives her a quizzical look. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you’re super selective about who you want to be close to,” she explains, hitting the nail right on the head. “So the fact that you’re letting someone else in is really big for you.” 

"Yeah, maybe," He shrugs, slouching back against the booth. "I tried so hard to not be into him and I think I'm just done with that. Just gonna let it happen and see where it takes me." 

"That's good. Have you thought about what to do when things get serious?" 

"As in . . ."

"I mean, you can't keep him a secret forever," she shrugs, pointing out the inevitable. 

It's not that he wants Deku to be a secret. In fact, he very much wants to shout his feelings from the rooftops. But it's more complicated than that. 

Deku doesn't seem like he's ready for all the attention he'd get if they were to go public as a couple. Part of Katsuki is afraid it would be too much and scare him away. 

And then there's Mitsuki. 

Right now, his relationship is the only part of his life she can't control. He'd like to keep it that way for as long as possible.

— 

As infatuated as Izuku has been with Katsuki lately, his job kind of sucks sometimes. He spends long hours sitting outside of buildings and standing in venue pits just to get photos of someone he sees naked every night. It’s bizarre to think about, especially as he waits in line with people who don’t have that luxury. 

“This is my first time shooting something this big,” the girl behind him in the press line gushes. He blinks, glancing around briefly before he realizes she’s talking to him. She’s young and bright-eyed, and wears a hot pink t-shirt with Katsuki’s name on it. 

“Yeah?” he mumbles, not sure what to say. 

“How about you?” she asks. “I’m Mia, by the way.” 

“Ah,” he says, searching for the words. “I’ve been following this tour since kick-off. I guess the excitement’s kind of worn off.” 

“That’s too bad! Wow, you must be a really big fan or something to be following him around the world!” she exclaims. He grimaces at the thought of someone assuming he’s a fan . . . which is extremely confusing. 

“N-not really, it’s for work. For a magazine,” he shrugs. He doesn’t really want to get into it, especially with a stranger. 

“Oh how cool! I’m not with a publication, I just have my own photography business. I was super excited to get approved for this show!” she exclaims. “Katsuki is my favorite person, like, ever.” 

“Really?” he asks. Strange for her to say that when she’s never even met him. A part of him has the urge to be defensive and remind her of that, but he manages to hold himself back. 

“Oh yeah,” she laughs. “I’ve seen him live a few times before, just not from the photo pit! He’s really hot, too.” 

Izuku purses his lips. 

“Sorry!” she gushes. “I’m a little obsessed, you can ignore me.” 

“Okay,” he says.

“So what’s your name?” she asks. Izuku groans, not wanting to continue the conversation, but also not wanting to be too rude. He eyes the gates, cursing them for not being open yet. Ugh. 

“Midoriya,” he says, simply. She nods along and smiles. 

"Nice to meet ya," Mia smiles. She seems nice enough. But then she keeps talking. "Have you met Katsuki in real life? Since you're following the tour?" 

"I've run into him a couple times, sure," he shrugs. Pretending he doesn't know his boyfriend is much harder than he originally thought it would be. 

"Oh gosh, I would die," she groans. "I’d be so nervous!” 

“Why?” Izuku responds, almost automatically. He’s stupid for asking, really. More than likely, she’s nervous because she perceives him to have some level of extra importance due to his celebrity status. Ridiculous, really. 

“Because he’s so freaking gorgeous,” she says, like it’s obvious. And it is. Izuku would have to agree. “In my head, I’d have the courage to ask him out, but obviously that’s never going to happen.” 

“Yeah, it’s not.” Again, he’s responding without thinking, and doesn’t realize how insensitive he sounds until he sees her expression. How she looks hurt and offended that she’s squandered her dreams of being in a relationship with Katsuki. “I mean, because he’s into men.” 

“Oh, right, yeah,” she says, laughing awkwardly. “Well, has that ever been confirmed that he’s exclusively into men?” 

Izuku bites the inside of his cheek and thinks back to a conversation they had in bed where Katsuki had specifically told him that he had never been with a woman and never planned on it. But of course he can’t say that. And he’s not really up to date on every interview Katsuki’s ever given to be able to prove her wrong. 

“I don’t know,” he says. “But it’s kind of a weird thing to assume about someone. B-besides, you’ve never actually met him before, so all you’re going off is the parasocial relationship you’ve made up in your mind.” 

God, maybe he is an asshole. 

“I’m just trying to make conversation, you don’t have to be rude,” she scoffs. Izuku sighs. 

“I’m not,” he mumbles. “Sorry, I’m just tired of the way people treat celebrities, you know?” 

“Hey, don’t let this guy get to you,” Someone else suddenly butts in. Izuku whips his head to the side to see Yaoyorozu, the Plus Ultra photographer he ran into in the pit at the kickoff show. She hasn’t been to every tour date so far. Or, at least, if she has he hasn’t noticed her. “Don’t you know who he is?” 

“That’s not necessary,” Izuku snaps, frowning at her. 

“What?” The girl blinks, confused. 

“He had his fifteen minutes of fame a few months ago for getting into a social media dispute with Katsuki,” she laughs. It’s not funny unless they know the situational irony of it all, but they don’t. So he can interpret her laughter as condescending. “And he got fired from my publication. Really embarrassing.” 

“Oh . . . Oh! I remember that now!” the girl gasps, then gives Izuku a wary once-over. Apparently realizing Izuku once insulted her favorite singer is enough to completely change her opinion of him. Whatever. He’ll probably never see her again after this. “If you hate Katsuki so much, why are you here?” 

“Don’t worry about him,” Yaoyorozu says, whisking her away to let her gush about the concert all over again. Izuku rolls his eyes and stays silent, even though he’s still frustrated. 

He thinks about how Katsuki and his celebrity friends are probably somewhere backstage lounging around and for a moment he feels jealous. Things would be so much easier if he could just act like Katsuki’s boyfriend and get the VIP treatment, too. But it’s not that simple. 

Besides, no matter what happens, Izuku is not going to ever just kick back and let Katsuki take care of him. No way. He’ll make his own living and work for his money, even if they get married one day. 

Ah, fuck, wait. 

Kacchan <3 : you at the venue? 

Izuku: yeah. they won’t let press in early here, though. 

Izuku: just sitting and waiting 

He looks up from his phone for a moment at all the other photographers and journalists waiting to get into the show. And then over to Mia and Yaoyorozu who, judging by the way they keep glancing over at him, are definitely talking about him. 

Izuku: this one girl here said she’d ask you out if she ever met you 

Kacchan <3 : bullshit 

Izuku: I wanted to tell her you were taken so bad >:(

Kacchan <3: don’t worry about extras like that. 

Kacchan <3: besides, i’d bet if I walked out right now she wouldn’t say shit. 

Izuku: I bet she would 

Kacchan <3: alright, you got it let’s see 

Izuku stares at the screen for a second, processing Kacchan’s last text. What does he mean by that? Let’s see. . . 

Izuku: KACCHAN NO. 

Izuku: PLEASE

He doesn’t respond, which just leaves Izuku standing there and dreading the fact that Katsuki might actually show up just to cause a scene. Besides, what is Izuku supposed to say to him in front of a bunch of people who think they’re sworn enemies? His stomach twists with anxiety at the thought of having to act or say something he doesn’t mean to his boyfriend. 

This is so messed up. 

Kacchan <3: Just kidding, Mitsuki told me I can’t talk to the press while I’m high 

Oh.

Izuku’s skin feels cold and hot all at the same time. 

It’s crazy how just one little thing can put everything to a halt and change his mood entirely. In an instant, he suddenly doesn’t care about Mia or Yaoyorozu, or even the job he’s there to do. They all come secondary to the sudden panic he's hit with. 

He feels like he’s going to throw up as he rushes out of line and into the stadium parking lot until he finds a bench far away enough from everyone else. 

Far away enough to breathe.

Every fiber of his being screams at him to delete Katsuki’s number and block him and fly home and never speak to him ever again. Push him far away before he finds out that Katsuki's a liar and actually is just like his father. 

But he made a promise. 

He told Katsuki he wouldn’t push him away. That he would talk to him first. 

Closing his eyes, he holds his head in his hands to try and think. Images of the hurt in Katsuki's eyes before punching him in the face flash in his eyes. 

So instead he scrolls to Katsuki’s contact and presses call.

“Hey, what’s up?” Katsuki answers right away. He sounds normal, at least. That’s a good sign, right? Maybe he didn’t mean it that way. 

“H-hey,” Izuku says, his throat dry. A lump forms in his throat, making it hard for him to speak without crying. “What do you mean you’re high?”

“Oh, fuck,” he replies, like he’s forgotten something. “Not like that. I didn’t think before I sent that. Shit.” 

“No, it’s okay,” Izuku says, sniffling as a stray tear escapes. The mere thought of having to leave Katsuki had him in such a panic that this wave of relief he feels nearly knocks him out. 

Sometimes he can pretend all his trauma isn’t there, sometimes he can talk about it like it’s nothing, and then other times it hits him like an oncoming train. And there’s nothing he can do to discern which of those reactions he’s going to have. 

“I take Valium before I go on sometimes and Mitsuki’s fucking paranoid that people will think I’m on drugs,” he scoffs. Izuku blinks, processing this new information. 

“Why?” he asks, his stomach buzzing again. That’s a type of drug that people can definitely abuse and get addicted to and—

“So I don’t have a fuckin’ panic attack in front of thousands of people,” he says, chuckling darkly. And then he clears his throat. “I shoulda told you that.” 

“Yeah,” Izuku whispers. “Why didn’t you?” 

Katsuki stays quiet for a moment before he responds. 

"It's embarrassing," he admits. "It's not something a lot of people know." 

"Going on stage gives you that much anxiety?" Izuku asks. He wants to be understanding, but it still sounds strange coming from someone who is on stage every night and has been performing for years. 

"Sometimes," Katsuki says. "It's hard to explain. Mostly I think it's proactive because Mitsuki doesn't want any drama." 

How is it that Izuku is still finding reasons to hate Katsuki's mother? On top of all the other crap she does to him, she also insists on hiding his panic attacks not out of concern for him, but for the sake of convenience. Chalking up his mental health to drama.

"I'm sorry," Izuku says. 

"Don't be . . . Ah, fuck, obviously I want to keep talking to you, but I have to go get ready," he says. 

"It's okay," Izuku says. "I'll see you later." 

 

After he hangs up with Katsuki, he takes a deep breath to try and center himself. For a moment there, he had found himself teetering on the edge of something he thought would be terrible. But the conversation with Katsuki, albeit quick, was grounding and just what he needed to get back to himself. 

Once he's ready, he picks up his stuff and heads back to the gates to find that the crowd he had been a part of before is no longer there. Crap, they must have opened the gates while he was gone!

He hurries up to the gate and gets the attention of a nearby attendant. 

"Hi, I can still get in, right?" He asks, scrambling to show them his pass. The gate attendant glances at his badge and shrugs. 

"We let press in ten minutes ago." 

"So . . ." 

"So you probably should have been in line ten minutes ago," she says, her tone indifferent and tired. "If you're coming in now, you need a ticket." 

"Well all I have is my press badge which is supposed to be enough to get me in," he argues, but it's no use. 

This would be the perfect opportunity to use his connections to his advantage if he needed to! But he can't. 

Frustrated, he marches off again and pulls out his phone.

"Hey hey, it's almost show time isn't it?" Ashido says when she answers. 

"They won't let me in," Izuku says, annoyed. "I had to, um, take an important phone call. I was out of line for ten minutes and when I came back they said I needed a ticket."

"Hold on, buddy," Ashido says, stopping him from rambling further. "Go back to the gate, I'll make a couple of calls. Don't you worry about it, they'll let you in and you'll take your pretty pictures." 

"O-okay," he says, cautiously. She hangs up without saying goodbye, leaving Izuku to approach the gate again. 

"You have a ticket?" The attendant asks, raising am eyebrow. 

"Ah, no," he mumbles. She groans, but before she can say anything further, she's interrupted by a call on her headset. She furrows her brow as she listens to the message, and then turns her attention back to Izuku. 

"Let me see your badge," She says, and Izuku quickly scrambles to take it off and hand it to her. After studying it for a moment, she hands it back to him and shakes her head. "All right, you're in. Head straight for security and have your bag open and ready to be checked—" 

He nods along, not really listening as she rattles off directions. It's all the same routine as any other venue. 

When he called her he was expecting to get reamed out for missing a date and then to head back to his hotel room for the rest of the night. Now, all he can think about instead is just who Ashido called to get him in and what kind of power they have to get him in at the drop of a hat like that. 

 

 

 

 

Notes:

Song:

 

Is There Somewhere by Halsey

 

 

I hope you're all enjoying this! They're getting better at communicating and are so good for each other. Izuku wanted to run away but he caught himself.

That being said the big climax of this story is right around the corner. :)

Chapter 21: Folders for Folders

Summary:

The next several tour stops are a blur to Izuku. So much is happening every day that each one seems to fly by faster than the one before it. Some days, Izuku is so exhausted that he wishes it would just end already so he could go back home and sleep in his own bed again.

The next several tour stops are a blur to Izuku. So much is happening every day that each one seems to fly by faster than the one before it. Some days, Izuku is so exhausted that he wishes it would just end already so he could go back home and sleep in his own bed again. 

But on other days, he finds himself wishing that this tour never ends, and that he can spend every day for the rest of his life taking photos of Katsuki and fooling around with him in hotel rooms. Maybe it’s the fact that each day feels new and fresh when they’re somewhere else, but that could also be the fact that spending time with Katsuki is just so easy. When it’s just the two of them, Izuku feels like he can finally relax. 

He tries not to wonder too much about what their time together would look like once they’re both back home. 

“What’s your favorite song?” Kacchan asks him one night. He’s laying on his back on the floor, holding a little ukulele against his chest. From where Izuku sits on the bed, he can’t help but smile down at Kacchan. He wears a black, oversized t-shirt and a pair of Izuku’s boxer shorts. 

“I don’t think I have a favorite,” Izuku shrugs. He holds up his camera and focuses on his boyfriend while he idly runs his fingers against the strings of the instrument. “Probably something by Black Sabbath .” 

“God, you’re so boring,” Kacchan snickers. 

Snap.

Izuku grins at the photo preview on the screen before processing Kacchan’s words. 

“How is that boring? You know I don’t like mainstream pop shit,” he grumbles, holding up his camera again. He doesn’t take the time and effort he normally puts into his photos, partially because they’re pictures only the two of them will ever see. 

Also because they’ve split an entire bottle of wine and are both a bit tipsy. 

“Are you insinuating that Black Sabbath isn’t a mainstream band? Because that’s fuckin’ stupid,” he teases again. 

“You’re not going to hear them played on the over hyped pop stations—”

“Because they’re not a pop band!” Kacchan says, exasperated. 

“Whatever! That’s not the point,” he sighs. 

“What’s the point then?” 

“Ugh, I don’t know.” 

Kacchan sits up, repositioning the ukulele in his arms. “Then . . . shut up.” 

“Don’t tell me to shut up,” Izuku scoffs, playfully. “It’s a different genre yeah, but metal is far more complex and stuff. Metal, punk, whatever, it’s all about pushing boundaries while pop is just . . . pop.” 

“Oh?” Kacchan asks, raising an eyebrow. Izuku groans again, his words digging him deeper into this hole he didn’t even realize he was in. “It’s just pop, yet millions of people listen to it. Just like millions of fuckin’ people listen to your shit. It’s all music, it doesn't matter.” 

“It’s different isn’t it?” Izuku asks, watching curiously as Kacchan repositions his fingers and begins playing something. Izuku snaps a couple more photos, then all at one processes the sounds he’s hearing. “Is that Iron Maiden ?” 

Kacchan just looks up at him with this perfectly cocky smirk as he continues to play. He stops a few moments later and switches to another song, clearly waiting for Izuku’s attention. 

“Oh my god,” Izuku laughs. He’s never heard a ukulele cover of Tool before. “It’s still different, though.” 

“How?” Kacchan asks, this time getting up and jumping onto the bed with Izuku. He lets out an embarrassingly high-pitched screech as Kacchan jumps on the bed, standing over him and getting ready to play something else. Izuku beams, holding up his camera again. Kacchan is so beautiful.

“Because, you’re like . . . amazing and stuff,” Izuku gushes. For a moment, his mind flashes to Katsuki’s stage routine, and how none of it ever features his instrumental expertise. It’s just him dancing around in skimpy clothing and holding a microphone. Not that his voice isn’t incredible. Because it is. But even that is altered by the music and the sound distortions and whatever it is they use. 

“Of course I am.” 

“I feel like no one else really knows how amazing you are, though,” Izuku sighs. He shimmies over so  that his head is propped up against the pillows on the bed. Kacchan sits down across from him, cross-legged, while he messes with one of the strings. 

“That’s not true,” he mumbles. But his sudden change in tones tells Izuku that he knows exactly what he’s talking about. “You’ve seen how many people show up to my shit.” 

“Well, yeah, but do they know that you can not only play metal songs by ear, but also transpose them in your head and play them on a ukulele after thinking about it for two seconds,” Izuku says. “I may not know how to play music myself, but I know enough to know that that’s an amazing skill.” 

“I was just fucking around,” he says, staring down into his lap. Izuku furrows his brow and presses his lips together as he watches his boyfriend’s facial expressions change. 

“Yeah, because you love music, so it’s easy for you to just play around with it,” Izuku points out. Kacchan looks up at him again, this time his face tinged pink. “A-and I still remember when you played your song for me at your apartment. I um, I really liked that version of Hero.”

“That’s bullshit, you hate my music,” Kacchan scoffs. 

“I don’t hate your music,” he insists. “I hate your producers’ rip off of your music.” 

Kacchan rolls his eyes, his hands tensing up as he sets the instrument aside. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Izuku says. He reaches over and sets his camera down on his nightstand so that he can open his arms up to Kacchan. With a sigh, Kacchan gives and and scooches forward until he’s nestled in between Izuku’s legs and can lean back against his chest. Izuku drapes his arms around his shoulders and kisses the side of his head. 

“Don’t apologize,” Kacchan sighs. “I like that you’re honest. It’s just . . . it sucks, you know? I love music and I love performing, but the performances I do are so . . . there’s a lot of pressure.”

“Is that why you get so anxious?” Izuku asks, then thinks better of it. “Er, you don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.” 

“No, it’s fine,” Katsuki sighs. He grows quiet for a moment, and then takes another deep breath. “I think when I go on stage, I feel like it’s a test every time. I have to hit the right markers and the right movements all while singing a song that is arranged differently than I wanted and . . . it just feels like I’m acting out someone else’s vision.” 

Izuku holds him just a little bit tighter. He’s not sure what to say in response, but it’s fine because Kacchan picks back up anyway.” 

“My team has laid everything out for me. Everyone has all these expectations, and if I miss something or fuck something up or say the wrong thing, everyon gets so fucking stressed,” he sighs. “Just today I slipped up and went left when I was supposed to go right— Mitsuki reamed me out for it, too, and told me I should thank the stage crew for adjusting so quickly.” 

“I don’t think a single person noticed that. I definitely didn’t and I’ve seen your set so many times by this point,” Izuku says, hoping that it will reassure him. “I think I get it though . . . it’s a lot of pressure and work and it’s not your vision.” 

“It’s like a job. Or . . . I mean, it is a job,” he grumbles, snuggling in closer. “It’s the same thing with you, isn’t it? You don’t want to be following me around taking pictures of me, but you love photography.” 

Izuku’s stomach lurches as an intrusive thought jolts through his brain as an automatic response. 

But I do love you!

Thankfully, he’s able to hold it in, because woah. He swallows it back down and tries to focus on Kacchan’s explanation. 

“Ah, I mean . . . I like taking pictures of you now,” he says, thinking about it. “But I don’t like sneaking around and someone else captioning my photos and . . . Even if I could just stick to shooting your shows, I’d like that a lot better.” 

“So you get it . . . in a way,” he sighs, then adjusts his position again. This time, he’s on his side next to Izuku, one of his long, slender legs still tucked between Izuku’s thighs. Hopefully Kacchan doesn’t mind that Izuku’s dick is starting to stir from all the inadvertent touching. 

“I guess.” 

“You like taking pictures of my shows?” 

“Yeah,” Izuku shrugs. “I like concert photography and I like you . . . so it’s kind of perfect.” 

“Shut up,” Kacchan grins, this time smiling wide before he pulls Izuku in closer. Their lips connect effortlessly in a slow, yet passionate kiss. Izuku’s hands wander up through the legs of Kacchan’s shorts to grab at his ass. 

Most nights tend to go this way with them. They talk and laugh and then inevitably, someone does something sexy and all bets are off. Sometimes they’re like animals clawing at each other, fucking on any surface they can. Other times, like tonight, they just quietly slip under the covers and hold each other while Izuku slowly buries himself into Kacchan. 

—

In many ways, Katsuki feels like he’s living a double life. He doesn’t necessarily like keeping Deku a secret from everyone, but at the same time he likes not having to share him with the world.

He can sit in a plane seat half awake as they make their way to the next city of his tour, and everyone will just assume it’s because it’s four in the morning— anyone else would be cranky, too. 

But in reality, no one knows that Katsuki is exhausted because he was with Deku all night, drinking wine and laughing and talking. And no one knows that they fell asleep together naked and tangled in each others’ arms. Or that when Katsuki woke up startled because he forgot to set an alarm, he’d accidentally kicked his boyfriend right in the balls. 

Every moment between them, both good and bad, is for the two of them and no one else. Katsuki likes it that way. 

Once the plane is high enough in the sky, he pulls out his laptop and sets it on the little table in front of him. When he glances over, he can see that Mitsuki is buried in her work, and his bodyguards are asleep. 

He clicks through to UA-Z’s homepage, just to check and see. Before, he never really cared what they posted or said about him. It was easy to ignore. But lately he’s been a little obsessed with  checking the headlines to see what was said. 

There hasn’t been any confirmation yet as to who has been leaking information about him to the press. And Deku’s photos of him continue to get published with bizarre headlines. 

Katsuki on the phone before showtime - Maybe he’s talking to old flame Kirishima Eijirou? 

Katsuki rolls his eyes at that one. The photo isn’t anything more than him with his phone pressed to his ear while he was standing backstage one night. It’s stupid and annoying how everyone wants to try and related everything back to Kirishima. 

He’s friends with the guy, sure. But they aren’t that close. 

And ironically, Kirishima is one of the few people that know about him and Deku. 

Whatever. On to the next one.

Want legs like Katsuki’s? Try this! 

He grimaces at another one of Deku’s photos— one of him squatting down mid-performance. It’s a flattering photo for sure. It makes his legs look toned and muscular, which is great. But the photo is attached to some bogus work out plan that some underpaid journalism intern probably wrote. 

Leaving the page open, he switches back  to his phone. After glancing around their section of the plane again, he confirms that none of his team are watching him. He opens up Izuku’s photography page. The corners of his mouth curl up into a grin as he scrolls through. All of his recent photos are of Katsuki, and it reminds him of the comments he’s seen in the past bashing Izuku for becoming a Katsuki thirst account.  

But even more so than that, he can’t help but acknowledge how good his photos are that he posts on his own account. They’re shots that Deku actually likes, edited himself to his own standards. 

And they’re so much better than the grainy, weird photos that UA-Z decides to publish. 

Katsuki’s heart sinks into his stomach. 

Is this his fault? Did he really fuck up Izuku’s career so badly that this is what he has to do now? Even though Izuku claims to enjoy taking photos of Katsuki’s concerts, he knows that he never wanted to work for this kind of publication. 

He had a good job with Plus Ultra and Katsuki ruined that. 

Or maybe Mitsuki ruined it. 

Mitsuki was the one who brought it up in the first place, and the one who decided to sue. But she wasn't the one who threw a fit online and publicly blasted Izuku’s photography work. 

That was all Katsuki. 

Fuck. 

He closes the laptop immediately and slumps back in his seat. 

—

When Izuku gets into his next hotel room, the first thing he does is plug in his computer. He only has an hour until his next assignment, and he’s crunched for time because traffic was so bad. If there’s anything about this tour that he’s done with, it’s the traveling. He’s convinced he’s seen enough of the United States and their weird traffic laws and he’s ready to go back. 

Or not even that. He’s ready for scientists to build teleportation devices so that he can just appear at each location whenever he needs or wants to. 

Ugh. 

His files are a mess. 

It’s his fault for drinking too much with Kacchan and forgetting to organize his photos. Now he has to go through each of them and make a separate folder for his personal photos. It’s not a very time consuming task, just tedious and annoying. By now he has so many folders that he might need folders for his folders. 

Just as he starts to wrap up, his phone rings. For the sake of his own attention span, he wants to ignore it, but it’s Ashido, so he knows he has to. 

“Hello?” he sighs, tucking the phone in between his ear and his shoulder while he tries to multi-task and arrange the folders at the same time. 

“Midoriya!” she says, sounding alarmingly annoyed. “You never sent me your shit from yesterday.” 

“What? I definitely did, I sent you one of him on the phone, remember? It was published,” he points out. He rolls his eyes. He definitely saw it out this morning, complete with another ridiculous caption about Kirishima. 

“Yeah, I got that one. Where are the concert photos? The live action shots?” she asks. 

“Uh, I sent those too, didn’t I?” he asks, changing tabs and going through his sent emails. Crap, maybe he did forget. “Oh, dammit.” 

“Yeah, oh dammit is right. Are you distracted or something? You should be focusing on your work while you’re there. This is a business trip,” she demands. Izuku wants to argue with her about getting off his back, but he reminds himself that she’s crunched for time too, and that it isn’t worth it to mouth off. 

It’ll just get him into more trouble. 

“I know, I know,” he sighs. “I’ll send them soon. I just really have to get going because I’m almost late to the signing.” 

“You’re what?”

“I know! The drive here was terrible,” he complains, quickly dragging over the folder and sending it off to Ashido. “There, I sent it. I have to go, okay?”  

“Yeah, yeah, you better. I’ll take a look at these and get back to you about tonight,” she grumbles. Maybe she hasn’t gotten much sleep, either. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. 

“Okay,” he says. She hangs up without saying goodbye, and Izuku sets his phone down. This job is really grinding him down lately. 

It wouldn’t be as bad if it weren’t for the fact that he’s been using up any free time he has to spend with Kacchan. And then on top of that is using time that he should have for editing and sending photos to spend with Kacchan instead. 

Maybe he needs to just relax. He can be in a relationship without spending every waking moment with Katsuki, right? 

But that sucks. Because he still wants to spend those moments with Katsuki anyway. 

With another frantic sigh, he closes his laptop and hurries into the bathroom to quickly freshen up before darting out the door again. 

Katsuki has yet another fan signing. This time, it’s at a local record store, which makes it harder to get any shots of Katsuki himself. The shop is tiny and by the time he arrives, the line is out the door and around the corner. Groups of people sit outside on blankets and stadium chairs as if they’ve been waiting for hours, just to secure their spot in line. 

Izuku snaps a few photos of the line, before wandering around to the back of the building. According to his assignment notes, Katsuki would be entering through the back door, in order to avoid getting mauled by the crowds out front. It makes sense. 

What doesn’t make sense is that his assignment notes also say that he should be able to pull open the back door before Katsuki gets there, because it’ll be unlocked. It seems like a stretch, but sure enough, he’s able to pull it open with ease. If anyone notices him, they don’t say anything. 

Izuku is able to sneak through with ease and set himself up in the back corner of the store. 

The rest of the place is empty; cleared of shoppers in order to make room for the hoard of rabid Katsuki fans eager to meet their favorite super star. 

The doors open up to the front of the store, and a security team directs the line through the aisles, winding up and down and guiding them straight to Katsuki’s empty signing table. Izuku snaps a few photos of fans as they pour in, buzzing with excitement. A lot of them wear Katsuki’s merch and hold posters with his face on it. The signing table is set up with a backdrop featuring Katsuki’s newest album art. 

This whole thing is just a big marketing scheme, Izuku thinks. He read all about it. He knows that all these fans had to pre-order the album in order to get a ticket to the signing. And that their dedication to ordering before tickets sold out will be rewarded with a signature from Katsuki himself. 

Being a fan of his must be exhausting, Izuku thinks. They really put so much effort into showing their adoration for him. 

When Katsuki finally arrives, Izuku is aware because the entire store erupts into crazed screams. He holds up his camera and snaps photos of the singer as he strides over to the signing table. He’s dressed nicely in a cropped, black sweatshirt and low-rise orange cargo pants.

Okay, maybe it’s not necessarily a nice outfit. 

But he looks nice as hell in it. 

Izuku: you look hot 🔥 

Izuku smiles to himself and slides his phone back into his pocket, turning his attention back to his camera. As weird as it seems, he actually kind of likes watching the way that Katsuki interacts with his fans. He smiles at them and is patient with their antics. It shows Izuku a lot about his character, especially since he knows that Katsuki hates events like this. 

He snaps a few more photos before his phone starts to vibrate in his back pocket. With a sigh, he takes it out to check. Ashido again. 

"Hey, I'm at the signing and I can't really talk," he says. He can wait until later for her to shove more onto his plate. 

"Well this is more important," she says, quickly. Izuku grimaces at her tone. What now? "How did you get these photos of Katsuki?" 

"What do you mean?" Izuku asks, ducking behind a shelf so that he's safely out of sight. And so he can focus on the conversation. "It's from last night's show in Nashville." 

"No, I'm talking about the other ones you sent me this morning," she says, concern lacing her tone. This morning? Those are the ones he sent her— 

Oh fuck. 

"Which ones?" He chokes, his stomach quickly sinking and twisting. "I sent you the concert pictures this morning."

" No , you sent me photos of Katsuki playing a ukulele in a hotel room," she corrects. 

"Oh." 

Fuck.  

"They're great, I just can't publish them because they aren't approved." 

"Don't publish them, please, just forget you saw that and I'll send you the right ones as soon as I'm done here." 

"Oh, Midoriya, I'm not just going to forget about this," she chuckles. "There's a story here and I'm dying to know how the hell you were in that hotel room." 

"It was my room," he says, defensively. Then he mentally kicks himself because that's honestly even more incriminating. 

"Oh really?" 

"No! I mean yes but . . . Ah, crap," he says, his heart hammering in his chest. "We've been seeing each other. Please don't tell anyone I'm begging you." 

"Well, you can rest assured that I'm not going to be leaking this. Whatever this is. I'd be violating so many contracts— that's not important. I need to figure some things out and then I'll call you back later." 

"Am I fired?" 

"What? Of course not," she laughs. "Well, I shouldn't say that yet, I haven't talked to my other source yet. But just hang tight and proceed as normal until I tell you otherwise." 

And then she hangs up. 

Izuku isn't quite sure what just happened. But he does know that he's fucked up big time. 

 

Notes:

:)

Chapter 22: Momager

Summary:

"Well he's got a pretty face, that always helps." 

"His body though . . . Should he be losing weight or bulking up? What's a good look these days?" 

"We should be somewhere in the middle. Slender and strong but not overly masculine." 

"He needs to be more marketable." 

"The child star charm isn't going to last forever, right?" 

Katsuki can remember doing his best to tune out everything said in those meetings. He wasn't ever sure why he needed to be there. Just a seventeen-year-old sitting at the end of a conference table listening to older adults bicker and complain about his appearance. 

"Well he's got a pretty face, that always helps." 

"His body though . . . Should he be losing weight or bulking up? What's a good look these days?" 

"We should be somewhere in the middle. Slender and strong but not overly masculine." 

They would talk for hours. 

At first, Katsuki would get upset. Maybe even cry. 

But by this point he had become apathetic. His opinion didn't matter and if he didn't like a decision his team would tell him he'd never be successful again. 

The threat of being blacklisted in the industry was intimidating. Katsuki never wanted to find out exactly how far that threat would carry. 

 

—-

 

"What song was your favorite to record?" A fan asks as Katsuki's permanent marker glides across the front of her cd case. 

"Um," he responds, hesitating for a moment. " My Hero for sure." 

It's a lie. Recording that damn song nearly ripped out his soul. It was the last time he really tried to fight his producers on anything. And they wouldn't budge. 

"That one's my favorite!" She squeals happily, scooping up the autographed CD. "Thank you so much, I'm your biggest fan so this means a lot." 

"Welcome," he mumbles, holding in the fact that literally hundreds before her had said th3 exact same thing. They all seem to think they're the "biggest fan" or know the most about Katsuki. 

None of them know shit, though. 

He takes a deep breath and sighs. His attention turns towards the line, and his brow furrows at the sight of the security team blocking it off and barking orders to the crowd. 

"What's happening?" Katsuki asks the person closest to him. A store employee working with them to coordinate the signing. 

"That was the last of the ticket holders," he says, with a shrug. 

"I thought we would do extra if time allowed. We're early aren't we?" He asks. In reality, he'd rather not but he also feels bad for all the fans who thought they would have a chance if they stood in line all day. 

"Something came up," Mitsuki answers for him as she approaches the table. "Let's go, Katsuki. I need you in a meeting." 

"In a meeting?" He scoffs. That wasn't on his itinerary for the day. "What the fuck for?" 

"Don't worry about it," she says dismissively. She simply ushers him out the back of the building and into the car. 

They sit in silence in the back row as the driver starts to depart. Mitsuki’s nails tap against her phone as she types out what sounds like a very long email. 

Usually he'd be thankful to nor have to listen to her drone on and on about stupid shit, but this silence is almost worse. Like he doesn't know what she's up to or what to expect. 

A meeting could be about anything with Mitsuki. It could be something as simple as needing to switch up something on set to adjust for the venue. But it could also mean something as extreme as needing to cancel the rest of the tour altogether. 

The car stops in front of the hotel, and Mitsuki gets out without any sort of direction. Katsuki follows her out of the car anyway and straight into the building. 

With his anxiety heightened, everyone's gazes on him feel a little more daunting. Usually he can just tune it out and ignore the stares he gets. This time, however, he's hyper aware of the people staring and whispering and pointing. All because Katsuki is walking through the lobby being who he is. 

He could trip and fall and faceplant in the middle of the room and everyone would have an opinion about it. 

They board the elevator and ride it up to Katsuki's floor. What kind of meeting are they having up there? No offices or conference rooms? They go straight to Mitsuki’s room, which is odd, but he doesn't question it. 

But then she pushes the door open and Katsuki's jaw nearly drops to the floor. 

"What's going on?" Katsuki asks, nearly at a loss for words at the sight of Izuku sitting on a couch next to Katsuki's own PR manager. His gut twists and he suddenly feels like throwing up. 

"Kacchan!" Izuku says when they enter the room. His eyes are big and wide and red like he's been crying. What the fuck? 

"I could ask you the same question," Mitsuki scoffs, casually setting her things aside. Katsuki's head is spinning with possibilities, dreading the truth as he tries to make sense of this. "Sneaking around behind my back? I thought better of you." 

"I'm sorry, it's my fault!" Izuku gushes, his eyes so big and apologetic. What did he do? "I sent Ashido the wrong pictures and now everyone knows. I'm sorry!" 

Katsuki tries to take a deep breath, but it doesn't really work. He still feels like he's shaking from the inside out. 

"And Ashido was kind enough to let me know. So now it looks like we need to meet and go over some ground rules," Mitsuki sighs, shaking her head as she pulls her tablet out of her purse. She scrolls through a few times, then makes a video call. Moments later, that pink haired girl from the mediation is on the screen. 

Katsuki feels numb for a moment as his brain catches up and puts a few pieces together. 

"Why . . . Why are you calling her?" Katsuki asks. 

Mitsuki gives him a patronizing smirk and motions for him to sit down. 

"Oh, honey, are you really that oblivious?"

 

—

 

Izuku expects Kacchan to explode when he realizes what's going on— that Mitsuki and Ashido are clearly working together. This entire time he's been obsessed with figuring out who the "mole" is on his team. 

But he doesn't even say anything. 

Not even when she responds to him in that nasty tone of hers. He just sits down on the loveseat across from where Izuku sits. His eyes are cast downward to his shoes. 

"The team agrees that we are not going public with this relationship," the woman next to him says. Apparently she's in public relations. Izuku doesn't know her name nor does he care. "It would seem odd and wouldn't make sense given the current narrative."

"What narrative?" Izuku scoffs, taken aback by the way she talks about Katsuki's personal life as if he's not sitting right there. 

"The one we've worked so hard to put together for Katsuki," Mitsuki interjects, setting Ashido’s screen down on the coffee table. Izuku glares hard at the screen. "You've probably figured this out by now, but Ashido works for us." 

Izuku blinks. 

That's not exactly what he was thinking. He thought it was the other way around, really. Maybe that Mitsuki was paying Ashido under the table to get good press. Not that they were working together this closely.

"What's the point of that?" 

"The point is that Katsuki's career is precious and his image is carefully tailored in order to ensure his success. I didn't hire you to be his boyfriend, I hired you to be his enemy. Like an antagonist to his story," Mitsuki says, firmly. Izuku opens his mouth to respond, but no words come out. 

He just can't believe the level of insanity spewing from her lips. Katsuki is a person. Yet she's talking about him as if she's written the next great sitcom, and that sitcom is Katsuki's life.

"You hired him?" Kacchan asks, looking up from the floor. The hurt in his voice is clear and Izuku nearly panics. 

"No! No, Ashido hired me." It's true! "I was not a part of this in the slightest."

"Because I asked her to," Mitsuki clarifies, thankfully. "I saw your initial post about Katsuki and I liked your brash enthusiasm. You fit the role perfectly." 

"You told me my tan lines were showing," Katsuki points out. His brows are pinched into a frown as he studies his manager. 

"And they probably were. I knew it would get you fired up and you'd say something stupid," she says, rolling her eyes. "And you did. And Midoriya here sure delivered when he argued back. It was the perfect set up for UA-Z to recruit him as a photographer."

"So that whole lawsuit . . . That was fake?" Izuku asks, his mind reeling. "And you gave Ashido all of my assignments?" 

"You don't need to worry about what goes on behind the scenes. Everything is laid out perfectly as it should be. Or at least it was until you started whatever this is," she says, gesturing between the two of them as if she can't even validate their relationship with a label. 

"But not to worry! We're fully prepared to carry on, and well, things will be easier now I guess with everyone on the same page!" Ashido chirps. Izuku stares at her face on the screen before responding. 

"Aren't I fired?" 

"God, no, you're too good at what you do," Mitsuki says. It's a compliment but it comes across condescending. 

"As long as you stick to the script," the PR manager adds. "You will remain employed. Disclosure to anyone outside of this room regarding your employment, however, is grounds for immediate termination and potential legal action."

"Can we still see each other?" Katsuki asks. Izuku gives him a bewildered look. Is he seriously asking permission from his mother to continue dating? 

"I don't care what you do as long as no one ever finds out," she sighs, shaking her head. 

"Which would also be grounds for termination," the PR manager chimes in. "For defamation of Katsuki's public image." 

Izuku's jaw hangs open and it takes every bit of restraint to not scream. The insinuation that him dating Katsuki would defame him is ridiculous and insulting. 

"Any questions?" Mitsuki asks, flashing a bright, fake smile. 

"Yeah, like a hundred—" 

"You can ask them later, this whole ordeal is throwing off our schedule enough as it is. We need to head to the venue— Katsuki needs to shower and Midoriya needs to get a good shot of him leaving the hotel," she instructs. "Whew, you're right, Ashido, that was easier now that we're all on the same page!" 

Izuku tries to protest but within seconds, everyone has left the room except for himself and Katsuki. 

What the hell just happened?

"It was Mitsuki," Katsuki mumbles to himself. He seems a bit dazed, almost as if he's in shock from the news.

"What are you going to do?" Izuku asks him. This has to make him angry right? Izuku has seen Katsuki angry before; he'll do something about this for sure. Maybe it's Mitsuki’s turn to get punched in the nose.

"What do you mean?" Katsuki asks, looking up at him again. "There's nothing to do, is there?"

"Are you serious?" Izuku asks, exasperated. "We just found out that they've been using us since day one and your mother is the one behind it all. Doesn't that piss you off?" 

"Should have fucking figured it out sooner," he sighs. "There's nothing to do." 

"Nothing?!" 

"No? What do you want me to do? Mitsuki controls every fucking thing I do I can't just tell her to stop. Really we should be thankful she's letting us stay together."

Izuku stares at him for a moment, an unexpected hurt twisting in his stomach. 

"Are you saying you would have broken up with me if she told you to?" He asks, swallowing over a painful lump in his throat. 

"I mean . . . It's not like I would want to. I just wouldn't have had a choice." 

"What do you mean?! You're an adult, you can make decisions for yourself!" He shouts, his blood starting to boil. Katsuki has the audacity to look surprised by his outburst. 

"It's not that fucking simple," Katsuki snaps back. "It's your fault they found out anyway, I don't know why you're yelling at me." 

"I'm sorry. It was an accident. Even still, we wouldn't have been able to keep it a secret forever," Izuku argues. Sure, Izuku was in the wrong for not being diligent with his folder organization. But he's pretty sure that comes second to the fact that Katsuki asked permission to keep dating him. 

"You just don't get it," Katsuki mumbles. Izuku wants to scream. It takes a lot of willpower to not just storm out of the room and tell Katsuki to go fuck himself. 

"I'm trying, okay?" Izuku admits. "And I've been trying. For you."

"I know," Katsuki says. 

Izuku's throat tightens all over again. 

"I'm just not sure how I feel right now." 

"About what?" 

Izuku stands up and paces a few steps as he tries to put the right words together in his head. His feelings for Katsuki have only gotten stronger in the past few weeks. He had thought they were moving along just fine, getting more serious with each other. 

Falling in love. 

Maybe Izuku was stupid for letting his guard down. Maybe he's rushing into things and he doesn't know Katsuki as well as he thinks he does. 

And he really does know a lot about him. He's kind, smart and handsome. He's talented and passionate. He's anxious and has terrible stage fright, which he faces nightly just to appease his tyrant of a mother. 

Is this how it's always going to be? Izuku always losing to Mitsuki? 

It's not Katsuki's fault that he's like this. He didn't decide to be forced into stardom and molded into his mother's perfect manufactured pop star. 

But even knowing all that, Izuku isn't so sure he’s equipped to handle it. 

Tears roll down his cheeks before he even realizes he's crying. 

"About us," he finally says. Katsuki stares up at him for a moment, his eyes searching Izuku's face as if he's waiting for the punchline. 

"What?" He rasps. 

"I know that things are complicated," he says, pausing to take a deep breath. It's surprisingly hard to talk without his voice wavering. "But I don't think I can do this." 

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" 

"You were willing to break up with me at the drop of a hat just because your mom got involved," he explains. "I want you to want to be with me whether you're allowed to or not."

"I didn't mean—"

"Let me finish," Izuku sniffles. The tears are free flowing now. This whole afternoon has been such a Rollercoaster. "I know. It's just that I've been trying so hard. I know I've been an asshole but I've been working on it. Even now, I'm standing here talking to you, when all I want to do is run away. I try to go out of my comfort zone all the time, but I still need boundaries. And I think I'm justified in thinking that I deserve more than this." 

"Izuku," Katsuki says. He sounds really upset, and it hurts to hear.  "Don't." 

"I'm not doing anything. I just need to think about this," he says, quietly. "I'm gonna go back to my room, okay?" 

Katsuki blinks back tears, but doesn't say anything. He just nods and lets Izuku leave. 

 

When Izuku gets back to the room, he feels like he's going to throw up. The whole thing just went from bad to worse in a matter of minutes, and he doesn't know what to make of it anymore. 

Katsuki is an amazing person. 

But Izuku can't just sit back and watch him let other people run his life. It's infuriating and Izuku doesn't want to deal with it if Katsuki isn't ever going to listen to him. 

His fingers shake as he pulls his phone out. He has to blink back tears as he scrolls to find the contact he needs. He pauses before he presses it. 

 

Calling - Mom

 

Of all the people he's tried to push away, he's done it to her the most, especially since his father passed. 

In the past, he resented her for letting his dad get away with everything— for traumatizing him over and over again and making him feel like he was hard to love. For all the fucked up things he did and never apologized for. But as he got older he realized that she was just as much a victim as he was, maybe even more so. 

Maybe she wasn't the parent of the year by any stretch of the imagination, but Izuku knows that she cared. And that she still does. 

And that she doesn't deserve to be pushed away just because Izuku doesn't know how to talk about the past with her. 

"Hello?"

He gasps when he hears her voice, his eyes welling with tears all over again. 

"Hi Mom," he says, sitting down on the edge of the bed.  

"Hi sweetie, how are you?" She asks. "Haven't heard from you since you left for your trip." 

The realization is like a punch in the stomach, nearly knocking the wind from his chest. 

Fuck.

"I'm sorry," he chokes. "I'm so sorry. I should call more and I don't and it's really shitty and I'm sorry." 

"It's okay, you're busy, I get it . . . Are you okay? You don't sound okay," she says, her voice calm. "I hope you're being safe wherever you are." 

"I am . . . I just . . . I got myself into this situation and I don't know what to do. I didn't know who else to call," he says, honestly. He has Ochako and Denki and Shouto, but none of them would understand. They would try their best, of course. 

"What happened? You're not in any legal trouble are you?" 

"No . . . I don't think so," he says. "I've been dating someone on tour." 

"Oh? Another photographer?" 

He grimaces. "Ah, no. It's um, Katsuki?"

"Katsuki," she repeats. "Isn't he the singer?" 

"Yeah," Izuku says. 

"Well then," she chuckles. Izuku just sighs; she doesn't have to explain why she's laughing. He already knows why. 

"I know, I know . . . I really like him. But it's so hard," he says, his voice cracking under the pressure of an impending sob. 

He tells her everything. From all the times they kissed in secret to how they've been spending every free moment they can find together on this stupid tour. And she just lets him talk and cry and complain. 

It feels good to be able to sort out his thoughts. 

"I know that you'll ultimately make your own decision," his mother says once he's finished. "But I know that no one is worth changing your entire lifestyle over. The person you're with should be proud of you and you shouldn't be the only one making sacrifices and trying to better yourself." 

Her words hang heavy in his mind because he knows that she's speaking from experience. 

"But this job," he says, reflecting back to the fact that his relationship isn't the only thing riding on his decision. 

"There will always be other jobs," she reminds him. "And I know you don't want to hear this, but you could always move back home. My door is always open for you even if you don't want it." 

"Thank you," he chokes, opening up his laptop and typing in the address he needs.

The conversation doesn't change how awful he feels, but it does help him make at least one decision. If he's sure about anything, it's that he can't think about anything rationally if he's still on the road. 

His face feels numb as he stares at this screen. 

"If I can catch a flight tonight, will you pick me up from the airport when I get home?" 

"Of course." 

 

There are two weeks left of Katsuki's tour. That's plenty of time to think. If he's really serious about them, they'll be able to talk when he gets back.

So he buys the ticket and starts packing. 

Notes:

:']

If u think this was the peak just wait I'm so excited for the next chapter u have no idea

Chapter 23: Someone, Somewhere

Summary:

It was all too good to be true. Mitsuki is the only one who decides on the people that come and go from his life and this only drives that point home more. For the most part, he can pretend that he is in control.
But right now he feels utterly helpless.

Everything is fucked. 

Katsuki doesn't even know what to do or say to even begin fixing things. What Mitsuki did was horrible and deceptive, but Katsuki can't even be mad at her. If anything, he's more upset with himself that he didn't see it coming. 

It was all too good to be true. Mitsuki is the only one who decides on the people that come and go from his life and this only drives that point home more. For the most part, he can pretend that he is in control. 

But right now he feels utterly helpless. 

Izuku left the room in tears and Katsuki couldn't even say anything. He couldn't make it better and and even if he could, Mitsuki would find a way to fuck it up. Now he's back in his room, crying by himself and having to think about things. 

It makes Katsuki sick to his stomach to think that Izuku could be considering breaking up with him. Is this really all his fault? There has to be some way he can fix this mess. 

He sits down on the floor and takes in a big, but shaky, breath. The room feels too small yet too big all at the same time. 

His phone vibrates and for a moment he feels lighter as he expects it to be from Izuku. But it all comes crashing down again when he sees that it's only Mitsuki. 

Fuck. 

Mitsuki: Car will be here for you in about an hour. Don't make them wait. 

He sets the phone down on the floor again without responding. At this point, he can't even think about going on stage. But that isn’t really an option, either. He’ll get more of a headache for refusing to go on or canceling because Mitsuki won’t let him off easy. 

It’s better to just deal with it.

That’s what he’s grown used to by now— just dealing with it. But for some reason this leaves him feeling more shaken and sick  than anything else. Maybe it’s because Deku is involved. He’s never had another person in his life like that before. Now it feels like he’s a child being reprimanded after being too silly or something. Like his time with Deku was just a fantasy dream, not something that was ever actually his to have and enjoy. He let himself get too comfortable without thinking about whether or not their relationship was actually practical. 

Tears well up in his eyelids as he thinks about it. 

As much as he wants to just leave everything behind and run away with Deku and never have to deal with any of this crap ever again, he knows that it’s not possible. There are so many contracts he’d be sued for breaking, so many professional bridges forever burned. 

Not to mention the fact that he would still never be able to go anywhere without being recognized. He’s seen celebrities that haven’t been active in years get featured in UA-Z articles and social media posts. None of it ever really goes away. 

Knocking at the door pulls him from his spiraling thoughts. But then he wants to be sick all over again because he knows it’s probably Mitsuki or someone else he doesn’t want to talk to. His heart is racing already and all he wants to do is hide and cry and fuck — 

He gets up from his spot on the floor and moves to rifle through his luggage until he finds the pill vial he needs. It’s earlier than usual, but it’s fine. He needs it now or else he’s never going to be able to leave the room. Mitsuki doesn’t want him out and about when he’s on meds, but he’s never had an issue before. She’s just clearly hyper-aware of how the public might interpret things if anyone happens to notice anything. 

It doesn’t make sense, but whatever. 

The pounding on the door comes again, this time a little louder. Katsuki closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Maybe whoever it is will just go away. His eyes clench shut tighter and tighter until he hears the faint, muffled vibration of his phone against the carpet. 

One more deep breath. 

He moves over and checks the message, his hands still shaking. 

Deku: are you in your room still? 

Katsuki blinks at the message and then looks up at the door. Oh. Oh.  

Scrambling, he gets up to his feet and rushes to open the door to the room. This is it. Things are fine. Deku is coming back to say that everything is good between them and he just needed some space for a minute to process. 

Katsuki pulls the door open and forces a smile. Deku is there, alright, his eyes just as red and tired as Katsuki’s probably are. Katsuki’s eyes drop down to the backpack over his shoulders and the big suitcase rolled up next to him. It gives him an ominous feeling. 

“Can I come in for a second?” he asks, in a small voice. Katsuki nods silently, eyeing the luggage as Deku enters the room. The energy he gives off sours Katsuki’s stomach even more. As much as he tries to think positively, he can’t help but notice that Deku doesn’t seem to be happy. Just as unhappy as when he had stormed from the room earlier. 

“What’s with the suitcase?” Katsuki asks, his voice hoarse and raspy. Fuck. Izuku presses his lips together as his eyes scan over Katsuki’s face. Before he answers, he leans forward and pulls Katsuki into a hug. Feeling Izuku’s arms tight around his waist is a reassuring reminder that they haven’t actually broken up or anything. It just feels like they have. 

Leave it to Mitsuki to destroy everything good in his life. 

“What’s wrong?” Katsuki asks. “Besides everything, I mean.” 

“Um, well,” Izuku says, backing away and looking down at his suitcase. Katsuki has a bad feeling that he knows what Izuku is going to say before he says it. But he doesn’t want to acknowledge it. “I’m going home.” 

And there it is. 

“Now?” Katsuki asks, panic bubbling in his throat all over again. 

“Yeah,” he says, his face twisting. “I can’t do this . . . all this lying and being lied to and— It’s too much, you know? I didn’t sign up for being a pawn in a shady PR scheme. This is not me and it’s not what I want to be doing. Hearing you ask if we were allowed to be together really freaked me out. I know you didn't mean it but . . . I just know I can't do this.” 

Katsuki nods silently. He thinks he understands, but he still can’t help the part of him that wants to scream. That part of him wants to be selfish and make Izuku stay. Because without Izuku on this damn tour, what else does he have? Camie and Kirishima were only around for the California shows, and even then Katsuki is suddenly paranoid that maybe Mitsuki also hired them to be his friends. 

Nothing is real. Nothing is yours.

“I don’t want you to leave,” Katsuki chokes. Izuku blinks several times, like he’s trying not to cry. Maybe later they can laugh about how much they’ve cried today. It’s ridiculous, right? 

“I know,” Izuku whispers. “I just can’t keep going on with this tour. It’s not you, it’s  everything else. I need to go home and get away from it for a while. A-and then, when you get back home we can talk and . . . yeah.” 

Katsuki’s brain feels foggy and numb as his boyfriend continues to explain himself. He wants to be mad at him for leaving because Katsuki can’t just leave all this shit. It’s not fair. But the longer he stares at the other man, the harder it is to stay mad. His wild hair, his dorky backpack and his ripped jeans are all so quintessentially Izuku that Katsuki almost wants to laugh. 

“When are you leaving?” Katsuki asks him. 

“Ah . . . now?” he says, grimacing. “I got a flight that leaves in a few hours.” 

“Did you quit?” 

“Not yet, technically,” he laughs, nervously. “I’ll call Ashido on my way to the airport. Not really looking forward to that.”

Katsuki nods along, even though it breaks his heart to know that he won’t be able to fall asleep In Izuku’s arms tonight. He’d let himself get used to that along with every other bit of comfort that their relationship brought him. 

It was never going to work. Not with Mitsuki in charge. 

Maybe it’s a good thing that Izuku leaves. He can be far away from her and the sneaky things she’s capable of to try and split them up now that she knows. 

It doesn’t make it hurt any less. 

“Are you okay?” Izuku asks him. 

“No,” Katsuki says, honestly. 

“I’m sorry.” 

An uncomfortable silence falls between them, neither one knowing what to say. What is there to say? Katsuki’s not going to be able to change his mind about leaving, and nothing Izuku says could make him feel any better about this situation. It all just sucks and it’ll have to suck for a while before it gets better— 

“I love you.” 

Katsuki freezes, his eyes snapping back up to the man across from him. 

“What?” 

“I um, yeah,” Izuku mumbles, shifting uncomfortably as pink blooms in his cheeks. He stretches up just slightly to place a quick kiss against Katsuki’s cheek before he starts towards the door. Thankfully he turns back before he actually runs away. “I did mean that, just so you know. You don’t have to say anything . . . Ah, I’m leaving.” 

“Text me when you land,” Katsuki says, his lips somehow moving even though his brain is still playing Izuku’s confession on repeat. I love you. I love you. I love you. 

Holy fuck. 

 

And he can’t get it out of his head, either. Even though he somehow manages to drag himself downstairs and into the car that’s waiting for him, he’s still off on another plane of existence, his mind a giant blur of emotions. His entire body is exhausted from panicking, but his mind is still racing because Izuku loves him.  

Does he love Izuku? 

He’s terrified of saying anything, even to himself in his own head. Because just like how he got too comfortable with how things were going before, he would be even more devastated if he let himself fall in love and got his heart broken by the time he got home. 

So instead, he just plays Izuku’s words back to himself because it sounds nice. It’s nice to be loved. It’s nice to know that no one made Izuku say that to him. 

“Katsuki, pay attention, dammit!” 

He jumps and looks up, realizing that he’s letting himself slip away again. Maybe he should have waited until after soundcheck to take his meds. Usually the energy of a crowd during a show helps to keep him from getting too drowsy. 

“What?!” he shouts back. 

“The mic. The fucking mic, Katsuki,” she says, her voice annoying and shrill in his earpiece. He scowls and sings a line into the microphone so they can make sure it doesn’t sound like shit or whatever they do. “Listen, I know you’re sad about your little boyfriend, but it’s gonna have to take the back burner for now. You have a job to do.”

Her words sound nastier than usual. It’s nothing out of the ordinary for her to be criticizing him or going for his weak points. But for some reason it hits different when she mentions Izuku. She has no fucking clue how special he is to Katsuki, or how much their time together has meant to Katsuki. 

No fucking idea. 

His sadness quickly morphs into anger, and he wants to throw the damn microphone across the room. Maybe he still has time to catch that plane with Izuku. They can figure everything out later, right? 

No. 

Fuck, no, that wouldn’t work. 

All that would do would give Mitsuki another opportunity to make shit up about him. To lie and say he’s taking time off for vocal rest and even though  it would explain things to his fans if he left, it just makes Katsuki even angrier. 

He finds himself lost in meandering thoughts again, playing out various scenarios in his head until he lands on one that might actually work. Well, it could all very easily go to shit very quickly, but maybe he can take a risk for someone who loves him. 

—

Izuku’s phone conversation with Ashido is awful.  

She doesn’t argue with him or really say anything off putting. But it’s the fact that she doesn’t give any indication of how she feels about it that leaves him feeling uncomfortable. Just standard procedures. Sorry to see you go. And by not giving us two-weeks’ notice you forfeit your benefits and sick leave.

Weird. 

Thankfully he gets a bit of a sense of normalcy when Ochako is the very next person to call him.

“Izuku! What the heck are you doing? I just heard that you quit?!” she shrieks as soon as he answers. Izuku takes a big breath in, preparing himself for the long-winded explanation. He glances around at the people who pass him by at the busy airport. Everyone is rushing around and trying to get to their destinations. Interesting how everyone has a different reason for needing to catch a flight. Seeing family, business, vacations . . . or in Izuku’s case, heading home after telling his celebrity boyfriend that he loves him. 

Ahh, so weird. Why did he say that? 

“Yeah it’s just . . . not working out,” Izuku says. He’s exhausted from explaining himself. Hopefully he’ll be able to sleep on the plane at least. 

“With you and Katsuki? Oh no!” 

“I mean . . . it’s complicated,” Izuku says, shaking his head. “I told him that I love him.” 

He holds the phone a bit further from his ear as she screams. 

“Then why are you leaving?!” 

“Because! This whole thing is just shady and it doesn’t feel right and I don’t like it anymore,” he explains. “I’m tired of the sneaking and the lies and—  I don’t think I’m cut out for this kind of lifestyle.” 

“So you’re overwhelmed and running away?” she asks, and Izuku rolls his eyes. 

“No,” he states. 

“That’s what it sounds like,” she sighs. “Hey, remember when Katsuki punched you in the face for ignoring him? What do you think he’ll do this time?”

“Yes,” he says, through gritted teeth. He will literally never forget that. “I didn’t run from him, though. I told him that I was leaving and we didn’t break up. I just need to be away from the tour for a while to think.” 

“Oh,” Ochako says, her voice softening. She pauses a moment before she says anything else. “I’m proud of you for talking to him.” 

"Okay," is all he can manage to say to that without getting all blubbering and weird. 

"I'll miss you, though," she sighs. "It's been really fun having a friend at work." 

"Yeah," he agrees, feeling a slight panic of guilt as he realizes that he's leaving her as well. "We'll still hang out though, I promise."

"I'm glad. It really does seem like you're running from all this, though." 

"So what if I am?" He questions. "Sometimes knowing my limits is a good thing. I talked to my mom and she says that if I can't find a job soon, then I can stay with her if I need to. I'll be okay." 

"You talked to your mom," she says, her tone oddly scrutinizing. 

"I felt like she would understand," he says. "She's my mom." 

"And Katsuki's not your dad," Ochako says, without missing a beat. Izuku frowns. 

"I know that. But being on tour and everything— she knows it's a hard lifestyle. If I'm not up for it, then I'm not up for it. It's not like my life is over."

"Yeah, but it's not the same," she sighs deeply. "Listen, your dad's band was tiny and never left Japan on any of their tours. They had like five fans." 

"Hey!" He scoffs, defensive for some reason. "How do you know that?"

"I looked him up as soon as you told me about him," she replies. Which, to be fair, is totally something Ochako would do. 

"So what's your point?"

"My point is that your dad was an asshole who thought he was more important than he actually was," she says, not bothering to sugar coat any of it. "Katsuki has an international fanbase with millions of people who track his every move. Keeping up with Katsuki's career is different from whatever it is your dad was doing." 

"Yeah . . ." He says. He knows he snapped at Katsuki. None of this is his fault and he doesn't know anything different. He can't realistically expect Katsuki to buck against a system that is his version of normal. 

But that's the problem, isn't it? 

"But hey, leaving the publication was probably a good call. I hope you guys can work something out." 

"Me too." 

—

"I have a last minute set list note," Katsuki says, nearly breathless as he approaches the man in charge of stage production. 

"Not gonna happen," he says, shaking his head. "Unless it's orders from management." 

Katsuki groans. 

"Change it and Mitsuki doesn't have to know," Katsuki grits, his mind reeling and only capable of focusing on one thing at a time. "There's no show without me and I swear to God if you don't do this one fucking thing, I will walk out and tell Mitsuki it was your fault." 

He doesn't feel good about it, but the diva act is usually his best bet at getting what he wants. (It just doesn't work on Mitsuki.) 

"Jesus, what do you want?" The guy sighs, pulling his headset down around his neck as Katsuki grins. He pulls a folded up piece of paper from his pocket and hands it over. The guy scans it over, his brow furrowing before he looks up and gives Katsuki an incredulous look. "Are you sure? We don't have time to sound check—" 

"Yes, I'm sure," he says quickly, not even giving himself a chance to get out of it. He's passed it off officially and now his plan is in motion. 

He heads back to his dressing room, heart racing. 

This is it. 

About two more minutes pass before a knock rattles his door. 

"Leave me alone!"

But the door swings open anyway, and his eyes narrow as Mitsuki enters the room. He holds his jaw tight, not ready to talk to her about anything. It's such a confusing and infuriating situation that he doesn't even know what to say to her. 

"You're on in five, why are you still back here?" She asks. Katsuki just stares at her, not saying a word. He swallows, suddenly anxious that she somehow knows about the note he slipped to the stage manager. 

"Silent treatment, real mature Katsuki," she scoffs, shaking her head. "By the way I just heard that your little friend quit. That really fucks things up for me." 

Katsuki presses his lips together even firmer and bites the inside of his cheek. She complains as it she hasn't fucked up everything for him his entire life. 

"Still nothing? Jesus Christ, Katsuki." 

She shakes her head, having the gall to look disappointed as she finally leaves the room. As soon as the door shuts, he lets go of the breath he had been holding in. He can feel his heartbeat racing again. He just needs to get this night over with. 

Once he's somewhat calm, he ventures out into the hall and towards the stage. The crowd is already loud and buzzing as they wait for him. He stares out ahead, focused on only one thing, even as various members of his tech crew come by and hand him his microphone and his earplugs. All the motions that he's gone through hundreds of time before. 

This isn't anything new. But at the same time it's about to change everything. 

He runs out on stage and starts the show with the usual opener. He's a bit distracted but he lets the energy of the show pump him up and give him the energy that he needs for the next song. 

The music stops. 

"This next song is . . . It's one you all know, but we're going to do it a little differently this time," he says into the microphone, hoping no one catches on to the way his voice shakes and wavers. The crowd erupts into cheers as if they know what the hell he's talking about. 

His fingers shake as one of the techs runs on stage to hand him his guitar. It feels so heavy and foreign in his arms even though it's an instrument he knows so well. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" He hears in his headset. Trembling still, he reaches up to turn it off. Mitsuki’s caught on now, so there's no telling what she's going to do. If she'll try to stop him now or wait to yell at him after the show. 

"This song is called My Hero ." 

He closes his eyes and imagines he's back home, sitting in his apartment and playing for Izuku and no one else. Izuku loves me.

There are no backing tracks or vocals. Just his own voice and the guitar in his arms. 

His eyes stay closed as he starts to play. It's a little rough when he starts, but the more he plays, the more he gets into it and relaxes. Because truth be told, this is the way the song was always meant to be played. The way that Katsuki loves to play it. 

When he finishes, he feels like he's just run a marathon. The way that the crowd erupts into applause is encouraging— the type of validation he needs. 

He looks up, squinting into the stage lights as he tries to imagine the crowd, how they seem to be going crazy. 

But he doesn't have to imagine it for much longer, because as he stares out, the stage lights go out and every other light in the venue turns on. 

His stomach drops as he takes in the arena full of people. So many people. Thousands of people looking at him, waiting for him to do something. Judging him. 

He opens his mouth to try and move past it, to push on to the next song as if he hadn't just poured his heart and soul into that performance for all these strangers. In a panic, he turns to the wing where he sees Mitsuki standing there, hands on her hips. 

So he drops the guitar and runs the other way. 

 

Notes:

Songs:

 

Someone, Somewhere (Acoustic) by Asking Alexandria

Chapter 24: Layovers and Love Letters

Summary:

"Katsuki has such a beautiful voice. Mommy loves it when you sing." 

There was a time when it was just the two of them. No cameras, no public image to police. Just Katsuki playing music and Mitsuki telling him how proud she was. 

She really did want what was best for him. She wanted him to be happy and successful, for him to show the world how talented and amazing he was. 

"Katsuki has such a beautiful voice. Mommy loves it when you sing." 

There was a time when it was just the two of them. No cameras, no public image to police. Just Katsuki playing music and Mitsuki telling him how proud she was. 

She really did want what was best for him. She wanted him to be happy and successful, for him to show the world how talented and amazing he was. 

Katsuki doesn't know what to do other than run. He doesn't think twice about where he's going, just that he needs to get out.

Out of the venue, off the property, down the street. 

Running doesn't strike him as a bad idea until he notices the flash of a camera. It's immediately followed by a screech of: "Oh my god it's Katsuki!"  

Fuck. 

He slows to a halt, quickly looking around for another escape as strangers draw closer to him. Excited that they've made an encounter with a celebrity. Completely oblivious to the fact that said celebrity is in the middle of a breakdown. 

"Stay the fuck away from me!" He shouts at them, his voice hoarse from all the running. Pushing past the slowly forming crowd, he dips into a nearby bar, pleased to find that it's mostly empty. 

The man behind the bar gives him a strange look, probably questioning the way Katsuki stands back against the door like he's barricading it. 

"We don't open for another hour," he sighs, shaking his head. "Gotta prepare for everyone piling in after that concert next door." 

Hah. 

"Please," Katsuki pants. "They won't leave me alone." 

"Who won't?" The bartender asks. Katsuki opens his mouth to speak, but instead of words all that comes out is a broken sob. "Whoa, take it easy man. You can sit for a few if you need to. We just can’t serve you anything." 

"That's fine," Katsuki croaks. The man comes out from behind the bar and pads over to where he is. Katsuki watches carefully as the man gestures for him to move, then checks the door to make sure it's locked. 

He looks back at Katsuki, raising an eyebrow as he scans him over. It's not exactly a normal outfit to be running around in. The guy probably thinks he looks crazy in his black sequined shorts and fringed leather jacket. 

"You running away from the circus or something?" The guy teases, shaking his head as he walks back toward the bar. Katsuki takes a few cautious steps inward and glances around. It's not a very nice bar— grungy and dive-y and full of mismatched furniture. The kind of place Deku would probably find appealing. 

"No," he says, even though it feels like that may be true in a way. "It's my concert next door." 

"Well, shit, shouldn't you be over there?" He laughs, not seeming to recognize Katsuki at all. It's kind of nice. 

"Yeah," he whispers. "But I did something stupid and now I can't go back." 

He takes in a long, deep breath, suddenly aware of how heavy and tired his body feels. It's like the panic has settled down and now he's left with just the shell of it. He feels like he's just finished running a marathon, even though he only ran to the place next door. 

"Listen, I don't know who you are, nor do I really care," the man starts to say. He busiest himself with wiping down the bartop as he speaks. "But I do know that running from problems doesn't make them go away." 

"I know that," Katsuki mumbles. "It's complicated." 

"Yeah? I bet. But things get a lot less complicated when you face them head-on," he nods. Katsuki doesn't say anything. 

He knows the stranger is right. But it doesn't make things any easier. 

"I don't know how to do that," Katsuki admits. "It seems like everyone else is in control of everything I do and I can't get away from it." 

He doesn't know why he's telling him this. But the guy doesn't seem to recognize him in the slightest so it feels safe. 

"You were headlining next door right?" He asks. Katsuki nods. "That's a huge arena. You've got to be pretty famous to get a gig like that." 

"I guess," Katsuki says. He's never really known how to approach that subject. Telling people that he's famous sounds conceited. Acting like he's not sounds ignorant. 

"I bet you have more control than you think," he shrugs. Katsuki doesn't know how to respond because he's not quite sure what that means. 

How could he have control? Everything has been decided for him. 

"I don't," Katsuki says. "My manager decides everything for me, and if I refuse she'll—" 

"She'll what?" 

Katsuki pauses for a moment and stares. 

"I don't know." 

It's a good point. What can Mitsuki really do? 

And does Katsuki really want to find out?

"So what's your plan now? They don't sound like they're leaving anytime soon," the bartender points out, nodding towards the door. They can still hear the crowd outside, buzzing with excitement because they know that Katsuki has to come out eventually. 

"I don't know, I haven't thought that far ahead," he sighs, inviting himself to sit down on one of the barstools. 

Things were going so well at the start of the show. Katsuki had felt confident and empowered, and knew exactly what he wanted to do. But in the moment he crumbled under the weight of it all. He couldn’t take the thousands of eyes staring back at him without knowing whether or not they liked what he did. 

The few expressions he could remember seemed confused or concerned, squinting in the sudden brightness of the stadium. 

Katsuki closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, centering himself and doing his best to not get worked up all over again. This one fucking day has been dragging on forever. Now, all he wants to do is go and turn in for the night, hopefully before he has to deal with any of the repercussions of his actions. 

And, as if answering his call with the exact opposite, a loud banging at the door causes him to nearly jump from his seat. 

“We’re closed!” the bartender yells, his voice deep and loud. The banging continues, and the bartender swears under his breath something about calling the cops. Then, all at once, there’s a loud crash followed by the handle bursting from the door and falling to the ground. 

“What the fuck—”

Katsuki holds his breath, frozen in place as Mitsuki  storms in with two of his bodyguards in tow. His stomach is so twisted he nearly vomits at the sight. He knew they would catch up to him, but he didn’t think it would happen this quickly. He thought he had more time —

“There you are, what the hell was that, Katsuki?!” she yells, not wasting even a second of her time before she starts letting him have it. “I hope you’re happy. You’ve just wasted your fans’ time and money and now the entire tour is ruined.” 

“How is the entire tour ruined?” he asks, his heart still racing as his throat closes in on itself. Fuck. 

“Look, I’m not going to discuss business in the middle of . . . whatever this place is.” She wrinkles her nose in distaste for the bar environment, then shakes her head before continuing. “Long story short, you’re packing your bags and going home to take care of your mental health issues.”

Izuku has decided that he hates airports. 

Everyone is in a rush to get somewhere, and at the same time all he does is wait. He waits for his plane to take off, waits until it gets back down to the ground, waits for his luggage . . . it never ends. The layover only doubles his wait times. 

The only good thing about a layover is that he has a phone signal again and can call someone to pass the time. Katsuki’s probably sleeping by now, so he doesn’t even think to call him. With the time zones changing now that he’s waiting for a flight back to Japan on the west coast and Kacchan is all the way over—Gah, the point is, it’s a lot. 

So he calls Denki instead. 

“Hey, everything okay?” he asks, which Izuku thinks is kind of a weird way to answer the phone. 

“Ah, yeah, I’m just waiting for my flight. I’m coming home,” he sighs, grimacing as he realizes he hasn’t filled him in on that. 

“Shit, the tour is ending, then, huh?” Denki replies, which is also weird. 

“I mean . . . it’s a long story, I just don’t want to be on it anymore,” he says, vaguely adding a few details about how he quit his job and all that jazz. 

“Oh, so you weren’t there, then,” he says. 

“Where?” 

“Dude, the video’s basically gone viral,” he laughs uncomfortably. “Katsuki sang a new song and then bolted and they cut the set short. He was only on for like two songs and people are pissed.” 

“What?!” Izuku hisses, his mind reeling. “What song? He just left? I didn’t know—”

“Hey, hey, slow down, I’m sure there’s an explanation,” he suggests, but Izuku isn’t listening anymore, he’s plugging in headphones and searching the web for said video. All he can find is grainy and warped, but he can see the way the crowd buzzes in confusion as the lights in the stadium go up and Katsuki exits the stage. 

What was he doing?

“Crap,” Izuku says, his stomach churning. “I think this is my fault.” 

Worst case scenario plows through his mind like a tank. 

“How is it your fault?" Denki asks, sounding confused. "Besides, I don't know what the big deal is. I found audio of the new song and it's great? A little different, but I like it." 

"It is really good," Izuku says, his throat still tight with worry. He grimaces as he scrolls through entertainment news articles, all seemingly distraught over the incident. 

Japanese Pop Sensation, Katsuki Breaks Down Publicly

Fans Demand Refunds After Katsuki's Set is Cut Short

Is Katsuki Well Enough to Continue North American Tour? 

"I'm going to try calling him," Izuku says. Denki replies that he understands and hangs up. His heart races as he dials Katsuki's number. It rings twice, echoing in his ears. 

"Hello Midoriya." 

His heart drops into his stomach as Mitsuki's voice comes across the receiver. Why is she answering Katsuki’s phone? 

"Where's Katsuki?" Izuku asks, breathless. 

"Oh, don't worry, he's just fine. Waiting for a plane because his tour has been canceled. I don't suppose you know anything about that, do you?" She asks. Izuku freezes, thinking through his words before he speaks them. He has to remind himself that whatever she's saying might not be true. That she might just be trying to get a reaction. 

"No, this is the first I'm hearing of it," he says, doing his best to stay calm and keep his tone even. 

"I don't know what game you're trying to play, but it isn't going to work. Maybe someone like you wouldn't understand this, but Katsuki’s image is more than just him. It's an empire built after years of hard work and we aren't going to let you ruin that." 

"He's a person," Izuku says, breathlessly. She speaks as if she's talking about a corporation rather than her son. 

"Yes, a person with a higher net worth in one finger than you could ever hope to build in a lifetime," she fires back. "You will not be seeing Katsuki again." 

Click. 

Izuku's chest hollows out as he takes in her words. He's known for a while now that Mitsuki could be cruel. That she is controlling and awful and says mean things all the time. 

But this feels like a new low. 

The relationship he has with Katsuki is more complicated and different than anything he's ever experienced. It's also the best relationship he's ever been in. Hell, he's in love with Katsuki. 

He barely registers the warbled announcements echoing through the airport. One more flight and he'll be home. 

This is what he wanted— to take a step back and have time to think. He had fully planned on staying in communication with Katsuki and really working on things when his tour ends. That space would have let Izuku get used to the idea before making any rash decisions. 

But now all bets are off. 

Katsuki is on his way back to Japan, too, and Izuku will be damned if he lets Mitsuki keep them apart. 

He feels lightheaded as he boards the plane, his stomach churning as his thoughts brew. Should he? Should he not? 

Once he's seated, he scrolls through the photos on his phone. All of the photos of Katsuki that he's kept to himself. The photos of the two of them snuggled together under hotel sheets. 

He never wanted to be a secret kept from the world, but it was kind of nice to have that while it lasted. For him and Katsuki to be the only ones involved in their relationship. 

Izuku never wanted any sort of spotlight. He's witnessed the awful scrutiny that Katsuki is subjected to. But none of that compares to the rage he feels upon hearing that Mitsuki is forbidding them from being together. That's just not for her to decide. 

He chooses five of his favorites and opens up a new post. 

[ Midoriya_Photography: I love him ❤️  ]

And then he sets his phone to airplane mode so he doesn't have to deal with the repercussions just yet.

Katsuki doesn’t get his phone back in his hands until they’ve already boarded the plane. He’s just gotten comfortable when Mitsuki strides by and drops it into his lap. He scowls at her, then slides it back into his pocket. 

“Your little boyfriend called,” she says, casually. Katsuki doesn’t have any energy left to feel panicked. “I did you a favor and broke up with him for you.” 

No panic. Just numbness. 

“Why?” he asks, blinking. He doesn’t want to break up with Izuku. In fact, he wants to be with him now more than ever. If the damn plane could just hurry up and get back home so they could be together, it would be nice.

“Do you really have to ask? He’s clearly not on your level, Katsuki. My mistake for thinking he’d make for good PR. Turns out, all he’s really done is distract you from who you are and what you’re all about. Katsuki doesn’t sing acoustic rock ballads. Katsuki plays energetic pop music that makes people happy.” 

Katsuki slumps back into his seat and frowns. He should defend himself and argue back. Let her know that he’s Katsuki and he gets to decide who he is and the kind of music he plays. And that Izuku isn’t the problem. If anything, he’s one of the few people he knows that loves Katsuki for who he actually is. 

Instead, he’s more in the mood for her to walk away and stop talking which, thankfully, she does just that. He reclines back in his seat and opens his phone, his thumb hovering over a social media app and wondering if he should check it. 

Are people talking about him? Did they like the song? Did they hate it? 

As he makes up his mind, a new notification flashes across his screen. 

@Midoriya_Photography tagged you in a post. 

For a second, he doesn’t know what to do. He glances over the aisle at Mitsuki, who doesn’t appear to be paying him any attention. Curiosity gets the best of him, and he opts to click on the notification.

The post catches him off guard at first. 

But then the longer he stares at it, his lips slowly curl into a grin. Because, well, at least one of them has no problem with completely ignoring Mitsuki’s demands. 

 

Notes:

sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out!

I'm still weighing my options but im predicting about . . . 3-4 more chapters? Ish?

Chapter 25: Non Disclosure

Summary:

The shift between stale, airplane air and stepping into the airport to breathe is enough to make Izuku feel light headed. It doesn't help that he had just been jolted awake by the plane touching down. So as he walks through the halls towards the baggage claim, he's even groggier and more disoriented than usual. 

He turns on his phone, vaguely remembering that he had posted something about Katsuki. From previous incidents he had learned to turn his notifications off, so he doesn't have anything to sift through just yet. Maybe later he can go through and see if anyone has noticed it. 

The shift between stale, airplane air and stepping into the airport to breathe is enough to make Izuku feel light headed. It doesn't help that he had just been jolted awake by the plane touching down. So as he walks through the halls towards the baggage claim, he's even groggier and more disoriented than usual. 

He turns on his phone, vaguely remembering that he had posted something about Katsuki. From previous incidents he had learned to turn his notifications off, so he doesn't have anything to sift through just yet. Maybe later he can go through and see if anyone has noticed it. 

Instead, he finds his mother's number and presses the phone to his ear. 

"Hi, Izuku," she says cheerfully when she answers. 

"Hey, I just landed," he responds. He takes a moment to look around as others come and go and crowd the baggage area. As he does, he happens to notice two girls that seem to be staring right at him. 

Izuku keeps his expression calm and turns away, hoping that it was just an unfortunate incident of accidental eye contact. 

"Great! I'm still on my way, but I should be there in just a few minutes to get you," she says. 

"Okay, thanks for picking me up," he yawns. She says a quick "see ya soon" and hangs up.

His eyes flicker back over to check on the two girls. They're still staring at him. 

Had he been sleeping weird and now his hair is sticking straight up? Maybe there's something on his face? 

Whatever. He doesn't have time to deal with the opinions of strangers. 

Just as he's made up his mind about ignoring the people making fun of him, he notices the flash of a cell phone camera from someone else. He startles and looks over at the person, who quickly shoves the phone away, clearly not intending for the flash to go off. Was that pointed at him or was it just a coincidence? 

Maybe he's just sleepy and paranoid. Maybe—

"Excuse me, are you Midoriya Izuku?" 

He nearly jumps out of his own skin as one of the girls from before appears right next to him, her face bright red and her words wavering as if she's nervous to be talking to him. Glancing around like maybe she's talking to someone else, it takes him a few moments to answer her. 

"Um, yes?" He answers, not sure how this stranger knows his name. 

"Oh my gosh, I knew it!" She squeals to her friend. Before Izuku even knows what's happening, the girls lean in and hold up a phone camera to snap a picture of him. 

"Hi— what? What's going on?" He asks, confused beyond belief. Never in his life has a stranger come up to take a picture with him. He's the one who takes pictures! 

"We were literally just talking about how adorable you and Katsuki are," she laughs, and all of a sudden the dots connect in Izuku’s head. The photos! 

He didn't expect them to reach that far that quickly. Though maybe he should have given his initial social media interactions with Katsuki. 

"Who is that?" Another bystander asks, noticing the way the girls squeal around him. 

" Katsuki's new boyfriend," she supplies. And suddenly the stranger who had no interest in him before also wants a photo. 

And from there it's like a domino effect of everyone catching wind of who he is and his connection to the pop sensation. 

"Please back up, I'm really tired and I need to get my stuff and go home," he begs, but as soon as he tries to move away, the crowd just continues to grow. It's partially made up of people who recognize him from a post that's gone viral and people curious to see what everyone else is worked up about. Damn mob mentality!

When he realizes he isn't going to get to the baggage claim anytime soon, he slips away and hurries out the door instead, running to find his mom's car as soon as he possibly can. He catches her right as she pulls up and grabs the door handle before she's even fully stopped. 

"Whoa, what's the rush?" She asks, taken aback by the frantic way he enters the car. 

"People are freaking crazy," Izuku yells at her, looking back at the people who are now taking pictures of him in the car. "I didn't even get my luggage." 

"Why are they taking pictures of you?" She asks. "Did something else happen?" 

"Ah, I might have posted photos online and a few people recognized me. And then suddenly it was an entire swarm of people," he says, incredulously. "No wonder Kacchan has to have a bodyguard everywhere he goes." 

She stares past him at the crazed Katsuki fans that stay waiting to see if he’ll get out of the car again. It doesn’t make any sense why they’re going after him. What the heck did Izuku do? What sort of clout do they really have to gain by memorializing an encounter with him? Again, Izuku doesn’t condone the idolization of anyone. But at least Katsuki is famous for a conceivable reason. 

“Well, Izuku, you need your luggage don’t you?” 

“I also need to survive,” he scoffs. “Just go for now and I’ll call the airport later to see if I can pick it up at another time.” 

“If you’re sure,” she sighs. 

“Yeah, absolutely,” he says. He’s finally able to breathe a sigh of relief as they pull away and leave the crowd behind. “International travel is overrated, I never want to do that again.” 

“Really?” his mother chuckles. He rolls his eyes and lays back in his seat. As much as he’s dreading checking on it, he takes out his phone to look at his post from earlier. The one where he confessed to the entire world that he’s in love with Katsuki. 

If he lets himself think about it for too long, it’s actually a little embarrassing considering the fact that Katsuki hasn’t even reciprocated that to him yet! But it’s fine! Katsuki doesn’t have to say anything just because Izuku said something! 

Ahh. 

His stomach twists when he sees the numbers below the post. It’s never a good sign when the numbers need to be abbreviated with decimals. He should close out of it. Pretend it doesn’t exist. 

Instead, he clicks comments.

The first thread he sees is of an argument over whether or not Izuku’s post is legitimate. 

I’ll believe it when Katsuki posts about it! 

Okay but do you not see Katsuki literally in these photos?! 

What more proof do you need? 

I agree! This seems iffy. Esp. Since he’s a photographer! 

Right? It could be photo shop! 

Izuku rolls his eyes and resists the urge to explain to the last person the limits of photo editing and Izuku would have had to put a lot of time and meticulous— Fine, he’ll stop. Whatever. It doesn’t matter. 

He scrolls on. 

So cute!!! New fave couple!

One lucky dude! 

Right? Imagine getting to smash that?? 

Izuku grimaces at that, not expecting the sheer number of gross and sexually invasive comments. Like, yeah, Izuku is really lucky that he gets to have sex with Katsuki, but that’s no one else’s business. But apparently lots of people think it is. And lots of people wish they could also fuck Katsuki. 

Yikes. 

“You okay?” his mom asks, pulling him out of his doom scrolling for a moment. “You’re really quiet over there.” 

“Yeah, just reading the comments on this post,” he sighs. 

“I’m not really on social media, but I’m pretty sure people say you shouldn’t read the comments,” She hums. “Your dad used to get so mad reading reviews of his band.” 

Izuku purses his lips at the mention of his father, but doesn’t say anything. If anything, it almost feels like she’s insinuating that Izuku and his dad are alike or something. 

“I’m not mad,” he says, defensively. 

“I didn’t say you were.” 

She’s silent for a moment before she starts talking again. It’s tense and it makes Izuku feel guilty for snapping. 

“What are you going to do now?” she asks, quietly after a while. Izuku shrugs and closes out of the app. 

“Just go home I guess,” he says. “I tried calling Katsuki, but . . . I couldn’t reach him. I think his tour is canceled.” 

Mentioning it reminds him that he’d meant to look that up as well, so he unlocks his phone again and heads straight into an internet search. 

Katsuki North American Tour

The first article that populates is one written only a few hours ago, from an all too-familiar site. Apparently UA-Z is already managing just fine without him, not that he ever served any real purpose. 

The picture that heads the article is of Katsuki standing on stage, holding a guitar. It’s a nice photo, and probably a rare sight for most to see Katsuki playing an instrument. If only more people knew just how skilled he really is! 

Katsuki surprises crowd with reimagined song, exits suddenly 

During a performance last night, Japanese singer, Katsuki, surprised fans by taking out a guitar and playing a stripped down rendition of his hit song, “My Hero.” The crowd seemed to love it, but the singer’s reaction left fans feeling confused and cheated out of a complete concert experience. 

After playing the song, Katsuki appeared distressed and exited the premises quickly. Sources close to Katsuki say he’s been struggling with his mental health lately and needs a break. Additionally, the remaining U.S. tour dates have been canceled and information regarding refunds will be forthcoming. 

Well, that answers that. 

But it’s such a delicate and purposely misleading way of explaining what’s really going on. Yeah, Katsuki probably does need a break, but not from performing. He needs a break from his management team! 

“I’m sure you’ll get in touch,” his mom assures him. 

—

“What is this? What the fuck is this, Katsuki?” 

Katsuki just stares at the phone screen being shoved in his face and he struggles to hold back a laugh. It seems like Izuku’s post is really blowing up and Mitsuki has finally noticed it. 

“Don’t know,” Katsuki mumbles, as she shakes her head and goes back to scrolling. 

“I know that asshole is bad news, don’t you see it?” she scoffs. “He’s clearly using you to get attention for his photography business.” 

“Doubt it,” Katsuki replies, keeping his responses purposely short. If he doesn’t answer at all, she’ll just get even more upset. 

“Do you not care?” she asks. She gives him a disappointed look and shakes her head. “You have really made a mess of things, and I’m trying to get them cleaned up. If you care about your career you’ll help me out.” 

“Help you out?” 

“Yes, you can easily dispel the rumors by telling everyone that those photos are edited, or that you two are breaking up,” she suggests. Katsuki rolls his eyes. 

“That’s lying.” 

“Yeah? Well, sometimes a lie is what you need to make sure your entire career  doesn’t get flushed down the drain, Katsuki!” she screeches. “Why is it so hard for you to just listen to me for once in your damn life?” 

“What are you talking about? I listen to you all the fucking time!” Katsuki fires back, unable to hold it in any longer. She’s absolutely ridiculous! “You’re the one who never listens to me!” 

“Great, Katsuki. Just great.” 

Katsuki frowns and slumps back in his seat. If only he could parachute off this fucking plane and get away from her. But they have at least another hour left before that happens, so he’s stuck listening to her go on and on about Izuku and his post and how Katsuki has to do something about it.

What is she really going to do?

It’s a thought that’s been crossing his mind ever since he had that conversation with the bartender by their last venue. He had a point when he mentioned that Katsuki has more power in this situation than he probably realizes. 

Without Katsuki, who is Mitsuki going to manage? Who in their right mind would allow her to manage them the way she’s been able to manage Katsuki his entire life? 

That last hour drags on agonizingly slow. 

 But eventually, they’re finally landing back in Japan. It takes forever to get out of the airport as usual, but at least when they’re in public Mitsuki can’t be getting onto him the way she usually does. Hell, she’d be devastated if anyone knew the truth about how she treats him. 

“Welcome back,” Toshinori tells him as they both slide into the back of the car. 

“Thanks,” Katsuki says as he starts to drive away. Mitsuki, on the other hand, ignores him and immediately starts making phone calls. With that, he pulls out his own phone and manages a quick text message to Izuku before Mitsuki reaches over and snatches the device from his hand. 

Katsuki: Im back

“You are not getting on your phone right now. Until we get this disaster sorted out, I don’t need you online making an even bigger fool of yourself.”

He rolls his eyes and leans his head against the window of the car. 

When the car pulls up outside of his apartment building, he isn’t surprised to see a crowd already formed outside. Cameras from fans and professional publications are held at the ready, everyone ravenous and eager to get a statement regarding his tour. 

He takes a long deep breath before he exits. 

“Katsuki, is it true your tour is canceled?” 

“Are you headed to rehab? Rumor has it you’re being admitted.” 

“Any word on your new relationship?”

“Katsuki is not in a relationship, and he’s not being admitted. Everyone needs a break every now and then,” Mitsuki provides, her voice poised and professional as she delivers the statements she wants them to hear. He opens his mouth to refute what she’s saying, but he thinks better of it and continues inside. 

They head straight to the elevators and up to the top floor. 

It feels like a lifetime has passed since he was last home. Everything is exactly the same as he left it— empty and lifeless and boring. 

“I have to go to a meeting with PR. I need you to stay here for the time being. No phone, no shenanigans,” she warns. “And don’t try anything funny, I’m letting security know you are not to leave this building.” 

He scowls and she leaves as quickly as she entered. 

It’s like he’s a fucking child who just got grounded and it isn’t fair! Nothing that’s happening is even that bad, but since it isn’t going according to Mitsuki’s master plan, it’s bad.  

—

Kacchan <3: I’m back

Izuku stares fondly at the message, but is wary of responding. What if it’s a trap? What if Mitsuki still has Kacchan’s phone? 

He really should take a break. Ever since he arrived back at his apartment, he’s been glued to his screen, obsessively checking on comments and to see if Katsuki has sent him anything. But there isn’t anything other than the one message. No response or reply to the post he made, not even a like. 

But then he refreshes the UA-Z home page again and he’s met with another very interesting blurb. 

Sources say Katsuki is single! 

He scrutinizes the headline, and then opens the video attached to it. Mitsuki and Katsuki outside of what looks like his apartment building. Cameras flash in their faces and various reporters hold up microphones. 

“Katsuki is not in a relationship, and he’s not being admitted. Everyone needs a break every now and then.”

God, he hates her. He hates her so fucking much! If only everyone knew how awful she really was. How everything out of her mouth is a lie.  

And then he realizes he could just let them know. What’s stopping him? He can’t get fired from a job he doesn’t have, and Mitsuki’s already forbidding Izuku from seeing the man he’s in love with! What does he really have to lose besides his dignity? 

Without giving it much more thought, he goes back into his social media app and starts a new live video. His heart races because he’s never done one of them before. And in the first few seconds, he’s questioning why he’s even bothering because not a single person is— Ding!

A chime sounds as a user joins the live feed. 

“Hi,” Izuku says, acknowledging them as a few more people show up. And then a few more. And then several more. Before he’s caught up with how many people have joined, the number skyrockets. It’s almost like these people have just been sitting on their phones waiting for the next thing he has to say. 

“H-hi everyone, I’ve never done one of these before,” he says, blinking as people start typing random things into the chat box. It’s hard to keep up with, especially as he’s concentrating on his words and what he needs to say. 

It’s really important. 

“But I just wanted to tell you that yeah, you saw that right. Katsuki is my boyfriend, we’ve been together for about a month now. I love him a lot and he’s really great. I used to think he was way overrated, but then I got to know him and he’s actually really cool and so talented. Ah, that’s not the point, though. The point is that almost everything you see and hear about Katsuki is fake . . . or, not fake, but a polished version of him created by his management team. But this is real, and I promise that. His manager is greedy and controlling, and she only wants people to know Katsuki as perfect and famous and— Ahh, I’m rambling.” 

His heart races and his palms sweat as the chat box explodes again with so many questions that he can’t even parse. 

“What you all need to know is that Katsuki is talented. That song he played for his last show was what it was always meant to sound like. But again, his manager wants to control everything and doesn’t let him have any sort of control over his career. Hell, she hired me through another agency just because she wanted more publicity for Katsuki. It’s shady. I just feel like you all should know this because she can’t be trusted. Katsuki is a person with human emotions and feelings and  he doesn’t deserve to be treated this way.” 

He’s so nervous that he’s not even sure his speech was coherent.

And judging by all the comments pouring in, the people still have lots of questions. 

So he ends the stream because holy crap what did he just do?  

He nearly jumps out of his own skin when his phone rings. For a moment, he’s expecting Mitsuki to be calling him herself. But he relaxes when he sees that it’s only Ochako. 

“Hey,” he says, his voice still shaky. 

“Izuku, you’re so stupid,” she hisses. It’s not exactly what he’s hoping to hear as soon as he answers the phone, but okay. 

“What?” 

“I just saw your video,” she says. “I can’t believe you said that she hired you!” 

“Well, I mean, what are they gonna do, fire me?” he snorts, reminding her of the fact that he quit.  

“No, but I bet you signed an NDA when you were hired— We all have to at some point so people don’t just go and say things,” she reminds him, and he vaguely remembers signing a bunch of paperwork when he first started. “Izuku, that woman is going to sue you and you’re not going to have UA-Z  to back you up this time.” 

“Well . . . Fuck.”  

 

Notes:

either one or two more chapters

Chapter 26: Contractual

Summary:

While being on the road wasn’t necessarily ideal, it was exciting. Katsuki had something to do every second of every day and Deku to meet up with every evening. Now that he’s back in his own apartment, it’s like a painful reminder of how empty and lonely his life really is. 

While being on the road wasn’t necessarily ideal, it was exciting. Katsuki had something to do every second of every day and Deku to meet up with every evening. Now that he’s back in his own apartment, it’s like a painful reminder of how empty and lonely his life really is. 

His penthouse apartment is nice and he’s thankful for it. But it’s also just so big and empty for someone who lives alone. And now that Mitsuki’s jetting off to another meeting with PR, he’s confined to this space with nothing else to do but wait. 

Everything in the apartment is still and quiet, having been untouched for weeks aside from the cleaning service that comes by to dust and water his plants. The silence is intimidating, reminding Katsuki that he’s not quite sure what to do with himself when he doesn’t have anyone else. 

He takes a deep breath, tries not to get too far into his head about it. If he really wanted to, he could go to his room and turn on his computer and surf the internet to find out what people are saying about him and, more importantly, about Izuku. But that would only drive him further towards insanity. 

It’s best to just wait it out. It will all blow over eventually . . . 

Mitsuki will return his phone and figure out a way to clean this up. And eventually she’ll forget about Izuku and Katsuki can go back to seeing him behind the scenes without anyone else’s input. That would be nice, wouldn’t it? 

He wanders across the living room towards the grand piano. There isn’t a speck of dust on it—Katsuki hopes that the cleaning crew has been tipped well for that. The piano is situated next to floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the city, currently shrouded by curtains that block out the light. 

He leaves the piano for a moment and pulls back the curtains, letting the light flood the room. The city is the same as it usually is—bustling with life and activity. As he looks down, down, down at the road below, he can barely make out the crowds of people who still wait for him at the bottom. 

When he first came into all of this, it was fun. Everywhere he went people would recognize him more and more and fuck, it was actually exciting. To be out and about and have someone stop him to say that they loved his music. Each time it happened, Katsuki would be nervous, but he’d still gladly pose for a photo or sign an autograph. 

But somewhere along the lines, things changed. People seemed to grow more and more ravenous as he acquired more of this perceived fame. Instead of exciting, it became terrifying because he’d get trapped within crowds of people begging for just an ounce of his attention. 

Kind of like that first time he’d met Deku in person. 

His breath hitches in his throat as he recalls the memory. How they were shut inside that stupid bathroom together. How Deku kissed him. It was so strange at the time, and it left Katsuki feeling more confused than ever. 

But it was the beginning of something new and exciting. 

With another deep sigh, Katsuki sits down at the piano and pushes back the cover, letting his fingers run along the tops of the keys without actually playing anything. The first note he plays crashes through the heavy silence in an almost unsettling way. 

Then, as he gets further into the melody of the song, it mellows out. Instead of interrupting and startling, it’s soothing and settling. If anything, once he starts playing, he’s not sure he’s willing to stop. Stopping means that it’s going to be silent and lonely again. He’s never really alone when he’s playing his music. 

As he plays, he mulls over everything that’s gone down. How Mitsuki is out there making more plans on how to stage his life for the public, and how Deku is probably fielding thousands of questions from people over his social media posts about the two of them. 

And what is Katsuki doing? Sitting in his apartment by himself, just waiting. 

The song comes to a screeching halt at the realization. Hot tears well in his eyelids as the last notes played echo through the empty apartment. 

“Fuck,” he whispers to himself. 

What is she really going to do?  

What is she really going to do? 

His heart races as he stands up from the piano and marches towards the elevator. He mashes the button until the doors finally slide open. 

“Sorry, I was told that you can’t leave the apartment,” the elevator attendant says as soon as he sees him. Katsuki marches aboard the elevator anyway because, really, what is the attendant going to do about it? Push him? Physically prevent him from leaving? 

“I’m an adult, I can leave the apartment if I want to,” he says, simply. “Ground floor.” 

The attendant gives him a wary look, like he’s unsure if he should listen to him. 

“I said ground floor,” Katsuki repeats. 

“I could be fired,” the attendant reminds him. 

“You won’t be, I’ll make sure of it,” Katsuki says, though he’s not sure if he can really promise that. But if Mitsuki’s telling him what to do . . . who is Mitsuki without Katsuki? The attendant doesn’t look convinced, though, and to an extent, Katsuki understands. Mitsuki can be downright terrifying. 

“Fine,” Katsuki huffs, and reaches past him to hit the button himself. It’s the ground floor, doesn’t need a key anyway. “You didn’t let me down, I let myself down.” 

They ride the elevator to the ground floor in silence, and as soon as the doors open at the bottom, Katsuki storms out and approaches the front desk. 

“Where is she?” he asks the receptionist. 

“Where is—” 

“Mitsuki,” he says, quickly. He has to take a deep breath and remind himself that the lady at the desk doesn’t have anything to do with this. As amped up as he is, he should still be patient. 

“I um, I don’t know, I know she reserved the gold room this morning for a meeting,” she says, her voice timid and shy as she responds. “Is there a problem? Do you need something?” 

“Nope, that’s it, thanks,” he says, turning on his heel to go find this so-called gold room. The lower floor of the building is equipped with conference rooms and a banquet hall, none of which Katsuki is very familiar with. If anything, he typically avoids any other parts of his building aside from his own residence. 

As he marches down the hall, he passes by the front lobby and steals a glance at the crowd that remains outside. He stops for a moment to get a good look. They can’t see him from where they are, far enough from  the building to not be considered loitering. It’s absolutely insane that these people are still waiting for even a glimpse of him or insight into what’s going on with him. 

It crosses his mind momentarily that he could easily walk outside and tell them whatever the hell he wants to. And he almost acts on that impulse, but then he remembers that there are more important issues at hand, and he continues on until he comes to a room labeled Gold.

The door is shut, and when he tries the handle he finds that it’s also locked. 

“Fuck,” Katsuki mutters, before banging his fist against the door. No one answers right away, so he continues banging until the door finally swings open. He recognizes the man who answers as one of his public relations managers, Hiro, who seems surprised to see him. Ironic how he isn’t expected to be at a meeting that’s about him.

“What the fuck, Katsuki, I thought I told you to stay upstairs?” Mitsuki barks as soon as he enters the room. She’s sitting across from two other people—another PR representative he doesn’t remember the name of, and a lawyer named Sasaki. All people who are on his so-called team.

“Well, I decided I should be at this meeting, too,” he states. 

“Don’t even bother, Katsuki,” she sighs, shaking her head. “You’ve made enough of a fuss, we really don’t need—” 

“Except this is about me isn’t it? And my life?” 

“That’s very melodramatic, don’t you think? This is about your professional image,” she says, her voice calm and yet excruciatingly patronizing. “An image that this team works tirelessly to preserve.” 

“Not to mention, we have a whole other issue now that has to do with your team’s image,” Sasaki says, shaking her head. “But nothing a little lawsuit won’t fix.” 

“What are you talking about?” Katsuki asks, as Mitsuki shakes her head and rolls her eyes. 

“Your little friend decided to take to social media again,” Mitsuki says. “Violated an NDA, but it’s okay, because it was actually exactly what we needed to be able to shut him up for good.” 

Katsuki’s stomach twists, not liking the sound of that. What did Deku do this time? What NDA did he supposedly violate? 

“And what is that supposed to mean?” he asks, his voice lowered. 

“Well, I’m entitled to financial compensation for defamation, at the very least,” Mitsuki says. Katsuki freezes, using every fiber of willpower he can manage to not react. He can figure this out. He can. 

“I need my phone.” 

“Honey, I already told you—”

“My phone,” he insists. “It’s my property. You can’t withhold it from me.” 

Her eyes narrow in on his, her glare attempting to pierce right through him and deflate his confidence. It isn’t easy, but he holds firm in his stance, and doesn’t break eye contact with her. A thought passes through his head, wondering if she can hear how fast his heart is beating. If she knows how nerve-wracking this is for him.

“I’m going to interject and remind you that, while you may have your phone, you should not be on social media right now until we get this straightened out,” Sasaki sighs, pushing her glasses up onto her forehead. 

“I know that, I’m not stupid,” he scoffs. Mitsuki purses her lips and rolls her eyes, but slides the phone to the end of the conference table. Katsuki scoops it up quickly, like he’s afraid she’ll change her mind if he doesn’t act fast enough. It wouldn’t surprise him. 

“We’re done here anyway,” Mitsuki sighs, slinging her purse over her shoulder and getting up from the table. Katsuki watches as she struts away from the room and the other team members file out behind her. Everyone except for Sasaki, who stays behind, frantically typing something on her laptop. 

He freezes for a moment, suddenly paralyzed by the decision he has to make next. It took so much emotional strength just for him to come down here and make demands in the first place. Is he really even capable of going further? Of potentially upending everything he’s been so accustomed to? 

“Sasaki, I need to talk to you,” he says, clearing his throat. She looks up from her laptop and blinks, seemingly surprised that he’s still in the room. He doesn’t usually speak up at meetings when he is in attendance. And now that he thinks about it, he’s never actually spoken to her without Mitsuki present. 

But she’s Katsuki’s lawyer, isn’t she? 

“Yes?” she asks. 

“Does Mitsuki have a contract?” 

“Excuse me?” she replies, sounding taken aback. 

“She works for me, doesn’t she? She’d have to have a contract, right?” he asks. Sasaki’s eyebrows knit together in concentration, like she’s thinking very carefully about how to answer Katsuki’s question. He knows it’s risky. If Mitsuki finds out that he’s asking . . . 

Then what? What is she going to do?

“She didn’t need one when you were a minor,” she replies, which doesn’t quite answer her question. “And the situation didn’t necessarily change when you became a legal adult. But there were also no legal changes made in regard to your arrangement. Mitsuki is still in control of your affairs.” 

“But she doesn’t have to be,” Katsuki says. Sasaki clears her throat and glances back at her computer screen. 

“I suppose not.” 

“In that case, I’d like there to be a contract. Legal boundaries or something,” he says, his voice wavering as he makes the demand. He’s trying as hard as he can to maintain his stance, but it’s hard when he’s not entirely sure what he’s asking for. 

“I don’t understand.” 

“My record deal . . . is mine. My albums are mine. The income from all that is . . . is mine. Isn’t it? She’s not entitled to anything that I’ve earned. As my manager, she’s doing a job, and . . . fuck, the point is, she’s overstepping and I’m done with it.” 

Sasaki closes her eyes and sighs deeply. She looks annoyed. Pissed off, even. Katsuki presses his lips into a firm line as he watches, waiting anxiously for her response. 

“I’ll add it to my to-do list,” she grits. 

—

“So let me get this straight . . . Izuku is fucked?” Denki asks, driving the point into the ground as Izuku lays face-down on the floor of his own living room. 

“Yeah, he’s fucked,” Ochako sighs, sympathetically.  

“I get it!” Izuku groans. “I fucked up! I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now!” 

“Just wait around until she serves you papers, I guess,” Shouto suggests. Izuku lets out a pathetic groan, hating the non-advice his friends give. They all came over as soon as they knew he was home . . . and taking to the internet to make a fool of himself. 

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do! I can’t afford a lawsuit, I don’t have a job,” he says, exasperated. He sits up and looks over at the three of them sitting on the couch. He’s thankful for their support, even if they have a strange way of showing it sometimes. 

“Have you talked to Katsuki? Maybe he can help you,” Ochako suggests. Izuku frowns. 

“No,” he says, souring as he remembers how hard it is for Katsuki to stand up to his mother. He understands. Or maybe he doesn’t. It’s hard to know what exactly that must be like for him. Izuku knows what it’s like to have strained parental relationships, but if anything his experiences were pretty much the opposite. 

“Is he even back in the country yet?” 

“Yeah, he told me he was back, but I haven’t . . . He’s busy. And I don’t even know if Mitsuki has his phone or not. The last time I tried to call him, she answered,” he says, with disgust. The nasty tone she had used echoes in his ears as he recalls the conversation, and it sends a chill down his spine. 

“That’s so weird,” Ochako comments. 

“Well, whatever happens, we’re here for ya,” Denki offers. Izuku sighs. He knows that, he really does. He just wishes that knowing that could stop his heart from feeling like it’s going to beat right out of his chest. 

“I know what will cheer us up. We should order out,” Shouto suggests, already taking out his phone. “Everyone tell me what you want, it’s on me—”

They all go silent in an instant as a sharp knock comes to Izuku’s front door. Izuku’s heart stops altogether as he suddenly goes through a list in his head of people who could possibly be at his door. 

“That was fast,” Shouto says. Izuku rolls his eyes and stands up. 

“Should I answer it?” he asks, warily. “Do you think it’s a lawyer? Do you think it’s the police?” 

“No? They move fast, but not that fast,” Ochako assures him. Izuku swallows and jumps as whoever the guest is knocks again. Flustered, he hurries to the door and pulls it open, not expecting the person who bursts in as soon as he can. 

“Kacchan!” he shrieks, startled. 

Kacchan is dressed in a hooded sweatshirt and sunglasses still, but Izuku would recognize his own boyfriend anywhere. He looks good—tired, maybe. But good. And Izuku can’t help the flood of emotion that suddenly overcomes him as he moves in to wrap him in a squeezing hug. 

“I was so worried about you—” 

“You’re a fucking idiot.” 

Oh. 

“Huh?” Izuku gasps, blinking as Kacchan steps back and pushes his sunglasses up to the top of his head. He doesn’t look mad. Maybe annoyed or something. But not mad. 

“We have a lot to talk about, but the first thing is that you need to get off of social media,” Kacchan rants. 

“I know! I know, I was already told. I don’t know what came over me, just all the people and the comments and— I got mobbed in the airport, did you know that? People are crazy!” 

“Tell me about it,” he scoffs. “Don’t read the comments. And definitely don’t respond to them,” he says, firmly. Izuku can’t help the way his lips quiver under Kacchan’s scolding glare. He means well, he knows. 

But he still wants to laugh at the fact that they never would have met if it wasn’t for responding to comments on a social media post. 

“The fuck are you laughing at, stop it,” he says, ruffling his hair. 

“Izuku, who is it?” 

Kacchan jumps at the sound of Denki’s voice carrying from around the corner. His eyes go a little wider, clearly not expecting for Izuku to have company. Izuku bites his lower lip as he realizes the predicament he’s about to put himself in. If he knew Kacchan was coming over, he would have made his friends leave so they could talk properly without anyone being weird about it. 

“S-sorry, I have some friends over,” Izuku mumbles, sheepishly. Kacchan smirks at that, and invites himself further into Izuku’s apartment. Izuku follows close behind, nervously watching as Denki and Shouto are rendered speechless. 

Aha. Because they’ve only talked to him on video call, they’ve never actually met before. Of course they’d be star-struck. It is still a little awkward for his friends to be in awe of his boyfriend simply for arriving. 

“Holy fucking shit,” Denki finally says. “You’re Katsuki.” 

“I am,” he replies, glancing at Izuku. 

“Well, this is perfect timing,” Ochako says, smiling. She grins at Katsuki, clearly amused by his presence. “I was just telling Izuku that he’s probably going to get sued.” 

“Oh he definitely is,” Kacchan says, forcing Izuku back into the pit of despair he’d only just dragged himself out of. 

“Kacchan,” Izuku whines. “I can’t get sued.” 

“Yeah,” Katsuki says, shoving his hands into his pockets. “That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.” 

“Well, you’re a bajillionaire or whatever, you can help him out, right?” Denki asks, suddenly able to speak again. 

“Denki! Don’t say that, it’s rude,” Izuku scoffs. He can’t just ask his boyfriend for money. 

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Katsuki sighs. He looks around the room, looking for a place to settle his gaze where he isn’t making eye contact with anyone. Izuku knows him well enough by now to know that he’s nervous about something.  

“What happened?” he asks, softly. 

“She doesn't know it yet . . . But I fired her.” 

 

Notes:

thank you for reading!

One more chapter left!!

Chapter 27: Settlement

Summary:

"Has anyone ever told you that you're so much taller in person?" 

"Denki," Deku hisses, his face beet red and fucking adorable. His friends are clearly very excited about Katsuki's presence in Deku's apartment. Normally this sort of thing is annoying, but he's fully enjoying the way it makes his boyfriend so embarrassed. 

“It’s not that he’s tall, it’s that I forgot how short Izuku would be in comparison.” 

Notes:

Heads up this is NOT the last chapter. I ended up deciding to split this one in two! Next chapter really is the last with wrap up and epilogue!!!

"Has anyone ever told you that you're so much taller in person?" 

" Denki," Deku hisses, his face beet red and fucking adorable. His friends are clearly very excited about Katsuki's presence in Deku's apartment. Normally this sort of thing is annoying, but he's fully enjoying the way it makes his boyfriend so embarrassed. 

“It’s not that he’s tall , it’s that I forgot how short Izuku would be in comparison.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?!” Deku shrieks. He turns back to Katsuki and gives him an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t expecting you and they’re not behaving—Do you want water or something?” 

“I want you to relax,” Katsuki says, reaching out and ruffling his hair. 

“So cute,” the girl whispers. “Hey, do you remember me? I’m Uraraka, I was there when you punched Izuku in the face.” 

“Holy shit I can’t believe I missed that,” The blond says again. “Can’t say I’m surprised, though, Izuku’s very punchable.” 

Deku grumbles something under his breath, but doesn’t keep arguing with them. Katsuki can’t help but smile at the way the scene plays out in front of him. Izuku and his friends are so close to each other. Their playful banter is refreshing and . . . comfortable. The cozy, vivacious energy buzzing about the tiny living room is in stark contrast to the empty, open, loneliness of his own apartment. 

Katsuki takes a deep breath and reminds himself of why he’s here in the first place. 

“Wait a minute, who did you fire?” Uraraka speaks up, veering the rest of the group right back to the original point of the conversation. Deku looks up again, his eyes wide and rightfully concerned. Katsuki wets his lips as he prepares to speak, looking around the room. Everyone seems kind and trustworthy, but he can’t stay away from the voice in his head that reminds him that everyone is staring and probably judging him. 

“We can talk in private first,” Deku says, as if reading his mind. His fingers lace with Katsuki’s as he starts to lead him away from the others. 

“Fine! Don’t include us!” The blond scoffs. 

“Let them be, it’s probably an excuse to have sex,” the other one shrugs. 

“Oh my god.”

“Ugh!” Deku grunts, finally pulling Katsuki into another room and slamming the door behind him. The room they end up in is even smaller. There’s an unmade bed in the corner of the room, squeezed in between the wall and a computer desk. It’s not that Katsuki is uncomfortable seeing how small and simple Deku’s living space is . . . there’s just something else about it that he can’t place. 

He thinks about everything Izuku had said in his post. How he just so carelessly ran his mouth in a way that Katsuki never could have dreamed of doing. Hell, if it were that easy, Katsuki would have done it himself years ago.

“I’m so sorry, they’re ridiculous,” Deku sighs. “It’s a lot.” 

“It’s okay,” Katsuki insists, glancing through the window opposite his bed. There’s a wonderful view of the brick building right next door, and the alley below. If Deku ends up having to leave this apartment . . . is it really that much to lose? 

No, that’s not right. It’s not that Deku had nothing to lose in all of this. 

“So you fired Mitsuki?” he asks, like he doesn’t quite believe it. Katsuki swallows as his heart starts to beat even faster. Just thinking about it gives him so many anxious thoughts that he can’t quite make sense of them. He has to keep taking breaths to make sure he isn’t drowning. 

“I talked to my lawyer and . . . Basically all of my assets are in my name,” he says. “I don’t really understand it, it’s all stuff that Mitsuki would take care of for me, but I’ll have to start figuring things out. Anyway, she has a meeting with the team again in the morning, where she’ll be getting together what she needs for a lawsuit.” 

“Ah, so it is happening,” Deku says, his voice wavering. He shuffles his feet nervously before sitting down on the edge of his bed. Katsuki follows his lead and sits down next to him. The bed creaks when he sits, clearly old and worn-out. It crosses his mind that Katsuki could easily replace all of these things for Izuku without even making a dent in his life’s savings. 

But it still wouldn’t matter, because Deku still has something Katsuki doesn’t. 

“But don’t worry about it, okay?” 

“What do you mean don’t worry?! Kacchan!” He wails, flopping backwards against his mattress. “I don’t even have a job anymore, I can’t—What does she expect me to do?” 

“It doesn’t matter, because I don’t want to even let her get that far. We’re going to that meeting in the morning,” Katsuki insists. Deku props himself up on his elbows and gives Katsuki a bewildered look. 

“I can’t.” 

“Yes, you can. It’ll be fine.” 

“Easy for you to say,” Deku mutters, frowning. It’s painfully ironic, in a way. This whole time, whether he’s been aware of it or not, Katsuki has envied the way that Deku always stands up for himself and sticks to his guns, no matter how stubborn he may seem. 

“I think I’ve figured out why you’ve got such a big mouth.” 

“What the heck is that supposed to mean?!” 

Katsuki laughs, tickled by the way Deku gives him such a wary look. His eyes are wide, his jaw hangs open. He’s so fucking cute.

“I love you.” 

Katsuki’s own heart leaps into his throat as the words leave his lips way too easily. They feel foreign, like he’s speaking another language. Yet, somehow, they also feel as though he’s spoken them a hundred thousand times before. 

“What?” Deku gasps, his face white. 

Right. Katsuki’s probably gone and overloaded his brain with too much information, and now his boyfriend is short-circuiting. 

“It slipped,” Katsuki grins, unable to hide his excitement. He leans in and presses his lips against Deku’s, melting into him and reassuring him that it’s okay, he doesn’t have to say anything right now. 

Deku sighs and leans into the kiss, his lips parting as his body starts to relax. If it weren’t for the friends most likely listening outside the door, he’d try to take it a step further, but instead he pulls back.

“I love you, Kacchan,” Deku whispers, his lips curling into a wobbly smile. “Uh . . . but why do I have a big mouth?” 

Katsuki laughs. “I was just thinking out loud. I’ve been trying to figure you out. You always just say whatever you want, even if it gets you in trouble sometimes, and I think I get it now.” 

“I don’t have much of a filter, do I?” 

“Nope,” Katsuki chuckles. “But you do have a lot of people who care about you. And I’m sure, in some weird way, you know that no matter what you say, your friends are supportive and honest. I’m kind of jealous of all that.” 

“You have friends, too,” Izuku reminds him. Katsuki nods. 

“Friends, yeah. Who are also caught up in the industry. Even when you get close to someone, it’s hard to know who you can really trust,” Katsuki admits. Sure he trusts Camie. There’s just something different about his friendship with her and the way Izuku is with his friends. “Maybe I’m just being melodramatic because of everything going on, but it’s true.” 

“I don’t know, maybe,” Izuku shrugs. “Maybe it’s because I have daddy issues and crave attention.” 

“That too,” Katsuki chuckles, reaching out to ruffle his boyfriend’s hair. 

“I-in all seriousness, I know I’m not perfect, and I’m sorry I spoke without thinking again. I know it makes things harder for you. To be honest, your life terrifies me. The way everyone thinks they know everything about you . . . and yet they know nothing at all. It’s intimidating,” Deku explains, his voice low and kind of sad. 

“You get used to it,” Katsuki says. Izuku gives him a puzzled look, to which Katsuki replies by flicking him in the nose. “You told the world about us, people are already talking.” 

“Right, I know. All the comments—”

“Fuck the comments, you gotta just ignore them,” Katsuki insists. He reaches over and takes Deku’s hand gently. “We’ll figure it out, okay?”

Deku gives him a small smile and nods. 

They’re together now, and anything else that comes their way, they’ll face it together. 

—

Izuku has never liked dressing up. So the fact that he’s dressed in an outfit Kacchan picked for him, with his tie tied way too tight, makes this whole meeting situation even more uncomfortable. At least Kacchan seems to have a plan. 

He barely slept the night before, kept up both by the anxiety of the meeting and the fact that Kacchan decided to spend the night. They hadn’t slept in the same bed outside of hotel rooms, so it was a little embarrassing to squeeze onto Izuku’s tiny mattress. 

When they leave the building in the morning, Izuku is mortified to find that there are already onlookers with their phones and cameras out to snap photos of the two of them. 

“Don’t look at them,” Kacchan mumbles as he loops their arms together and leads him to the black sedan parked out front. 

“But—”

“Don’t,” he insists. Izuku’s stomach is coming apart from the inside out, but he follows Kacchan’s advice anyway and averts his eyes from the photographers anyway. Instead, he concentrates on getting into the car and noticing the fine, leather interior. 

“Good Morning, Mr. Bakugou,” the driver says, glancing at the two of them through his rearview mirror. “Is this who I think it is?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Kacchan says, his cheeks turning an adorable shade of pink. 

“Nice to meet you, young man. I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

“You have?” 

“Not that much,” Kacchan clears his throat. Izuku grins and drops the subject, weirdly flattered by the thought of Kacchan telling his driver about him. This is the same car he’s seen Katsuki get in and out of countless times. He wonders if he always has the same driver. Is this something else he’ll have to get used to while dating Katsuki? Not that it’s a bad thing! Izuku’s own car is a piece of junk and can’t go too far anyway. 

“You know, Mitsuki tried to send for you last night,” The driver says to Katsuki. “Didn’t sound too happy.” 

“Makes sense,” Kacchan mumbles. “I’m in some pretty deep shit right now.” 

“I figured. It’s been pretty tense between the two of you ever since you’ve been back in the country,” he sighs. He pauses for a moment before adding, “More so than usual.” 

“Yeah,” Is all Kacchan has to say about that. 

“Well, don’t worry I won’t pester you too much,” he says, letting the car go silent as he drives. Izuku takes a deep breath, staring out the tinted window as the city flies by. He shivers as fingers brush against his thigh, sliding over top with a gentle pat. 

Izuku turns and places his hand over Kacchan’s, accepting the silent comfort. 

The car ride isn’t too long, and Izuku recognizes the building they park in front of as Kacchan’s. It seems so long ago that he was here last, arguing with the elevator attendant to let him up to Kacchan’s penthouse apartment. That night was the first time they hung out together, alone. It was also the first time they slept together, finally giving in to all that building tension. 

“When we get out, we’re heading straight inside, don’t talk to anyone,” Katsuki insists. Izuku nods, glancing at the reporters and fans crowded outside the building. They aren’t blocking the door or anything; they’re far enough away to not be considered on the property line. 

“Got it,” Izuku says, his voice more wobbly than he’s expecting. 

“We’re going to be okay,” Kacchan assures him. 

“Okay.” 

He watches as Kacchan takes another deep breath before pushing the door open and all but dragging Izuku out behind him. He hooks a strong arm around his shoulders, holding onto him tight as if he thinks he might wander off and accidentally run his mouth to a reporter. 

And, to be fair, thinking that would be justified. 

People scream and shout when they see the two of them together, and it reminds Izuku of the chaos he’d encountered at the airport when he was first recognized. But thankfully it’s over quickly with the help of building security ensuring a safe entrance at the door. 

It’s scary. But Kacchan doesn’t seem fazed. He takes it all so effortlessly, going through the motions like a true professional. Maybe Kacchan is right, maybe Izuku will get used to it. Eventually. 

Kacchan marches them down the hall, away from the elevators that would take them to his penthouse. At the end of the hallway, they stop at a door with a sign to the side that states In Use: Private Reservation. Some sort of conference room. Kacchan moves to push it open anyway, but pauses for a moment. 

“Let me do the talking, okay?” Kacchan reminds him. 

“That’s for the best,” he laughs nervously. Kacchan gives him a nervous smile, but finally pushes the door open and marches in. It’s actually really cool to see Kacchan seeming so confident, going into this meeting ready to stand up for himself. Izuku is so proud of him. 

“What is this?” Mitsuki scoffs as soon as they enter. Izuku’s stomach just about falls out his ass at the sight he walks in on. Very professional-looking people sitting around a table, headed by Mitsuki. But that isn’t the only familiar face he lands on. Ashido is also in the room. 

“Midoriya, we were just talking about you,” she grins. Izuku bites the inside of his cheek in an attempt to keep quiet. She’s just trying to intimidate him, probably. It’s fine. It’s fine. None of these damn people would be in this room if it weren’t for Katsuki in the first place! 

“We’re not done with the paperwork, Katsuki, you’re going to have to wait. This is a private meeting, anyway,” Mitsuki says, her eyes locked on her son. 

“No, you’re going to wait. This is fucking insane,” Kacchan grits. Izuku watches carefully, worried about the way that he seems so anxious all of a sudden. But he knows he has to let Kacchan talk. 

“Language, please,” Mitsuki chuckles. 

“I don’t care,” Katsuki says, then turns to a woman that Izuku doesn’t recognize. “Sasaki, the contract.” 

“Contract?” Mitsuki scoffs, then glares as the woman fishes something out of a leather-bound portfolio. “What the hell is this?” 

“An employment contract,” Kacchan supplies. “For whoever I find to be my new manager.” 

Mitsuki stares at him for a moment, her grin still smug, like she’s waiting for Kacchan to crumble under the pressure of this confident facade he’s putting on. Like it’s just another performance of his. 

“I’m sorry, what the fuck?” she says, finally breaking when she realizes Kacchan is being serious. She snatches the document from Sasaki and scans over it. “This is bullshit. You don’t need a management contract. I’m your manager.” 

“N-no, you’re not,” he chokes. “Not anymore. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure this lawsuit doesn’t see the light of day. Izuku doesn’t need this, he was just trying to help.” 

“Yeah, that’s great, but he broke my contract,” Ashido speaks up. “It’s going to take a lot of PR to get people to stop talking.” 

“Name your price, and I’ll pay it, just make it go away,” Kacchan says, sharply. Izuku feels a little guilty knowing that Katsuki is willing to shell out some horrific sum of money just to get UA-Z off his ass. He’ll have to find a way to make it up to him. Pay him back. Yeah. 

“Sweet, I’ll send an invoice,” Ashido says, surprisingly quick with her decision to settle. 

“Are you kidding me?” Mitsuki asks, incredulously. Ashido shrugs. 

“Hon, I don’t have time for lawsuits, and money will go pretty far for us to make this all go away,” Ashido explains. “It’s simple.” 

“Then what about me? I still have my defamation of character to deal with,” Mitsuki scoffs. “You heard what he said about me. Millions of people have seen it by now, what will they think?” 

“Well, it sounds like he’s willing to settle,” another man says. Izuku doesn’t know everyone in the room, but he assumes this guy is some lawyer or PR guy or something. 

“We’ll have to re-do the suit, anyway,” Sasaki mentions. “Instead of Katsuki’s team against Midoriya, it would be Mrs. Bakugou on her own. Which, in my professional opinion, is a much weaker case.” 

“Unbelievable,” Mitsuki mutters. 

“Is it, though?” Kacchan chokes. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to be! All you do is try to control me and my image and you never stop to think about how I’m feeling.” 

“Kacchan,” Izuku whispers, sadly. He places his hand against his shoulder, trying to calm him as he lets his emotions finally spill over. All of that anger towards her that he’d been holding back this entire time. 

“Really, this is letting you off easy! I could . . . I could easily go against you for years of psychological damage,” he rasps. 

“It wouldn’t be that easy,” Sasaki mumbles. 

“Please, psychological damage? What psychological damage?” she scoffs. “I’ve taken care of you for years. I set you up for success and helped you achieve your dreams. This is how you repay me?” 

“Repay you?” Kacchan scoffs. 

“You’re his mother, he doesn’t owe you shit!” Izuku finally shouts. He startles himself and turns to Kacchan. “I’m sorry, I know I said I’d let you talk, but this is ridiculous! Parents are supposed to do all of those things! They’re supposed to love you and take care of you and . . . But you guys don’t even listen to what Katsuki wants! He doesn’t get to say what he thinks and he doesn’t get to play the music he writes! Kacchan is so amazing and talented and he deserves to be free of . . . this. Whatever this is.” 

“What the hell do you know, kid?” 

“I’m not a kid. And Katsuki isn’t, either. I know him. I know how talented and skilled he is and that what he has now isn’t what he wants.” 

“Is that true, Katsuki?” 

Izuku swallows, nervous for a moment that now he’s really fucked up and said something he shouldn’t have. 

“It is,” Katsuki finally says. “I want more say in what I do with my career and I want to be on the production team for my own albums. . . And I want to direct the music videos and I don’t want to see Inasa anymore and I want to eat ice cream whenever the fuck I want to!” 

The room goes silent, and Kacchan pants as if he’s just finished a heavy workout. His face is bright red, but he almost looks relieved. 

“Here’s the thing. You can pull your little diva tantrum all you want, I know you’ll eventually come crying back to me when you realize this management shit isn’t as easy as you think it is. So fine. I’ll wash my hands of this for now, and I’ll take a settlement,” she says, with a self-satisfied smirk. It’s almost patronizing. No, it is patronizing and condescending. She doesn’t think Kacchan will go through with it. Or she doesn’t think he can.

Kacchan holds his ground as the other man hands him a copy of whatever demands they had written up before. He frowns and flips through it, then slams it back down on the table. 

“What is it?” Izuku asks. 

“1.5 million yen and a public apology,” Katsuki mutters. Izuku nearly passes out on the spot. 

“That’s insane!” 

“Right? He’s not fucking apologizing.” 

Well. That’s not the part Izuku was talking about! How much money does Kacchan have?! Is it wrong to do an internet search to find out his boyfriend’s net worth? 

“Then we go to court,” Mitsuki says. 

“I can apologize, it’s fine,” Izuku insists. “If that’s all it takes. I just don’t have that kind of money.” 

Kacchan is silent for a moment again, and Izuku isn’t sure how he’ll react or if he’ll offer to pay yet another legal settlement on Izuku’s behalf. Izuku will just have to be forever indebted to him. 

“I can pay it,” Katsuki says, evenly. His tone is alarmingly neutral. 

“All this for a guy. ” 

“A guy who loves me,” he says, firmly. “I’ll have the check in your hands by the end of the day. If you really care about me . . . If you’re willing to finally be my mom and not my manager . . . then, you’ll shred it.” 

Mitsuki’s expression is unreadable as she stares at Katsuki. She almost seems . . . sad? Her smirk is gone, her face void of emotion. 

With that, Kacchan turns on his heel and marches out of the room. 

Izuku hurries after him, his legs working quickly to keep up with Katsuki as he stalks off towards the elevators. The attendant lets them both in without a word and turns the key to take them upstairs to the penthouse. 

Izuku doesn’t say anything, hyper-aware of the attendant in the elevator with them, as well as the tears streaming down Kacchan’s cheeks. But as soon as they’re up at the top, and are finally alone again, Kacchan collapses against him and lets out a loud sob that nearly shatters Izuku’s heart. 

“You did so well,” Izuku says softly, blinking back his own tears as he wraps his arms tight around his Kacchan. “I’m so proud of you.” 

Kacchan just clings to him harder in response. 

He’s not sure how long they stand there in the hallway, with Izuku holding onto Katsuki while he cries. It’s almost cathartic, like all these emotions can finally come out. They can finally be realized and dealt with. Izuku isn’t sure what to do, but he knows what he can do. He can stay there with Kacchan and let him know that he isn’t going anywhere. 

That he loves him. 

“Do you think she’s going to?” Kacchan mumbles after a while. His crying has slowed to a sniffle, his body heavy against Izuku. 

“Hmm? Going to what?” 

“Cash the check?” 

“I . . . I don’t know. But you said what you needed to. The ball is in her court now. No matter what happens, I’ll be here, okay?” Izuku tells him. Katsuki nods against his shoulder. “I love you, Kacchan.” 

“I love you, too,” Katsuki replies. 

All they have to do now, is wait. 

Notes:

thank u for reading I hope u enjoyed

Chapter 28: Old and New

Summary:

The next morning, Katsuki is interrupted from his sleep by a sharp knock on his bedroom door. His eyelids feel heavy even as they snap open. All that crying from the night before really wore him out. The bed shifts next to him as Deku sits up, a little more alert than he is. 

Notes:

IM SO SORRY I FORGOT I DIDNT FINISH THIS ONE PLEASE FORGIVE ME.

The next morning, Katsuki is interrupted from his sleep by a sharp knock on his bedroom door. His eyelids feel heavy even as they snap open. All that crying from the night before really wore him out. The bed shifts next to him as Deku sits up, a little more alert than he is. 

"Who's that?" Deku whispers. 

"Don't know," Katsuki rasps, as the knocking sounds again. 

"Katsuki! I know you're in there," his mother's voice puts him on edge immediately. What is she doing here?! With a gasp, he sits up and looks at Deku with wide eyes. 

This is it. She's here to collect the check and cash it because that's all she's ever cared about. He'd expected that from her, he's not surprised or anything. For some reason, though, now that she's here, it feels real. 

"Just a second!" Deku calls out, taking his cue from Katsuki. Then, he turns back to Katsuki and lowers his voice to a whisper. “Are you okay?” 

He thinks about it for a minute. The nervous, scared, dependent side of himself wants to cave and apologize and pretend nothing ever happened. That’s easier than confrontation, it seems. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath. He has to do this. No turning back now. 

“Yeah,” he finally says, hoping that if he says that out loud, maybe he can convince himself to believe it.  

“Do you want her to come in?” Deku asks. It’s honestly surprising that she hasn’t invited herself in already. Normally, she doesn’t respect his privacy enough to knock before barging into his room. Katsuki clears his throat and sits up in bed, looking between the two of them to double-check that they’re both fully clothed. 

“Might as well get it over with,” he sighs. With one last deep, calming breath, he climbs out of bed and pads over to the door. His hands sweat with anticipation as he reaches for the door handle. When he pulls it open, he’s prepared to explain to her that he doesn’t actually know where his checkbook is, and that if she wants the damn money, she needs to find it herself. 

But when he sees her, he’s speechless. Nothing comes from his lips, he just freezes in his place. 

“We need to talk,” she says, simply. She isn’t yelling, she’s really not giving off any sort of readable emotion, and it’s unsettling. Her eyes dart past him for a moment, eyeing Deku still in the bedroom behind him. 

“I don’t know where the checkbook is,” he finally blurts out. Her lips part for a moment, and then she closes her eyes and shakes her head. 

“That’s fine, I just want to talk,” she insists, her voice a bit softer this time. Her eyes glance over his shoulder once more. “ Alone.”  

“Okay,” he agrees, even though his stomach is churning. He turns back to Deku for a moment, to silently reassure him that he’ll be alright on his own. Then, he closes the door behind him and follows her out into the hallway. 

“Katsuki, I . . . Look, I never meant for things to get so out of hand,” she says. It’s not an apology, but it’s surprisingly close to one. Katsuki presses his lips together and crosses his arms over his chest. “I didn’t realize you were so unhappy.” 

“I wouldn’t say I’m unhappy,” he mumbles. “It’s not that I don’t love what I do, it’s that I’m tired. I’m tired of never having a say in anything. I’m tired of being treated like a child.” 

His mother sighs and nods. “I just wanted to protect you.” 

“How? By controlling everything I did?” he scoffs, his words picking up more of a bite to them. 

“No! I mean . . . Yes? God, Katsuki, you don’t even know. Ever since you were a little kid you’ve been so sensitive. To criticism. To your relationships. I always thought that if I wasn’t the one calling the shots, you’d be eaten alive by this world.” 

Katsuki furrows his brow. As much as he wants to be angry and offended, in many ways she’s right. When he was younger, he used to cry and complain about everything. What would he have done with himself if she hadn’t pulled him out of public school? Or set all of his schedules so he didn’t have to? 

“I’m not that same little kid anymore,” he tells her, calmly. 

“You’re right. You’re not,” she nods. 

Silence falls between them for a moment, and a lump grows in Katsuki’s throat. Is this it? 

“You’re here for the money, I take it?” He finally asks, his voice shaking. 

“Katsuki,” she says, giving him a very pointed look. “Is there any way I can make this right without being fired as your manager? You mentioned an employment contract. If that would make you feel better, I could sign something, we can—”

“No, No, I think . . . I think in order to move forward I can’t have you on as my manager,” he tells her. “I would like for you to stay in my life as my mom. I just can’t do it if you’re not going to drop the lawsuit against Izuku.” 

She lowers her eyes for a moment, thinking over her words carefully. Katsuki holds his breath, only letting go of a sigh of relief when she looks up at him and smiles. 

“If I’m not going to be your manager, then frankly I don’t want to be anyone’s manager.” 

“And?” 

“And, if I’m not anyone’s manager, then what does it matter?” She shrugs, with an exasperated laugh. 

“Wait. Does that—Are you serious?” he gasps. 

“Yes. Katsuki, I know it’s going to take more than this conversation to get you to believe that I have your best interests at heart. And I can’t start proving that to you by taking your money and never seeing you again.” 

Katsuki gapes at her in disbelief. Is she serious?! She’s really just going to let it go, after all that? 

“Thank you. Thank you so much,” he says. She holds open her arms and pulls him in for a hug. It’s awkward, given the fact that he can’t remember the last time she’s hugged him. But it’s reassuring all the same. “I’m so relieved.” 

“Good! Good,” she says, taking a deep breath. “So, who do you have lined up?” 

“Huh?” 

“Katsuki!” she hisses, her eyes wide. “Are you telling me you’re going to fire me, and not even have someone ready to take my place? I’m not trying to make any decisions for you, but this is reality. A lot of shit’s been going down and if you want the drama to go away, you need someone familiar with the industry doing damage control.” 

“O-okay,” he swallows, his heart pounding as he takes in what she’s saying. She’s right. That’s something he really can’t handle on his own. 

“Tell you what, you find someone and I will catch them up on your contacts and standing appointments," she sighs, shaking her head. 

This is all exactly what he wanted to happen. Best case scenario, honestly. But for whatever reason, he can't help the swirling pit of anxiety churning in his stomach. As shitty as she was to him, having his mother in charge of things also meant that he never had to bear the burden of certain responsibilities. It's daunting, even though he knows it's what he needs to do. 

He hates that he’s so helpless in that sense, and that for so long he’d let other people control his life to the point where he doesn’t even know how to be in control. 

“Katsuki?” 

“Hmm?” He chirps, catching himself from falling deeper into his thought spiral. His mother gives him an expectant look. 

“Did you hear me?” 

“Find someone else, yeah,” he mumbles, blinking as he wracks his brain. Where would he even begin to look for someone else? Even though it seems logical, he doesn’t want to ask his mother for any contacts. With his luck, she’d get him someone who was just like her, or who would give her back her control. Agh. This fucking sucks! 

“Well, I have to go meet with my lawyer again to clear the air. Let me know when you figure it out, okay?” she says, looking down at her watch with a slight tinge of annoyance. “And you don’t have all the time in the world, Katsuki. It’s a 24-hour news cycle. Remember that. That saying that all publicity is good publicity is a damn lie, okay?” 

“Okay,” he says, even though her advice isn’t reassuring in the slightest. At least she’s being honest, though? 

“Alright . . .” she says, clearing her throat as she starts making her way back down the stairs to the main floor of Katsuki’s apartment. Katsuki watches, frozen to his spot as she turns around. “And, for what it’s worth . . .  I’m sorry.”

Katsuki gapes at her, his brain struggling to catch up in time as she picks up her pace and exits Katsuki’s line of sight. Like she was too uncomfortable to wait for Katsuki’s response. Either way, it’s more than he ever could have expected from her. She’s never been the warm and fuzzy type. 

An apology.  

Obviously, actions speak louder than words and all that shit, but fuck. An apology. He can’t remember whether or not he’s ever heard her apologize for anything without some sort of backhanded qualifier to go with it. 

Still in a slightly dazed shock, Katsuki turns back to his bedroom and pushes open the door. Deku is fully dressed and sitting at the foot of the bed, like he’d been trying to listen in on their conversation or something. His eyes are wide, like maybe he knows what just happened, but he needs Katsuki to say it first. 

“She didn’t want the money,” he says. 

“Really? What did she want, then?” Deku asks, straightening up a little. His face is brighter, more eager. Maybe he didn’t actually hear their conversation. Katsuki lets out a long, shaky  sigh and sits down on the edge of the bed next to his boyfriend. 

“She’s going to step back from the industry entirely,” he explains, the words still feeling like some sort of made-up fantasy as they leave his tongue. “But she wants to be able to talk to my next manager and all that.” 

“Is that okay?” 

“Yes? I don’t see what the big deal would be if she did. If anything, it makes sense. As much as I hate to admit it, my mom was in charge of literally everything. I wouldn’t know the first thing to tell a new manager,” Katsuki grumbles, with a frown. What a fucking loser. 

“Who’s your new manager?” Izuku asks. Katsuki groans and pulls his knees into his chest. Can’t the world just slow down for one fucking second? 

“I don’t fucking know,” Katsuki scoffs. 

“Well . . . I assume someone on your level can’t just . . . not have a manager, right? Even my dad’s stupid band had a manager to keep things running smoothly. Not that they ever did, but still,” he rambles on, his eyebrows furrowing together as he mulls it over. Somehow, his serious contemplations and mutterings eases a bit of Katsuki’s own anxiety over the situation. No matter what kind of shit he has to deal with, Deku’s right there by his side, going through it with him. 

“Deku?” 

“Hmm?” He looks up, his eyes wide again as he breaks from his musings. Katsuki’s chest flutters with a mix of emotions as he leans in to place a chaste kiss against Deku’s unsuspecting lips. 

“I love you.” 

His heart melts as Deku’s lips twitch into a smile. 

“I love you, too.” 

 

---

 

“Holy cow, this is amazing,” Ochako says, starry-eyed, as she steps off the elevator and into Kacchan’s apartment. Since leaving the building isn’t a great option at the moment, Izuku had decided it would be a good idea to invite her over. With Kacchan’s blessing, of course. 

They’ve been trying to come up with ideas to find Kacchan a new manager as fast as possible, and Izuku couldn’t think of anyone else who knows the industry quite as well as Ochako does. 

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool,” Izuku chuckles, awkwardly. It’s still kind of hard for him to act casually about Kacchan’s assets. Going through everything with him in the past twenty-four hours has been very enlightening in the sense that he now knows just how insanely wealthy his boyfriend actually is. It’s a totally different level of existing, in a way. 

“So, where’s Katsuki?” She asks, clapping her hands together. 

“Right here,” Kacchan’s voice echoes from down the hall. Izuku nods in his direction and Ochako follows him into the living room, where Kacchan is sitting in front of a coffee table covered in receipts and documents. He’s dressed in a black tank top and pajama pants. His hair is pushed back out of his eyes with a simple headband. 

“Oh my gosh,” Ochako whispers as she lays eyes on him. She acts like she’s never met him before. “It’s domestic Katsuki.” 

Kacchan looks up and gives her an incredulous look. Izuku groans. 

“What?” 

“Nothing! Ochako, be cool, okay?” Izuku begs. She snaps her lips closed and nods furiously. 

“Okay! Okay, sorry, I just can’t believe it, you know? Katsuki wants my help!” She exclaims. 

“Yeah, so what do you know about managers? Where do I get one?” Kacchani asks, cutting right to the chase. 

“Oh . . . Um, well,” she ponders it for a moment, and takes out a little notebook from her bag, rips out a page and hands it to Kacchan. He scans it, his eyebrows pulling tighter and tighter into the center of his face. 

“What is this?” 

“These are the names I’ve gotten off of um, paperwork? Yeah,” she grins. “Nejire Hado’s manager is the most recent one, but I don’t think she’d be a good fit, she’s not very nice.” 

“What kind of paperwork?” Kacchan asks. 

“Ah, restraining orders?” 

“Deku?!” 

“What?!” He hisses, defensively. 

“Sorry! Sorry, I promise I haven’t actually done anything to deserve them. Not like anything bad, I mean. Well. Not that bad,” she grimaces, narrating her own worrisome thought train. “Mostly trespassing on private property.” 

“Can I talk to you in private?” Kacchan grits. Izuku sighs and follows him out of earshot from Ochako. “What the hell? How is inviting a stalker to my house a good idea?”

“She worked for UA-Z like I did, you know how they are,” Izuku interjects. “And Ochako may be a bit . . . uh, unconventional, but I trust her! Really! She means well, I promise.” 

Kacchan rolls his eyes. “How?” 

“I don’t know how to explain it . . . but she was always the best at knowing everything there was to know about the different celebrities. She already basically knows your schedule—”

“What the fuck?”

“That’s how we ended up at that one place with the dressing rooms, remember?” Izuku says, his brain lighting up at the memory. Kacchan frowns and thinks it over for a minute. 

“Yeah,” he breathes. “She was with you when I punched you in the face, too.” 

“Uh, yeah,” Izuku grimaces. Not exactly his proudest moment. “See? She knows you and us, and I think she knows a lot. At the very least, if you find someone she can tell you everything she knows about them. Right? She’s my friend, Kacchan!” 

Kacchan sighs and rolls his eyes. He pauses for a moment to think about it. 

“You trust her?” 

“Absolutely.” 

"I have an idea."

Without another word, Kacchan turns away from Izuku and marches back into the living room, stopping once he’s made eye contact with Ochako. 

“You.” 

“Me?” She repeats, blinking. 

“Yes. It should just be you. What do you say?” 

Izuku can hardly keep up with the sudden change of heart. 

"Wait! Hold on! What are you saying?!" Ochako asks, standing up from her spot on the couch. Her face is bright red, her knees shaking. 

"What? You know the industry right? My mom can train you up and I'll beat whatever salary you're making at your current job," He shrugs. 

"I don't know what to say, I've never done anything like that before," She says, her face now ghost white as she processes Kacchan's proposal. Izuku himself is shocked, especially given his comments only moments earlier. 

Maybe . . . Maybe it makes sense, though. Ochako knows a lot about the industry. She's organized and can memorize schedules and details better than anyone Izuku has ever met. 

"You can't be getting restraining orders and shit, though. Nothing illegal," he insists. 

"Right! Of course!" she laughs. "Ah—Okay! I'll do it!" 

"Great, I gotta go make a phone call now." 

Izuku watches as Katsuki leaves the room with his phone against his ear. 

"Oh my gosh Izuku!" she squeals excitedly. "What the heck just happened? Did you know he was going to do that?!" 

"No, I didn't! That's great though, isn't it?" Izuku grins, moving closer to her. 

"Yeah! I'll be honest, I was feeling kind of guilty about having to keep working for Ashido after everything that's happened," she sighs, pulling at the strings on her hoodie. "I need a job, you know?" 

"Yeah!" 

"What about you? Are you just gonna mooch off of Katsuki?" she asks. Izuku pales. 

"Um, no. I'm not mooching. I'll figure something out," he sighs. 

"Good luck with that." 

 

---

Three Months Later

 

"I don't care what it looks like, just make sure that the necklace he's wearing is in the shot," Ochako says, talking as she tears through the venue in a golf cart. Izuku hisses and grips his seat as she takes another turn just a little too sharply. 

"Can you slow down?" Izuku scoffs. "It's still early." 

"I'm doing you a favor driving you over here," she reminds him. "I could have made you walk." 

"Yeah, yeah," Izuku mumbles, staring at the press line as it comes into view. 

"Sorry, I'm just really nervous," she tells him, her tone changing just a bit. 

It's understandable. Ochako has been working endlessly since taking on Katsuki’s management team. While Kacchan gets to have his creative liberties and whatever, Ochako still has her work cut out for her. Since she started, she'd made the move with Kacchan to be more public about his mental health struggles, stating that his fans would find him more relatable if they knew he wasn't perfect.

As a part of that, she put together this huge charity concert as her first major event. And Izuku, in his stubborn efforts to not be perceived as his boyfriend's sugar baby, was given the task of taking photos for the official social media pages. 

It's a sympathy job, Izuku knows it, but he really doesn't mind. He feels useful and like he's contributing. And it's something that he loves. 

"It's gonna be great," Izuku tells her, offering a warm smile. "You've been working so hard on this." 

"Thanks, I think I'm just getting in my own head a bit," she sighs. "Anyway, you gotta go and I need to check in with the sound tech again." 

"Right," Izuku says. "It'll work out! Breathe!" 

"I know! Get out of here!" 

They both laugh as Izuku gets off of the little golf cart and slings his camera bag over his shoulder. It's weird heading over to enter the venue with a press pass when he'd literally been backstage ten minutes ago. But, as mentioned before, Izuku is stubborn and didn't want to feel like he was getting special treatment. That, and Ochako really didn't want him taking photos from the wings or directly on stage. She had said it wasn't authentic or whatever.

He also hasn't shot for an event in months and lining up for one of Katsuki's shows just gives him a bizarre deja-vu feeling. 

"Midoriya! Is that really you? Long time no see!" 

The first person in the press area to greet him is Yaoyorozu. His former Plus Ultra colleague. The same one who'd brushed him off and made him feel like a giant asshole in front of a new photographer. To be fair, he was acting like an asshole that day. 

"Yeah, hey," he mumbles, not really interested in making conversation. 

"I saw you on tv last week," she laughs, as if they're old friends catching up. "You know, my boss told me to give you her card if I saw you, she can't seem to get in touch with you anymore—" 

"I had to get a new phone number," he shrugs, ignoring the business card being extended in his direction. It was his own fault, really. How was he supposed to know that the girl at the coffee shop was asking his number so that she could leak it? Could anyone blame him for thinking she actually wanted to chat about photography more extensively? God.

"Take it! You know Plus Ultra is the best in the business." 

"I mean, I'm not with any publication right now," he shrugs, earning a confused look. 

"Then who are you here with?" She asks, eyeing his badge and noticing that it's not actually a press badge. Technically it gets him into the press area. It also technically gets him anywhere in the venue, including Katsuki's private dressing room. 

"Working directly with the artist," he sighs. "Sorry, I have no interest in working with Plus Ultra. Especially since it's clear that you only want me there when it seems like the popular choice." 

"Oh, I mean—"

"Don't worry about it!" Izuku forces a smile. 

As much as he doesn't like the special treatment, he does like the fact that he can tell Plus Ultra and anyone else who ever doubted him to shove it.

Yaoyorozu gives him space after that, clearly getting the message. Shortly after, security allows them into the pit, where Izuku gets his perfect spot right up front. (Another perk of the association he can't bring himself to hate—Everyone else in the pit just assumes he has the authority to get the best vantage points.)

The stadium fills with people, and Izuku makes sure to climb up onto the stage to get a few shots. There are thousands of people crowded around, buzzing and yelling and screaming with anticipation. 

That feeling never gets old. Across the board, no matter where he's been or who he's seen, there's something innately special about those last few moments before an artist appears on stage. The anticipation and the excitement. 

He can't stop the stupid grin that spreads across his face as the curtain drops and Katsuki struts out onto the stage. His outfit is typical—sequined pants and a hooded sweatshirt with no sleeves. Glitter smeared across his cheeks. 

That's where the typical ends and the new begins. Because Katsuki also comes out playing a tiny, silver ukulele. Izuku happens to know that a keyboard and a guitar are waiting for him in the wings, ready to be introduced to the world. 

Some things will always be the same, like with Izuku taking pictures, and Katsuki wearing weird outfits. But the things that change are just as exciting.

For example, it's pretty exciting to know that this time, when he posts pictures of Katsuki to social media, it'll be because he was actually asked to. 

 

END

Notes:

and thats a wrap!! again im so sorry thay it took forever to get the last chapter out. At some point I legitimately forgot that it wasn't finished:[

but now it is!!! I hope you enjoyed!!

Notes:

Thank you for reading!

You can find me on twitter at @imnotpoppunk_