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Loud rumbling and clashed muted voices seeped through the wall next to them. Just the sheer amount of people awaiting the duo caused a nearby table to rattle, a vase on it worryingly shaking towards the edge. Picture frames litter the vast wall—the flashing smiles of other pro heroes throughout history shake, mocking them.
One large pale hand reaches out, enveloping smaller freckled fingers. The callouses on sweaty palms scrape against the scars running crisscrossed on those milky white hands—appearing sickly pallid in the stark white light overhanging the duo. Tucked into Katsuki’s side, Izuku shivers into his heat, turning his face to hide his rosy nose in his neck. Bakugou grunts at the shock of cold, finding retribution in pinching Deku’s butt. The man yips in response and jumps in his spot, glaring at the taller individual, but ultimately settling back into his favored spot.
Bakugou settles his eyes back on their hands. True, the starkness of the light in the waiting room made their skin ghostly, but it drew attention to the burst of colors on their ring fingers. Curling his own fingers around his fiancé’s, their rings brush—vivid emerald against fiery ruby. Both rest upon a thin silvery band, handcrafted by the finest jewelers Katsuki could find…from his mother’s recommendations. They shine platinum, polished to perfection and bent into flowing vines cradling the series of gems. Izuku’s bore the same rubies of Katsuki’s eyes, alternating between those and traditional diamonds. Bakugou’s was the same, except his lover’s emeralds gleamed against his skin.
Pride filled his chest at the sight of their entwined hands, at the way the light made the jewels cast their colors against each other. Wherever Izuku went, he would have vermillion eyes stained into his hands—warding off anyone else’s gaze. The same went for him. Now when some random jackass approached him, he could flash his ring and tell them to fuck off. Screw the fact that they were only recently engaged, this was the love of the lifetime. His love of the lifetime. For all he cared, they were already married—the wedding was just a formality. If Izuku was wearing his ring, sleeping in their bed, and was screaming underneath him every damn night then this was it for him. This was Katsuki’s entire life now, and he was ready to live it.
But before he could do that, they had to face what was on the other side of the wall. As if listening to his thoughts, the wall gave a particularly harsh rattle as the voices picked up on the other side. Izuku flinched into his chest. Bakugou brushed his hand up and down his lover’s side, trying to comfort him. The other man was just as brave as him in their shared work field—and infinitely, frustratingly more selfless—but this moment on this day alone could make or break the Wonder Duo. Katsuki had the sinking suspicion that it would cast a pall over them, but he already had his PR team at the ready to fix as much as they could. Plus, he was armed with the personal intention to publicly ruin anyone who went after Izuku with any shitty fucking accusations.
Bakugou’s free hand slid up Deku’s body, up the warm freckled skin of his neck and plunging into the thick forest of evergreen hair atop his head. The shorter man turned, propping up his chin and looking at him. “It’s going to be okay, you know?” Katsuki tried, voice unsure—not from the mob outside the room, but from the fact he never had the best track record with comforting people. In the comparably few years he’s been a Pro Hero, Katsuki had quickly passed Gang Orca in the “Looks the Most Like a Villain” fan category from his attitude alone.
“I know, Kacchan,” Izuku rubbed his fiancé’s chest, fingers trailing up to his collar bone and tracing the sharp jut that peeked out past the edge of his shirt. “Things tend work out in the end—usually, anyway. If we keep our heads up, we’ll be fine. Plus Ultra right?” he grinned up at the blonde. Katsuki rolled his eyes, but his smile never fell. “But it’s still hard to not be worried.” Midoriya finished.
“I know, nerd,” Bakugou scratched his short nails against Izuku’s scalp, chest warming at the way he sighed and leaned into the pressure. “I guess,” he gritted his teeth, replaying encouraging words in his head from several therapists in his lifetime about being emotionally vulnerable now and then, “I guess…I’m maybe—possibly—a little worried too.” Izuku softly smiled up at him, aware that though he could barely spit out the words, he wholly meant them. A younger Katsuki, or perhaps even one who never manned up and confessed to Izuku, would never admit even the smallest insecurity or flaw. The two of them had come a long way from their shared childhood.
Disturbing them from their shared moment, a short man opened the door, peeking in. He hid behind shaggy bangs—hair wild and dark, drawn into clumps. Upon closer inspection, the “clumps” were actually tentacles, each one writhing in anxiety and wringing each other—a few reached down and adjusted his thick-rimmed glasses. Nervously, he waved them over. Katsuki nodded back, rising up and delicately brining Izuku up with him. The pair hesitated at the grey-slate double doors, looked at each other, and pressed through as one.
Blinding lights flashed throughout the vast room, and the already cacophonous noise from the crowd raised in uproar. “The Wonder Duo,” they roared, clicking their cameras and frantically raising microphones—someone with a limb-lengthening quirk cheating the others and stretching his own camera and microphone just up to the barrier that divided them and the beginning of the stage. Eyes adjusting to the lights, Katsuki leveled a harsh glare at the scrawny man, who merely took a picture of the scowl in response. Izuku tugged at his shirt, bringing him back to reality, and they approached a lone table seated in the middle of the large stage. It was lined with chairs on the side opposing the media teams, but only a few people waited for them. Their respective PR agents straightened a few papers, making sure any material the two could need would be available for them. Knowing Katsuki, however, meant that they knew he was more likely to blow past any prepared speech and just say whatever the fuck he wanted. Katsuki’s own agent expected as much from today, and was really only here to see what she was going to have to deal with and try to handle it in real-time.
Both the women gave them small, strained smiles as the men settled into their seats. Deku’s representative, a portly, grey-haired older woman with no clear indicators of her quirk—though apparently it was an empathy based one—leaned down to whisper in his ear. He nodded up at her and patted her back, whispering a clear “thank you” and watching her walk off. Katsuki’s own representative was not half as kind—or a third, or a fourth, or so on.
“Listen jackass,” she hissed into his ear, “I already know you’re going to shit all over any speech we give you guys. Deku wont, because he’s an angel, but you’re an actual fucking demon who got lucky with him.” Katsuki snickered at her words. Over the years, he and his PR lady had become good friends—her abrasive attitude making her the only person who could stand to handle any fuckups that arose from his prickly personality. “Just try not to say any truly stupid shit. Got it?” she finished, an eye brow raising.
Letting out a sharp exhale through his nose, Katsuki leaned back in his chair and gave a sharp grin. “What’s stopping me from not making your workload even heavier?”
She gave him an unimpressed look, and reached past him. The duo each had a microphone sitting on the table in front of them, adjusted for their heights in all the conversation, but currently turned off. His PR representative flicked the on button, waited for the light to flicker red, then leaned in, still looking at him. “I’ll call your mom if you do anything.”
The mob went into a frenzy at that, clamoring over each other to be heard. Katsuki groaned out, slinking down into his plastic chair and fought to keep an embarrassed flush off his cheeks. Beside him, Izuku giggled and flicked his own microphone on. They stared at one another, aware that this moment was the last before every news station in Japan—and perhaps throughout the world—began to dissect and even gut their relationship all the way up until now.
Izuku tapped on his microphone, the loud thumps from the speakers echoing out into the room and bringing the crowd’s volume down to a reasonable level. “Thank you for coming here today,” he smiled, the one he perfected in front of the mirror that his agent said was always bound to bring him up a few points in popularity contests. “We have some very big news regarding the Wonder Duo!”
“What’s going on?” someone shouted out, making everyone return to their previous overbearing state. “Are you guys splitting off to be solo heroes?”
Another person cut him off. “Is this hearing related to the string of quirk enhancers recently released on the black market by the League of Villains?”
“No,” Midoriya interrupted them, waving his hand with a laugh. “We are working on a promising lead for that right now, but this press conference is for something very different.”
“Stop fuckin’ dancing around it, Deku,” Katsuki barked, visibly agitated. Underneath the table, though, his fingers trembled. Izuku grabbed them, unseen by the press as the table cloth hid their bottom halves. The people below them still talk amongst themselves, so Bakugou drops his fiancé’s gentle grip and slams his palms down on the table top. A harsh pop from his quirk boosts the sound of his hit and leaves dark, ashy singes on the cloth—but it works, each and every reporter shuts their mouths. For the first time since they gathered here waiting, not a peep is heard in the room.
Bakugou smirks at the response—those little shits could do with a hit of fear. He’d love to push these greasy rats around some more, but it would just get him in hot shit with his and Izuku’s agency. The blonde cleared his throat and stood up from his seat. Back straightening in pride, Katsuki gave a smug grin and dove right in. “Pro Hero Deku and I are engaged. We’re getting married. Kiss my ass.”
Unlike before, after he spoke the room didn’t immediately erupt into questions. The silence dragged one for a few seconds. Each reporter, camera guy, hell even the people who worked at the conference hall and were just watching in, looked dumbfounded. Izuku shuffled nervously beside him—and that was it, the tension had been disturbed.
Violent noise shook the walls of the room.
“Why have you decided to get engaged?”
“Are you aware that you won’t be able to pass on your quirks?”
“How long have you been together? Was it your relationship that allowed you to progress faster into the hero world?”
“Is this you officially coming out as gay?”
The sneering, the condescending tone, the frowns and prying and complete lack of tact—it was all thrown at them at once. Off stage, their PR agents were furiously typing on their phones and ordering junior staff members to handle different things. On stage, however, Katsuki was focused on Izuku. The boy—men, they were men, he’s just so small right now, shit—was closing in on himself. Staring down at the plain white table cloth, he refused to blink. A clear sign there were tears swimming in his eyes. Katsuki bit down on his tongue. Where do the reporters get off on being so fucking invasive? Were seriously not a single one going to congratulate them? Or even ask a neutral question, like when the wedding would be?
Questions, rude comments, and hurtful opinions continued to be shouted across the hall, to no avail. Neither recipient of the harsh language had responded yet—one too overwhelmed with the treatment, and the other struggling to keep the lid on his boiling pot. That familiar searing anger bubbled under his skin, making Bakugou grit his teeth and bunch up the fabric in reach. It tore in his grip as his hands stretched and stretched, each word fueling him further.
When Izuku’s first tear stained the wrinkled surface of their table, Katsuki stopped trying to keep it all in. Red faced and livid, he punched down to hear the sickening crack of the cheap wood hidden underneath the decorative cloth. The journalists were only spurred on further by the action.
“Fine, you stupid fuckers—it’s so unbelievable, huh? Then watch this,” he spit out. Katsuki turned to his stunned lover, grabbed him by the elbow, and yanked him to stand up. Izuku’s fogged eyes slowly cleared up with recognition of his other half, but unshed tears still sat in them, glittering. He was beautiful—shining and pink, his lips red and swollen, chewed up from anxiety. Begging to be comforted, to be kissed. This was a temptation Katsuki no longer had to hold himself back from in public. He hooked a finger under his freckled chin and dragged him in for bruising kiss. Their lips smashed together inelegantly, but Katsuki soothed the harshness with strong swipes of his tongue—only to follow it up with nips of his sharp teeth. In seconds, he had Izuku melting into him and mewling under his breath.
The crowd roared again; disbelief still evident. Splitting away from his green-haired love, Bakugou gave his final feral smirk of the evening. “FUCK YOU!” Izuku snorted a laugh into his chest, which really only ever incentivized Katsuki’s bad behavior. Before he could open his mouth to say anything else, their team waiting to the side came in and dragged them off the stage.
___________________________________________
Harsh rain pelted the windows, rattling the panes with the strength behind them. The surface of the glass was blanketed by the weather—inside looking out, the world was a wobbly, warped image of reality. Trees and buildings shimmered and waved in the waterfall’s worth of water cascading down. It was beautiful, and though the outside was fogged and impossible to view, it was preferrable to what Izuku and Katsuki were watching on TV.
At the behest of their agency, the Wonder Duo had taken time off from work. They had left the towering building in the heart of the city, tote bags stuffed with their uniforms just in case, with clear instructions to stay off social media and to not watch the news. Four days had passed since then, and—like the hardened pros they were—they had cracked after a measly eight hours into their “vacation”. Every news channel, hero blogger, and even random people passing their apartment building on the street were gossiping about them. The press conference had been televised, so luckily the reporters present couldn’t twist at least that situation, but they were having a field day with every other aspect of their lives.
“So, sir, you were a classmate of Dynamight and Deku as children, correct?” a sickly thin woman on their TV crooned, flashing razor sharp teeth at her guest. The man seated across from her gave his own skeevy grin, unnaturally long fingers stretching and stretching to brush back long, greasy hair. “That’s right, ma’am.”
Her grin stretched wider, and a thin, snake-like tongue peeked past her lips for an instant. Whatever she had scented in the air let her know she was clear to go in for the kill, because her entire body leaned forward, muscles straining to keep still in her seat, to remain professional. “And you directly witnessed Dynamight abuse Deku? Assault him with his quirk? Bully him for not having his own quirk yet?”
“Yes, you are correct,” his hair fell into his eyes, but did not hide the insidious curve of his lips. “Of course, the rest of us tried our best to help Deku—but there’s only so much you can do, especially in the face of all that power. Bakugou was quick to kick down anyone who opposed him.”
They continued to chatter on the screen, a constant back and forth of oily, venomous words that belied their friendly smiles and cheerful tone. This scenario certainly wasn’t the first one of its kind. It felt like everyone who they had ever even briefly crossed paths with had decided to step forward with some twisted version of the truth, or just a complete and total fabricated lie. Each and every one of them was only making things worse for the pair.
The absolute worst part of it all, though, wasn’t how lie after lie was being told on national television and all over social media. It wasn’t the slanderous articles chalk full of speculation over their “sudden engagement". It wasn’t even the way Izuku had withdrawn himself—just bundled up in a pile of blankets on the couch, his head and fluffy mane of hair peeking out. The worst thing was that despite the lies, there was a kernel of truth in it all. Katsuki had bullied Izuku relentlessly. He had, on multiple occasions, fired off his quirk at him solely for being quirkless. And though it hadn’t surfaced yet, Bakugou had told his now-fiancé to kill himself at a young, tender age.
Katsuki bit down on his lip, teeth piercing the thin skin and causing blood to well up. The interview on the screen in front of them blurred and wavered as tears gathered in his eyes. His grip on the remote tightened until it creaked, knuckles stark white and threatening to crush the object into fine pieces. Before he could hurt himself further with plastic shards in his skin, a lone speckled hand smoothed over his grasp.
Midoriya settled his warm palm over the tense hands perched on Katsuki’s lap. The heat radiating off of him seeped into his taut skin, warming the tendons and bones. Soon his other hand joined the fray, cradling his chin and gently turning his face towards the other man. Hooded red eyes remained cast down—unwilling to let Izuku see the extent this affected him. Pointless, of course. Deku by far had always been attuned to him, and knew genuinely everything about him.
“Kacchan,” that soft voice whispered out, somehow overpowering the tv. “I thought we had gotten past this.”
Still looking away from him, the blonde responded. “Yeah, well, I guess not.”
“You can’t keep punishing yourself over the past. I forgave you so long ago. Kacchan,” Izuku leaned into his space, blankets falling down and revealing his sleep-soft clothes and rumpled appearance, “I want to marry you. I’ve wanted to be with you for so long. You never forced me to love you—if anything, you challenged me every day, begged me to reconsider. I won’t.”
Bakugou twitched at the admission, but didn’t say anything. A sudden flash of light outside was followed by a loud crash of thunder, knocking out their cable. The TV washed the gloomy room in static light, the familiar odd crackling of the black and white shimmering of their TV filling the space. Katsuki’s fingers naturally found the off button on the remote forgotten in his strained hands, and suddenly the room was made even darker, even more quiet. A soft sigh escaped the green-haired man, his hands slowly slipping off him to let him be alone for a moment.
But he stopped him, palms reaching out and grabbing the retreating limbs. One clutched his hand in his lap, while the other held the one against his face lovingly. Bakugou turned into the pressure to brush his lips against the scarred flesh. Kissing each raised mark, his lips soon moved onto the freckles dotting his skin. Each small dot was worshipped with the tender caress of his cupid’s bow. His stubble scraped against the pale skin, making Izuku shiver at the rough contrast.
Katsuki interrupted any impure thoughts before they could even begin. “I’m sorry,” he pried himself away from the warmth of Izuku’s hand, finally meeting his eyes. “You’re right, I know you’re right. It’s just…difficult to get it out of my head.”
“I know. If I’m being honest, even I think back on it sometimes. But we can’t change the past—and we shouldn’t let those memories affect our future together,” Izuku gripped his hands even tighter, drawing him in. “Promise me you’ll come to me any time you get stuck in your head with this stuff?”
“I promise.”
“Thank you,” Deku smiled, all soft and kind. “Now, I think we actually should have listened to what everyone said about staying offline. But I know a great way to distract us.” Bakugou perked up at that, curious. A victorious grin working his way on his face, Izuku continued. “Wedding planning.”
___________________________________________
This time, the murmuring crowd the Wonder Duo had to face was smaller, quieter—full of the people they loved. Seated in rows of white chairs draped in sheer, flowy cloth were their friends, their family, their mentors. So many had been lost in the fight just to become heroes, and even more had been lost once they had made it—but those who were alive looked on at them with tears shining in their eyes and happy smiles. Aizawa, who had long since retired but still could be found volunteering on his good days, sat near the front with a few former teachers.
Some spots had been left vacant in the section for mentors—seats that would never be filled. In them were photographs of old friends who had died in the fight, or were lucky enough to die of old age. All Might was one such case. His seat, forever empty, was at the very front—on the opposite side of the aisle from Izuku’s mother, Inko, and as close as possible to his mentee. Toshinori Yagi was lucky enough to see his protégé become a hero, but passed away in his sleep a few nights after Deku’s official debut. The location of their wedding was completely dedicated to him.
Dagobah Municipal Beach Park. Once a dump, but now a thriving piece of coastline where families could come to spend quality time together. This was the place where a new chapter in Izuku’s life began so many years ago, his hero life. Each speck of sand was ingrained with the memory of All Might, and Izuku intended for his mentor and father-figure to watch him start a new chapter here as well—one as an incredibly happy, married man. Though he had long passed away, Izuku could feel his eyes on him now through their shared bond of One for All. He knew the intense happiness and overwhelming emotion in his body wasn’t entirely his own. Holding back his tears today was going to be even harder than usual.
His partner had vigorously taken over wedding planning, only coming to Izuku for a handful of things. And honestly, that was perfectly fine with him. Working on the wedding distracted Katsuki from the way the media initially turned on them, and by the time he had reached planning some of the easier things, a massive social media movement consisting of their fans, friends, and family had reversed most of the damage. Thousands of people shared stories of Katsuki saving them, or finally realizing the way he looked at his partner was intense love. All of their classmates, even those in 1-B who had hated the blonde, stepped forward and spoke of how they, first hand, had watched him change. It was an amazing tidal wave of love that coasted them all the way to one of the most important days of their lives; today.
His hands being squeezed brought him back to the moment, and he opened his eyes to the sight of his fiancé—his soon-to-be-husband. Katsuki is especially handsome in his all-black suit, a stunning contrast to Izuku in his own all-white one. The blonde looks at him fondly, none of his usual snark and smugness clouding the lovesick gaze. In this instant, as the officiator—Kirishima—bawls out the last of his speech, ridden with the word "manly" and many manly tears, everything is perfect. The setting sun shines brightly behind the man Izuku is going to spend the rest of his life with, illuminating and painting him in warm orange light. It softens him even more, and the sight of this angelic Katsuki distracts him from the glide of his wedding band on fingers that have long been made crooked from years of hero work.
He snaps out of it when Bakugou nudges him, and accepts the wedding band from his maid of honor, Uraraka. She gives him a wobbly smile, and pulls him in for a quick hug before quickly releasing him. Izuku’s tears are quietly streaming down his face by now, but no one nudges him like they normally do—his blindingly bright smile lets them know just how much he’s wanted this day to happen. Hand shaking and barely able to see past the tears, he manages to push his own wedding band onto Katsuki’s ring finger. Kirishima blows his nose into the handkerchief previously on his chest at the scene before him.
“U-Uh,” Eijiro coughs, sniffling harshly and obviously trying to reel himself in to finish the ceremony. “Would you like to say any vows?”
Midoriya opened his mouth, hands pulling from Katsuki’s grasp to try to reach his fourteen page long, double sided and single-spaced speech that he had secretly been working on long before the engagement had even been jokingly mentioned. When he had shown a copy to his friends a few weeks ago, they had told him he really needed to cut it down—and by some miracle he was able to bring it down from twenty-one to fourteen after hours of agonizing deliberation. Before his fingers could really move though, Bakugou clamped down, hindering him from getting to it.
“Oh, fuck that,” Katsuki barked out. “I know just how long you can talk—I don’t want to wait any damn longer to be married, got it? So let’s speed this up already!” He readjusted his grip on his partner, and leveled him an unimpressed glare. “We’re spending the rest of our lives together no matter what. I don’t care if you become an amorphous blob of horse shit—you’re my pile of crap. Do you feel the same?”
Izuku nodded, a blazing blush crawling up his throat and consuming his face. He couldn’t tell if it was a result of elation at the pride and confidence in his words or pure embarrassment because the audience was still laughing, but either way he agreed. Nothing was ever going to come between them—if anything ever tried, it would have to face both of them.
Proud smile taking over his entire face, Katsuki turned to Kirishima with his chest all puffed out. The red head was crying even harder than before, sobbed out words of how manly that had been barely audible. Quickly becoming irate at the final words to becoming a husband being delayed, Katsuki reached over and smacked the grown man. Eijiro wasn’t able to use his quirk quickly enough and whined from the hit, but still got back to what they were all here for.
“Izuku Midoriya, do you wish to marry Katsuki Bakugou?”
“I do.”
“And Katsuki Bakugou, do you wish to marry Izuku Midoriya?”
“I do. Gonna change his last name too.”
In the front of the seated crowd, Mitsuki snorted. Her husband Masaru roped an arm around her shoulders and drew her in, muffling his own amused laughter. Inko was dragged along with her as the two women had been holding hands. They were surrounded by all of the original class 1-A and some of 1-B, plus the friends they had made along the way throughout school. Izuku looked at them all, at his family which was only going to get even bigger today, and turned back to hear the words they had been waiting for.
“Then by the power vested in me, you are now married,” Kirishima began to blubber again. “Oh, man, just KISS bros!”
Surprisingly okay with the informality of Eijiro’s words, Katsuki muttered a quick "fuck yeah" under his breath, then swooped in. Izuku giggled into the press of their mouths, his noise swallowed up by his husband’s tongue and teeth. The audience beyond them cheered, Eijiro chief among them, but the two barely noticed them. Eventually they had to part, but the clapping around them was still deafening, and in a way allowed them to share just one private moment for today.
Katsuki thumbed Deku’s bottom lip and murmured in the space between them, leaning forward and nosing his green curls. “I love you.”
Now fully crying, Izuku choked out a sob into Katsuki’s shoulder. But he pushed past the overflowing emotions and returned the favor.
“I love you too.”