Chapter Text
Izuku was hunched over the small dresser, fiddling with his cufflinks for the tenth time. The first one slid perfectly into place; the second refused. Ochaco crouched next to him, muttering encouragements he barely noticed.
“You’ve got it. I swear, you just-” She paused to knock the cufflink in. “See? Done.”
He exhaled, shoulders slumping a little. “Yeah… thanks.”
Mina had perched herself on the ottoman beside a windowsill, phone in hand, pink hair bouncing as she scrolled. “Sero’s recording outside.” she said, voice casual, like it was just another day. “And by recording I mean like filming literally everyone walking in. He’s got a drone too. Probably thinks we care about angles.”
“He does know we already have people hired though.. right?” Ochaco mused.
Mina hummed, holding back a laugh, kicking her feet on the cushion. She caught sight of Izuku.
“Oh my gosh, Deku.. You’re gonna look so… groomy.”
“Groomy?” Izuku frowned, tugging at the tie that felt slightly too tight.
“Yeah,” Mina made a small flourish with her hand. “Like… fancy but also.. tense? Classic groom vibes. You’re already halfway there, so no pressure. Im pretty sure it’s like,” she scrolled on her phone, “bad luck if you’re not like giving ‘im stressed out but trying to keep it cool’.”
Ochaco rolled her eyes but smiled. “Ignore her.” She laughed, shaking her head, hands on Izuku’s shoulders. “Just breathe, Deku. You look amazing, honestly.” Her hands smoothed over his jacket briefly.
Izuku tried. He fiddled with his sleeves, then straightened, letting himself take a tiny moment to really look at himself in the mirror. His hair was perfectly messy in the right way, suit tailored just enough, cheeks faintly flushed. He couldn’t stop the small, dumb smile that tugged at his lips.
He let his hands hang loosely and listened to the hum of activity outside the door. Jirou’s heels clicked across the hall, fast, precise steps, as she carried a box of something important apparently and muttered under her breath.
From somewhere else, Kirishima’s voice rumbled. “Yo, Denki, don’t touch the flowers!”
“Why not? They’re literally just flowers!” Denki shot back, and Izuku caught the faint sound of something crashing.
He laughed softly, shaking his head. The chaos was grounding. This was what a wedding with their friends felt like: too loud, too messy. It was strangely calming, he didn’t know why.
It was what it meant to be surrounded by people who loved you.
Kirishima’s deep laugh bounced off the walls, Denki’s high voice trailing after him: “No, seriously, the flower arch isn’t even straight!”
“And you’re overreacting!” Kirishima shouted back.
“Overreacting? Overreacting?!” Denki’s voice cracked as he tried to reach the top of the arch.
A soft crash from the hallway. Jirou, muttering, had apparently dropped a ribbon box. She cursed quietly, bent over to fix it, muttering an exasperated repetition of: “great, just great-“
Izuku’s stomach did a little flip. She never panicked, even when everyone else was losing it.
“I think everyone’s losing it more than both grooms combined,” Mina said, smirking.
It felt like everybody was holding an air of subtle tenseness, it was usual for the beginning of ceremonies like these. Where you’re guests, but not the ones just here to crash for cake and loud music, but also the crew behind all of the little, more important details that define how perfect everything would go.
Mina, wiggling her fingers out at him briefly, looked like she was getting a bad case of cuteness aggression. “Izuku, babe, stop looking like a deer in headlights. You look insane right now, in the best way. Like, actually glowing.”
Izuku’s chest fluttered. “Gaah.. stop it..” His hands shook just a little, not with nerves, but with new excitement.
Izuku adjusted his tie again, then let it drop. “I… can’t believe this is actually happening,” he said quietly, mostly to himself. “I never thought…” He trailed off, thinking of Katsuki, the kid who had once shoved him into lockers and yelled at him for no reason. He was getting married to him. For some reason, it didn’t feel like such a huge jump, not as much as it seemed, because of their history. For some reason, despite the fact it didn’t seem like it made sense, it did. It made perfect sense. And it wasn’t weird or scary. It was…. exhilarating. It made Izuku’s chest expand and fall with something overwhelming. He let out a dreamy sigh, a love struck expression overtaking his features. He looked away in flustered elation.
Ochaco gushed, laughing. “Oh my god, she’s right, you’re literally glowing,” she teased, both the girls in amusement at Izuku’s expense.
“Stop…” he said, cheeks warming. “I just… it’s surreal. Seeing him… like that. All grown up, and…” He shook his head. “Never thought I’d— we’d be here.”
Ochaco’s eyes softened, and she gave him a knowing, proud smile, tilting her head. “Aw.” Her hands dropped to her side as she looked back at Mina to check if she’d witnessed that adorable sentiment.
Mina leaned back on the bed, phone forgotten, pink hair flopping over one shoulder. She shared a smile with them. Then she ruined it.
“Ten bucks he trips and falls walking down the aisle.”
“Mina!” Ochaco snapped, exasperated.
Izuku’s expression flickered, little harmless nerves washing over him. A sheepish dorky smile on his face kind of said: ‘Oh fuck what if that really does happen-‘
“Don’t put that idea into his head!”
“He was being too calm. I saved him from the bad luck.”
Ochaco groaned and turned away, adjusting her dress in a nearby mirror.
“Besides,” Mina continued, “he’s all grown up now. He barely even reacted. The old Izuku I knew would’ve been stumbling all over himself right now in panic.”
Izuku chuckled, cheeks glowing and heart full. He felt nervous, of course he did. But for once, he felt like things would go right. Everything felt just right.
From somewhere else, Kaminari was muttering about sound checks. “Do we have enough speakers outside? Is anyone testing the mic?”
Ochaco leaned on the wall beside the mirror, eyes gentle. “Everyone’s doing their thing, hear it? It’s going to be fine. You’ll see.”
Izuku swallowed. “Yeah. It’s… a lot. But good.” He looked down at his hands, then at the mirror. “I think I’m ready.”
Izuku watched Ochaco stroll over to smooth the tie one last time. “You’re acting a lot different than we thought you would a few years ago.”
He shrugged. “Trying not to think about the ceremony part yet. Too much pressure if I do. And.. things aren’t like few years ago anymore, are they?” He smiled shyly.
Ochaco hummed, a small knowing, blossoming smile on her pretty, painted face and glossed lips. “We’ve changed.”
“Older… wiser, cooler… sexier…” Mina added on as she listed things off with her fingers, laying back playfully.
“But one thing, it’ll stay the same.” Ochaco continued softly, “we’ll always be here.”
Ochaco tugged gently at his jacket one last time, smoothing the shoulders like she was straightening out not just fabric, but everything about him.
“You’re gonna be fine,” she said softly. “Like… really fine. You’re gonna walk down there, and he’s gonna see you, and it’s going to be perfect.”
Izuku swallowed, chest fluttering, the corners of his mouth lifting in a tiny, nervous smile.
“I… I hope so,” he whispered, eyes flicking toward the window where he could just catch the blur of guests trickling into the courtyard below.
Mina, hopping off the ottoman, perked up. “Okay, we really have to get downstairs now,” she waved one hand at him dramatically, glancing at her phone, “Kirishima just texted to come down and get the whole thing ready for you to come down and I’m also kind of scared a certain zappy dumbass found his way to the dessert table. But, anyway, before we go…” She leaned forward, lowering her voice into a squeak, “You look so good, I might cry if we leave you alone right now. Like I just wanna keep this moment foreverrr.”
Izuku blinked, a bittersweet feeling choking him. “Guys…” he muttered, fumbling with his buttons again. His fingers were trembling.
Ochaco chuckled softly and rested a hand on his arm. She gave his shoulder a little squeeze. “We’ll be right downstairs, making sure everything is smooth.“
Mina straightened, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I’ll text you the go to.”
“Okay.” he murmured shakily, a little laugh in his tone, though it was tinged with real nervousness. “I… I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.”
“You’ll never have to find out.”
With that, Ochaco gestured Mina toward the door.
Mina gave Izuku one last long look, pink hair bouncing, then spun on her heel dramatically and dashed out, calling over her shoulder, “Don’t look too adorable before he sees you! Promise me you’ll save some of that glow for the aisle!”
Izuku’s smiled at the ground so hard his cheeks hurt. He listened sound of her phone charms jingling faintly as she disappeared downstairs, the heels of their shoes clacking down the marble steps.
Izuku took a slow breath, letting his hands fall to his sides. The mirror reflected his nervous smile, the slight tremor in his fingers, and the way his heart felt like it was running laps around his ribcage.
He adjusted the tie one last time, though it was already perfect. He let it go, letting himself just… be.
Jirou’s heels past the door again, a knock on the door, a signal that it was almost time. “No more time for bathroom breaks, Midoryia!” she said over the door, but there was an edge of excitement he could feel even through the calm.
He swallowed, letting the hum of activity around him settle into a kind of rhythm. He thought of Katsuki, somewhere downstairs, probably adjusting his cufflinks too, probably standing there in that way he always did, so impossibly confident, so infuriatingly himself. A heat rose to Izuku’s cheeks without warning.
“Hey, calm down, groomzilla, we don’t need a spar before the vows!”
Izuku let out a surprised laugh at the muffled shout from Kirishima downstairs, and he imagined Katsuki, enraged, grabbing one of their friends by the collar and yelling at them about something probably insignificant. His heart swelled.
Then he heard Katsuki this time, his demanding, domineering voice almost blocked out from the chaos downstairs. So gruff, so him, it made Izuku ache to go down himself.
“I don’t care if you’re just ‘adjusting,’ do you see how uneven that line is? No- stop- you dumbass!”
Izuku snorted, biting his lip to stop more laughter from escaping. For a moment, his chest fluttered in that familiar way, heartbeat skip, nerves, excitement, something.
And in that skip of his heart, he could almost see it again. the gym bleachers, a younger version of himself, pressed flat against cold metal, notebook open, trying not to be noticed.
Back then, little Izuku’s eyes watched the angles of Katsuki’s shoulders, the twist of his torso, the way his boots barely made a sound on the mat. Katsuki was untouchable, perfect in motion. He was the epitome of certainty.
When little Katsuki pivoted on the mat all those years back, fists flying, chest heaving, hair falling into eyes, little Izuku’s lips curved into a small, almost guilty smile. One day… I’ll be able to move like that too.
Izuku snapped to the present and stared into his reflection, at his obvious muscles under his suit. His wedding suit.
Because he was about to marry the boy who had inspired all of that.
When it was time, Izuku’s shoes clicked against the marble as he stepped out of the hallway, one careful step after another.
The music began softly at first, the opening notes from the playlist Jirou and Denki had agonized over for weeks spilling through the speakers.
Izuku inhaled, slow and measured, letting the crisp, conditioned air of the grand hall fill his lungs. The marble beneath his polished shoes gleamed faintly under the soft chandeliers, reflecting the warm glow of golden sconces that lined the walls.
The tailored lines steadied him. The faint weight of the boutonniere at his chest reminded him to keep walking.
The hall was quiet in that particular wedding-way, where everyone stands not out of duty, but because the moment feels too full to stay seated. Izuku didn’t look at them. He looked straight ahead, focused on the simple path laid out with pale green runners and ivory petals that had been carefully scattered, probably by someone panicking five minutes ago.
He exhaled, slow.
And then, halfway down the aisle, he finally lifted his eyes.
Katsuki was already staring at him.
The rest of the room vanished so fast it almost unbalanced him.
Standing at the opposite end of the aisle beside his groomsmen, Katsuki was the picture of composure. He was in a matching white suit, but his looked different somehow. Maybe it was the way he wore it: shoulders squared, jaw tight, chest rising in a steady, controlled rhythm like he was holding himself together by will. His tie sat slightly off-center, like he’d refused help and someone had lost a tiny battle with him. There were faint creases in his sleeves where he’d probably rolled them earlier out of habit, forgetting he wasn’t supposed to. His suit was tailored to perfection, hugging his toned figure to an almost illegal degree, accentuating his every muscle, every angle. His hair, usually wild and untamed, had been pushed away from his face just a bit, leaving his face on display, or, well, at least just a bit more.
Izuku noticed everything at once, like his eyes didn’t know where to land first.
The way Katsuki’s hair was just barely tamed, still rebelliously sticking up in places no stylist could force down.
The sharp line of his cheekbone, a little flushed— Katsuki Bakugo, actually flushed.
The way his fingers twitched near his side, not quite fidgeting, but… something.
The muscle in his jaw that jumped every few seconds, like he was chewing back words.
And most of all his eyes.
Katsuki’s eyes weren’t angry or intense or impatient. They were wide. Fixed on Izuku like he’d been waiting his entire life for the exact second Izuku stepped into view.
Izuku’s steps slowed without meaning to. The closer he got, the more details sharpened, the faint shine on Katsuki’s lower lip where he’d bitten it, the tension in his shoulders easing one fraction at a time, the way his chest rose a little higher each step Izuku took, like he needed more air just to look at him.
A smile tugged at Katsuki’s mouth, small, crooked, almost shy. Shy. Katsuki Bakugo, actually looking like he might smile too big if he let himself.
Izuku’s breath quickened.
The faint dimples appearing at the corners of Katsuki’s mouth because he really was smiling, even if he was trying to hold it back.
The way Katsuki’s brows relaxed, not knit or angled or stern, but loose, gentle.
The tiny shake in his exhale, visible even from a distance, like the sight of Izuku had hit him physically.
Katsuki wasn’t just happy. He looked undone by happiness. Like it was too much. Like it was overflowing and everyone could see it.
Katsuki looked deliriously, breathtakingly happy.
He looked at Izuku like he was seeing every version of him at once: the child he knew, the boy he hated, the friend he loved, the man he chose.
Katsuki’s smile had grown just a fraction more, soft around the edges, a little crooked, vulnerable.
And it shook Izuku to his core. Details around him blurred into little glimmering dots as he began to step up.
Izuku didn’t register much of what the officiant said, the words blending together into gentle background noise. But he did register the way Katsuki’s hand reached for him almost as soon as he was within range. His rough knuckles skimmed the back of his trembling fingers before slotting into his grip and holding on.
His palms were warm, and it was then that Izuku realised both of his hands were trembling. Katsuki was watching him closely, and he couldn’t stop staring at him. Katsuki hadn’t looked away from Izuku’s eyes ever since he got up there.
Then Katsuki blinked fast, nostrils flaring slightly like he was fighting something back.
Then it really registered in Izuku’s mind.
Katsuki was trying not to cry.
Izuku’s throat tightened, and it was his turn to blink hard, breath hitching. He let out a soft laugh, too overwhelmed, shaking his head, squeezing Katsuki’s hand hard.
His eyes burned.
But Katsuki was fighting the same battle.
The officiant just kept talking, oblivious to the emotional train wreck that was unfolding in the middle of their ceremony.
There was noise in the background, chairs shifting, someone sniffing, Denki whispering something he thought was quiet but definitely wasn’t. Mina choked on a gasp that Momo shushed.
Izuku stared up into Katsuki’s face, his whole world and everything in it condensed into the way Katsuki looked at him now. His heart was pounding, loud in his chest. He could smell the familiar scent of caramel from Katsuki’s sweat, the way he always did when he was nervous. Katsuki bit his lip and swallowed harshly, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.
Izuku laughed again, helpless. God, Kacchan was so cute. Katsuki didn’t cry but it looked like he was about to, and it made Izuku’s features scrunch up in amused fondness. His lips parted when Katsuki’s red eyes roamed over him, slowly, tracing the way his curls softened around his forehead.
The officiant finally reached the part of the ceremony that Izuku knew was coming, the shift in tone, the softer cadence.
“…and now, the two of you will share your vows.”
His palms were sweating. His hands trembled. He couldn’t tell if it was from nerves or because Katsuki was still holding his fingers like they were something precious.
Izuku’s chest tightened, heat blooming there.
It was his turn.
The words he had spent nights perfecting, the pages he rewrote five times, the paragraph he panicked over, the line he practiced whispering into his pillow, were finally here, sitting heavy on his tongue.
Katsuki’s thumb brushed his knuckles.
It was the lightest touch in the world, but it grounded him so completely that Izuku felt tears press against the back of his eyes. He steadied himself on a slow inhale and lifted his gaze.
“Kacchan….I’ve spent so much of my life watching you—“
Izuku, immediately aware of how that sounded, stiffens.
“—not in a weird way…! I mean, um. Well… I wasn’t stalking you or anything— I just— I was aware of you. A normal amount. A totally normal, non—non-illegal amount—“
Laughter rippled through the room. Katsuki dragged a hand down his face, muttering, “For fuck’s sake,” but the unmistakable smile tugging at his mouth ruined every attempt at sounding annoyed. His ears were flushed red, traitorously, adorably red.
“…Right. I’m just going to keep going. Uh..”
A few chuckles lingered before a hush settled over, Izuku fought down his grin.
“I’ve… spent so much of my life trying to understand you. Trying to keep up with you… trying to figure out how someone could be so impossible, infuriating and so… captivating all at once.
I watched you from the sidelines for so long, and I wanted to be strong, like you. Fearless, like you. Not to fight … but to understand how you moved through the world, and maybe, somehow, how to move with you. To walk beside you, not ahead or behind.. but with you.
I promise to love you exactly as you are. Not to try to change you, not to shrink the parts of you that the world doesn’t always understand. I promise to be the one who understands, to see every side of you, the stubborn, loud, reckless, and the surprisingly soft… and love all of it the same. I promise to be your home, not because you need one, but because being with you is where I belong.
I love you for everything you’ve been, even if you find it hard to believe that. I love you for everything you are now, and everything you’re becoming.
I love you, Kacchan.”
Izuku’s final words hung there, intimate and warm, suspended in the hush.
Then, a sniffle, and another one, and then someone audibly failed to hold back a squeak of emotion. Then the entire room broke.
“Oh my GOD,” Mina whisper-shouted, dabbing her eyes while Sero was clutched at Denki like he needed physical support. Denki was wiping his face with his sleeve, not even pretending he wasn’t emotional. Even Todoroki was blinking suspiciously rapidly.
Momo had her palm over her chest; Jirou elbowed Mina for being loud; Iida nearly fog-horned into his handkerchief.
Eri was gone, sat in her spot and sniffling loudly while Aizawa, stone-faced, rubbed small circles on her back like even he wasn’t immune.
Todoroki leaned toward Iida and murmured, perfectly serious, “I think Bakugo is having heart failure.”
Iida, still composing himself, nodded sharply as he received the comment in his ear. “It is a very real possibility.”
And the cheering, the cheering erupted before Izuku even fully finished his breath. A surge of clapping, hooting, gasps, laughter, and every form of affectionate chaos Class 1-A had ever been capable of.
But all of that was background noise compared to Katsuki.
He stood completely still, like he’d just taken a hit straight to the sternum. His lips parted, breath caught. His eyes shone so intensely red it was almost startling, wet, rimmed, shimmering under the lights. His pupils were blown so wide it was a miracle he could still see.
His grip on Izuku’s hand tightened.
Katsuki finally managed to look away for half a second, blinking hard, dragging his palm under his eye with a low hiss through his teeth.
“Jesus…” he muttered, voice rough and cracking despite his best effort. He turned his face slightly from Izuku. “Can’t take you anywhere…”
A ripple of laughter burst instantly through the hall. Izuku laughed too now, quiet, breathless, overwhelmed, and the sound made Katsuki’s head turn back toward him. He stared at Izuku like he didn’t know how to hold it all in.
The officiant cleared his throat gently, almost apologetically, trying not to interrupt what was clearly an emotional catastrophe in progress.
“And now… Katsuki, your vows.”
Katsuki inhaled sharply, straightened, and swore under his breath—
“…shit.”
The laughter rolled quietly, warm and soft around them. Katsuki didn’t laugh.
“…Izuku,” he began, voice low and unsteady in a way that left the entire room silent instantly.
“You’re brilliant.”
It was dead silent now, Katsuki’s voice was the only sound.
“And you’re patient in a way I’ll never understand. You love like it’s simple, like it’s obvious, like it’s breathing. You make the world brighter, lighter just by being in it. And somehow, somehow… you let me into that light. I love how you never give up. I love how you care even when it’s inconvenient or stupid or gets you in trouble. I love how you can hold everyone in your head at once… and still… still find a second to care about me.
You saw me. You always saw me. You saw the parts that I didn’t even want to see in myself. You made me want to be… better, not because anyone told me to, but because I wanted to give you what you deserve.
I can’t promise I’ll never lose my temper, or never say something wrong, or… never be difficult. I don’t know how to do softness in the way you do, but I’ll tell you this: I’ll spend every goddamn day of my life trying to be someone who deserves to stand next to you. I love you.”
Silence. Absolute, stunned silence before a tidal wave of applause and a symphony of startled reactions from every one of their friends in the crowd.
Mitsuki’s hand flew to her mouth at some point during all of it and Masaru reached for her hand at the same moment; she let him hold it, which shocked the man so visibly Kirishima almost laughed.
Izuku’s stomach fluttered violently; his throat burned. He blinked fast, too fast, curls quivering as another breath stuttered against his lips. His knees went weak. He stared up at Katsuki with eyes so wet, startled by how much love was being pushed into his hands.
“Izuku Midoryia, do you take Katsuki Bakugo to be your lawfully wedded husband? Will you honor and cherish him; love, trust, and commit to him, through joy and pain, sickness and health, and whatever life may throw at you both, until death do you part?”
“I do.” His voice was shaky at first, almost swallowed by the weight, but firm. Certain. The warmth of Katsuki’s hand squeezed his, steady.
The officiant paused, nodding, then turned.
“Katsuki Bakugo, do you take Izuku Midoriya to be your lawfully wedded husband? Will you honor and cherish him; love, trust, and commit to him, through joy and pain, sickness and health, and whatever life may throw at you both, until death do you part?”
“I do.” His voice was rough, ragged around the edges, but unwavering. He could feel Izuku’s gaze burning into him.
“Thank you… both. Now, the rings. The wedding ring is symbol of binding. A symbol of attachment and of belonging, not of possession, but of partnership.”
Denki grabbed Kirishima by the jacket and ushered, “BRO- bro GO go go go—“
Kirishima practically shot up, too eager, fumbled forward, nearly tripping over Sero’s foot.
Izuku just beamed at Katsuki, eyes soft and watery. Katsuki looked softly back.
Katsuki’s fingers laced with Izuku’s, squeezing so tight it almost hurt. Izuku squeezed back, just as strongly. Kirishima finally made it by with the rings.
Izuku lifted Katsuki’s left hand, marveling at how heavy it felt in his own, solid, warm, strong, and shaking imperceptibly.
The ring slid onto Katsuki’s finger like it belonged there, like it had been waiting for that promise all along. The gold glinted sharply in the soft afternoon light, a small flare of brightness that caught in Katsuki’s irises.
Now the officiant gestured to Katsuki.
Katsuki picked up Izuku’s ring with his right hand. His left, the one Izuku had just crowned with gold, hovered uselessly by his side, fingers twitching. His chest rose and fell, shallow, uneven.
He brought the ring up, it glinted in the light. He slid it onto Izuku’s finger. Their hands intertwined.
The officiant’s hands lifted slightly, gestures of ritual, of sealing, of finality.
“By the power vested in me… I now pronounce you husband and husband. You may kiss—“
Katsuki didn’t wait. His hands tightened in Izuku’s hair, yanking him forward. Lips crashed together like Katsuki had been standing there thrumming with tension, with trembling hands just because he was holding back and not because of nerves. His kiss hurried, Izuku let himself be pulled, one hand winding into the back of Katsuki’s suit, the other pressed hard to his chest.
Not polite applause, no. A full-body, explosive detonation of cheering. Like twenty years of pent-up tension finally had a pressure valve.
The officiant tried to speak over the chaos, giving up halfway with a laugh.
“Ladies and gentlemen—your newlyweds!”