Archive of Our Own

Making Onigiri and Questioning My Existence 

-dekudiaries

Uploaded 10 hours ago

“Hey guys,” Izuku greets the camera that’s propped up precariously against his toaster. The angle is slightly tilted upward, the warm kitchen light washing the screen gold. “I just got back from the gym with Shouto-kun and let me just say,” he sighs dramatically, rubbing a hand over his face, “I did not miss working out with him.”

He shuffles out of frame briefly before returning with a plastic grocery bag looped around his fingers.

“He’s been obsessed with calisthenics recently, and it’s fun and all, but I really don’t think my body can move like that. We were literally there for, like, three hours,” he continues, setting ingredients onto the counter one by one. “Three. Hours. And he wanted to stay even longer, but I told him if we didn’t leave right at that moment then I wasn’t gonna go with him anymore.”

Izuku pauses. “Which I think is fair, by the way. My limbs still feel like jelly.”

From somewhere off camera, Shouto says, “You said you were having fun.”

“I was having fun,” he says defensively, turning toward wherever Shouto is sitting in the apartment. “That doesn’t mean my body wasn’t actively shutting down.”

There’s a beat of silence. “You also said it felt orgasmic.”

Izuku squints. “Okay, first of all, I meant in the way it makes your whole body shake. Not because it felt good.” He finally looks back at the camera, smiling sheepishly. “Anyway.”

He holds up the groceries with the seriousness of a cooking show host revealing a basket of gourmet ingredients. 

A can of tuna. A packet of nori sheets. Soy sauce.

“This is what we’re working with today. Any guesses what I’m making?”

Izuku raises a brow at the camera for a second before setting everything down. “I was in the mood for onigiri earlier and there aren’t really any good places around here, so I thought I’d make some myself.”

He reaches into the fridge hopefully, staring into it for several seconds.

“I’m also pretty sure I’m out of mayo.” Slowly, Izuku closes the fridge. “I thought I had more Kewpie but whatever,” he says after a moment, trying to sound upbeat. “We improvise.”

The vlog cuts to a sped up montage with soft instrumental music playing quietly underneath. Izuku drains the tuna while talking about his day over the footage.

He tells the camera about how one of his professors extended a deadline. About how a guy at the gym called Shouto “princess face.” About how he accidentally slept through two alarms this morning and had to sprint to class with toothpaste still on his sleeve.

“I don’t even know how that happened,” he says as he shapes the tuna into something vaguely triangular. “Like genuinely. I brushed my teeth normally.”

The tuna promptly falls apart in his hands.

Izuku stares at it. “…Okay.”

Another cut. He’s now sitting cross legged on the counter, wrapping loose handfuls of tuna in nori sheets with intense concentration.

“I feel like people online make cooking look really easy,” he says. “You guys always shit on my cooking skills but honestly, I think I’m getting the hang of it. Maybe I’ll start making more of these cooking vlogs.”

“Izuku, you used a mug to cook ramen last week,” Shouto says off camera.

Izuku points accusingly toward the unseen Shouto. “And it worked.”

Eventually, after several failed attempts and one near disaster involving spilled soy sauce, Izuku proudly arranges the finished onigiri onto a plate.

None of them are the same shape. One is actively unraveling.

“Look how cute they are,” he says anyway, holding one up to the camera with genuine affection. “I’m actually proud of them.”

The seaweed immediately starts sliding off and Izuku hurriedly presses it back into place.

“Okay, ready for the taste test?”

He dips one into soy sauce before taking a huge bite.

The crunch of dry nori is painfully loud. Izuku chews and chews. His expression flickers as the silence stretches.

“Mmm,” he finally hums weakly. “It’s pretty good.”

He takes another bite, then immediately washes it down with water. He smiles sheepishly as he wipes his mouth.

“Anyway, guys,” he says after finally swallowing, “I’m sure you’ve all had enough of me, so I’m just gonna finish these off, then get ready for bed.”

He lifts the plate a little.

“For the record, I think they turned out pretty okay. Thank you guys for hanging out with me while I made dinner. I’m hoping to have my shonen training arc ranking video uploaded by the end of the week so keep an eye out for that! See you guys!”

He waves at the camera and the video cuts off.

~

View 14,792 comments: 

@puppymai: WHAT IS HE EATING ?!?!?? 😭😭😭

@-maddie-843: bro wrapped canned tuna in a nori sheet and call it onigiri

@protectthebroccoli828: THERE ISN’T EVEN ANY RICE IM CRYING

@Urarakaaa: Izuku blink twice if you need help

@shoutosleftsock: YESS I MISSED SHOUTO IN HIS VLOGS!!!

@proteinshakepro: bro went to the gym for 3 hours just to come home and eat drywall

@katsuk1ng: what the fuck did i just watch

@salmonsenpai: someone pls help him this is literally painful to watch

Teaching You How to Cook Before You Starve to Death
-Dynamight
Uploaded 4 hours ago

The video opens with loud chopping noises—aggressive, rhythmic sounds of a knife hitting a cutting board at concerning speeds. The camera angle is low, pointed downward to show the kitchen counter crowded with ingredients. 

“Alright,” Katsuki says, finally acknowledging the camera. “Apparently some of you are incapable of feeding yourselves like functioning adults.”

He drags the knife through a green onion with terrifying precision.

“So today I’m teaching you how to make an actual meal.”

Katsuki shoves ingredients toward the camera one by one. Rice. Fresh salmon. Soy sauce. Kewpie mayo. Sriracha. Nori sheets.

“This is probably one of the easiest things you could make. If any of you fuck this up, I genuinely can’t help you.”

Katsuki rinses rice in a metal bowl, glaring at the camera.

“And before some dumbass says cooking is hard,” he continues, “it’s not. You’re just an idiot. By the end of this video you’ll all know how to make the best damn onigiri you’ve ever tasted.”

He swirls the rice around with his hand.

“Measure your water. Wash your rice. Use seasoning. Stop eating bullshit because you’re too lazy to learn basic life skills.”

The knife starts chopping again.

“You know what I saw online yesterday?” He stops chopping and stares dead into the camera. “Some idiot wrapped canned tuna in seaweed and called it onigiri. There wasn’t even any rice.”

He sounds personally betrayed by this. The camera zooms in dramatically on his face.

“I reported the video.”

He goes back to cooking with twice the aggression.

“Cooking’s not complicated,” he says. “You taste shit as you go. If it tastes bland, fix it. If the texture’s weird, fix it. Use your brain.” He pauses. “Also buy a rice cooker. I’m serious. It’ll save your life.”

He dices the fresh salmon up and combines it with kewpie mayo, sriracha, and a touch of sesame oil. He forms the spicy salmon onigiri and holds the plate of perfectly shaped rice triangles up to the camera.

“This,” he says flatly, “is onigiri.” He takes a bite. “Fucking amazing.”

He keeps eating while leaning against the counter, his expression softening as he chews.

“Anyway,” he says after swallowing, “lesson for today is learn how to cook before you end up surviving off instant noodles and canned fish like a fucking cryptid.”

The video cuts abruptly.

~

View 18,304 comments:

@redriot247: bro cooks like he’s fighting the ingredients

@electricboy: WHY WAS HE SO OFFENDED ABOUT THE TUNA VIDEO 😭😭😭

@cookingwithcamie: not him making the sexiest cooking video ever

@littleboat: THIS IS ABSOLUTELY ABOUT DEKUDIARIES

@izukulogfan: nah because the timing is INSANE

@daydreamdreamer: ughh his arms look so sexy in that shirt

@katsuking: stop sexualizing him weirdo

@dekusnumber1fan: why’s he beefing with deku tho… 

@groundzerogirl: katsuki hate watching dekudiaries was NOT on my 2026 bingo card

@ochamochi: why do i feel like he made this entire video out of spite

Sara @zukufiles

okayyy maybe im grasping at straws here but did yall peep how dynamight was obv referring to izuku in his latest video…IDK YALL i kinda ship them

42 Replies • 6 Retweets • 312 Likes

layla <3 @jujubeee

Replying to @zukufiles

oomf ily but he literally called him an idiot and said he reported his vid😭

☁️ @megumies

Replying to @zukufiles

yall wanna force an enemies to lovers sooo bad i promise he dont want izuku

ella COMMS OPEN @lovelyzuku

Replying to @zukufiles

girl i sure hope not LOL bakugo scary as hell

Leg Day, Bad Decisions, and Post-Gym Pancakes
-redriotfit
Uploaded 6 hours ago

The vlog opens in complete darkness. Someone screams, “EIJIROU. IF YOU DON’T TURN THAT FUCKING FLASH OFF—”

The camera jerks violently as Eijirou bursts into laughter.

“Good morning, bros!” he whisper-yells into the camera. “It is currently six in the morning and Katsuki is being a little dramatic because apparently human eyes need ‘adjustment time’ or whatever.”

The camera flips around just in time to catch Katsuki glaring from the driver’s seat. His hood is pulled up, hair messy, expression murderous.

“You woke me up by flashbanging me, dumbass.”

“You were already awake.”

“I was drifting peacefully.”

Eijirou grins at the camera. “Anyway, we’re heading to the gym right now because SOMEONE—” he points dramatically at Katsuki, “—texted me at five thirty in the morning saying, and I quote, ‘if you skip leg day again I’m buzzing your hair in your sleep.’”

Katsuki snorts. “Yeah, because your squat form pisses me off.”

“I taught him everything he knows about squatting, by the way,” Eijirou says to the camera.

Katsuki flips him off without looking away from the road.

The vlog cuts to the gym.

It’s mostly empty this early. The camera catches snippets of weights clanking, sneakers squeaking against rubber flooring, and Eijirou dramatically collapsing onto benches between sets.

Katsuki appears in the background constantly. He spots Eijirou. He adjusts their weights. He hands him water without looking at him. At one point he fixes the angle of the camera tripod with visible annoyance.

“Bro, you totally care about my content now.”

“I care about your viewers getting motion sickness every fucking upload.”

Eijirou records bits throughout the workout.

“This,” he says breathlessly after a set of deadlifts, “is why I can’t train with Katsuki all the time.”

In the background, Katsuki racks his weights aggressively. “Every time you hit a new PR it’s because you’re training with me.”

“It’s true.” Eijirou smiles at the camera. “He pushes me to be my best.”

“Ugh, stop being gay.”

Eijirou turns the camera toward Bakugou. “Any advice for beginner lifters, Kats?”

“No ego lifting,” he answers, wiping sweat from the back of his neck with his towel. “Seriously. Nobody gives a shit how much weight you move if your form’s garbage.”

Eijirou nods dramatically like he’s receiving sacred wisdom.

“Wow. Beautiful. Inspiring.”

“Shut up.”

“But seriously,” Eijirou says, “no ego lifting. That’s how you get injured.”

The montage afterward is set to loud rock music. Eijirou flexes at the camera after every set, Katsuki glares at someone off screen for not reracking weights, both of them fail miserably at synchronized pull ups because they keep laughing, Katsuki casually benches terrifying amounts of weight while Eijirou screams encouragement behind the camera, a protein shake explodes everywhere after Eijirou shakes it too hard. 

The music stops. Katsuki glares at him as the protein shake drips down the front of his shirt. Eijirou is doubled over in laughter.

The video cuts abruptly after that, then resumes to a shot of them at a diner. The table’s covered in pancakes, eggs, bacon, and what remains of the protein shake.

“Post leg day meal,” Eijirou explains happily.

Katsuki’s already halfway through his food, his hood pulled over his head. The shirt he was wearing earlier is bunched up on the booth next to him.

“You gonna talk to the camera at all?” Eijirou asks him.

“No.”

“You’ve been weirdly nice today, though.”

“Exactly. I spotted you all day and bought you food. Don’t get greedy.”

Eijirou gasps dramatically. “You guys heard it here first. Bakugou Katsuki loves me.”

Katsuki takes a sip of coffee. “I’m about three seconds away from leaving you here.”

“You’d miss me.”

“No I wouldn’t.”

“You definitely would.”

Katsuki doesn’t answer immediately. He takes another bite of his eggs. “Probably,” he says around it.

Eijirou slams both hands onto the table victoriously.

“HAH.”

The vlog ends with Eijirou zooming the camera aggressively close to Katsuki’s face while he tries to shove it away.

“Say bye to the vlog!”

“Get that shit outta my face.”

“KATSUKIIII.”

Katsuki shoves his hand into the camera. It cuts to black.

~

View 12,981 comments:

@zukupwr: bakugou using gay as an insult um…. 

@kiribakuluvr: he’s literally gay dumbass 

@proteinpowr: katsuki’s love language is def acts of service

@pinkalienparty: i love how eijirou can get katsuki to talk without even trying

@redriotwife: bakugou pretending he hates being in videos while literally appearing in every single one of kiri’s uploads 💀

@todorokination: this felt weirdly intimate for a gym vlog

@nckypoo: right?? Why do i kinda ship them

@kiribakuluvr: that’s cuz they’re dating duh

@jojocat: healthy male friendships can exist btw, stop fetishizing gay men

mellie @krbkisreal

kiribaku nation how we feeling

[IMAGE: Katsuki leaning across Eijirou to steal a bite of his pancakes. Eijirou is giving the camera an exasperated look]

74 Replies • 43 Retweets • 732 Likes

rei @dynamiiii_

Replying to @krbkisreal

omg yall need to let this go can we just respect the fact that they’re friends

mellie @krbkisreal

Replying to @dynamiiii_

girl gtfo my mentions THIS IS A KIRIBAKU STAN ACC!!!

Going to a Cat Cafe Because Midoriya Wouldn’t Stop Talking About It
-shouto
Uploaded 2 days ago

The video opens with a breathtaking shot of the city just before sunset, the camera panning over crowded sidewalks glowing gold beneath the evening light while soft instrumental music hums quietly in the background. The editing is cinematic, every frame color graded so carefully it almost looks like a short film instead of a casual vlog.

Then it cuts abruptly to the worst possible angle imaginable.

Shouto’s face is being filmed from somewhere below his chin, the camera tilted upward in a way that makes him look vaguely haunted.

“Hi,” he says. There’s a long pause. “I forgot my tripod.”

The screen stays frozen on the terrible angle for several painful seconds before cutting away again to another beautifully edited montage of the walk to the cafe.

A quieter song fades in while the camera captures the interior of the cat cafe through the front windows, warm yellow lights glowing against dark wood furniture and cats lounging across shelves and the backs of couches.

“They let you feed the cats here,” Shouto says as the bell above the cafe door rings softly overhead. “Izuku brought his own treats.”

“You say that like you’re not more excited than I am,” Izuku laughs beside him.

The camera finally cuts back to him sitting at a small corner table beside the window, although once again the angle is catastrophically bad. The ceiling occupies an unreasonable amount of screen space, and half his face is out of frame.

Izuku leans halfway into view, trying unsuccessfully not to laugh.

“You know,” he says carefully, “for someone whose videos look like award winning documentaries, you’re terrible at filming from front facing angles.”

Shouto stares at the screen for a second before silently adjusting the camera downward with one finger.

The angle somehow gets worse. Izuku fully breaks into laughter.

The next several minutes pass in soft, comfortable conversation layered over shots of the cafe. The camera captures the slow curl of steam rising from coffee cups, sunlight catching against glass jars of cat treats near the register, and tiny paws stretching lazily across tabletops as customers reach down to pet them.

“The atmosphere is nice,” Shouto says, filming a sleepy orange cat sprawled across the back of a chair. “It’s quieter than I expected.”

“Shouto wanted to come here because he saw a cat named Pancake on their Instagram story.”

Shouto nods. “It had the same color eyes as me. It’s not here, though.”

Izuku hums dejectedly. “They told us someone took it home yesterday.”

The camera briefly flips around toward Izuku, who’s sitting across from him with both hands wrapped around a coffee cup. A gray cat sleeps curled in his lap completely undisturbed by the noise around them. His cheeks are slightly pink from the warmth inside the cafe, curls messy from the wind outside. He gives the camera a warm smile when he notices Shouto filming him, then points to Shouto’s drink.

“What’d you get?” Izuku asks.

Shouto slowly tilts the camera downward toward his drink.

“It’s a honey cinnamon latte.”

“And?”

Shouto takes another sip.

“Very good. I think I swallowed cat fur, though.”

Izuku laughs, the gray cat shaking in his lap with the movement.

A short montage shows cats weaving in between people’s feet, and Izuku feeding a group of kittens a treat. 

At one point the camera catches Izuku reaching across the table to slide Shouto’s untouched pastry closer to him because he’s too distracted filming to remember it’s there. A few minutes later, Shouto silently pushes his own drink toward Izuku after noticing his cup is empty.

Eventually the camera cuts back to Shouto standing outside the cafe after dark, the neon sign glowing softly behind him as the evening wind pushes strands of hair across his face. The framing is still awful.

“So,” he says after a moment, “I’d give the cafe an eight out of ten.”

“Only an eight?” Izuku asks from behind the camera now.

“The coffee was good,” Shouto explains, “but one of the cats ignored me.”

Izuku starts laughing again.

“You’re taking that really personally. He was asleep, Shouto-kun.”

Shouto shrugs but doesn’t change the rating.

Izuku’s laughter gets quieter after that, softer around the edges in a way that makes him look relaxed. It’s quiet for a second as the traffic hums distantly behind them.

Then Shouto glances toward him.

“We should come back.”

Izuku smiles, visible only briefly in the reflection of the cafe window behind him.

“Yeah,” he says. “We should.”

The video fades out over one last beautifully edited shot of the city at night, train lights blurring across the screen while soft music plays underneath.

~

View 23,184 comments:

@chickenshell_4: WHY WAS THE CAMERA INSIDE HIS NOSTRILS FOR HALF THE VIDEO

@halfnhalf: the way they kept sliding food/drinks toward each other :( they love each other so much

@todorokination: shouto giving a lower rating because a cat ignored him is sending me

@touyatime: his scenery shots are GORGEOUS,,, meanwhile his facecam looks like cctv footage

@shoutosleftsock: “we should come back” OH MY GODDDDD they’re so in love

@milkbreadluvr: this feels like the beginning of a romance movie

@orangejuicee: not to be insane but i need 40 more videos of these two sitting quietly in cafes together

@rainydayszuku: the way his entire channel is just him documenting them falling in love

Luna🐰@izutwinkle

the way shouto films izuku so beautifully, looks at him so tenderly, speaks to him so gently,,,that man is SO in love 

16 Replies • 8 Retweets • 112 Likes

vea @fluffydenki

Replying to @izutwinkle

I literally can’t stop watching his new vlog they’re so gentle with each other it makes me sick

kel @touyapologist 

Replying to @izutwinkle

shouto literally looks at everyone like that pls stand up

How to Meal Prep (because apparently im the only competent person on this planet)
-Dynamight
Uploaded 7 hours ago

The video opens with the low, steady hum of a grocery store refrigerator aisle, fluorescent light reflecting sharply against polished tile floors. The camera trails behind a shopping cart as Katsuki pushes it one handed through the nearly empty produce section. 

Katsuki appears only briefly at first, caught in accidental reflections on refrigerator doors or mirrored security panels as he moves through the aisles. He’s dressed simply in a dark hoodie and sweats, one earbud hanging loose around his neck while he scans nutrition labels.

“Alright,” he says eventually, finally angling the camera toward himself for approximately three seconds before pointing it back at the cart again. “Some of you keep asking how I meal prep without spending a billion dollars every week, so congratulations. You’re getting a grocery vlog.”

The editing is clean, his transitions smooth and purposeful, the camera lingering on small details and making the simple grocery store scenes feel strangely cinematic. Fresh vegetables glisten under refrigerated misting systems and cartons of strawberries tumble into the cart beside containers of rice, chicken, green onions, eggs, and several bottles of sauce Katsuki spends a long time evaluating.

“You don’t need to buy fancy health food bullshit to eat properly,” he says, tossing jasmine rice into the cart. “Half the stuff marketed as wellness food tastes like drywall anyway.”

A few aisles later, he pauses abruptly beside instant ramen cups stacked nearly floor to ceiling.

Katsuki stares at them, then stares pointedly at the camera. “Don’t buy this bullshit.” The camera zooms slightly toward the ramen shelf. “If your dinner takes forty seconds to make and comes with sodium levels capable of killing a small child, maybe reevaluate your choices.”

He keeps walking. 

The cart fills steadily while he talks in that same rough, absentminded way he always does whenever he forgets he’s technically filming for thousands of people instead of muttering to himself.

“Meal prepping’s not hard,” he says as he inspects an avocado. “Most of you just don’t plan ahead. Buy versatile ingredients that you can incorporate into multiple meals. Easy proteins, carbs, and veg. The flavor comes in the sauce and seasoning.”

He tosses two avocados into the cart.

“And if you’re busy all the time, that’s even more reason to prep food beforehand.”

The camera catches him frowning slightly as he pushes the cart forward again.

“Like, obviously you’re not gonna wanna cook after getting home exhausted every night. So make shit you can reheat.” There’s a pause before he adds, “Doesn’t matter how tired you are. You still gotta eat properly.”

The vlog cuts forward to him standing in front of refrigerated condiments while holding a bottle of Kewpie mayo.

Katsuki stares at it for several seconds, then throws it in the cart.

Back at his apartment, the atmosphere of the vlog is now warmer as late afternoon sunlight spills through the kitchen windows in long golden streaks, illuminating his countertops now covered in groceries and meal prep containers.

Katsuki ties an apron around his waist with one sharp tug then gets to work.

The cooking process itself unfolds through a series of smooth, tightly edited montages. His knife glides rapidly through vegetables while rice steams quietly in the background and chicken crackles loudly against a pan. Katsuki moves through the kitchen with confidence, barely needing to think before reaching for ingredients or adjusting heat levels.

At one point, while portioning rice into containers, he glances toward the camera suddenly.

“And wash your rice.” He points his chopsticks threateningly. “I’m serious.”

Katsuki spends part of the video explaining how he balances meals cheaply while multitasking three separate pans at once, although most of his explanations sound more like insults than actual instructions.

“Frozen vegetables are fine. Stop acting like buying frozen broccoli is admitting defeat.”

“Season your food. Salt isn’t the enemy. Bland chicken is.”

“If your smoke alarm goes off every time you cook, you’re either incompetent or cooking at nuclear temperatures.” A brief pause. “…Which, okay, sometimes happens.”

Eventually the counter becomes crowded with neatly organized containers filled with teriyaki chicken, rice, roasted vegetables, spicy salmon, and cut fruit.

Katsuki surveys everything with visible satisfaction before reaching for another container. He stops, mid reaching for it.

There are already seven lined up neatly across the counter. Slowly, he counts them again.

“What the fuck.”

The camera stays rolling while realization dawns across his face in real time.

“I made too much.”

For a second he just stands there holding another empty container while the kitchen settles into silence around him, evening sunlight catching against the steam still curling upward from the rice cooker.

Then, grumbling under his breath, he starts portioning the extra serving anyway. The movements are rougher now, vaguely annoyed in the way people get when they accidentally reveal something about themselves they didn’t intend to.

“If you cook properly,” he mutters, refusing to look directly at the camera anymore, “it’s easier to make extra.” A pause. “In case somebody forgets to eat.”

The sentence hangs there for exactly one second too long before Katsuki seems to realize what he just said.

“Not that I give a shit,” he adds.

The video cuts off. 

~

View 11,904 comments:

@friedricefan99: OH MY GOD HE’S TALKING ABOUT DEKUDIARIES AGAIN

@kiribakuluvr: girl he’s literally dating kirishima, nobody gaf ab dekudiaries

@tddkfan: and izuku is dating shouto so what’s ur point…

@shoutosleftsock: THIS MAN IS ABSOLUTELY WATCHING IZUKU’S VIDEOS RELIGIOUSLY

@greenlightdaily: “in case somebody forgets to eat” HELLO?????

@burntnuggets: BRO IS NOT BEATING THE ALLEGATIONS

@ochamochi: he remembers WAY too many details to just casually know that stuff

@gymratriot: this feels like he’s meal prepping for someone else 😭

@kiribakuluvr: he obv made extra for kirishima

Trying a Subscriber’s Recipe So I Stop Eating Like a College Freshman!!
-dekudiaries
Uploaded 5 hours ago

The video opens with rain tapping softly against Izuku’s apartment windows while pale gray light spills across the kitchen in muted streaks. A kettle whistles faintly in the background while instrumental music hums beneath the intro, the camera positioned carefully this time instead of balanced precariously against his toaster.

“Hey guys,” Izuku says, smiling as he slides into frame wearing an oversized crewneck. His curls are still damp at the ends like he showered recently, freckles more noticeable than usual in the softer lighting. “So, after my… incredibly controversial onigiri video—”

The screen cuts to a montage of horrified comments.

THERE’S NO RICE????

THIS IS A CRY FOR HELP

MIDORIYA PLEASE LEARN BASIC SURVIVAL SKILLS

The vlog cuts back to Izuku laughing helplessly into his hands.

“Okay, in my defense,” he says, “I was tired. And I’ve been emotionally attached to tuna for the last couple weeks. Ochaco says I should cut down on my mercury intake but I haven’t died yet so.” He shrugs.

“Anyway,” he continues, still smiling a little sheepishly, “a lot of you sent me recipes afterward, and one of them actually looked really good and relatively easy, so I thought I’d try making it today.”

He reaches off screen for his phone. “kingexplosionmurder says ‘If you’re gonna insist on surviving like a raccoon digging through convenience store dumpsters, at least learn how to make proper spicy salmon onigiri.’ Which, okay, kinda rude. But then they very graciously included detailed instructions on how to make it so I guess that makes up for it.” He smiles at the camera. “Let’s get started.”

The camera cuts to ingredients already laid out across the counter while Izuku explains the recipe, occasionally glancing down at his phone where the instructions are pulled up.

His set up is organized. The rice is measured properly, fresh salmon is wrapped in brown paper, and bowls are arranged neatly beside sauces and seasonings.

“You guys are gonna be really proud of me,” Izuku says earnestly while washing rice in the sink. “Because apparently I’ve been cooking rice wrong this whole time.”

The water clouds white beneath his fingers.

“I didn’t realize you were supposed to rinse it this many times.”

He hums quietly to himself while cooking, occasionally narrating bits of his thought process as rain continues pattering softly against the windows behind him. 

“The person who sent this recipe was weirdly intense,” he says while the rice cooks. “Like, there are paragraphs here.”

He squints down at his phone. The camera zooms closer as he keeps reading. “‘DO NOT use too much mayo or the texture gets disgusting.’”

Izuku blinks. “They also put ‘wash your rice properly’ in all caps.” He pauses. “I feel judged.”

Somewhere off camera, Shouto says, “Maybe because your first attempt didn’t contain rice.”

“I KNOW.”

The camera catches Izuku laughing while pressing the heels of his hands against his face in embarrassment, shoulders shaking slightly before he composes himself again.

“But honestly,” he says after a moment, quieter this time, “it’s actually kinda nice that people care enough to send me stuff like this. I appreciate you guys being concerned about my wellbeing.”

“I think sometimes I forget there are actual people watching these videos,” Izuku admits while shaping rice carefully between his hands. “Like obviously I know there are, but when I film it mostly just feels like I’m talking to myself.” He laughs a little. “Or documenting my gradual collapse during midterms.”

The camera cuts into another montage then, this one edited more artistically than most of Izuku’s usual uploads as warm lighting reflects against glossy nori sheets and freshly cooked rice. He dices the fresh salmon and adds it to a bowl with mayo, sriracha, and sesame oil.

The rice sticks to his hand, and he shakes it to fling the grains off. “It keeps sticking to me. How do people make this look so easy? Maybe I should get one of those onigiri molds.”

He wraps the finished rice balls carefully in nori and glances toward the camera.

“Okay,” he says seriously. “These already look significantly less devastating than the ones I made the other day.”

Eventually the final product is plated neatly beside a small bowl of soy sauce, steam still rising gently from the rice. Izuku stares at the plate proudly. A few of the onigiri are misshapen, but he tilts the plate towards the camera and smiles.

“These actually look real,” he says softly, sounding genuinely delighted. He lifts one carefully toward the camera. “And there’s rice this time.”

“Okay,” he says, settling in for the taste test. “Moment of truth.”

He takes a bite. The camera stays trained on his face as his eyes widen slowly in visible surprise.

“Oh.” Another bite. “Oh my god.”

He covers his mouth while chewing.

“These are REALLY good. I can’t believe I made this.”

The excitement in his voice comes fast afterward, words tumbling over each other while he keeps talking between bites.

“The salmon’s seasoned perfectly and the rice texture is completely different when you actually wash it properly and— hold on—”

He points suddenly toward the camera with the onigiri still in hand.

“The person who sent this recipe also said adding a little sugar balances the spice and THEY WERE RIGHT.”

Izuku keeps eating while talking happily about possible filling combinations he wants to try next.

By the end of the vlog, he’s curled sideways against the kitchen counter with a second onigiri in hand while rain continues falling steadily outside.

“Anyway,” Izuku says finally, smiling softly toward the camera, “thank you to whoever sent me this recipe.” He laughs. “You were kind of aggressive about it, but I appreciate the concern. I think this might actually become one of my comfort meals.”

The video fades out there.

~

View 52,481 comments:

@msbyfan: OH MY GOD THAT WAS ABSOLUTELY KATSUKI

@ramenreaper: “if you’re gonna insist on surviving like a raccoon digging through convenience store dumpsters” THAT IS LITERALLY HIS VOCABULARY 😭

@groundzerogirl: there is NO WAY Katsuki did not send this recipe

@shoutowrld: omg u guys are so annoying. It’s literally from an anon account

@shoutosleftsock: izuku sweetie that man is in LOVE with you

@sakuatsuisreal: girl bye izuku is way too good for him

@greenlightdaily: no because this genuinely feels like bakugou trying to take care of him from a distance

@izukisim: “these actually look real” HE SOUNDS SO PROUD OF HIMSELF

@cinnamontoastcrisis: imagine anonymously teaching your crush how to cook through youtube comments

@izzysnumber1fan: the fact that izuku genuinely appreciates the recipe :( he’s so sweet

@todorokination: this is somehow more intimate than actual flirting

Lily🪷@princeshouto

these bkdk shippers lowkey pissing me off… yall are delusional as hell

16 Replies • 3 Retweets • 72 Likes

mew @starrynights

Replying to @princeshouto

bro they’re clogging up my timeline i had to mute the word

Lily🪷@princeshouto

Replying to @starrynights

girl i been had b*kugou’s name muted he’s annoying af

Late Night Ranked and Apparently I’m a Villain Now
-Dynamight STREAM ARCHIVE
Streamed 11 hours ago

The stream begins with the sound of mechanical keyboard clicks and muffled swearing before the webcam even fully loads, the screen flickering briefly black while thousands of viewers pour into chat almost immediately. Katsuki appears a second later sitting sideways in his desk chair, one arm hooked lazily over the backrest while he adjusts his headset.

“You people are loud as shit today,” he says instead of greeting anyone.

The chat starts moving too quickly to read.

GOOD EVENING POOKIE
BRO’S BACK
WHY DO YOU LOOK EXHAUSTED
DID YOU SEE THE DEKUDIARIES VIDEO

Katsuki squints at the screen.

“No. Shut up.”

The stream continues normally for a while after that, or as normal as his streams ever are. Katsuki queues into ranked matches while insulting both his opponents and teammates with equal enthusiasm, occasionally leaning closer to the mic to rant whenever somebody in-game does something stupid. The audience eats it up every time, clips already spreading across social media before the stream is even an hour in.

But every few minutes the chat drifts back toward the same topic.

HE USED RICE THIS TIME
YOUR RECIPE WORKED BTW
DID YOU SEE HIM CALL IT A COMFORT MEAL
fatherhood changes a man

Katsuki ignores all of it with increasingly visible annoyance. Until:

pull up the video coward

Katsuki pauses mid-queue. The entire chat seems to collectively hold its breath. He leans back slowly in his chair, arms crossed.

“You guys are so fucking annoying,” he mutters. “…Fine.”

The chat explodes instantly.

OH MY GOD
HES DOING IT
SOMEONE SAVE HIM
LIVE REACTION TIME

Katsuki opens the video with the expression of a man approaching his own execution. The stream layout shifts slightly as Izuku’s upload fills half the screen, paused at a thumbnail of him smiling awkwardly while holding up a plate of onigiri.

The video starts.

Rain patters softly through Izuku’s intro while the cozy warmth of his apartment fills the stream audio, and for the first few minutes Katsuki barely speaks at all. He watches with his chin propped against one hand, expression unreadable except for the occasional twitch around his mouth whenever Izuku says something particularly ridiculous.

Then Izuku reads the recipe comment aloud: “‘If you’re gonna insist on surviving like a raccoon digging through convenience store dumpsters—’”

Katsuki’s eyes widen slightly. “Oh my fucking god.”

The chat moves so fast it becomes nearly unreadable.

THAT WAS YOUUUUU
HE RECOGNIZED HIS OWN WORDING LMFAOOO
CAUGHT IN 4K

“That could be anybody,” Katsuki snaps immediately.

NOBODY ELSE TALKS LIKE THAT
BRO YOU ARE NOT SUBTLE

Katsuki ignores them. Or tries to at least. But every few seconds he keeps reacting instinctively to things happening in the video before he can stop himself.

Izuku rinses the rice.

“Yeah, keep going,” Katsuki mutters automatically. “Water should run clear.”

The second the words leave his mouth, the chat detonates.

OH HE’S GONE
THIS MAN IS DONE FOR
BROS TALKING HIM THROUGH IT

“Shut UP.”

A few minutes later, Izuku struggles shaping the rice. Katsuki immediately sighs.

“Wet your hands, dumbass.”

It’s silent for a second before the chat explodes.

WET UR HANDS DUMBASS 😭😭😭
HES ACTUALLY INVESTED
THIS IS INSANE TO WATCH LIVE

Katsuki drags a hand aggressively down his face.

“I hate all of you.”

But he doesn’t stop the video.

The stream settles into something quieter after a while, the mood shifting as Izuku talks softly about forgetting people are actually watching his videos while shaping the onigiri carefully between his hands.

Katsuki stops reading chat entirely around then. His eyes stay trained on the video.

Rain hums through the speakers while warm kitchen light reflects softly across Izuku’s apartment, his voice calm and slightly distracted in the way it always gets when he’s speaking honestly without realizing it.

“I think sometimes I forget there are actual people watching these videos,” Izuku admits quietly onscreen. “Like obviously I know there are, but when I film it mostly just feels like I’m talking to myself.”

Something in Katsuki’s expression shifts for half a second.

Then comes the taste test. Izuku takes a bite and freezes.

“Oh,” he says softly. He takes another bite. “Oh my god.”

Katsuki’s shoulders loosen visibly. The tension that had been sitting unconsciously between his brows since the video started eases all at once.

Chat notices immediately.

HE LOOKS RELIEVED
WHY DOES HE LOOK RELIEVED
BRO WAS STRESSED ABOUT THE ONIGIRI

And then Izuku says, “I think this might actually become one of my comfort meals.”

The room goes completely quiet on Katsuki’s end. No keyboard clicking. No sarcastic commentary. The only sound comes from Izuku’s video still playing softly through the stream. Katsuki stares at the screen for a second too long before suddenly reaching for his mouse.

“Alright,” he says roughly. “That’s enough.”

The video pauses abruptly. The chat immediately starts spamming.

NOOOOO
BROS FLUSTERED
WHY ARE YOU BLUSHING
YOU LOOK LIKE YOU JUST GOT PROPOSED TO

“I’m not blushing.”

YOU WERE SMILING
THATS THE HAPPIEST WE’VE EVER SEEN YOU

“Shut the fuck up.”

But now his ears actually are turning red, which only makes everything worse.

The chat descends into total chaos.

JUST DM HIM
ASK HIM OUT

Katsuki recoils like he’s been physically attacked.

“You people are fucking insane.”

His cursor slips slightly while trying to close chat.

Somebody donates fifty dollars just to send:

HE CALLED YOUR FOOD A COMFORT MEAL BTW

Katsuki ends the stream.

By morning, clips from the stream are everywhere.

“WET YOUR HANDS DUMBASS” trends on multiple platforms.

Compilation videos appear within hours:

Dynamight accidentally exposing himself for 11 minutes

bakugou reacting to dekudiaries like a divorced husband

every time katsuki forgot he was supposed to be hating

Late Night Study Stream + Organizing My Notes
-dekudiaries LIVE
Started streaming 23 minutes ago

The stream opens quietly.

Lo-fi music hums faintly through Izuku’s speakers, the warm glow of his desk lamp illuminating scattered notebooks, color-coded sticky notes, and three separate coffee cups in various stages of abandonment. His camera quality isn’t nearly as polished during livestreams compared to his edited uploads, the framing slightly uneven and the lighting softer around the edges.

Izuku sits cross legged in his desk chair wearing an oversized sweatshirt, absently chewing on the cap of a highlighter while scrolling through notes on his laptop.

“Hi, guys,” he says, smiling sleepily toward the camera. “I wasn’t planning on streaming tonight, but I have, like, thirty pages of notes to reorganize before class tomorrow and if I do it alone I think my soul might leave my body.”

The chat floods instantly.

STUDY STREAMMMMM
HI IZUKU
I MISSED YOU SWEET ANGEL
DID YOU SEE THE CLIPS YET
OH NO HE DOESNT KNOW

Izuku squints. “Know what?”

The chat starts moving too fast to read, and he laughs a little nervously. “That’s usually a bad sign.”

For the next several minutes the stream settles into its usual rhythm, quiet and comfortable in the way Izuku’s livestreams always are. He reorganizes notes while talking absentmindedly about classes, complains gently about discussion board assignments, and occasionally pauses mid-sentence because he gets distracted explaining some random topic nobody asked about.

At one point he spends four uninterrupted minutes talking about the history of instant photography. Nobody stops him.

His phone buzzes somewhere off screen. Then again. Then again. Izuku barely notices at first.

“Sorry,” he says while highlighting something aggressively. “My notifications have been kind of weird all day.”

The buzzing continues. Chat starts spamming.

CHECK YOUR PHONE
IZUKU PLEASE
THIS IS HISTORY
BRO IS ABOUT TO EXPERIENCE PSYCHOLOGICAL DAMAGE

Izuku blinks at the screen. “You guys are scaring me.”

He reaches off camera for his phone. The second the screen lights up, his brows furrow in confusion.

“Why do I have forty seven notifications?”

The chat explodes.

OH MY GOD
HERE WE GO
SOMEONE HOLD MY HAND

Izuku scrolls slowly. His brows pull together tighter with every swipe.

“Wait.”

Another scroll.

“Wait, wait—”

His eyes widen.

“Why is Dynamight trending?”

The chat becomes unreadable.

HE DOESNT KNOWWWWW
THIS IS BETTER THAN I IMAGINED
SOMEONE CLIP THIS

Izuku clicks something. The stream hears audio immediately. “Wet your hands, dumbass.”

Izuku freezes. The clip continues playing from his phone speakers.

“Water should run clear.”
“Yeah, obviously.”
“I’m not blushing.”

The realization dawns slowly enough for the audience to watch it happen in real time.

“Oh my god,” Izuku whispers.

Another clip autoplay begins immediately after.

This one titled: BAKUGOU ACCIDENTALLY EXPOSING HIMSELF FOR 9 MINUTES STRAIGHT

“No, no, hold on—”

He starts reading faster now. There’s edits, compilations, screenshots, comment threads connecting every single indirect reference Katsuki has apparently made over the past several months. Comments about him.

The meal prep video, the rice comments, the extra serving container.

“Oh my god,” Izuku says again, visibly overheating now. “Oh my god.”

His entire face turns pink all at once. The chat scrolls so quickly it’s impossible to read fully anymore.

HE’S SHORT CIRCUITING
IZUKU BREATHE
HE CARES ABOUT YOU BABE

“I thought those were coincidences,” Izuku says weakly.

Somebody donates fifty dollars.

“IZUKU HE HAS YOUR POST NOTIFICATIONS ON”

“What?!” He nearly drops his phone. “There’s no way.”

Another donation immediately after:

“he recognized his own burner comment instantly btw”

Izuku stares blankly at the screen. Then very slowly lowers his phone. “…The recipe?”

YES THE RECIPE
BABYGIRL KEEP UP
HE TAUGHT YOU HOW TO MAKE ONIGIRI THROUGH YOUTUBE COMMENTS

Izuku presses both hands over his face so suddenly his chair squeaks backward.

“No, wait—” He sounds genuinely overwhelmed now. “Bakugou Katsuki watches my videos?”

The wording makes the entire chat implode because he says it like it’s the least believable thing in the universe.

Another clip starts autoplaying before he can stop it. This time it’s an edit. An edit with slow music and rain overlays and fucking cinematic zooms, cuts between Izuku smiling in his kitchen and Katsuki watching him silently on stream.

Izuku goes completely motionless. “Oh my god, people think we’re dating.”

The chat moves so fast it starts lagging.

WELL YES?????
ARE YOU NOT???
OH HES GONE
YOU ARE SO FAR BEHIND EVERYONE ELSE

From somewhere off camera, Shouto speaks for the first time all stream.

“I thought you already knew.”

Izuku whips around so fast he almost falls out of his chair. “YOU KNEW ABOUT THIS?”

Shouto appears briefly in the doorway holding a convenience store bag and looking entirely unsurprised by any of this.

“He pays attention to everything you say,” he says simply.

“That doesn’t answer anything, Shouto.” He sounds distressed. 

“Half his videos are obviously about you.” Shouto shrugs slightly. “He talks about you like a long lost lover.”

The room goes dead silent. Even the chat seems to pause for half a second. Izuku stares at him, then at the clips still open on his phone, then back at the camera.

His face is catastrophically red now.

“I think,” he says faintly, “I need to lie down.”

The chat begins spamming variations of HE LIKES YOU so aggressively it becomes a solid wall of text.

Izuku reads exactly one message aloud before immediately regretting it. “The extra meal container was for you.”

He freezes. Because suddenly he remembers Katsuki saying tired people still needed to eat properly, the recipe comment, the way he sounded relieved during the taste test, the way he seemed to care. 

Something in Izuku’s expression softens beneath the embarrassment.

“Oh,” he says softly.

The chat collectively screams. Izuku notices approximately two seconds later and panics immediately.

“Nope,” he says quickly, fumbling for his mouse. “Nope, okay, stream’s over. Goodnight. I love you guys. Please stop making edits of me.”

TOO LATE
FOLLOW HIM ON TWITTER
ASK HIM OUT
WET YOUR HANDS DUMBASS

“GOODNIGHT.”

The stream ends abruptly.

Within twenty minutes #WetYourHandsDumbass trends again, “Oh.” becomes a reaction meme, clips of Izuku realizing the recipe comment was Katsuki’s hit two million views, and somewhere across the city, Katsuki watches the stream archive in complete fucking horror.

@dekudiaries started following @Dynamight

@Dynamight started following @dekudiaries

@dekudiaries commented on Teaching You How to Cook Before You Starve to Death: The recipe helped a lot, thank you :)

Annoying Katsuki Bakugou for 24 Hours
-chargebolt
Uploaded 2 hours ago

The vlog opens with aggressive zoom-ins and airhorn sound effects over freeze frames of Katsuki looking progressively more homicidal, all edited together with the kind of chaotic energy that communicates Denki Kaminari should not legally be allowed near editing software.

The title card flashes across the screen in bright yellow text:

ANNOYING BAKUGOU KATSUKI FOR 24 HOURS ⚡️💔

Beneath it, smaller text appears:

(post public-humiliationship incident)

The camera cuts shakily to Denki whispering from outside Katsuki’s apartment door early in the morning, bundled in a hoodie while trying, and failing, not to laugh.

“Okay,” he says to the camera, “so as all of you unfortunately know, Katsuki publicly exposed himself on stream yesterday.”

From inside the apartment, “I CAN FUCKING HEAR YOU.”

Denki beams and continues. “And today, I’m going to spend twenty four uninterrupted hours terrorizing him.”

The apartment door swings open violently. Katsuki stands there already exhausted somehow, blond hair messy and expression deeply regretful.

“You have one minute to explain why you’re here before I start throwing objects.”

Denki pushes past him immediately. “Great question! We’re vlogging today.”

“Who the fuck is we?”

“Us. Together. As friends.”

“I’m not filming shit.”

Denki zooms dramatically into Katsuki’s face.

“Interesting thing for a man with a four million subscriber channel to say.”

“I’m deleting your footage.”

“No you’re not.”

The vlog descends into chaos almost immediately afterward. Unlike Katsuki’s carefully edited content, Denki’s filming style feels intrusive and messy, the camera constantly swinging slightly out of focus while he narrates like he’s filming a nature documentary about an especially aggressive wild animal.

“This,” Denki whispers while filming Katsuki making coffee, “is a recently exposed blond man in his natural habitat.”

“I’m literally just making espresso.”

“Notice how he yearns silently.”

Katsuki throws a spoon at him.

Throughout the morning, Denki follows Katsuki around his apartment while providing increasingly ridiculous commentary, zooming dramatically into every irritated expression and replaying moments in slow motion whenever Katsuki accidentally says something that could remotely be interpreted as soft.

Eijirou arrives around noon and immediately makes everything worse.

“BRO,” he says the second he walks through the door. “The clip of you smiling hit ten million views.”

Katsuki closes his eyes briefly. “Why are you tracking this?”

“Because it’s funny.”

“It’s fucking humiliating is what it is.”

Denki zooms the camera in aggressively.

“Katsuki,” he says gently, “how does it feel knowing the entire internet watched you hit on your crush in real time?”

“I DON’T HAVE A CRUSH.”

“Interesting,” Eijirou says thoughtfully. “Counterpoint, yes you do.”

Katsuki points toward the front door. “Leave.”

Neither of them move.

Katsuki starts making dinner with the grim determination of someone trying very hard to focus on literally anything else.

Denki, unfortunately, refuses to let him.

The camera captures the way he checks his phone every few minutes without realizing, the visible disappointment whenever it’s not the notification he wants, how quiet he gets whenever Izuku’s name comes up, the way his ears turn red every single time Eijirou calls him “domestic.”

“Do you think he’ll message you?” Denki asks casually while stealing cut vegetables off the counter.

Katsuki nearly cuts through the countertop. “Why the fuck would he message me.”

Denki and Eijirou exchange identical looks directly into the camera. The audience later describes this moment as “watching two zoo keepers observe a distressed tiger.”

“You know,” Eijirou says carefully, “he seemed pretty happy about the recipe thing.”

Katsuki stills for a second, the movement small enough that most people normally wouldn’t catch it. Unfortunately for him, Denki edits in a dramatic zoom, sparkles, and sad violin music.

“Denki,” he shouts. “Stop fucking filming me.”

The vlog cuts forward again toward evening while the city outside darkens slowly beyond the apartment windows. Denki is sprawled across Katsuki’s couch, Eijirou lays on the rug scrolling on his phone, and Katsuki sits on the floor, his laptop on the coffee table like he’s accepted that neither of them are leaving.

“Oh shit.” Eijirou looks up from his phone slowly. “…Katsuki.”

“What.”

“You got a comment.”

Katsuki picks up his phone, the camera zooming in slowly like a predator approaching prey.

“Katsuki,” Denki says carefully, visibly trying not to laugh, “why do you look like somebody just handed you a live grenade.”

“Shut up.”

Katsuki’s eyes widen as he reads the comment. Denki launches himself off the couch as soon as he sees the flicker in his expression.

“READ IT OUT LOUD.”

“No.”

“KATSUKI.”

“Fuck off.”

But his phone screen lights the room just enough for the camera to catch the notification reflected faintly across his face:

dekudiaries commented on your video:
“The recipe helped a lot, thank you :)”

Denki slowly turns toward the camera with the expression of a man witnessing history unfold in real time. Then back toward Katsuki who is staring at his phone like the message personally altered his DNA structure.

The corners of his mouth twitch upward before he can stop them. Denki immediately screams.

“EI HE’S SMILING.”

“I AM NOT.”

“IS THAT A BLUSH I SEE?”

Katsuki realizes the camera is still recording. Horror floods his face instantly.

“Nope.”

The screen jolts violently as he lunges toward Denki. The vlog cuts to black mid-impact.

~

View 24,882 comments:

@plushiefox: THIS IS THE MOST DOCUMENTED CRUSH OF ALL TIME

@shoutoseyelash: the way he kept checking his phone all day OH MY GODDDD

@arlodinary: “why would he message me” meanwhile bro checked his notifications every 12 seconds

@ochamochi: IZUKU YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOUVE DONE

@broccoliboi: katsuki smiling like he was told he hung the moon 😭

@izzysnumber1fan: they still haven’t had a direct conversation and this is somehow more intimate than half the couples online

@proteinpowr: bakugou discovering tenderness against his will continues to be my favorite ongoing series

@groundzerogirl: someone get these men in the same room immediately before i perish

toolie @stooliepie

WAIT YOUCON GUEST LIST JUST DROPPED BKDK ARE BOTH GOING WE WINNNN

343 Replies • 3K Retweets • 1K Likes

jesse @itsmejesse

what if they actually meet

what if they take a pic together

what if they vlog together

what if they breathe the same air

what if i kill myself

1.3K Replies • 2K Retweets • 6K Likes

kookie @jungkookie__

Replying to @itsmejesse

if they interact for more than thirty seconds i’m gonna pass away

ema @emieloveskats

everyone joke all you want but imagine the content we would get if they actually become friends after youcon

111 Replies • 240 Retweets • 1.3K Likes

gemma @gemsketches

Replying to @emiloveskats

“become friends” yeah okay grandma let’s get you to bed

Convention Weekend
-shouto
Uploaded 1 hour ago

The vlog opens with soft morning light spilling through the enormous windows of a hotel room high above the city, pale gold reflecting across rumpled white sheets and half unpacked suitcases. Clothes are draped across desk chairs and charging cables are tangled beside overpriced bottled water. The distant noise of traffic hums several stories below.

The camera pans slowly toward Izuku.

He’s sitting cross legged on the carpet in front of an open suitcase surrounded by camera batteries, notebooks, tangled hoodie strings, and approximately seven different outfit options laid out in complete disarray around him.

Izuku looks up when he notices Shouto filming him.

“Shouto,” he says, visibly stressed, “which jacket makes me look the least like I haven’t slept in three days?”

“The green one.”

“The dark green one or the—”

“The one not currently on the floor.”

The camera shifts slightly as Shouto sits down at the small table beside the hotel window, quietly stirring iced coffee. Like always, the scenery shots are beautifully framed while the occasional glimpses of himself remain objectively terrible.

“This weekend is YouCon,” Shouto explains to the camera while Izuku continues spiraling in the background. “A lot of creators were invited.”

“A LOT of creators,” Izuku repeats faintly.

“I just said that.”

“I know, but hearing it out loud makes it scarier.”

The convention itself has apparently been something Izuku’s looked forward to for months, judging from the increasingly rapid pace of his speech whenever he talks about panels or creators he admires.

“There’s this editing workshop I really want to attend,” he says, trying to fold a sweater with one hand. “And Present Mic’s doing a livestream panel later and apparently there’s gonna be a lot of networking events and—”

His sentence cuts off abruptly. Shouto glances up from behind the camera, a brow raised.

“…And Dynamight is gonna be there.”

There’s a long silence.

The audience later loses their minds because this is the first time Izuku has voluntarily brought him up on camera.

Shouto takes another sip of coffee. “Yes, he will.”

Izuku presses both hands against his face. “Oh my god.”

“You guys have attended the same conventions before.”

“That’s different.”

“How.”

Izuku lowers his hands slowly. “Because now he knows I exist.”

“Apparently he’s known for a while.” The camera shakes slightly from Shouto’s laughter.

The vlog cuts afterward into a montage of convention setup footage layered beneath soft music, the massive convention center glowing beneath colorful signage while creators and attendees stream through crowded entrances carrying cameras, merch bags, and lanyards around their necks. The atmosphere feels electric even through the screen, every hallway buzzing with overlapping conversations and flashes from photography booths.

Izuku’s excitement gradually overtakes his nerves as the vlog goes on. The camera catches him stopping every few minutes because he recognizes somebody online.

“That’s Shinsou,” he whispers urgently at one point.

“I know.”

“He’s taller than I expected.”

Shouto pans the camera briefly toward Shinsou, who’s asleep upright in a chair near the panel rooms despite the noise around him.

“He looks tired.”

“I’ve never seen him not tired.”

Another montage follows showing snippets of the convention throughout the afternoon: Iida streaming loudly from the expo floor, Tetsutetsu taking pictures with fans while flexing dramatically, Mina dragging Uraraka toward a photo booth. The camera pans to creators filming collab content in every direction and crowds gathering around merch tables and stage panels.

And through it all, Izuku keeps looking around corners without meaning to. Every time somebody passes by them, his shoulders straighten automatically before relaxing again a second later.

“Look how nervous he is.” Shouto points the camera at Izuku while they wait in line for coffee near the back of the convention center.

Izuku looks betrayed. “Am not.”

Shouto raises a brow at the camera, then turns it back to Izuku.

“You just checked behind you three times in thirty seconds.” 

Izuku turns around again before Shouto finishes getting the sentence out. He smiles sheepishly at getting caught.

“Okay, maybe a little nervous.”

Izuku smiles faintly into his cup when he gets his coffee.

“I just…” He laughs quietly to himself. “I don’t know.”

“What.”

Izuku stares ahead toward the crowded convention floor where creators weave between booths.

“He seems different than I thought he’d be.”

The viewers know exactly what he means. On screen, Dynamight is loud and aggressive, making pointed comments to viewers in vlogs and bickering back and forth with his chat on stream. In person, though, he’s quiet and unobtrusive, almost introverted.

“He pays attention to things,” Izuku says eventually. “Like really small things.”

The camera shifts slightly. Shouto watches him over the top edge of the lens for a moment before speaking.

“Yes,” he says. “Mostly things involving you.”

The interaction itself happens almost accidentally.

One second they’re stepping out of a crowded room into a quieter hallway after a panel ends, the noise of hundreds of people echoing around them, and the next second Izuku stops walking so abruptly Shouto nearly falls into him.

The camera tilts upward automatically.

Bakugou Katsuki stands maybe fifteen feet away near the opposite wall beside Kirishima Eijirou and Kaminari Denki, one hand shoved into the pocket of his jacket while the other holds an iced coffee. Even across the crowded hallway, he’s immediately recognizable, posture sharp and self contained in a way that naturally draws attention despite the fact that he visibly wants the opposite.

Kaminari notices them first. He waves excitedly. When Kirishima notices them, he elbows Katsuki. 

Katsuki looks up.

The entire hallway seems to narrow suddenly around that moment, convention noise blurring softly into the background while both of them freeze with the exact same startled expression mirrored across their faces.

“Oh my god,” Izuku whispers.

Katsuki looks equally horrified to be perceived.

For one terrible second, nobody moves. Then Kaminari absolutely ruins everything.

“There he IS!” he yells loudly. Thankfully, the hallway is still empty. “Wet Hands Midoriya!”

The silence afterward is catastrophic. Katsuki’s soul visibly leaves his body. Izuku turns so red Shouto briefly worries about his circulatory system. Kirishima folds in half laughing.

Shouto watches Katsuki close his eyes briefly like he’s praying for death before, finally, he looks at Izuku.

Up close, the tension between them feels entirely different than it ever did online—less performative somehow, stripped awkwardly bare beneath the fluorescent convention lights and the reality of existing physically in the same space for the first time.

Neither of them seems to know what to do with that.

Izuku seems to recover first. He shakes his head, smiles, and moves in to greet them. Kirishima catches him in a half-hug, slapping a hand against his back. 

“Nice to finally meet you, bro.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Kirishima-kun! I’ve learned so much from your gym vlogs. That video you posted about progressive overload actually helped me understand workout structuring way better. I was doing most of it before but it’s cool to know the science behind how it optimizes your strength training.”

Kirishima lights up instantly. “Seriously?”

“Yeah! Especially the part where you talked about recovery being just as important as consistency because I think people online forget that sometimes and—” Izuku cuts himself off abruptly, laughing a little under his breath once he realizes he’s rambling. “Sorry.”

“Nah, don’t apologize,” Kirishima says. “That’s cool as hell, man. I’m glad I could help you out.”

Kirishima’s entire posture seems to soften around Izuku almost immediately. There’s something about Izuku that invites people inward without seeming to realize he’s doing it, warmth spilling naturally from him in a way that makes conversations feel strangely personal within minutes.

“Well I’m offended,” Kaminari says dramatically, pressing a hand against his chest. “No compliments for my content?”

Izuku turns toward him so fast he nearly startles himself. The camera blurs as it follows the motion. “No, no, I watch your videos too!”

Kaminari gasps. “Really?”

“You’re really funny!” Izuku says earnestly. “And your editing style is super creative. The pacing in your convention prank video was really smart because you balanced the chaos with quieter moments so it never got overwhelming for viewers, and your subtitles are always timed really well and—”

Kaminari stares at him, then slowly looks toward Kirishima.

“I get it now.”

Kirishima snorts immediately.

Kaminari, who usually treated conversations like elaborate opportunities for comedic self-destruction, was suddenly standing there looking oddly charmed beneath all the theatrics.

“You analyze people’s channels for fun?” he asks.

Izuku immediately looks embarrassed. “Not in a creepy way! I spend a lot of time analyzing content for my video essays so it comes naturally now.”

“That somehow made it creepier.”

Izuku groans softly, covering part of his face with one hand while Kirishima laughs beside him.

Across from them, Katsuki still hasn’t said a single word. Izuku finally seems to remember he’s standing there, and when he turns to him, Katsuki opens his mouth to speak. 

The camera cuts off.

~

View 34,987 comments:

@termynation: SHOUTO WTF????

@nyanami: HOW COULD HE FEED US ALL THIS BKDK CONTENT THEN END IT ON SUCH A CLIFFHANGER

@dreaaaa18: The way katsuki is at a loss for words

@bkdkisreal: SOOOOO WHAT WAS SAID???

“Hi.” The word comes out rougher than intended. Katsuki clears his throat but doesn’t try again.

Izuku smiles instantly, warm enough that Katsuki is momentarily blinded by it.

“Hi,” he says back softly.

And for a second, despite the crowds and convention noise and Kaminari loudly fake gagging right next to him, the entire world seems to narrow quietly around the space between them.

It’s a little disorienting. Not because Izuku looks different in person, but because he doesn’t.

Katsuki had spent months building him unconsciously from fragments. Grainy late night streams watched with the brightness turned low. Half finished vlogs playing in the background while he cooked. The soft cadence of his voice drifting through his apartment at two in the morning while he meal prepped for the week. Tiny observations collected accidentally against his will: the way he rubbed at his eyes when he got tired, the way he gestured too much when excited, the absentminded habit he had of curling his sleeves over his hands when he was nervous.

Katsuki had thought maybe the real version would feel smaller somehow, less vivid. Easier to compartmentalize once separated from carefully edited lighting and music and screens.

Instead, standing here beneath the bright convention lights with his cheeks still pink from embarrassment and his curls falling messily into his eyes, Midoriya Izuku feels painfully, terrifyingly real.

And worse, he’s somehow even more himself in person.

Katsuki notices things the camera doesn’t pick up on. The slight rasp lingering beneath his voice, like he talks too much and drinks too little water. The freckles scattered across his cheeks and nose, darker up close than on camera. The way he keeps shifting his weight unconsciously from heel to heel because he’s nervous, though whether from the convention itself or from Katsuki specifically, Katsuki can’t tell.

Maybe both.

God, he’s fucking pretty.

Not in the polished influencer way Katsuki’s used to seeing at conventions, where attractiveness feels sharpened deliberately for public consumption. Izuku is soft around the edges in a way that makes Katsuki’s chest ache. 

Beside him, Todoroki Shouto watches them. He’s quieter than Katsuki expected, composed in a way that feels almost detached from the chaos surrounding the convention floor. In one hand, he holds his vlog camera, now turned off, while the other balances an iced coffee.

Katsuki’s met him once before briefly through sponsorship circles, though they’d barely spoken beyond professional small talk. Now Shouto looks at him like he already knows too much about him, and Katsuki hates it instantly.

“So,” Kaminari says loudly, slinging an arm around Kirishima’s shoulders while grinning like a fucking demon, “now that you guys have finally progressed from awkward internet flirting to awkward in person flirting, we have to celebrate.”

“Denki,” Kirishima warns through laughter.

“No, no, let me cook.”

Before he can say anything else, though, the crowd shifts around them in restless waves as another panel lets out nearby, voices overlapping loudly beneath fluorescent lights while camera flashes burst intermittently through the hallway. Someone recognizes Kirishima a few feet away and asks for a picture, then another person notices Izuku, and soon enough, there’s a line of people waiting to talk to them.

Katsuki knows the viewers realize this is the first time he and Izuku have interacted in person, and they’re quick to begin documenting it. Suddenly there are phones lifting around them as people begin whispering excitedly to each other. His eyes burn from the flash of cameras around them. 

Katsuki watches Izuku notice it too. His shoulders tighten slightly, but he offers a smile anyway, because he always has been too nice to his viewers. Talks to them like they’re his fucking friends and never turns a picture down and helps them with their damn homework when he gets bored doing his own during his study streams.

One girl steps forward, her phone held high in her hand. “First irl bakudeku encounter, ladies and gentleman,” she says to her phone. “I’ll try to film more of their interaction for you guys but it’s a little crazy in here so bear with me.” 

She comes closer, shoving her phone in Izuku’s face, and Izuku steps slightly closer toward their group. Toward Katsuki, like his presence is something that can ease his nerves around this crowd of people.

Something warm and dangerous unfurls in Katsuki’s chest. 

“Hey,” he drops his voice low, away from the crowd, the cameras. This is for Izuku only. “The panels are wrapping up. We were gonna head back to the hotel and get something to eat before it gets crazier in here.”

Izuku looks at him, eyes wide. He looks overwhelmed, his gaze darting between the crowd and Katsuki. Kirishima is still taking pictures and Shouto is signing someone’s water bottle. Kaminari’s filming a tik tok dance with a fan.

He nods, darts his tongue out to wet his lips. “We’ll head out with you.”

Izuku offers an apologetic smile to the fans, promising there’ll be a lot more time to speak to everyone over the next few days of the convention, and pulls Shouto along to follow Katsuki down the hall. 

“Man.” Kaminari wipes the sweat off his brow. “If I have to learn another tik tok dance this weekend, I’m gonna die.”

“Or you can learn to say no,” Katsuki says.

“Come on, man. This is a once in a lifetime experience for a lot of these people. The least I can do is learn a fifteen second dance.”

Katsuki just shrugs.

His relationship with his audience has never looked like Kaminari’s.

Kaminari slips effortlessly into conversations with strangers like he’s known them for years, collecting people everywhere he goes with easy charm and loud laughter and the complete absence of self consciousness. Fans cry when they meet him sometimes, hug him, hand him bracelets and letters and stories about how his videos got them through bad nights.

Kaminari gives pieces of himself away freely. Katsuki never learned how to do that.

His audience feels different. Most of the people who watch him don’t seem to expect sweetness from him, which strangely makes the moments where he offers it matter more. They come to him for honesty, maybe. For the comfort of someone who never softens their opinions into something easier to swallow.

Mutual respect. That’s what it feels like most of the time. Like thousands of people standing across from each other with the quiet agreement that none of them are going to pretend to be less human than they are.

Still fucking invasive sometimes, though.

The convention hallway swells louder around them as they move toward the elevators, waves of people flowing past in clusters. Music pulses faintly from the expo hall and staff members begin directing attendees toward evening events. 

Katsuki walks half a step ahead, carving a path through the crowd. 

Behind him, Izuku keeps getting distracted.

Stopping to wave when someone recognizes him. Smiling apologetically at nervous fans lingering nearby. Thanking people so sincerely for watching his videos that several of them leave teary eyed.

Katsuki watches it happen over his shoulder. Watches him listen. Most creators at conventions never seem to stop talking, but Izuku knows how to listen.

A girl no older than eighteen approaches him hesitantly near the escalators, clutching her phone so tight, her knuckles go pale around the edges.

“I just wanted to say,” she blurts quickly, “your videos make me feel less alone during college. Thank you for sharing so much of your life with us.”

Izuku’s entire expression softens instantly.

“I’m really glad,” he says, and Katsuki can tell he means it. “College can be so overwhelming. It’s important to find the things that make it a little easier to manage.”

The girl’s eyes water, and Izuku accepts a hug from her.

Online, Izuku already felt warm and earnest and easy to love. It’s why Katsuki found so much comfort in his videos, even if he would never admit it out loud.

But seeing him in person is different. The warmth isn’t contained neatly inside frames and editing anymore. It spills outward into every interaction.

By the time they finally make it outside the convention center, evening has started settling across the city. The cool air feels sharp against Katsuki’s skin after hours spent beneath fluorescent lights and packed hallways.

Izuku exhales loudly once they step outside.

Katsuki sees the way some of the tension leaves his shoulders, lungs finally expanding properly now that the noise has quieted.

“You okay?” he asks before thinking about it.

Izuku blinks at him like he wasn’t expecting the question, then smiles.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Just a lot of people.”

Kaminari stretches dramatically beside them. “I’m starving. If I don’t eat in the next thirty minutes, I’m gonna become a public safety issue.”

“You already are,” Shouto says.

Kaminari gasps. “Todoroki! That was almost a joke.”

“I’ve been practicing.”

Izuku laughs beside him, bright enough that Shouto looks vaguely pleased with himself afterward.

They start walking toward the hotel together, the city alive with movement and music and strangers drifting between restaurants and bars. Kirishima walks beside Shouto now, asking enthusiastic questions about camera equipment while Kaminari keeps trying unsuccessfully to convince Izuku to let him start calling him “Wet Hands” ironically.

Izuku is mostly quiet beside him, quieter than he’d been earlier on the convention floor. He seems exhausted after an entire day spent smiling and talking and being perceived by thousands of people at once. Every now and then he still laughs at something Kaminari says, shoulders shaking lightly beneath his jacket, but the sound comes gentler now.

And somehow, despite everything that’s happened, despite months of watching each other through screens and weeks of internet insanity spiraling wildly out of control around them, they still haven’t actually talked.

Katsuki keeps feeling the shape of that absence between them.

Because now that Izuku is here beside him—real and warm and close enough for Katsuki to catch traces of his shampoo whenever the wind shifts direction—the entire situation suddenly feels mortifying in ways it never fully did online. 

From a distance, it had been easier to pretend the obsession was harmless. Easier to frame it as curiosity or amusement or a stupid internet bit.

But standing here now, Katsuki can suddenly see the whole thing from the outside with horrifying clarity. The comments. The streams. The fucking compilations.

Izuku probably thinks he’s insane. Or worse, pathetic.

They’d never even spoken before today, and Katsuki had somehow managed to drag him unwillingly into months of ship discourse and viral edits and millions of strangers analyzing the way he looked at him frame by frame like it meant something. Like he meant something.

Katsuki wants to say sorry. The apology keeps sitting heavy against the back of his teeth.

Sorry for making your notifications unusable. Sorry for letting the internet turn you into the center of some humiliating public fixation. Sorry for looking at you too long on stream. Sorry for caring in ways I didn’t know how to hide.

But every possible version of the conversation sounds unbearable in his head.

So instead he walks beside Izuku in silence while the city glows around them, hands shoved deep into his pockets to stop himself from fidgeting.

Then Izuku turns toward him suddenly, smiling again—small and instinctive and so warm that the entire world seems to soften briefly at the edges.

And somehow, he doesn’t look uncomfortable. Doesn’t look trapped or irritated or overwhelmed by Katsuki specifically. If anything, he looks shy. Like he keeps wanting to say something then losing his nerve halfway there.

Suddenly the shame doesn’t feel quite so unbearable anymore.

“So,” Kirishima says eventually, clapping his hands together once. “A bunch of us are going to an after party later tonight if you guys wanna come.”

Izuku blinks. “Seriously?”

“Yeah! A bunch of people are gonna be there. Mina’s going, Kaminari’s DJing for some reason—”

“The reason being I have range,” Kaminari protests.

“—and a bunch of creators are hanging out after the last panels end.”

Izuku looks visibly tempted. Katsuki can practically watch the excitement brighten across his face in real time despite the hesitation still lingering underneath it.

“I don’t know,” he says, glancing briefly toward Shouto. “We don’t wanna intrude or anything.”

“Nah, man, you wouldn’t,” Kirishima says easily.

“You definitely wouldn’t,” Kaminari adds with an expression so loaded Katsuki wants to strangle him.

Izuku misses it, but Shouto doesn’t. The bastard looks directly at Katsuki while answering.

“We’ll come.”

Katsuki nearly chokes on air.

Izuku turns toward him then, smiling gently.

“Is that okay?” he asks, looking at him with that open, earnest attentiveness like Katsuki’s response is something worth waiting for.

Nobody online had prepared him for how devastating Izuku’s attention would feel in person. The full weight of it landing directly against him without any screens to soften the impact. 

Katsuki looks away, unable to face the intensity of his gaze.

“Yeah,” he mutters. “Whatever.”

They end up ducking into a small restaurant a few blocks from the hotel after Kaminari declares he’s “ten minutes away from eating his own shoe.” It’s warm inside, the air thick with the scent of grilled meat and broth and fried garlic. 

The hostess nearly drops the menus when she recognizes them. It’s easy enough not to get recognized when he’s by himself, but for the five of them, with tens of millions of followers between them, it’s inevitable.

Katsuki watches the way panic and professionalism wage war behind her eyes while she hurriedly leads them toward a booth in the back corner of the restaurant, tucked away from the rest of the dining room.

“Thank you,” Izuku tells her gently when she almost trips over another chair trying to leave too quickly.

Katsuki slides into the booth across from Izuku, Kirishima and Shouto settling beside them, and Kaminari sprawling at the end of the table complaining about the state of his feet.

“I think conventions are a form of psychological warfare,” he announces, stealing one of Kirishima’s fries before the appetizers have fully arrived.

“You say that every year,” Kirishima says.

“And every year I’m right.”

Izuku laughs softly beside Katsuki. Up close in the softer restaurant lighting, he looks different than he had beneath the fluorescent chaos of the convention center. 

His curls have flattened slightly from humidity and sweat, loose strands falling over his forehead while he scans the menu. Katsuki catches himself watching the movement of his mouth as he reads silently before jerking his gaze away toward the table.

“So,” Kirishima says eventually, leaning forward with interest. “How’d you and Todoroki even meet?”

Izuku brightens immediately. “We were neighbors freshman year.”

“He kept locking himself out,” Shouto says flatly.

Izuku groans. “That happened twice.”

“It happened four times.”

“Okay, but two of those were because the lock was being weird.”

Shouto takes a sip of water without breaking eye contact. “No, it’s because you tried opening the wrong apartment.”

“No way.” Kaminari laughs.

“I was tired!” Izuku protests through laughter, dropping his head into one hand. “The hallways all looked the same!”

Katsuki watches him laugh.

There’s something mesmerizing about the way Izuku occupies space around people he trusts, every emotion moving visibly across his face. Online, Katsuki had already noticed how expressive he was—the wide smiles, the embarrassed flushing, the habit he had of covering his mouth when laughing too hard—but in person it feels almost unbearable somehow.

His eyes crease at the corners when he laughs genuinely. Katsuki hadn’t known that. The camera never picked it up.

“You wanna know the worst one?” Shouto asks.

Izuku immediately points at him. “No.”

“He called me crying once because he thought someone was breaking into his apartment.”

Kirishima’s eyes widen. “Was there?”

“It was his rice cooker.”

The table dissolves instantly.

Even Katsuki laughs before he can stop himself, low and sharp against the noise of the restaurant while Izuku melts into embarrassment.

“In my defense,” Izuku says weakly, “it sounded threatening.”

“It plays a little completion jingle.”

“Which can sound threatening to the unassuming ear!”

Katsuki can’t stop smiling. He can feel it pulling subtly at the corners of his mouth every time Izuku talks, every time his hands start moving animatedly while explaining something, every time he forgets to be self conscious and just exists openly in front of them.

And fuck, maybe that’s the thing that gets him most. Not the kindness or the warmth, but the honesty of him.

Izuku doesn’t seem to know how to make himself smaller for people. Even when embarrassed, even while laughing nervously or rambling too much or flushing pink beneath attention, there’s still something deeply unguarded about him. He offers himself to conversations fully, without calculation.

Katsuki isn’t used to people like that.

Most creators spend enough years online learning how to package themselves carefully, sanding away rough edges until every interaction becomes partially performative whether they intend it or not.

Izuku still feels startlingly real in a way he’s not sure how to handle.

The food arrives gradually after that. Kaminari immediately burns his mouth because he refuses to wait for anything to cool down properly. Kirishima steals pieces off everyone’s plates until Shouto calmly threatens to stab his hand with chopsticks if he touches his food again.

“You wouldn’t.”

Shouto looks at him, eyes narrowed as he slurps his noodles. Kirishima slowly retracts his hand.

The conversation drifts naturally after that, stretching between topics as the restaurant grows busier around them. Convention horror stories. Editing software. Brand deals gone wrong. Late night upload schedules and terrible sleep habits and the strange disorienting experience of becoming recognizable to strangers while still feeling fundamentally like the same person underneath it all.

At some point it shifts toward content burnout.

Kaminari groans into the table. “If I have to hear one more person say ‘must be nice getting paid to exist online,’ I’m gonna lose my mind.”

“It’s weird,” Izuku says softly after a moment, turning his glass slowly between both hands. “Because I know people mean well sometimes, but…” He hesitates briefly. “I think a lot of people forget creators are still people while they’re consuming content.”

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s definitely a privilege to be able to make a living out of something we love. I feel so lucky to get paid to do something I’m actually passionate about, but I dunno…” 

He stares down at the condensation gathering along the edge of his drink while speaking, voice quieter now. 

“Like, viewers know so much about us,” he says. “Sometimes more than people physically around us do. But it’s strange because they only know the parts we decide to upload. And after a while I think it gets easy for everyone, including creators, to start treating themselves like content first instead of people first. It’s easy to lose parts of yourself, of your humanity.”

Katsuki feels something twist sharply beneath his ribs. Because fuck, that’s exactly it. Suddenly he understands with humiliating clarity why Izuku’s videos always felt different somehow. Why they lingered. Why he kept returning to them late at night without fully understanding what he was looking for.

Izuku never filmed himself like content. Never functioned as a machine that existed for other people’s entertainment. He filmed himself like a person trying to reach other people.

Katsuki watches him while the rain thickens softly against the windows outside, the warm restaurant light catching gold along the edges of his curls while he speaks, and terrifyingly, Katsuki realizes he’s already halfway gone.

Mai @sleepykats
JUST SAW BKDK AT YOUCON 😭😭😭
[IMAGE: blurry zoomed in photo of Katsuki and Izuku standing in the convention hallway facing each other. Izuku’s face is red while Kaminari is mid-laugh in the background]
112 Replies • 2.2K Retweets • 61K Likes

Sugihara @sugi_aka
Replying to @sleepykats
OMG???????

Rin @ririnonline
Replying to @sleepykats
THE WAY THEYRE LOOKING AT EACH OTHER HELLO????

Jules @julesjpeg
Replying to @sleepykats
denki in the back ruining the emotional tension is killing me 😭

Jess @jesspixels
met izuku at youcon today and he stayed after the line ended to talk to everyone individually :( genuinely one of the kindest creators i’ve ever met
74 Replies • 124 Retweets • 743 Likes

Mika @mikaaa
Replying to @jesspixels
every story i hear about him somehow makes him more lovable

Evie @bkdkpedia
Replying to @jesspixels
suddenly understanding katsuki on a molecular level

Lily @softstatic
THEYRE ALL HAVING DINNER TOGETHER???
[IMAGE: grainy photo taken through a restaurant window of their group sitting around a booth. Kirishima is laughing at something Shouto is saying while Izuku leans toward Katsuki talking animatedly]
611 Replies • 5.4K Retweets • 12K Likes

Eden @cozymornings
Replying to @softstatic
WHY DO THEY LOOK LIKE THEYVE BEEN FRIENDS FOR YEARS 😭

Cam @camcorderheart
Replying to @softstatic
the way katsuki is ONLY looking at izuku

Tae @taecoded
Replying to @softstatic
why do i lowkey ship shouto and eijirou O_o

Mel @nyanami
WHY WAS KATSUKI SMILING AT IZUKU LIKE THAT DURING DINNER HELLO???
[IMAGE: slightly blurry photo of Izuku laughing with his head tipped back while Katsuki watches him from across the table with a small smile]
1.1K Replies • 3K Retweets • 18K Likes

Nina @sleepynina
Replying to @nyanami
OH MY GOD??????

Jun @junebugjpg
Replying to @nyanami
that is NOT the face of a man experiencing platonic emotions

Ari @citypopari
Replying to @nyanami
why are u taking pics of them at dinner weirdo 

Mel @nyanami

Replying to @citypopari

girl shut up this is a ss from a vid someone else took

Dynamight Updates @bkupdates
TODAY’S BKDK YOUCON TIMELINE:

• first interaction caught on camera
• katsuki held the door for izuku
• dinner together
• multiple eyewitnesses reporting “mutual yearning”
• todoroki shouto possibly enabling everything

2.4K Replies • 22K Retweets • 40K Likes

Izulogs @izukudaily
Replying to @bkupdates
“MUTUAL YEARNING” IS KILLING ME 😭

DenkiNation @pikachubuthot
Replying to @bkupdates
this convention is either ending in marriage or psychological damage

starr @starry_eyez
Replying to @bkupdates
the funniest part is that izuku still probably thinks katsuki is just being nice 😭

By the time they reach the after party, music is already pulsing faintly through the walls of the hotel lounge several floors above ground level. The party itself occupies the top floor bar of another connected hotel tower. Creators drift through clusters of conversation beneath hanging lights and open windows overlooking the skyline.

It’s loud enough that Izuku feels the sound settling beneath his skin the moment they step inside. Laughter overlaps across the room and familiar faces from years of internet consumption appear suddenly in every direction all at once.

It still feels surreal to be surrounded by people he’s watched and looked up to for years. Even more surreal, people recognize him too.

“Midoriya?”

Izuku turns instinctively toward the voice only to nearly choke when he realizes who it belongs to.

“Oh my god,” he blurts. “You’re Ms. Joke.”

She laughs immediately. “And you’re exactly as adorable in person as you are online.”

Izuku feels himself combust on impact.

The next hour passes in fragments of conversation and movement as the party swells around him. 

Creators he’s watched for years wave him into conversations like they’ve known him longer than a single evening. Aizawa Shouta says something about his editing that almost sounds like a compliment. A fan asks about Shouto’s cat cafe vlog. Present Mic is somehow even louder in person.

Through all of it, Izuku keeps losing track of where Katsuki is. It’s loud and crowded, and their group got split up as soon as they stepped inside. But every time he gets pulled into another conversation or drifts toward another corner of the room, like a compass needle settling north, his attention eventually slides back toward Katsuki.

It almost feels like he has one eye trained on Katsuki the entire night, tracking his every movement. Across the bar laughing dryly at something Kaminari says, standing near the couches listening to Kirishima tell a story, leaning against the wall with one hand curled loosely around a drink watching the room with sharp, observant eyes.

More than anything, though, Izuku notices the softness as the night goes on. It’s something he never quite saw on camera, but once he sees it, he can’t stop noticing it.

Katsuki keeps pretending to be irritated whenever Kaminari throws himself across his shoulders or steals drinks from him without asking, but he never actually pulls away. Keeps making sure Kirishima has water between rounds of drinks. Keeps steering conversations subtly whenever someone starts drifting too far into uncomfortable territory.

At one point, Kaminari gets cornered by a group of overly persistent fans near the bar, his smile beginning to strain visibly around the edges as he tries to stay polite.

Katsuki notices before anyone else does. One second he’s across the room talking to Mina, and the next he’s beside Kaminari, sliding naturally into the conversation to redirect it.

“Oi,” he says. “Your face is green, dunce face. Let’s go to the bathroom before you yack.”

Kaminari blinks once, the alcohol and intensity of the fans muddling his thoughts, before he catches on.

“Oh, right. Yeah. Totally. Take me to the shitter, Kats.”

The fans apologize quickly afterward and drift away.

Kaminari exhales dramatically the second they’re gone. “You’re like a terrifying emotional support dog.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Katsuki hands him another glass of water then walks away again.

Izuku watches the entire thing from across the room, something warm twisting unexpectedly beneath his ribs. Because that’s the thing people online never see from Katsuki. He’s attentive, careful, protective. With people he cares about, with himself. He never gives too many parts of himself to strangers, keeps enough of it that he’s still whole and able to care for people who are already stretched thin. 

“Careful, Midoriya,” Mina says suddenly beside him, startling him hard enough he almost spills his drink.

“What?”

She grins knowingly over the rim of her glass. “You’re staring.”

“I’m not!”

“You absolutely are.” Her smile turns a little softer. “You have been all night. Just go talk to him. He doesn’t bite—as much as he’d like people to believe he does.” 

She laughs fondly, and like Katsuki knows he’s being talked about, he glances at them from across the room. Mina winks and waves at him, and he flips her off. Then his gaze shifts to Izuku, and immediately that feeling is back. That awful, intense feeling, like the rest of the room blurs around the edges whenever Katsuki looks at him for too long. Izuku looks away first, his heart stumbling strangely somewhere beneath his ribs.

“I’m gonna go get some air,” he mumbles to Mina, not waiting for her response before he turns away.

By the time the balcony doors slide open beneath his hands sometime after midnight, Izuku’s social battery has begun flickering near empty. The cool night air rushes against his overheated skin as he steps outside, the sound of the party muffling softly behind him while the city stretches endlessly below. 

Izuku exhales slowly, leaning both hands against the balcony railing, the cold metal grounding him back into his own body.

He looks out at the skyline, fiddling with the straw in his empty cup. The party behind him pulses softly through the glass doors, but out here everything feels quieter.

It still doesn’t feel entirely real.

Even now, standing several stories above a city he’d only ever visited briefly before this weekend, surrounded by creators he’d admired for years, some detached part of Izuku keeps waiting for someone to tap him gently on the shoulder and explain there’s been a misunderstanding. That he doesn’t belong here.

Because how did he end up here?

He thinks about the first video he uploaded in college, filmed at two in the morning in his tiny apartment with bad lighting and borrowed equipment, talking mostly to himself because he’d been lonely and overwhelmed and desperate for some kind of connection. He hadn’t expected people to watch, definitely hadn’t expected people to care.

And now Ms. Joke knows his name. Aizawa Shouta compliments his editing. Kaminari Denki follows him on three different platforms and Kirishima Eijirou invites him to an after party full of creators whose videos he used to watch while eating convenience store ramen alone during finals week.

None of it fits properly inside his head yet.

“Thought you might be hiding out here.”

Izuku startles slightly before turning. Katsuki stands near the doorway holding two drinks. His jacket disappeared somewhere over the course of the night, his sleeves rolled to his elbows now.

“Oh,” Izuku says stupidly.

Katsuki walks over after a second and offers him one of the cups. Izuku stares at his outstretched hand, but doesn't make a move to grab the drink.

“It’s just pineapple juice,” he mutters. “You looked tired.”

“Thank you.”

Izuku takes it carefully, fingers brushing Katsuki’s palm for the briefest second before retreating again. Up close like this, with nobody else around to dilute the effect of him, Katsuki feels magnetic in a way Izuku wasn’t prepared for.

Online, he always seemed larger somehow. Loud enough to fill entire rooms through a screen alone, all sharp edges and explosive reactions and impossible confidence. But in person, Izuku can’t stop noticing the quieter parts of him.

The faint crease that appears between his brows when he’s thinking too hard about something. The scarred skin along his knuckles from years of working out. The way his mouth softens unconsciously whenever he listens carefully. 

Even now, leaning beside Izuku against the balcony railing, there’s a tension threaded subtly through his posture like he still isn’t entirely comfortable existing this close to someone without armor.

The city lights catch gold against the sharp line of his jaw, the wind lifts pale strands of hair across his forehead, and Izuku suddenly understands with horrible clarity why the internet loses its mind every time Katsuki appears on camera for longer than thirty seconds. He’s unfairly beautiful.

Katsuki glances sideways at him after a moment.

“I got shit on my face or you just staring for fun?”

“Just staring for fun.” Izuku smiles around the rim of his cup.

“Creep,” he grumbles. 

The tips of his ears go faintly pink and it’s deeply, deeply endearing. Izuku takes another sip to stop himself from smiling too obviously about it.

For a while they stand there, shoulders almost touching. Katsuki doesn’t seem particularly bothered by the silence, which surprises Izuku a little. Online he always came across as someone who needed constant noise or movement. 

But now, outside the overwhelming brightness of the party, he seems calmer somehow. Like he’s content simply existing in Izuku’s presence. 

“I should probably apologize,” Katsuki says suddenly.

Izuku blinks. “For what?”

Katsuki stares down into his own drink instead of answering immediately, fingers tightening briefly around the cup.

“The internet shit.”

“Oh.”

The wind moves softly between them. Katsuki still doesn’t look at him. 

He exhales through his nose. “I didn’t mean for it to turn into…” He gestures vaguely toward the skyline like the entire internet exists somewhere out there beneath the lights. “All that.”

Something unexpectedly gentle twists through Izuku’s chest. Most people in his position wouldn’t even think to apologize. They’d probably laugh it off, treat it like inevitable internet drama, maybe even lean into it for engagement. 

But he seems genuinely guilty, and it makes Izuku feel all warm and fuzzy and fond.

“I know people have been weird in your comments,” he continues roughly. “And the edits and shit. You didn’t ask for any of that.”

Izuku stares at him for a second. Katsuki looks tense beside him now, jaw set tightly like he’s been carrying the apology around all evening waiting for the right moment to hand it over.

“You know,” Izuku says slowly, “I don’t actually mind it that much.”

Katsuki looks over sharply. “You don’t?”

Izuku shrugs lightly against the railing. “I mean, okay, some people are definitely insane.” He laughs softly. “But mostly it’s just kind of funny.”

Katsuki raises a brow.

“You’re telling me you enjoyed becoming part of internet ship discourse against your will?”

“Well, when you say it like that—”

“Because that’s exactly what happened.”

Izuku grins openly now, warmth bubbling through him at the sight of Katsuki looking genuinely affronted on his behalf.

“Honestly,” he says, “I think I was more confused than anything.”

“Confused.”

“Yeah.” Izuku turns slightly toward him, resting one elbow against the railing. “I kept thinking, ‘Why does Dynamight know so much about my horrible eating habits?’” At Katsuki’s expression, he laughs. “I didn’t realize you even knew who I was, let alone watched my videos.”

Katsuki looks away again, resting his elbows on the railing next to Izuku’s. “I do,” he says quietly. 

The breeze sweeps through his hair, exposing his forehead for a second, before the strands settle back down over his eyebrows. It looks softer in person. Izuku fights the urge to reach over and touch it.

“I just…” Katsuki hesitates, gaze drifting over the city. “I didn’t want you thinking I was making fun of you. Shit’s already intense enough when you’re sharing your life with millions of people. I didn’t mean to make it worse.”

Izuku tilts his head, the ghost of a smile on his face. Because underneath all the internet chaos and yelling and viral clips, that’s what Katsuki had really been worried about. Not himself or his image or his own comments being flooded with ship discourse. He cared about Izuku.

And god, that might honestly be worse for Izuku’s rapidly deteriorating emotional stability than any public flirting ever could’ve been.

“Wanna make it up to me?”

Katsuki looks over at him, unimpressed. “I’m already apologizing. What more do you want from me?”

Izuku smiles into the rim of his drink, feeling strangely steady all at once beneath the sweep of city lights and cold night air.

“Go on a date with me.”

Katsuki just stares at him, like he’s trying to reconcile this version of Izuku with the one he’d built carefully through screens and edited videos and shy smiles aimed at cameras.

Izuku realizes that maybe Katsuki expected him to be softer in person. More uncertain, easier to overwhelm.

The thought almost makes him laugh.

Because yes, Izuku gets nervous. Rambles when embarrassed. Trips over his own words when excited. But nervousness has never meant weakness, no matter how often people confuse the two.

He spent years building something from nothing. Years teaching himself editing and filming and storytelling alone in cramped apartments with cheap equipment and no certainty anyone would ever care enough to watch. He uploaded pieces of himself into the world over and over again despite loneliness and self consciousness and fear because he believed connection was worth the risk of vulnerability. 

He learned himself through it, too. Saw that the traits he’d grown up getting bullied for were things that brought people comfort and relief and a way to see themselves. 

Katsuki studies him for another second, eyes narrowed slightly against the wind moving through his hair. The corner of his mouth twitches.

“Jesus christ,” he mutters softly.

Izuku grins immediately. “Is that a yes?”

“You ask people out like this regularly?”

“Only the ones publicly obsessed with me.”

Katsuki huffs out a laugh before he can stop himself, low and rough and warm enough that satisfaction blooms instantly through Izuku’s chest.

“You know,” Katsuki says slowly, “you’re a lot smoother than I expected.”

Izuku laughs softly. “You say that like you’re disappointed.”

“I’m evaluating the threat level.”

“Oh? And what’s the verdict?”

“Still deciding.”

Katsuki's gaze moves across his face, slow and deliberate. Izuku feels heat climb up the back of his neck despite himself.

He suddenly becomes acutely aware of how close Katsuki is standing.

Close enough that their shoulders brush lightly whenever either of them moves. Close enough that Izuku can smell smoke and citrus. Close enough that every small expression becomes devastatingly visible.

Izuku takes the opportunity to study him, soak him up and analyze him until he could make a four hour video essay about the sharp slope of his nose, the faint shadows beneath his eyes from exhaustion, the slight roughness along his jaw where stubble has started forming after the long convention day. Even the shape of his hands wrapped loosely around his drink feels unfairly compelling to Izuku, strong and scarred and careful all at once.

Izuku raises a brow. “You know, most people usually respond when someone asks them on a date.”

“I’m thinking.”

“About what exactly?”

“I’m trying to figure out if you’re flirting with me or making fun of me.”

“Can’t it be both?”

Katsuki laughs again, quieter this time.

And god, Izuku wants to bottle the sound and carry it with him everywhere he goes.

“You’re annoying,” Katsuki says finally. 

The words sound fond. It makes warmth spread slowly through Izuku’s chest like sunlight.

“I’ve been told.” He smiles. “Still didn’t answer my question.”

Katsuki looks out toward the skyline again for a moment, fingers tapping absently against the side of his cup while wind pushes softly through his hair.

“Yeah.” He glances sideways toward him, a small smile pulling faintly at the corner of his mouth. “I’ll go on a date with you.”

[IMAGE 1: Izuku smiling brightly beside a crowded booth of fans holding handmade signs and photocards, curls slightly messy while he throws up a peace sign toward the camera]

[IMAGE 2: blurry candid photo of Kaminari attempting to teach Izuku a TikTok dance in the middle of the convention floor while Kirishima laughs in the background]

[IMAGE 3: mirror selfie taken in an elevator with Shouto standing behind Izuku holding two iced coffees and looking deeply unenthused about being perceived]

[IMAGE 4: Izuku mid-laugh at dinner while Kirishima gestures animatedly across the table and Katsuki sits beside him looking at Izuku instead of the camera]

[IMAGE 5: nighttime balcony photo of the city skyline, two untouched drinks resting against the railing while the edge of a sleeve is barely visible cropped into the corner of the frame]

Liked by @dynamight and 2,034,894 others

@dekudiaries day 1 of YouCon!! I had a blast meeting you all! stay tuned for more fun stuff this weekend ;)

See all 32,789 comments

@shouto why would u post that pic of me

@chargebolt the rumors are true, im turning him into a tik tok dancer :P

@minaashidoo so fun hanging out with u zuku!!!

The rest of the convention passed by in a blur of fluorescent lights and camera flashes and laughter that echoed through hotel hallways long after midnight. 

One second he was sitting on a panel beside creators he’d admired for years, trying unsuccessfully not to stare too obviously every time Present Mic spoke to him, and the next he was being stopped in hallways by nervous college students clutching notebooks to their chests, telling him that his videos made moving away from home feel less lonely.

That part never got easier. The way people looked at him when they spoke, like they were handing him small pieces of themselves they’d been carrying around quietly for a long time.

One girl cried during one of his meet and greets because she said his late night study streams helped her survive organic chemistry. Another viewer gave him a handmade keychain shaped like an onigiri with a tiny angry face drawn onto it. A nervous first year film student asked him questions about editing pacing and left the conversation looking almost dizzy with excitement after Izuku spent fifteen minutes enthusiastically explaining transition rhythm.

By the third day of the convention, he still hadn’t quite adjusted to the strange, overwhelming realization that people actually listened when he spoke. That his work mattered to them, made small differences in their lives. 

It made him feel that much more connected to his viewers. He spent more time talking to them during meet and greets, even got lunch with a group of them during a break between panels. 

His heart was full the entire weekend, bursting at the seams with the overwhelming feeling of pride and gratitude and connection.

And through it all, Katsuki kept appearing at the edges of his days with such steady consistency that eventually Izuku stopped being surprised by it.

He made himself known in the cups of coffee that appeared silently beside Izuku during long editing workshops before he even realized he was tired. In the seats he’d save him despite the room being nearly full by the time Izuku arrived breathless and apologizing. In the way he’d glance up the second Izuku entered a room, posture loosening once he spotted him.

And the texts. 

God, the texts.

At first they were simple—little things like reminding him he left his charger in panel room b, or that the coffee cart had finally brewed a fresh pot. But then they got more frequent, more consistent. He started checking his phone more often, couldn’t help the flutter in his chest when there was a message from Katsuki waiting for him.

Katsuki
this panel sucks

Izuku looked up to find Katsuki already watching him from across the crowded conference room, one arm slung lazily over the back of his chair while his phone rested loose in his hand.

Izuku bit back a smile before texting back:

Izuku
then why are you still here?

A few seconds later:

Katsuki
you looked excited about it

Something warm and helpless unfurled low in Izuku’s chest.

After that, the texting became almost constant. Little things like,

Katsuki
one like and i’ll stick a pencil up his nose

Accompanied by a picture of Shouto slumped in his chair, half asleep, and a thumbs up reaction to his own message. 

Or

Katsuki
eijirou just ate three protein bars in ten minutes

he’s gna blow up the toilet 😑

And Izuku, still half asleep beneath hotel blankets with convention schedules crumpled beside him, would find himself smiling at his phone so helplessly it almost embarrassed him.

The strangest part of it all was how natural it felt. How easy it was for him to integrate Katsuki into his life. 

Maybe because they already knew each other in strange intimate ways before ever actually meeting. Katsuki knew how Izuku took his coffee and what foods he gravitated toward when stressed. Izuku knew Katsuki got quieter when he was tired, that he rubbed absentmindedly at the back of his neck when he edited for too long, that he checked whether everyone around him was eating before touching his own food.

On the fourth night of the convention, Izuku returned to his hotel room after an especially overwhelming meet and greet to find a plastic convenience store bag hanging from his doorknob.

Inside sat two onigiris—one tuna and one spicy salmon—a fruit cup, and one of those vitamin drinks Katsuki forced on Kaminari whenever he mentioned that he hadn’t drank water in two days.

Izuku laughed softly into the empty hallway before pulling out his phone.

Izuku
ur the best thank uuuu!!!

Three dots appeared almost instantly.

Katsuki
u can thank me by not skipping lunch tmrw

Then a second later, 

ur welcome

Izuku stared at the message for a second longer than necessary, warmth spreading slowly through his chest until it became difficult to contain comfortably inside his body.

They’d sit shoulder to shoulder during panels and gaming showcases, knees bumping occasionally beneath crowded rows of seats while they quietly made fun of terrible presentation slides.

Katsuki
if this guy says "algorithm" one more time i'm leaving

Izuku
ur the one who wanted to come to the monetization panel :(

Katsuki
did i? i dont recall

Or later

Izuku
shouto just fell asleep sitting upright again

Katsuki

stick a pencil up his nose

he seemed to enjoy it last time

Izuku

-_-

Every night, they somehow found themselves on the balcony of Izuku’s room, the city stretching below them as they shared leftover food and convenience store snacks, shoulders brushing lightly against each other whenever they leaned too close over their phones to show each other something stupid online.

They’d talk for hours, and each night, Izuku learned more about him, filing each piece of information into the growing Katsuki folder in his brain.

He now knew that Katsuki loved winter despite hating cold weather, that he edited most of his videos at unreasonable hours because nighttime felt quieter inside his head somehow, that he secretly enjoyed domestic vlogs despite pretending otherwise.

He told Katsuki about how he still got nervous before uploading every single video no matter how many people subscribed to him now, that he cried embarrassingly easily during movies, that he often stayed awake rereading comments and dms from viewers whenever he felt lonely.

By the final night of YouCon, exhaustion hangs pleasantly through the hotel hallways while creators drift slowly between rooms, reluctant to fully let the weekend end yet.

It’s sometime after two in the morning, and Izuku sits cross legged on the carpet outside his hotel room sharing cold noodles with Katsuki, neither of them particularly interested in saying goodnight. 

Katsuki sits beside him with one knee drawn loosely toward his chest, shoulder pressed against the wall while Izuku leans back against his own hotel door. 

They’d long since abandoned any pretense of personal space over the course of the convention. They sit with their legs pressed together, sharing containers of food between them.

“These are disgusting,” Katsuki says around a bite of noodles.

“Mhm, which is exactly why you’ve eaten half it.” 

“You’re the one who wanted shitty takeout.” He points his chopsticks at Izuku. “I could make this way better.”

“Well I wouldn’t know, would I? I’ve yet to try your cooking.” Izuku tilts his head, drawing one knee closer to his chest while balancing the container carefully against his leg. “Do you still have that extra meal prep you made for me?”

Katsuki narrows his eyes. “Okay, one, that was an accident. I didn’t make it for you. And, two, I ate that shit days ago.”

Izuku tilts his head even closer, a teasing smile on his face. “And you thought of me every second?”

Katsuki crosses his arms in response, the end of his chopstick jutting dangerously close to his eye.

“Bet it made it taste better, too.”

“It did no such thing.”

Izuku picks up a piece of chicken with his chopsticks. “Come on, think happy thoughts while you eat this, too. You’ll like it more.” 

He holds the chicken up to Katsuki’s mouth. Katsuki glances down at it, then back up at Izuku, glaring harder. Izuku raises a brow, wiggling the chicken enticingly. Katsuki huffs, but leans forward to eat it, anyway.

“You’re such a little shit,” Katsuki grumbles around the bite. Izuku doesn’t miss the flush creeping up his cheeks.

“Does it taste better though?” he asks expectantly.

“Still tastes like shit. I’m gonna wake up puffy tomorrow from all this sodium.”

“Worth it.”

Izuku licks the sauce off the ends of his chopsticks and takes another bite of his noodles. Katsuki watches him for a moment, then huffs and pulls his phone out. 

He scrolls absently through twitter beside him, the light from his phone illuminating the tired shadows beneath his eyes and the sharp slope of his cheekbones. His posture is loose against the wall, one leg stretched lazily across the carpet while his shoulder remains pressed against Izuku’s.

Izuku can’t imagine the position is particularly comfortable, but Katsuki isn’t complaining so neither is he. 

“Whatcha looking at?” Izuku asks after a moment.

“People are still posting convention shit.”

“Anything good?”

Katsuki snorts softly through his nose. “Depends how much public humiliation you can tolerate.”

“Lemme see.”

Katsuki tilts the phone toward Izuku until the screen settles between them, his arm brushing more firmly against Izuku’s side in the process. Izuku shifts closer so he can read better. 

Someone had posted a compilation titled ‘bakugou katsuki looking at midoriya izuku like he personally invented sunlight.’

Izuku clicks on it, and Katsuki groans.

“Oh my god,” Izuku laughs, his forehead brushing against Katsuki’s shoulder.

“It has eighty thousand likes.”

“Seems like our shippers are growing.” 

"They're insane.”

“Well.” Izuku bites back a smile. “Maybe they have a point.”

Katsuki shoots him a flat look. “Not you too.”

Izuku grins harder. “I’m just saying, you’re not very subtle.”

“And you are?” Katsuki raises a brow.

Izuku shakes his head. “I never claimed to be subtle. Subtly’s boring. Boo.” He points a thumb down.

Katsuki shakes his head, his mouth twitching. He goes back to his phone, muttering something about Izuku being ‘impossible.’ 

Izuku just laughs and lets his head tip sideways until it rests against Katsuki’s shoulder. Katsuki adjusts, settling more comfortably beneath Izuku’s weight while he continues to scroll. 

He watches Katsuki like tweets, reply to fans he took pictures with earlier that day, and scroll hurriedly past more threads about him yearning for Izuku. 

His focus shifts from the screen to the movement of Katsuki’s fingers. Broad palms and rough knuckles marked faintly with old scars and callouses. Long, elegant fingers adorned with rings that catch the light when he shifts. Even now, relaxed loosely around his phone, there’s something compelling about the shape of them.

Izuku definitely knows he’s gone because he’s sitting here thinking about how unfairly beautiful Katsuki’s hands are.

He must stare too long, because Katsuki glances down at him, his brow raised.

“What now?”

Izuku smiles faintly against the fabric of Katsuki’s shoulder. “You have nice hands.”

Katsuki pauses mid-scroll and looks down at his own hand, flexing his fingers like he’s considering it. Then he snorts and continues scrolling.

“Is this you actively rebelling against subtly?”

Izuku laughs. “No, just making an observation.”

He reaches out and drags one finger lightly across the back of Katsuki’s hand where it rests against his knee, the touch feather light. Katsuki’s finger twitches, but he doesn’t pull his hand away.

“Still just observing?” His voice is quiet in the wide hallway.

Izuku hums, twisting one of his rings. He fits the tips of his fingers between Katsuki’s and drags them down to his wrist. Katsuki lets him, keeps scrolling through Twitter while Izuku traces absent little patterns across the back of his hand. 

Eventually, he pulls back to sip from his water bottle.

“You know,” Katsuki says suddenly, turning off his phone and letting it drop to his lap. He holds a hand out for Izuku’s water bottle and takes a sip too. “I think this is the longest I’ve ever seen you sit still.”

Izuku blinks, then laughs softly. “That’s mean.”

“It’s true.”

“I’ve been sitting still for at least…” Izuku glances vaguely toward the ceiling. “Seven minutes.”

Katsuki glances down at him. “That a new record for you?”

Izuku tilts his head back to look up at him. 

Up close like this, Izuku can see the flecks in his eyes, the way the warm light softens them and makes them look like pools of molten lava. His hair is messy from a day of running his hands through it, one pale strand falling stubbornly across his forehead no matter how often he pushes it back.

“Maybe,” Izuku says finally, smiling a little. “Or maybe I just like being around you.”

Katsuki goes still for a second beside him, then turns to look at him again, his eyes sweeping over Izuku’s face, intense and searching. His gaze drops towards Izuku’s mouth for a second before returning upward with visible effort. He looks away toward the hallway again like he needs somewhere else to put the sudden warmth blooming across his face.

Izuku’s beginning to realize that Katsuki wants things quietly, carefully, like he’s spent most of his life teaching himself to hold desire with both hands instead of reaching for it recklessly. Every soft thing in him seems offered only after hesitation, only after checking twice to make sure it’s wanted first. 

And god, that realization ruins Izuku a little more every time he notices it. Because he wants to give freely in return, wants to press every unguarded part of himself into Katsuki’s careful hands until there’s nothing hidden between them anymore. Wants to say, without shame or restraint or hesitation, here, this is yours. My attention. My trust. My laughter at two in the morning. Every soft, aching part of me that keeps gravitating helplessly toward you. It’s all for you. Take it, keep it.

They sit like that for a while longer, until their backs are sore from the floor and the food has gone completely cold between them. Izuku can feel sleep beginning to tug at his body, exhaustion settling into his limbs after days spent moving and being perceived and surrounded by noise. And still, despite how tired he is, some stubborn part of him refuses to let the night end yet.

Because tomorrow the convention will be over. Tomorrow they’ll pack their suitcases and leave and return to cities and schedules and lives that existed before this.

Tomorrow, he won’t have this anymore. Won’t have Katsuki.

“You falling asleep on me?” Katsuki asks eventually, his voice low with exhaustion.

“Just a little,” Izuku murmurs.

Katsuki huffs softly through his nose, and Izuku feels the vibration of it where they’re pressed together.

“Go to bed, dumbass.”

“In a minute.”

Katsuki doesn’t argue. Maybe he feels it too. Maybe some part of him doesn’t want this to be over, either. 

He’s gone quieter beside him again, one hand resting loosely against the carpet near Izuku’s knee while his thumb traces absent patterns against the floor like he’s thinking too hard about something. 

Me, some desperate, helpless part of Izuku thinks. Please be thinking of me.

Finally, Katsuki nudges his shoulder lightly against Izuku’s. “C’mon,” he says quietly. “You’re not falling asleep out here.”

Izuku lifts his head slowly, blinking tiredly up at him. Katsuki looks equally exhausted, eyes soft and heavy lidded beneath the warm light, blond hair falling messily across his forehead.

So, so beautiful. Izuku’s heart aches with the weight of it. 

Katsuki stands first, stretching slightly before offering Izuku a hand. He pulls him easily to his feet, his hand lingering in Izuku’s for a moment before he drops it.

“You’ll come say bye before we leave, right?” Izuku doesn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed about how small his voice sounds.

“Obviously, dumbass.” Katsuki rolls his eyes but the effect is partly ruined by the fond smile on his lips. 

“And you’ll still go on a date with me?”

Katsuki raises a brow. “I said that I would, didn’t I?” 

Izuku looks down, suddenly more interested in the carpet than the intensity of Katsuki’s gaze. “Yeah, but that was days ago. You could’ve changed your mind.”

“Izuku.” Katsuki grabs his face with both hands, smushing his cheeks between them. “Yes, I’m gonna come say bye. Yes, we’re going on a date. And another one after that. And another one after that.” Izuku tries to laugh but his cheeks are still being squeezed between Katsuki’s palms. “I’ll see you very, very soon, okay? You’re not getting rid of me that easily. Understood?”

Izuku nods.

“Good.” Katsuki reaches into Izuku’s pocket and pulls out his key card. He taps it against the door and opens it halfway. “Go to sleep.” He pushes him inside. 

Katsuki lingers in the doorway for one more second after Izuku’s inside, one hand still curled loosely around the edge of the door.

“Good night, Kacchan.”

Katsuki’s mouth twitches at the name.

“Sleep.” He points an accusing finger at Izuku, then shuts the door.

Izuku stands there smiling helplessly into the quiet hotel room, warm from head to toe. When he gets into bed, his phone lights up with a text.

Katsuki

Goodnight 

Lena @lenalovescats
i wasn’t gonna post this because it feels weirdly private but i genuinely think this is the softest thing i’ve ever seen on the internet

[IMAGE: a blurry photo taken from the far end of a dim hotel hallway. Izuku sits on the carpet outside his hotel room with his head resting against Katsuki’s shoulder, one of Katsuki’s hands loose in Izuku’s lap while their takeout containers sit abandoned beside them. Katsuki is looking down at Izuku]

13.8K Replies • 18K Retweets • 42K Likes

Cam @camcorderheart

Replying to @lenalovescats

not even joking this genuinely changed my brain chemistry a little

Lia @liastreams

Replying to @lenalovescats

they look so tired and happy i’m actually gonna cry

Rika @rikaaa242
Replying to @lenalovescats
okay wait this actually feels invasive though 😭

Theo @icedcoffeemic
Replying to @lenalovescats
nah why are people taking pictures of them in their HOTEL hallway???

noorie @norani
Replying to @lenalovescats
this is genuinely such a private moment pls delete this

bea @taecosmos
Replying to @lenalovescats
yall complain about creators being distant and then do weird shit like this

Aina @urdearaina
Replying to @lenalovescats
they look so soft here :( taking pics from far away without them knowing is crazy though

allie @bkdketcetera
Replying to @urdearaina
exactly like yes they’re cute but they’re still real people???

Nora @rainydayzuku
Replying to @lenalovescats
imagine finding out strangers posted an intimate moment of you online for thousands of people to analyze 😭

Mina Luvr @minacore
Replying to @lenalovescats
everyone say thank you to the people in quotes telling op to delete this bc some of yall are getting WAY too comfortable with creators lately

Dynamight Updates @bkupdates
Replying to @lenalovescats
not reposting the image out of respect but hoping both of them got some rest after con weekend 🫶

Lena @lenalovescats
Replying to @mikaaa
yeah i deleted it from my main after thinking abt it more 😭 i wasn’t trying to be weird i just thought they looked cute together

Rae @sleepsodaa
Replying to @lenalovescats
appreciate you realizing it honestly. conventions make people forget creators are still just people sometimes

joshie @shoutoes
okay unpopular opinion but all the bkdk stuff is obviously just engagement bait at this point 😭 like they know people are obsessed with them so they’re leaning into it for clicks/views. no way people are falling for this that hard

87 Replies • 412 Retweets • 8.9K Likes

keke @eijination
Replying to @shoutoes
THANK YOU omg creators do this literally all the time

angel @bakugono.1fan
Replying to @shoutoes
exactly 😭 they’re influencers first and foremost. they know what gets attention

saph @presentsaph
Replying to @shoutoes
like??? they’ve literally never interacted before this, the obvious engagement bait is taking me OUT

unpacking after YouCon + trying not to cry over how much I miss everyone already

-dekudiaries

Uploaded 2 hours ago

The vlog opens slowly, sunlight spilling warm and pale through the apartment windows. Izuku’s suitcase lies half unpacked in the middle of his living room, clothes spilling everywhere, and convention badges and tangled charging cords organized into uneven piles around him.

“Hey guys,” Izuku says, dropping down cross legged beside the suitcase with a tired smile. “I’m finally home. Now for the best part, unpacking!” 

He smiles again but it looks pained. The camera zooms into his expression.

“I slept for like twelve hours after getting back yesterday,” he continues, rubbing at one eye. “I genuinely don’t think I’ve ever been this socially dead in my life.”

He drags the suitcase closer to him, and bends a leg to rest his chin on his knee. 

“I was honestly really nervous going into YouCon, but everybody was so kind and respectful and sweet, and getting to hear people talk about how long they’ve been watching the channel was really emotional actually.” He smiles at the camera. “Thank you guys for making this weekend so special for me.”

He unpacks slowly while talking about the convention, carefully folding clothes while scattered clips from YouCon overlay the screen. Fans waving excitedly at meet and greets. Shouto and Uraraka half asleep in a hotel bed. Kaminari trying to film dance trends in crowded hallways. Kirishima lifting Mina over his shoulder while she screamed threats loud enough to echo through the expo floor.

“I still can’t believe how many people came up to talk to me,” Izuku says after a while, holding up a stack of handwritten letters tied together carefully with green ribbon. “Seriously. Every single person I met was so kind.”

“There were a lot of moments this weekend where I kind of…” He laughs softly to himself, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I guess I just kept thinking about how weird it is that uploading videos from my apartment somehow led to all of this.”

The vlog cuts briefly to montage footage after that—blurry clips of crowded panels, a sped up video of one of his meet and greets, convention center ceilings disappearing into bright white lights overhead.

“I started making videos because I was lonely,” Izuku admits softly. “And now somehow there are people all over the world who recognize me and care about what I make and…” He trails off briefly before smiling again. “It just feels so surreal. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.”

He reaches deeper into his suitcase and starts pulling out gifts from viewers one by one. Handmade bracelets. Tiny art prints. Someone made him a tiny crocheted onigiri plush. Another person gave him a handwritten letter thanking him for helping them through their first year of college.

Izuku gets visibly emotional reading part of it out loud before quickly covering his face with one hand.

“Okay, nope,” he mumbles. “Not crying on camera today.”

His phone buzzes and he reaches for it, immediately smiling when he reads what’s on it. He types something back quickly before tossing the phone aside, like he’s forcing himself to focus again.

Izuku keeps unpacking after that, though the vlog gradually loses structure the way his videos often do whenever he’s especially tired. He starts rambling halfway through folding laundry about his favorite panels from the weekend, animatedly recounting an editing workshop as he sorts shirts into uneven piles around his room.

At one point he pulls out a black hoodie with a faded skull graphic and pauses briefly.

“This isn’t mine,” he says, tossing it off frame.

His phone vibrates beside him again. He checks it instinctively, laughing under his breath before shaking his head.

Later in the vlog, Izuku starts organizing polaroids from the convention across his floor while soft music plays quietly in the background. Most of them flash by too quickly to fully see, but the camera catches flashes of Kaminari making a ridiculous face, Mina hanging off Uraraka’s shoulders, Kirishima flexing beside fans, convention floor selfies, and Bakugou sitting on a balcony looking away from the camera mid laugh.

Izuku stares at it, smiling softly, before setting it aside beneath another stack.

The vlog cuts abruptly afterward into a montage of apartment footage layered beneath soft music—unpacked luggage slowly disappearing, editing software open late at night, his computer screen illuminating his face as he sits at his desk.

It ends with Izuku curled sideways on his couch beneath a blanket.

“I’m gonna head to bed now,” he says sleepily, glancing toward the camera. He runs a hand through his already messy hair. “I’m probably gonna spend the next week recovering physically and emotionally. Thank you guys again for making YouCon so memorable. I appreciate you all so, so much. I’m so immensely grateful that I get to connect with such amazing people everyday. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He smiles softly at the camera, his head tilting onto his shoulder. “Okay, goodnight.”

The screen cuts to black.

View 24,281 comments:

@pearmas: OMG THAT’S MY LETTER??? IZUKU ILYSM 😭😭😭

@ebieeeheart: THE HOODIE HELLO????

@izunation: god he’s so appreciative of everything we rly gave fame to the right person

@normiepie: not him smiling at his phone every thirty seconds i’m SICK

@broccoliboi: THE POLAROID OF KATSUKI???

@sleepynina: oh izuku sweetheart :( u deserve everything good in this world

@sonnyangelz: he looks so much softer after youcon i can’t explain it

@phatgummy: the funniest part is that they still technically haven’t publicly confirmed ANYTHING

@izzysnumber1fan: meeting you at youcon was the best experience of my life😭i love you so much izuku pls get some rest sweetheart

@lexie_lou: this doesn’t even feel like clickbait anymore they genuinely seem happy 😭

Resetting My Life After YouCon
-Dynamight
Uploaded 48 minutes ago

The vlog opens at six thirty in the morning to complete darkness and the sound of an alarm going off violently somewhere off camera.

A hand immediately smacks into frame to shut it off.

The camera cuts next to his kitchen while coffee brews loudly in the background, early morning light just barely beginning to spill pale blue through the apartment windows. Katsuki stands at the counter in an oversized black hoodie looking visibly exhausted.

“YouCon destroyed my sleep schedule,” he says flatly. “If any of you see me voluntarily attending another convention this year, shoot me.”

The vlog follows him through most of the day afterward, showing a montage of morning gym footage, Katsuki cleaning his apartment, answering emails at his desk, folding laundry piled on the couch, and meal prepping for the week.

During the gym segment, Kirishima appears briefly in the background filming Katsuki between sets.

“You miss your boyfriend?” he asks.

Katsuki throws a towel at his head.

Halfway through the vlog, Katsuki starts unpacking convention gifts and letters at his kitchen table. He quietly sorts through bracelets, drawings, and handwritten notes from viewers.

Halfway through the stack, he looks at the camera. “Thanks for coming to YouCon.”

“A lot of you waited in line for hours, which is insane, by the way.” He pauses. “But… yeah. I appreciated it. It’s cool to be able to put faces to a lot of the names I see in the comments.” 

He looks back down at the letters. The room is quiet except for the soft rustling of paper. “You guys spent a lot of time writing these. Don’t think I’m not gonna read all of them.”

He points an accusing finger at the camera. “And if any of you post the hallway photo again I’m deleting my channel.”

Toward the middle of the vlog, Katsuki meal preps while music plays faintly in the background. His phone lights up against the counter every few minutes and he types one handed responses as he cooks.

Near the end of the vlog, Katsuki cleans his apartment while complaining about convention germs and social exhaustion.

“I talked to more people this weekend than I normally do in like three months,” he says, dragging the vacuum across his living room rug. “I dunno how people do shit like this regularly.”

Kaminari’s voice crackles faintly through speakerphone somewhere nearby, “Seemed to me like you enjoyed it. You spent a lot of time with a special someone.”

“I’m blocking your number.”

“Aw it’s okay if you miss Mi—”

The vlog cuts sharply before Kaminari can finish his sentence.

The final segment is filmed late at night.

The apartment is dark except for the kitchen light while Katsuki stands at the counter drinking water after midnight, hair messy from sleep and hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows.

His phone buzzes against the counter again, and Katsuki checks it automatically. The camera catches his expression softening. He types a response quickly before setting the phone back down, then notices the camera still recording.

“I’m going to sleep.”

The screen cuts to black immediately afterward.

~

View 10,483 comments:

@katsunation: I MET HIM AHHHHH

@dbhkslawyer: katsuki PLS read my letter😭😭😭

@p1kachuu: he sounds so much softer lately i’m unwell

@eijirouarms: WHYD HE CUT DENKI OFF LET HIM SPEAK HIS TRUTH

@ktspilled: THE HALLWAY PHOTO MENTION LMFAOOOOOOO

@bakugoes: the way he thanked fans so quietly :(

@izucurls: not him pretending he hated youcon while visibly missing everyone immediately

@mikaaa: he’s even more beautiful irl he’s so shy and sweet i miss him already😭

@catboykirishima: him and izuku were so cute together at youcon :((

@komahinareal: we know exactly who texted him at the end 😭

At first, Katsuki tells himself it’s temporary.

Some sort of weird, lingering convention behavior. That strange artificial closeness people slip into after spending four straight days trapped together, intimacy building quickly on proximity and lack of sleep and too much shared attention.

He expected it to fade once he returned home.

Instead, Izuku settles deeper into Katsuki’s life with every passing day.

The first night back, Katsuki cooks dinner and ends up making enough food for two people before realizing halfway through that nobody else is coming over. He stands alone in his kitchen beneath harsh white light, one extra bowl sitting beside the stove.

He stares at it for a second, then sends Izuku a picture.

The response comes immediately. 

Izuku

is that for me!!!!!!

Katsuki 

no all mine

Izuku 

okay but you’ll cook for me soon

right O_O

Katsuki 

maybe

Izuku

:(

Katsuki

fine

Izuku 

yayyy :D

Katsuki packs up the extra portion and puts it in the fridge. 

After that, the texts become more frequent. Tiny pieces of themselves traded back and forth throughout the day until Katsuki stops remembering what his days looked like before Izuku threaded himself into them.

Mornings become pictures of coffee and gym updates and Katsuki sending blurry photos of the sunrise through his apartment window because he knows Izuku appreciates them but never wakes up early enough to see them.

Afternoons become half finished conversations while both of them work, and Katsuki cooking with his phone propped beside the cutting board playing rambling voice messages from Izuku. He lets Izuku’s voice fill the apartment while he washes rice or cuts vegetables or cleans dishes late at night.

The calls begin accidentally (at least that’s what Katsuki tells himself).

One of them will ask a question while texting and obviously it becomes easier to just hit call instead of typing everything out. Then two hours would pass and Katsuki would find himself sitting on the couch at one in the morning listening to Izuku talk about an assignment or content ideas or what he had for dinner that day.

Katsuki never wanted to be the first to hang up, even when he’d be half asleep with his phone lost somewhere in the cushions.

“You still there?” Izuku would ask eventually after a stretch of silence.

Katsuki would grunt in response.

“You sound sleepy. Wanna head to bed?”

“In a bit. You still haven’t finished telling me about that collab you wanna film with four eyes.”

“Iida, Kacchan. His name is Iida.”

The dumbass nickname sticks too, but Katsuki can’t even pretend to hate it. 

One night Katsuki finishes editing around two in the morning and instinctively opens their message thread. He winces at the brightness of his phone. 

Katsuki
you alive

Three dots appear almost immediately.

Izuku
barely

He presses the call button as soon as the message comes through.

“Hey,” Izuku’s voice filters through the speaker, and Katsuki immediately narrows his eyes because it sounds wrong—lower and hoarser than his voice normally is.

“Did you catch a cold or something?”

Izuku laughs, and it comes out a little gravely. “Yeah, I think I picked something up at the convention. Or maybe it’s just the effects of too much alcohol and not enough sleep.”

Katsuki frowns. He pictures Izuku curled somewhere beneath blankets, still awake despite clearly feeling like shit because apparently the idiot had never learned how to rest properly.

“Did you take anything for it?”

“Mhm.” 

The easy tone he says it in makes Katsuki narrow his eyes.

“You lying?”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Maybe a little.” 

The little shit doesn’t sound even the slightest bit guilty about it.

Katsuki sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Idiot. Go take some medicine.”

Izuku laughs again, but it turns into a muffled cough halfway through.

“I’m serious. You sound awful.”

“Thank you, Kacchan. That’s so sweet.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I know.” Fabric rustles faintly through the speaker as he adjusts. “It’s not that bad. I just need to sleep it off.”

Katsuki highly doubts that. Stupid Izuku and his stupid habit of minimizing things whenever they affect him personally. He’s sure if anyone else sounded like this, Izuku would already be outside their apartment with soup and medicine and at least three different electrolyte drinks.

“You’re sleeping all day tomorrow,” Katsuki says flatly. “No videos, no editing, no dragging Shouto out to a coffee shop.”

“I can still go out,” he protests.

Katsuki pinches the bridge of his nose. “What’s so important it can’t wait until you’re better?”

“Our date?” Izuku says, sounding confused now. “We were supposed to go out tomorrow, remember?”

Right, the date.

Katsuki had spent an embarrassing amount of time thinking about it over the past week. They hadn’t planned anything huge, just dinner and walking around the city afterward, something quiet where they could exist around each other without convention crowds or cameras constantly surrounding them.

And now Izuku sounds like death over the phone.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“Kacchan—”

“No.”

Izuku groans weakly through the speaker. “Come on, I’m fine.”

“You literally sound like you’re dying. Absolutely not.”

Then Izuku sighs softly, his voice dropping lower. “I was looking forward to seeing you.”

The words are honest enough that Katsuki has to stare very hard at the wall across from him for a second. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to that impossible sincerity Izuku carries around so naturally, like handing people pieces of himself has never frightened him in the slightest.

Katsuki scrubs one hand down his face slowly.

“You’re such an idiot,” he mutters, voice rougher now.

“Mhm.” He’s quiet again. “Wanna do next week instead?”

Katsuki leans back deeper into the couch cushions, listening to the steady sound of Izuku breathing softly on the other end. He wonders if real Izuku matches the picture Katsuki has painted in his head—messy curls flattened against pillows, oversized hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands, cheeks flushed from fever.

It does something dangerous to him. He suddenly finds it very hard to deny him anything.

“Nah,” Katsuki says finally.

Izuku pauses, and Katsuki can picture the furrow in his brow. “The week after that then? I have a few videos planned for that week but I’m sure I can move things around if that works better for you. Although, Shouto’s out of town that week and he wanted my help with—”

“I’ll come over tomorrow.”

He pauses so long that Katsuki wonders if the call froze.

Finally, he sighs. “Katsuki.”

“I’ll bring food.”

“You don’t have to—”

“You’re obviously not feeding yourself properly.”

“I am!”

“What’d you eat today?”

It’s quiet on the other line. Katsuki closes his eyes slowly. “So nothing.”

“Not true! I had crackers.”

“That’s not a meal.”

“Nuh-uh, it was one of those variety packs so it’s basically a meal. I ate two sleeves. I don’t like those poppy seed ones that taste like cardboard, though, so I gave them to my neighbor. Do you think eighty five is too old to be able to chew crackers?”

Katsuki laughs despite himself, low and helpless beneath the exhaustion pulling at him. God, he was such a fucking idiot and Katsuki was already halfway in love.

“Izuku.”

“Kacchan!” He says, like he just remembered Katsuki was on the other line. Katsuki bites back a fond smile.

“I’ll come by tomorrow,” he says again, softer this time. “I’ll make you something that doesn’t come out of a sleeve package and make sure you take actual medicine and we can watch a video essay ranking all the All Might movies.”

“That sounds nice,” he murmurs. “But…”

“But?”

Another silence stretches across the line. When Izuku speaks again, his voice sounds quieter.

“You know our first date can’t just be you taking care of me while I’m sick, right?”

“Like hell it can’t.”

“I’m serious,” he huffs.

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because.” Izuku says, and Katsuki can practically hear the frown in his voice. “I was supposed to woo you. Wine and dine you and walk you home and kiss you in the rain and all that good stuff. Hey, speaking of, do you think it’s too soon to meet each other’s parents?”

His mouth tips up in a smile. “Nah, I’ll bring my mom along tomorrow. You guys would get along great.”

“Really?”

“No, she’s a fucking nightmare.” He rolls his eyes. “You can do all that ‘good stuff’ when you’re feeling better. Tomorrow is gonna be spent exclusively on the couch.”

Izuku sighs. “Kacchan, really, we can reschedule. I don’t wanna make you miserable, too. You have more important things to do and I’m sick and—”

“I don’t care if you’re sick,” he says, resting his phone on his chest. “I still wanna see you. And I still expect to be wooed by the way.” 

That gets a laugh out of Izuku, and the sound warms Katsuki’s chest.

“I’m gonna sweep you off your feet.”

“You fucking better,” he snorts.

“Seriously though,” his laugh trails off. “I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you next time we go out.”

“Fuck are you apologizing for?”

“Um, being sick. Ruining our plans. Making you come here and—”

Katsuki scoffs and sits up straighter against the couch cushions, dragging one hand through his hair. “Never mind. Don’t know why I asked. Should’ve known you’d somehow find a way to apologize for catching a fucking virus.”

Izuku goes quiet on the other end of the line. Katsuki can practically hear the way his thoughts start spiraling inward after that, the same way they always do whenever kindness is directed at him. Like some stubborn part of him still expects affection to be transactional, something he needs to earn and balance carefully against his usefulness.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Katsuki continues, rubbing tiredly at the back of his neck. “Plans change. That’s normal.”

“But—”

“No ‘buts.’ I wanted to come see you anyway. You don’t gotta earn me showing up for you.”

Izuku breathes softly through the speaker, silent for a moment like he’s trying to figure out what to do with that. And Katsuki gets it, he really does. He understands what it feels like to hold yourself carefully around other people. To brace yourself for disappointment before expecting tenderness. To apologize for taking up space before anyone can decide you’ve become inconvenient.

But god, he really wishes Izuku would stop looking at love and kindness and affection like things he had to repay immediately.

“Okay?” Katsuki asks.

“Okay,” he whispers.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Another quiet, “Okay.” 

He leans back against the cushion, places his phone on his chest and wishes it was Izuku’s head. 

“Go to sleep, `Zuku.”

It’s quiet for another moment. 

Then, “Can you stay on the line with me?” 

The words come out hesitant, like he’s bracing himself for rejection before Katsuki’s even answered. And Katsuki is a lot of things—impatient and sharp tongued and catastrophically bad at pretending he doesn’t care—but he’s never once been strong enough to deny Izuku anything.

“I’ll be here.”

On the other end of the line, Izuku shifts faintly against fabric, probably burrowing deeper beneath blankets. For a long moment Katsuki just sits there in his dim apartment listening to the soft rhythm of his breathing through static and distance and several miles apart.

His heart aches with how much he misses him. 

Misses his smile and his smell and the warmth of him leaning against his shoulder and hearing him laugh from across rooms instead of through speakers and the way he looks at him with bright eyed admiration, like Katsuki did anything particularly special to deserve it. 

On the other end of the line, Izuku makes a small, sleepy noise, and Katsuki has to close his eyes and count to ten to stop himself from imploding. He wants him here now. Tomorrow suddenly feels unbearably far away.

And with Izuku half asleep on the other end of the line and tomorrow waiting quietly ahead of them both, Katsuki realizes no version of his life exists where he willingly lets this go.

Katsuki barely has time to lower his hand from the door after knocking before Izuku swings it open. He looks tired, his curls messy and flattened on one side from laying down, and his frame swallowed up by the large hoodie he’s wearing. 

Katsuki's hoodie. Katsuki’s favorite hoodie that he thought he lost at YouCon. 

It hangs loose across Izuku’s body, the collar slipping down to reveal the sharp jut of his collarbone.

His freckles are darker against his flushed skin, and his eyes are heavy with exhaustion, soft and glassy green, but when he sees Katsuki, his face softens. He smiles and tilts his head, and Katsuki feels his heart clench at the sight.

“Hi.” His voice is more hoarse than it was on the phone last night.

“Hey.” Katsuki lifts the bags in his hands. “Got some stuff for you.”

Izuku steps aside to let him in. 

The apartment smells like rain and laundry detergent and the lemon candle he knows Izuku likes to burn. It feels strange stepping into the space after seeing it through screens for so long. 

The couch takes up more space in the living room than he expected, and the kitchen is smaller than it seems in his videos. Katsuki never realized how big the windows were either—they take up most of one wall, and he imagines that’s how Izuku always has impeccable lighting in his videos. 

Right now, though, the curtains are drawn shut, muting the gray daylight and letting the lamp near the couch spill warm light across the apartment instead.

Katsuki toes his shoes off by the door and carries the bags toward the kitchen while Izuku trails behind him slowly, still looking half asleep.

“You didn’t have to bring all this,” he says as Katsuki starts unloading stuff onto the counter.

“Well, the other option was letting you starve on the couch for a week, so I kind of did.” He pulls a container of broth and another of ramen toppings out of the bag. “Pot?”

Izuku rolls his eyes and opens the cabinet next to his leg. “Here. And I wasn’t starving. I just haven’t had an appetite.”

“Mhm.” He hands Izuku an electrolyte drink. “Drink this while the food warms up.”

Izuku sighs and takes it.

Katsuki gives him cough syrup, watching him with narrowed eyes to make sure he drinks it, then finishes setting the medicine beside the sink. He straightens, gaze flicking over the counter to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything important. 

When he looks back up, Izuku is standing there watching him expectantly.

Katsuki pauses. “What, you don’t like that flavor or something? Stop being picky, brat, you need hydration. Can’t keep surviving off iced coffee and energy drinks.”

Izuku sets the drink down and silently lifts both arms toward him.

It takes Katsuki a second to realize Izuku is asking for a hug, but when he does, he steps forward immediately. 

Izuku folds into him the second their bodies meet, warm and solid beneath Katsuki’s hoodie. His arms slide around Katsuki’s waist and Katsuki’s hands settle against his back, pulling him closer. He closes his eyes and presses his face into the messy curls near Izuku’s temple, shivering at the exhale Izuku lets out against his neck.

He can feel the heat lingering beneath Izuku’s skin, the faint roughness of his breath against his collarbone, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat where their bodies press together. He thinks he could be content standing here for the rest of his life.

Izuku pulls back after a moment to look up at him, still inside the circle of Katsuki’s arms.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

“Mm.” He brushes a curl off his forehead. “Can’t have you dying on me.”

Izuku tilts his head up, smiling. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Katsuki has the overwhelming urge to kiss him, to feel that beautiful smile against his own lips. He pulls him back against his chest instead, and Izuku hums softly when Katsuki’s fingers slide gently up the length of his spine. They stand like that for another moment, then Katsuki nudges Izuku towards the living room. 

“Go sit down. I’ll bring your food in a second.”

“You don’t even know where the bowls are.” Izuku rolls his eyes but lets Katsuki direct him to the couch.

“I’ll figure it out. Sit.”

They eat curled together on the couch beneath layers of blankets, watching a video ranking every All Might superhero movie like Katsuki promised. Izuku pauses it every two minutes to explain something more thoroughly or huff about how the creator inaccurately ranked the Bronze Age over the Silver Age. Katsuki lets him, even though he’s already spent an embarrassingly long time analyzing and ranking the movies himself. 

He also leaves out the fact that he agrees with the Bronze Age ranking, because he doesn’t particularly feel like being flayed alive.

Izuku ends up tucked against Katsuki’s side, fever-warm and soft with exhaustion. Katsuki grabs the bowl from his hands when he notices his grip loosening on it and places it on the coffee table. Izuku curls closer beside him beneath the blankets, shoulder pressed warm against his ribs.

“Hey.” Izuku tips his head up to look at him. 

“Hm?”

“I missed you.” He says it the same way he’d mention being cold or tired, like it’s just another simple fact about him.

“You saw me like two weeks ago.”

Izuku smiles faintly against his shoulder. “Okay, and? Still missed you.”

Katsuki tugs the blanket higher around Izuku’s shoulders. “You’re clingy.”

“I am.”

Izuku’s fingers drift absentmindedly along the fabric of Katsuki’s shirt as he clicks on another video. “It was nice spending time with you at YouCon. I think…” he sets the remote down on Katsuki’s chest. “The experience was more intense than I expected. Like emotionally, y’know. But being around you and Shouto and Kaminari-kun and the others made it a little easier.”

“I doubt Kaminari made it any easier.” Katsuki snorts. “But yeah, it was a lot. Got used to having you around.” He runs a hand over Izuku’s back. “I missed you, too,” he admits quietly.

“You’re clingy.” Izuku grins at him.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, flicking Izuku’s nose. He scrunches it and bats Katsuki’s hand away. 

“You feeling okay about the other stuff now, though?” Katsuki continues. “The emotional intensity and shit?”

Izuku considers it. “I’m not sure.” He shifts against Katsuki’s chest, tucking one leg more comfortably between Katsuki’s. “I think it just caught me off guard a little,” he says eventually. “Meeting people face to face after they’ve been watching you for years is weird.”

“Bad weird?”

“No.” Izuku shakes his head quickly. “Not bad. Just…” His fingers tighten absently in the fabric of Katsuki’s shirt. “Heavy, I guess.”

Izuku glances toward the tv instead of directly at him now, expression softer around the edges.

“There was this girl at one of the meet and greets who told me she follows along with the recipes I try, that I showed her it was okay to eat and not restrict herself,” he says quietly. “And another guy who said he used to watch my study streams during chemo treatments because they reminded him of staying up late in college and studying with his friends.” A small breath leaves him. “Stuff like that.”

“That’s what you do, Izuku. You help people feel less alone. Make them feel seen and understood. It’s why I watch your videos, too,” he huffs out a laugh. 

“Do you actually?” He furrows a brow. “I thought you were just saying that.”

“Nah.” Katsuki shakes his head. “Been watching you for years. Ever since you lived in that shitty studio.”

“Oh my god, don’t remind me.” Izuku groans, letting his head fall against Katsuki’s chest. “I still have nightmares about that place. You know the water would turn off like every other day? And I’d have to go shower and brush my teeth at Iida’s. It was a nightmare.”

“I remember.” Katsuki smiles, shaking his head. Izuku would start every early vlog with a check to see if his water was on that day, and eventually, the viewers started betting on it in the comments, too. 

“I think part of why I started making videos was loneliness.” Katsuki looks down at him, but Izuku is staring at the tv, his gaze unfocused. “College was…” He exhales softly through his nose. “Not bad exactly. I had friends. Shouto and Ochaco and Iida. But I think it was hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that, suddenly, people actually liked me, that they willingly chose to hang out with me.”

Katsuki smooths a thumb over the furrow in his brow. “Why would people not like you?”

He can’t imagine it. Izuku was magnetic, and it was only made more clear at the convention; hundreds of people waiting in line for hours for the chance to say hi to him, dozens of creators inviting him to afterparties and out for drinks.

Izuku shrugs, smiling wryly. “Between me and you, I wasn’t the most popular in middle and high school.” 

“No,” Katsuki gasps in mock surprise. “You don’t say.”

“Shut up,” he laughs and shoves Katsuki’s shoulder. “Middle school was especially rough.” He exhales softly through his nose. “I got bullied a lot.”

Katsuki’s jaw tightens, but Izuku continues before he can speak. 

“It’s okay,” he says gently, which somehow only makes Katsuki feel worse. “I’m okay now.”

“What happened?” Katsuki asks, voice rough.

“Kids can be cruel when they decide you’re an easy target.” Izuku shrugs one shoulder beneath the blanket. “I was awkward and emotional and kinda weird. I had different interests than a lot of them, and once one person decides you’re weird and off-putting, you get shunned by everyone else.”

Katsuki strokes a hand slowly across his back, massaging gently at the tension gathered in his shoulders beneath the hoodie. Izuku melts further into him at the touch.

“You’re still weird,” Katsuki says. He leans down, cupping one hand around his mouth like he’s about to share a secret. “It’s my favorite thing about you.”

Izuku’s entire body breaks out in tiny shivers at the whisper against his ear. A soft laugh slips out of him, his fingers tightening in the fabric of Katsuki’s shirt.

“I think I’ve grown into it now. But back then…” He smiles faintly, eyes drifting toward the tv again. “I dunno, I think when people hear bullying, they picture, like…” He gestures vaguely with one hand from beneath the blanket. “Cartoon stuff. People shoving you into lockers or flushing your head down the toilet or whatever.”

He pauses, laughing softly under his breath.

“But I think the worst part is feeling like your humanity has been stripped away from you. It’s like…” He searches for the words. “Everything about you becomes irritating to people. The way you talk. The things you get excited about. Even being happy makes people annoyed.” His smile is small, a little sad. “Eventually, you stop feeling like a person. You’re not allowed to want things other people do.”

Katsuki swallows slowly, his fingers tightening around Izuku’s side, like if he pulls him close enough, he could unzip his own body and shove Izuku in there to protect him from the world.

“I think after a while,” Izuku continues more quietly, “you start internalizing it. Like there must actually be something wrong with you if people dislike you that easily.”

Katsuki keeps his hand moving slowly along Izuku’s back, thumb pressing gently into the tense muscles beside his spine. He hates how easily he can picture younger Izuku shrinking inward beneath that kind of treatment. Hates the thought of all his warmth and openness being met with cruelty instead of love.

“And eventually you start believing that if you disappeared, no one would notice or care. That people would probably be happier if you just stopped bothering them altogether.” Izuku laughs softly, almost sheepish, like he’s embarrassed by the severity of his own thoughts. “Which sounds kinda dramatic now, but when you’re fifteen everything feels permanent.”

Katsuki looks down at him for a long moment.

Izuku’s expression stays soft around the edges, fever flushed cheek pressed against Katsuki’s shoulder, his curls spilling messily across the hoodie collar. He says these things so gently now, like he’s spent enough years healing from them that he can hold the memories without bleeding openly anymore.

That somehow makes Katsuki’s chest ache worse.

“I spent a long time trying to make myself easier to tolerate,” Izuku says after a moment. “Quieter. Less emotional. Less intense.” He smiles faintly. “But that just made me feel lonely in a completely different way, because I didn’t recognize myself anymore.” 

His fingers drift absently along the fabric stretched across Katsuki’s stomach. “It’s a huge part of why I started making videos in the first place. I wanted somewhere I could just exist as myself, I guess. Talk freely. Figure out who I actually was when I stopped trying to sand pieces of myself down for other people.”

Katsuki’s jaw tightens instinctively, and Izuku’s thumb brushes lightly against Katsuki’s side like he’s trying to soothe him for getting upset on his behalf.

The gesture nearly fucking kills him.

“So yeah,” Izuku murmurs, smiling tiredly now, “it feels weird having thousands of strangers voluntarily listening to me ramble about movies and cooking disasters for an hour after spending so long convinced people could only handle me in small doses.”

His chest feels tight as he looks down at Izuku, all warm, tan skin and scattered freckles and soft curls and sleepy eyes and strong arms wrapped around him beneath blankets, and suddenly, he hates the fucking world. Hates every person who ever made Izuku feel like he had to shrink himself down to deserve kindness. Hates the thought of him alone in some shitty college apartment trying to make himself quieter and smaller and easier to tolerate.

Katsuki’s hand slides higher against his back, thumb brushing slow circles beneath the fabric of the hoodie. Izuku watches him quietly now, his green eyes soft and tired beneath his messy hair.

“Sorry.” His eyes crinkle as he smiles sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to ruin the mood. Here, do you wanna pick out the next video?” 

He picks up the remote to exit off the video they’re watching, but Katsuki plucks it out of his hand and places it on the coffee table.

“Izuku.” He cups his jaw with gentle fingers. “You gotta stop apologizing for feeling shit.”

He brushes his thumb slowly across the curve of his cheekbone, watching the way Izuku instinctively leans into the touch.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he says more quietly. “And for the record, anybody who made you feel like that is a fucking asshole.”

That pulls a soft laugh out of Izuku.

“I mean it.” His fingers slip briefly into the curls near his temple. “Izuku, you…” 

He exhales roughly through his nose, trying to find the words to explain this properly. He always was horrible at communicating his thoughts and feelings, but he’d find a way to do it for Izuku. 

He needed Izuku to see how fucking special he was.

“You’re one of the strongest people I’ve met,” Katsuki says. “And I don’t mean that in the fake inspirational bullshit way, either.” His hand slides slowly down Izuku’s back again. “The fact that you stayed kind after all that shit…” He snorts, “I don’t think many people would be able to do that.”

Izuku stills slightly beneath him, but Katsuki keeps going before he can overthink himself into silence again.

“You’re kind to people. You actually listen when they talk. You make strangers feel safe enough to hand you pieces of themselves online every day. And,” he points a finger at Izuku. “You still know how to stand your ground too. You don’t let people push you around just because you’re nice.”

Izuku’s expression softens slowly beneath the warm light.

“Honestly, I admire the fuck out of you,” he mutters. “That shit’s hard to do.”

Izuku smiles harder, something warm and unbearably fond in his eyes, and Katsuki’s thumb drags once more along his cheek.

“I admire you too, Kacchan.”

Katsuki raises a brow. “For fucking what?”

Izuku laughs, the sound vibrating against Katsuki’s chest. “Lots of things. You’re nicer than you make yourself out to be, you know. You should give yourself more credit.”

“Nice.” He shoots him a look.

Katsuki had been called a lot of things in his life, but nice wasn’t typically one of them.

“Yes, nice.” Izuku grins. “Sweet, beautiful, delightful. Every other adjective that describes how lovely you are.”

“Ugh.” Katsuki fake gags, drawing a laugh out of Izuku. “Shut up before I yack all over you.”

Izuku giggles against his neck, his breath warm against his skin. The sound does something embarrassing to Katsuki's insides. Then, before he can recover, Izuku presses a kiss beneath his jaw, so soft that Katsuki thinks he imagines it, then settles back, peering up at him through the curls falling into his eyes.

“Your turn.”

“My turn for what?”

“I told you my tragic backstory. You say yours now.”

“I don’t have a tragic backstory.” He rolls his eyes.

“Come on.” Izuku returns the eye roll. “You didn’t have an evil cousin that used to lock you in the basement?”

“No.”

“A pet bird that flew away after its cage was left open?”

“No.”

“Hmm, a mysterious twin separated at birth?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Izuku shrugs. “I’m just saying. You’re very dramatic. Usually that comes from somewhere.”

“Well sorry to disappoint, but no evil cousin or runaway bird or long lost twin. Not that I know of at least.”

“Then what?”

“Does there need to be something?” Katsuki huffs.

“Well, no.” Izuku shrugs. “I just wanna understand you better. I like learning about you.”

“You gonna use the information for one of your analysis videos?” He raises a brow.

Izuku nods, smiling. “I have a tape recorder going right now. Don’t worry, I’ll tag you in the video when I post it.”

Katsuki ruffles his hair, then stares toward the television instead of at him, jaw tightening faintly as he searches for words that never come naturally to him.

“I was an asshole when I was younger. That’s all you need to know.”

“How come?”

“Dunno, Izuku, why’s the fucking sky blue?” He rolls his eyes. “Sometimes things just are the way they are. Does there need to be a deeper reason for everything?”

Izuku traces a finger over Katsuki’s collarbone, the touch making him break out in goosebumps. 

“There doesn’t need to be, but most times there is. People don’t just go around terrorizing others for no reason.”

“Even the assholes who bullied you?”

“Yes, Kacchan, even the assholes who bullied me.” He snorts. “I don’t think anyone is inherently bad. It’s usually stuff in their environment that pushes them to do bad things.”

“What’s your major again?” Katsuki raises a brow.

“Psych.” Izuku grins, tapping his finger against Katsuki’s temple. “Let me in.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes, grumbling about stupid psych majors and their stupid tendency to psychoanalyze everything. He grabs Izuku’s finger and bites it, laughing at the yelp he lets out. He presses a kiss where his teeth left indents in his skin, then places Izuku’s hand back on his chest.

“I think…” He rubs one hand over his face briefly, his throat tightening around the words. “I think I figured out pretty early on that if people are scared of you, or intimidated by you, or think you don’t give a shit, then they can’t really get close enough to hurt you properly.”

Izuku doesn’t interrupt, but Katsuki sees the glimmer in his eyes anyway—the glimmer that tells him Izuku is trying to make sense of the behavior, attribute it to his environment or family dynamic or something, which okay yeah, but Katsuki still rolls his eyes. 

“And before you ask, my parents are great.”

“I wasn't going to ask.”

“You were thinking it.”

“Maybe a little.” He smiles. 

Katsuki snorts, shaking his head. “It's not like I had some awful childhood or whatever. I had friends. People cared about me.” He pauses. “I just didn't trust it.”

His fingers move absently through the curls at the back of Izuku's head.

“I think part of me always assumed people only liked me because I was useful somehow. And if people expected me to be good at everything, then being angry was easier.”

“Than what?”

“Than admitting I cared.”

He sighs, his arm tightening around Izuku.

“If people think you're pissed off all the time, they don't notice when you're scared or lonely or insecure.” 

“I treated people I cared about badly,” he says more quietly now. “Not because I wanted to hurt them.” His fingers flex once against Izuku’s back. “I just…” He exhales sharply. “I think part of me always expected people to leave eventually anyway. So it felt safer if they never got close enough to matter too much first. I got mean or loud or arrogant—whatever kept people far enough away that they couldn’t hurt me.” 

Izuku hums thoughtfully. “That sounds exhausting.”

He laughs once under his breath, rough around the edges. “Yeah, pretty pathetic, right?”

Izuku’s fingers tighten slightly against the front of his shirt. “It’s not pathetic.”

“It kinda is.”

“No,” Izuku says softly. “I’m sure you had your reasons, Kacchan.”

“I just…” Katsuki exhales slowly. “I dunno. Growing up, people expected shit from me all the time. To be impressive and talented and confident.” His mouth twists slightly. “And I liked that people saw me that way because it meant they didn’t look too closely at anything else.”

Izuku watches him carefully, expression softening.

Katsuki looks away again before he completely loses composure. “I got really good at pushing people away before they could decide I was too much.”

“But eventually,” he continues, “it did get exhausting. I couldn’t keep pretending that I didn’t care about shit. I got tired of being angry and mean and unapproachable. I guess my reason for starting my channel is similar to yours,” he shrugs. “I wanted somewhere I could exist as myself, not have to live up to other people’s expectations or preexisting notions of me.”

The honesty of it makes his chest ache. He’s not used to saying things like this out loud. Not even to Eijirou. 

Izuku’s staring at him with this unbearably open expression, cheek pressed warm against Katsuki’s shoulder, his eyes soft and big in the dim light. He reaches up and smooths a strand of hair away from Katsuki’s face. 

“I’m glad you stopped pretending.”

Katsuki looks down at him; at the person who keeps seeing every ugly, difficult, complicated thing Katsuki offers and responding with gentleness.

His chest aches.

“It’s hard to let go of it completely. I still do it sometimes.”

Izuku smiles. “Not with me.”

Katsuki studies him for a moment. He strokes a hand over his face. “No, not with you,” he says quietly. “You make me wanna be better at it. Y’know, letting people in. Saying shit out loud instead of expecting them to read my mind.”

Izuku smiles softly. “I’m glad I’m able to see those parts of you. You’re a really special person, Kacchan.”

“Nerd.” Katsuki rolls his eyes, but pulls him closer anyway.

Izuku shifts slightly closer beneath the blankets until their legs tangle together fully, his hand sliding slowly up Katsuki’s chest before resting over his heartbeat. Another video autoplays on the tv, a Yagi Toshinori interview from ten years ago that neither of them is actually paying attention to while Katsuki absently cards his fingers through Izuku’s hair.

Izuku sighs contently, pushing his head into Katsuki’s hand even as his eyes fall shut and his breathing slows. He’ll probably fall asleep soon.

“Your hair’s greasy,” Katsuki says, scratching at his scalp.

Izuku pinches his hip. “Mind your business. I don’t have the energy to wash it.”

“You are my business,” he mutters, smoothing his thumb over Izuku’s brow. “I can help you later.”

“Help me?” Izuku raises a brow, his eyes closed as Katsuki pets over his hair.

“If you want.”

“Are you trying to get in my pants on the first date?” He cracks an eye open and smiles teasingly. 

“Been wanting to get in your pants for years.” He tips his head back against the pillow, smushing Izuku’s cheeks between his fingers. “But no, this will be completely innocent hair washing. We’re not having sex when you can barely stand upright.”

“Boo.” Izuku frowns, slumping back against Katsuki’s chest. He looks back up after a second, his eyes glassy. “You know, the great thing about sex is it doesn’t even require being upright. It’s actually the perfect activity to do in my current state.”

“Shut up.” Katsuki rolls his eyes, tugging at a lock of Izuku’s hair. “When you get better.”

“I suddenly feel great. I think that medicine kicked in already. Never been better, actually,” Izuku mumbles, his eyes half lidded as he fights sleep.

Katsuki just snorts, shaking his head. He wraps his arms tighter around Izuku. “Get some rest. We’ll shower when you wake up.”

Izuku protests halfheartedly, but his eyes are already slipping shut as Katsuki strokes a hand up and down his back. His breathing gradually evens out against Katsuki’s chest as he falls asleep, still holding loosely onto the front of Katsuki’s shirt with one hand.

Katsuki looks down at him, at messy curls and flushed cheeks and freckles disappearing beneath the collar of his hoodie, and feels his chest ache with such overwhelming tenderness it almost frightens him.

He looks around the room while Izuku sleeps against him; at the half dead plant sitting near the windowsill, the coffee mugs abandoned beside editing equipment, the sticky notes scattered across the coffee table covered in Izuku’s messy scrawl.

His gaze catches on the bookshelf tucked beside the television. He recognizes some of the spines from Izuku’s videos, but there are others he’s never noticed before—novels stacked sideways and battered manga volumes and film theory books with sticky notes protruding from the edges. 

There are still pieces of Izuku he hasn’t discovered yet.

Even after years of watching him, weeks of speaking every day, hours spent falling asleep to the sound of his breathing through phone speakers, there are still entire corners of his life Katsuki hasn’t touched yet. Books he hasn’t heard him talk about. Favorite mugs hidden in cabinets. Songs saved in playlists Katsuki’s never listened to.

And god, he wants all of it.

Wants to spend entire afternoons stretched across Izuku’s couch while he rambles about anything and everything. Wants to know which side of the bed he prefers and what movies he rewatches when he’s sad and whether he talks in his sleep after long filming days. Wants to comb through every shelf and drawer and photograph until he’s mapped Izuku so thoroughly he could navigate him blindfolded.

He brushes a stray curl off Izuku’s face and leans down to press his lips to his forehead. "If nothing good ever happens to me again, I'd be happy with what I have,” he murmurs against the warm skin.

Izuku wakes up disoriented.

For a long moment he doesn’t remember where he is exactly, only that something solid and steady is pressed against him. His body feels heavy with sickness and sleep, and he winces against the soft light coming through his curtains.

Then he feels fingers moving gently through his curls.

Katsuki.

Izuku blinks one eye open. The television is still playing quietly, though neither of them are paying attention to it anymore. The apartment has gone darker while he slept, dusk settling across the city.

Katsuki lays exactly where Izuku fell asleep on him, one arm draped securely around his waist beneath the blankets and the other absentmindedly combing through his hair.

“You awake?” he asks quietly when he notices Izuku shifting.

“Mhm.” His voice comes out rough with sleep and congestion.

Katsuki moves his hand from the back of his head to brush lightly across his forehead.

“You’re warm again.”

Izuku groans softly and presses his face deeper against Katsuki’s chest in protest. The movement earns him a quiet huff of laughter. Katsuki’s hand remains gentle where it rests against the back of his neck.

For a while neither of them moves. Izuku drifts between sleep and wakefulness while Katsuki scrolls absently through his phone, his thumb moving slowly across the screen above Izuku’s head. Every few minutes his fingers return to Izuku’s hair, massaging lightly at his scalp and making warmth spread through Izuku’s body.

Eventually Katsuki nudges lightly at his shoulder. “C’mon.”

Izuku squints up at him sleepily. “No.”

“You need to shower.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Are you gonna take a shower when I leave?” Katsuki raises a brow.

“Probably not.”

Izuku knows he’s gonna rot in his bed for at least the next three days after this.

“Then we’re showering now. Get up.”

Izuku sighs but lets Katsuki pull him from beneath the blankets. His body aches with sickness and days spent curled up on the couch, and he barely suppresses a shiver when the cool air hits his skin after leaving the warmth of the blankets.

“Jesus, you’re fucking dramatic,” Katsuki mutters, but tugs the blanket around Izuku’s shoulders while he steers him towards the bathroom. 

Izuku sticks his tongue out. “You love me, anyway.”

Katsuki stills, and when Izuku’s sleep fogged brain catches up, he freezes. Oh my god. Heat floods violently across his face.

“I mean—”

“C’mon, nerd,” Katsuki huffs, nudging him towards the bathroom.

And, okay, he’ll gladly move past that.

He looks away while Katsuki undresses, tries not to blush as he takes his own clothes off. Part of him finds it weird that they’re getting naked together before even kissing, but the other part of him is too tired to care very much. His head feels stuffed with cotton and medicine and fever.

The bathroom fills steadily with steam as the water runs, fog gathering across the mirror and turning the room hazy and warm. Izuku steps beneath the spray first, sighing as heat settles into his aching muscles. Water runs over his shoulders and down his back, easing some of the tension that has been living there the past few days.

For a few moments he stands there with his eyes closed. Then the shower curtain shifts and Katsuki steps in behind him.

Izuku’s breath catches despite himself. It’s not that he’s embarrassed. The whole thing is just very, very intimate. Maybe too intimate for where they’re at in their… relationship? Talking stage? He really didn’t know.

All he knew was Katsuki was currently standing behind him in all his naked glory looking like he was fucking sculpted by the gods. He tries to stop his knees from going weak at the sight.

The water darkens Katsuki's hair, turning the soft blond strands several shades darker as they fall across his forehead. He pushes them back with one hand, blinking water from his lashes and reaching for the shampoo bottle sitting on the shelf. 

"Tilt your head back,” he murmurs behind him.

Izuku does. Katsuki works shampoo into his curls with surprising patience, fingers disappearing into his hair as he massages slow circles against his scalp. The pressure is perfect; firm and soothing and gentle. He feels himself melt into the touch, humming softly as Katsuki scratches his nails into his scalp.

Katsuki rinses the shampoo from his curls, one hand braced against Izuku's shoulder to keep him steady while the water runs clear. Then he reaches for the conditioner.

"Maybe I’ll stay sick forever if it means you taking care of me like this," Izuku says sleepily, his eyes closed as Katsuki works the conditioner into his hair.

Katsuki flicks water at the back of his head. “You don’t need to be sick for me to take care of you, dumbass.”

“No?”

“No.” He leans in, his breath tickling Izuku’s ear. “Get better and I’ll really take care of you.”

The words make heat bloom in his stomach. When he opens his eyes and glances at Katsuki over his shoulder, Katsuki is smirking wickedly.

“Katsuki,” he whines. “You’re being evil.”

“Mm.” His hands slide to Izuku's shoulders, massaging his thumbs into a knot of tension there. “Just an incentive for you to take your medicine and stop being sick.”

Katsuki squeezes body wash onto a washcloth and starts spreading the soap carefully across Izuku's shoulders and arms. It somehow makes the whole thing feel even more intimate. Every stroke over his body communicates the things he knows Katsuki can’t say out loud: I've got you. You don't have to do anything right now. Just let me take care of you.

The thought makes Izuku's throat tighten unexpectedly.

When Katsuki finishes rinsing the body wash off him, Izuku takes the washcloth from him.

"My turn."

Katsuki rolls his eyes. "I'm not the one who’s dying."

“You don’t need to be dying for me to take care of you,” Izuku repeats his words back to him, earning a glare.

Katsuki grumbles under his breath but complies anyway. Izuku smiles and gently begins washing the soap across Katsuki's arms.

He’s unfairly beautiful.

Steam curls around him, the water tracing slow paths over tan skin and sculpted muscle. His shoulders are broad, arms toned from years of working out. Water runs down the ridges of his stomach before disappearing lower, and Izuku quickly looks away before his brain can embarrass him.

He almost can’t believe this is the same Katsuki who sends him blurry sunrise photos and reminds him to take medicine and falls asleep on calls with him at two in the morning.

The same person who dropped everything to take care of him because he got sick.

"Oi, quit staring." Katsuki flicks his forehead.

"I’m not."

"Liar."

Izuku smiles into the spray and doesn’t deny it.

He moves the washcloth slowly over Katsuki’s forearm, then his shoulder. Izuku almost forgets he’s supposed to be washing him and starts tracing the shape of him instead, trying to memorize the slope of his shoulder, the thick muscles in his arms, the way water catches in the hollow of his collarbone before running down his chest.

He almost can’t believe he’s real, that he’s in front of him right now, that the Katsuki that had existed through screens and phone calls and photographs, that had felt so untouchable, is now close enough to touch. Close enough to know. 

Izuku’s chest aches with the weight of having him.

He realizes he’s staring a little too hard again when Katsuki reaches up and pushes damp hair away from his forehead.

“I think I’m clean enough. You can stop now.”

Izuku hums, but doesn’t pull away. He’s abandoned the wash cloth now, running his hands over Katsuki’s bare skin instead. He just likes touching him, feeling the reality of him in his bathroom, under his fingertips, likes knowing him outside of the sharp edges and dry humor and impossible standards he shows on the internet.

Eventually Katsuki exhales sharply through his nose. “`Zuku.”

“Hm?” He looks up at him.

There’s a faint flush across Katsuki’s cheeks despite the steam filling the room. His eyes flick away for half a second before returning to Izuku’s face.

“You gotta stop.”

“Stop what?”

Katsuki drags a hand through his wet hair, pushing it away from his face again. Water drips from the ends. He stares stubbornly at the tiled wall instead of at Izuku.

“Looking at me like that. Touching me like that.”

Izuku furrows his brow, then looks down between them when Katsuki continues averting his gaze. A smile tugs at his mouth upon seeing Katsuki’s arousal, thick and hard under the spray of water.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“Quit saying that.”

Izuku bites down a laugh. The flush creeping steadily across Katsuki’s face only makes it harder.

“Sorry,” he giggles.

“You’re not.”

“No.” He laughs harder, trailing his hands down Katsuki’s chest and resting them at his waist.

“I’m glad you find this funny, asshole.” Katsuki pinches his hip.

“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”

“I’m not embarrassed.” He glares.

“No?” Izuku leans in, pulling Katsuki closer. He feels Katsuki press against him, hot and heavy against his hip. He wants so badly to rock against him. “What are you then?”

Katsuki leans in, too, his breath ghosting over Izuku’s face.

“I’m a man. Standing in the shower with the person I can’t stop fucking thinking about. Sue me for getting hard.”

“Mm?” His eyes flick down to Katsuki’s lips. “And what exactly do you think about?”

“Izuku,” he warns, but he’s looking at Izuku’s lips too, his pupils blown wide beneath the steam and warm bathroom light.

For a second neither of them moves.

The water continues to rush around them, steam curling thickly through the air until the entire room feels suspended outside of time. Katsuki’s hand remains braced against the wall beside Izuku’s shoulder, his expression caught somewhere between exasperation and longing.

“You think too much,” Izuku says softly. “Let yourself have it.”

Then he closes the distance.

Izuku barely brushes his mouth against Katsuki’s at first, giving him every opportunity to pull away if he wants to. But the moment their lips meet, Katsuki exhales sharply and pulls him closer. His hands slide to Izuku’s face, cupping his jaw gently. 

Izuku smiles into the kiss, his fingers trailing over Katsuki’s back. Katsuki’s thumb brushes lightly against Izuku’s cheek as though he’s making sure this is real. The tenderness of it almost undoes him.

It’s too much, the heat and steam and intensity of the kiss. All he can feel is Katsuki. Katsuki’s hands. Katsuki’s warmth. Katsuki’s breathing mixing with his own beneath the steady rush of water. 

Katsuki. Katsuki. Katsuki.

The entire bathroom seems to dissolve around the edges until there’s nothing left except him.

Izuku becomes acutely aware of every point of contact between them. The solid warmth of Katsuki’s palms against his face. The pressure of his body close enough that Izuku can feel the rise and fall of his chest. The faint scrape of calloused fingertips against his skin. The damp strands of blond hair falling across his forehead before Katsuki pushes them back. 

He thinks he might actually die.

Katsuki pushes him back against the cold tile, licking into his mouth and sliding their tongues together. He tugs at Katsuki’s hair, eliciting a low groan from him, the sound making heat pool in his stomach. His mouth travels from Izuku’s lips down to his neck, nipping at the soft skin. Izuku’s lips part as Katsuki leaves heated kisses down the line of his throat, sucking a bruise onto his collarbone.

For a moment Izuku forgets that he’s sick. Forgets the world outside of the circle of the arms around him.

All he knows is that Katsuki is looking at him like he’s something precious. Something he wants to keep. He feels lightheaded with love and lust and affection. He wants every part of him, wants to crack open Katsuki’s chest and make a home inside of him.

Izuku rocks against him, his own erection pressing against Katsuki’s, drawing a groan from both of them. Katsuki reaches a hand down to wrap around them, but just before he can, Izuku sneezes loudly. Katsuki jumps at the sound, detaching his lips from Izuku’s neck.

His lips are swollen, his eyes nearly black with how much his pupils have expanded. His chest heaves as he stares down at Izuku.

“Okay, no.” He pushes his hair back. “That’s enough. You’re sick and I’m—” He inhales sharply, staring at the ceiling as he tries to catch his breath. “I’m too fucking turned on to not absolutely ruin you right now.”

“You can. I want you to,” Izuku whispers, drawing Katsuki closer. 

Katsuki looks pained at the words, lets Izuku close the distance between them, but this time, he keeps his hands around Izuku’s waist, not allowing them to travel lower.

“Katsuki,” he whines, rocking their hips together. “Please.”

“Izuku. I promise, I fucking promise, I’ll give you everything you want and so much fucking more,” he whispers against his lips. “But not now.” 

Izuku sighs, his head falling back against the tile. “You’re killing me.” He looks up at him through lidded eyes.

“I know, baby.” He presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth before pulling back. “I’ll make it worth the wait.”

They stand there beneath the spray for another minute anyway, neither of them particularly interested in being the first one to move. Izuku keeps one hand resting against Katsuki’s chest, feeling the rise and fall of it beneath his palm. Katsuki's arms remain loosely around his waist, fingers tracing absent circles against his lower back as though he can't quite convince himself to let go yet.

Eventually he reaches up and brushes wet hair away from Izuku’s forehead.

“C’mon.”

With an exaggerated groan, he finally lets Katsuki herd him out of the shower, the cool air immediately making him shiver.

“You’re so dramatic.” Katsuki rolls his eyes as he reaches for a towel. “C’mere.”

Izuku smiles helplessly as Katsuki drapes the towel around his shoulders and starts rubbing at his hair with far more force than necessary.

“Ow.” He screws his eyes shut as Katsuki scrubs the towel over his face.

Despite his complaints, Katsuki continues drying his hair, working carefully through the damp curls until they're no longer dripping. The whole thing feels strangely domestic; Katsuki standing naked in his bathroom, aggressively towel drying his hair while he dripped water onto the floor.

Katsuki picks out an oversized shirt and a pair of sweatpants that are comically short on him from Izuku’s dresser, then leaves him to get dressed. He’s still painfully hard as he steps into his own sweats, but he tries to ignore it because Katsuki has decided to be boring and responsible and considerate of his current state, which okay fair enough, but also, it was gonna fucking kill him.

By the time Izuku emerges from his room, Katsuki is already gathering the empty medicine packets and dishes they'd left on the coffee table earlier.

“Stop cleaning.”

“I’m not,” Katsuki says, even as he moves over to the sink to start washing their dishes.

Izuku rolls his eyes and grabs the sponge from his hand, a fond smile on his face. “Kacchan.” He turns off the water. 

Katsuki opens his mouth to argue, but Izuku doesn't let him. He catches him lightly by the wrist and spins him around. Katsuki glares at him but allows himself to be guided backward until his lower back bumps against the edge of the counter.

“You’ve already done so much for me. You don’t need to wash my dishes.”

“They’re my dishes, too,” he huffs. 

“Not the point.” Izuku steps closer, his hands sliding beneath the hem of Katsuki's shirt and splaying against the warm skin of his back. 

“I think it is, actually.”

“You know what I think?” 

His thumbs trace absent circles against Katsuki’s hips. He can feel the steady expansion of his breathing beneath his hands. The warmth of him. The reality of him.

“Hm?” Katsuki lifts his arms to rest loosely across Izuku’s shoulders, his fingers drifting into the damp hair at the nape of his neck.

Izuku smiles, leaning in close like he’s about to tell him a secret. “I think you’re very kind.”

Katsuki raises a brow, snorting. “That’s your big revelation?”

His hand moves to Izuku's ear, tracing lightly around the shell of it, sending a shiver down Izuku's spine.

“No, let me finish.”

His fingers continue their lazy path across Katsuki’s back.

His eyes flick across Katsuki’s face, taking in the soft red of his eyes, the way his damp hair curls at the nape of his neck, the sight of him standing in Izuku’s kitchen wearing Izuku’s clothes.

His chest aches with how beautiful he is.

“I think that you're one of the most thoughtful people I've ever met.”

The teasing fades from Katsuki’s expression, his fingers stilling on Izuku’s ear.

“You spent the whole day taking care of me even though I’m really not that sick, Kacchan.” He smiles knowingly.

“You would’ve done the same thing.” Katsuki’s voice comes out rough, and Izuku smiles harder at it.

“I would’ve,” he agrees, then continues, his voice softer. “I think that I've spent a really long time hoping somebody would understand me the way you do.”

Something flickers across Katsuki’s face, this pained look of affection and vulnerability that makes Izuku want to swallow him whole.

“And,” Izuku says, grinning, “I think you're really pretty.”

Katsuki groans, dropping his head against Izuku’s shoulder. “Oh my god.”

“You are.” He laughs as he brushes his fingers through the hair near Katsuki’s temple. “Your hair does this cute thing when it's wet.”

“Stop it.”

“And your eyes get all soft when you look at me.”

“Shut up.”

“And I think—”

Katsuki kisses him before he can finish. The movement is so sudden, Izuku laughs into it. His hands tighten around Katsuki, pulling him closer.

Katsuki's hand slides up to cradle the side of his face, the other settling against his waist. He presses their foreheads together when they pull apart. 

“I wasn’t done,” Izuku murmurs against his lips.

“Ugh,” Katsuki groans. “What more bullshit could you possibly spew right now?”

“Well, what I was gonna say before I was so rudely interrupted was that I think you should spend the night.”

“Should I?” Katsuki pretends to think about it.

“It's late,” he says, nodding seriously. “And the weather's awful.”

“Mm.”

“And you're already here.”

“Mm.”

“And.” He smiles. “I don't really want you to leave.” 

Katsuki doesn't answer, just stares at him for a long moment then reaches up to flick lightly at Izuku’s forehead.

“Dumbass.”

Warmth floods Izuku's chest.

“That’s not a no.” He grins.

“Go brush your teeth,” Katsuki sighs, nudging him towards the hallway. 

“Are you coming?” He glances at him over his shoulder.

Katsuki wraps around him from the back, walking them both towards the bathroom. “I don’t think I could ever say no to you, `Zuku,” he murmurs into his ear, then presses a warm kiss to the side of his neck.

Izuku laughs, bringing his shoulder up to escape Katsuki’s breath tickling against the sensitive skin there.

By the time they're curled together beneath Izuku’s comforter, exhaustion pulling him under again and Katsuki's arm settling around his waist like it belongs there, Izuku thinks he’s never been as happy as he is now.

If the world ended tomorrow, he thinks he could make peace with it. 

If every door closed behind him, if joy never found him again, if Katsuki dissolved with the morning light and revealed himself to have been nothing more than some cruel, beautiful hallucination his lonely heart had conjured, Izuku would still be happy. 

He’d still have this night, this warmth, this impossible, fragile thing cupped carefully between his hands. And that would be enough.

Three weeks after YouCon

Izuku @dekudiaries

life has been really good lately :)

[IMAGE: a selfie of Izuku smiling outside. He’s laying in the grass, his head in another person’s lap. The person’s hand is tangled in Izuku’s hair.] 

12.4K Replies • 44K Retweets • 191K Likes

chris @keigocornflakes

Replying to @dekudiaries

UR GLOWING IZUKU ILY BBY

Mai @sleepykats

Replying to @dekudiaries

SAY HIS NAME COWARD

One month after YouCon

Making dinner yay!!
-dekudiaries

Uploaded 2 hours ago

"Okay, so apparently I’m not supposed to store tomatoes in the fridge."

From somewhere off camera, a deep voice says, "You’re not."

Izuku stares at the camera, unimpressed. “Okay, but does it really matter? Who makes up all these rules?”

“Yes, idiot. It fucks with the flavor and texture. Makes them all mealy and takes away their sweetness.”

"Oh.” Izuku blinks. “I thought tomatoes were just naturally gross.”

"Ugh, move.” A body moves into frame, the camera cutting off at their shoulders. Large hands wrap around Izuku’s waist and push him to the side. “Let me take over before you fuck up our dinner.”

Izuku smiles at the camera, like this is what he was hoping for all along, and the vlog cuts.

View 2,319 comments:

@groundzerogirl: THEY’RE MAKING DINNER TOGETHER WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON

@katsubaby: HE DIDN'T EVEN TRY TO HIDE THE VOICE

@touyaapologist: he seems way too comfortable in his apartment👀

Mai @sleepykats

BKDK SPOTTED AT A BOOKSTORE TODAY

[IMAGE: Izuku and Katsuki sitting on the floor of a manga aisle, Katsuki leaning into Izuku’s side while Izuku rests a hand on his waist. Katsuki is pointing at something on the page of the volume Izuku is holding.]

3.1K Replies • 68K Retweets • 117K Likes

Sugihara @sugi_aka

Replying to @sleepykats

THAT IS A DATE

terms @termienation

Replying to @sleepykats

NO NORMAL FRIENDS SIT LIKE THAT

Six weeks after YouCon

Shouto @shouto

movie night

[IMAGE: A coffee table covered in snacks. In the corner of the image, a foot clad in All Might themed socks rests against a bare knee.]

7.8K Replies • 83K Retweets • 204K Likes

chris @keigocornflakes

Replying to @shouto

THE FOOT TOUCH

2teemz @2teemz

Replying to @shouto

THEY THINK THEY'RE SLICK

Two months after YouCon

giving my sims the happy ending they deserve
-dekudiaries LIVE
Started streaming 14 minutes ago

“Ugh, I don't know where my charger is. Gimme a second to find it, chat.”

"It's in the desk drawer,” a voice calls from the bed.

“Oh it is.” Izuku smiles at the person off camera. “Thanks, Kacchan.”

“Mhm.”

??????????????

KACCHAN????

WHO DAFUQ IS KACCHAN

IZUKU WHAT THE HELL

Denki @chargebolt

currently fifth wheeling

8K Replies • 11K Retweets • 38.1K Likes

Kirishima @redriotfit

Replying to @chargebolt

same

Shouto @shouto

Replying to @chargebolt

same

Denki @chargebolt

Replying to @shouto

shutup u and ei have been making eyes at each other the whole night -_- my culture is not ur costume

Internet

??????????????

Two and a half months after YouCon

Weekly Reset
-Dynamight

Uploaded 13 hours ago

Katsuki is meal prepping. Halfway through the vlog he calls out, "Baby, can you hand me the soy sauce?"

A bottle appears from off camera. Katsuki takes it and continues cooking.

View 10,284 comments:

@plushy_foxX: BABY?????

@chemicalbride: THAT'S HIS BABY YALL😭😭😭

@huxxable: DID I HEAR THAT RIGHT

Three months after YouCon

Izuku @dekudiaries

someone left a hoodie at my apartment. 5 likes and i’ll add it to the giveaway bin

[IMAGE: Black skull hoodie laid out on Izuku’s bed.]

43K Replies • 102K Retweets • 1.3M Likes

Luciii @keigoluvr

Replying to @dekudiaries

ME I WANT IT

keke @yaoism

Replying to @dekudiaries

IZUKU PLEASE

Katsuki @Dynamight

Replying to @dekudiaries

that’s mine give it back

Izuku @dekudiaries

Replying to @Dynamight

finders keepers :P

Four months after Youcon

EATING LIKE A BODYBUILDER FOR 24 HOURS
-redriotfit
Uploaded 8 hours ago

Eijirou walks into the living room. The camera pans to Izuku asleep against Katsuki's shoulder.

Katsuki throws a pillow at the camera.

The vlog cuts.

View 14,284 comments:

@termienation: HE PROTECTED HIM 😭

@nyanami: the way they’re curled up together someone kill me

@josephin300: oh they’re definitely fucking

Four and a half months after YouCon

Mai @sleepykats

For everyone who still thinks bkdk aren’t dating, how do you explain all this evidence from their recent vlogs

[IMAGE COLLAGE:
matching coffee mugs
same blanket
same couch
same groceries
same kitchen]

12K Replies • 19K Retweets • 32.4K Likes

Five months after YouCon

Shouto @shouto

lost my roommate

8K Replies • 13K Retweets • 73K Likes

Halo @princesskeigo

Replying to @shouto

WELL WHERE DID HE GO?????????????

#1 bkdk truther @bkdknation

Replying to @shouto

SHOUTO WHAT DOES THIS MEAN

Katsuki @Dynamight 

roommate keeps buying ugly pillows, do i kick him out?

[IMAGE: Couch covered in green throw pillows.]

72K Replies • 188K Retweets • 1.4M Likes

Izuku @dekudiaries

Replying to @Dynamight

u hate happiness

Katsuki @Dynamight 

Replying to @dekudiaries

maybe i just hate u 

#1 bkdk truther @bkdknation

Replying to @Dynamight

ROOMMATE??? WHAT THE HELL

Five and half months after YouCon

Denki @chargebolt

housewarming gift for my besties!!!!

[IMAGE: Denki holding up a pair of fuzzy handcuffs and a bottle of wine]

3K Replies • 13K Retweets • 25K Likes

Katsuki @Dynamight 

Replying to @chargebolt

delete this

Denki @chargebolt

Replying to @Dynamight 

enjoy ;))))

Six months after YouCon

Izuku @dekudiaries

happy :)

51K Replies • 241K Retweets • 1.8M Likes

ashieee @ashalee

Replying to @dekudiaries 

HE'S SO ANNOYING

Blicks @blixpics

Replying to @dekudiaries 

WE GET IT YOU'RE IN LOVE

Kuko @kuko4cocoapuffs

Replying to @dekudiaries 

JUST HARD LAUNCH ALREADY

Shouto @shouto

someone said hard launch?

[IMAGE: Katsuki hugging Izuku from behind, whispering something into his ear, a small smile on his face, while Izuku laughs. His head is tipped back against Katsuki’s shoulder, eyes squinted with laughter.]

248K Replies • 612K Retweets • 5.8M Likes

Denki @chargebolt

Replying to @shouto

LOLLLL SHOUTO

Kirishima @redriotfit

Replying to @shouto 

our turn next?👀

Shouto @shouto

Replying to @redriotfit 

oh yeah me and eijirou are dating btw

The internet collectively loses its mind.

Think pieces are written. Timelines are created. Entire PowerPoints emerge connecting dots from the past six months.

And through all of it, neither Izuku nor Katsuki say a single word.

Not until—

Making Onigiri With My Boyfriend :D

-dekudiaries

Uploaded just now

[THUMBNAIL: Izuku grinning brightly at the camera while holding a perfectly shaped onigiri. Katsuki stands beside him with an apron on, looking at Izuku with a fond expression.]