Archive of Our Own

Izuku has always adored heroes more than anything. 

It’s an obsession that’s grown over the years, though he doesn’t think it’s much of a surprise. He has a tendency to fixate on things, and once he’s hooked, it’s all he can think or talk about for days on end. But this has only ever happened with things related to heroes—comic books, merchandise, podcasts, stan accounts—and he’ll sit on each one for several months in a row, further spurring on his love for them. It does nothing but fuel the fire. 

His walls are filled to the brim with posters, and at one point, he even considered hanging a few on his ceiling. His shelves are jam-packed with figurines, collectors items, dozens of different hero magazines, and even little quirk-themed toys that he got from fast food meals years ago. There’s a small TV in his room with an old Playstation tucked next to it, alongside a couple dozen games where he can play as All Might, Crimson Riot, or other popular heroes. If he isn’t in the mood for it (which is rare), he finds himself watching hero interviews or other similar channels for hours. 

However, maintaining such love for heroes costs quite a bit: Izuku didn’t know it until middle school, but his mother was actually in a great deal of debt from overspending. He could only guess it’s from the guilt of having a quirkless son, which made him feel bad about all the times he begged and pleaded for her to buy the things he wanted. After that, he made sure to keep his lips sealed and only ask for the things he truly needed. 

Lately, his obsession with All Might has shifted to a new hero who’s risen through the ranks quickly than anyone has in the past: Ground Zero, otherwise known as Bakugou Katsuki. Izuku never thought he was capable of loving anyone more than All Might but clearly, he was wrong. 

When he was younger, Izuku found the up-and-coming hero through an interview in his YouTube recommended. He was easily captivated by Ground Zero’s cocky attitude and enchanting confidence, and soon enough, he was spiralling down the internet rabbit hole of articles, combat videos, and even personal vlogs. Everything about Ground Zero seemed so… perfect. So flawless, so divine and godlike. 

These days, he’s a full-fledged Ground Zero fan who’s been dedicated right from the start, and he sees it as a bragging right. Izuku was lucky enough to find him right when he started his career. Now, Ground Zero’s number three and climbing, making him the fastest-growing and most successful heroes of his generation. Endeavor is still in first and Hawks is still in second, but Ground Zero is about to surpass them in ratings. Izuku has voted for him with multiple accounts in hopes of someday seeing his favorite hero rise to number one. 

He also runs a Ground Zero fan account on Twitter, where he tweets regular photosets, trivia, and various other Bakugou-related information. He knows nearly everything about him, he thinks about him all the time, and he has two notebooks full of everything he could possibly write about Ground Zero’s quirk, his techniques, and his combat strategies. 

Izuku… is Ground Zero’s biggest fan. In fact, he doesn’t really know who he would be if not that. If Bakugou is bright and brilliant like the sun, then Deku is nothing but a small, obscure planet spinning around him. Loyalty is the pull of gravity that keeps them tied together, and even if he’s just a quirkless fanboy, he wants—no, needs—to be the very best. Izuku never thought he could feel as strongly about any hero as he did All Might, but Ground Zero is extraordinarily special—larger than life and amazing in every way. No one else even comes close. 

Izuku's dedication extends to acquiring as much of Ground Zero's merchandise as he can get his hands on. He never begs his mother to buy anything—it makes him guilty just thinking about it—so he uses his own money that he’s gotten from running errands. He barely has enough to afford to buy one new item every few months, and it absolutely kills him inside. 

There’s a hero store just a few blocks away from his house, and every time he walks home from school, he can’t help going inside to check out the new restocks. Every once in a while, there will e completely different designs for hero-themed merch: Uravity, Red Riot, Creati, Ingenium. But for the winter season, the whole front of the store is filled to the brim with Ground Zero scarves, jackets, lanyards, scarves, and more. It’s nothing Izuku can afford. 

Maybe this counts as torture. He knows he can’t buy anything and the store owner probably pities him every time he comes in just to look. Still, he can at least dream of when he’s old enough to have a proper job and pay for things himself. The errands really don’t make him much. 

One day, he spots a rarer item on the shelves. It was tucked in the very back behind the stuffed grenade pillows and the black and orange weighted blankets, and when he sees it, his heart nearly stops. 

It can’t be what he thinks it is. 

He fishes it out and finds that yes, it’s exactly what he thought it was: they’re limited edition Ground Zero explosion earmuffs. Only one hundred are available in Japan and he could have sworn they were all sold out. With shaky hands, he makes sure to inspect it at every angle: it’s in pristine condition, which justifies its ten thousand yen price tag. He doesn’t even have half the amount saved up and it makes him beyond frustrated. There’s no way this will still be here in a few months. 

Izuku gnaws on his inner cheek and he sends a quick glance towards the register. The cashier is a teenage girl he doesn't recognize, flipping through a magazine and looking bored out of her mind. She must be new—maybe she was just hired at the start of winter break. It’s a Thursday so the owners won’t be here… maybe he could just… 

No way. He shakes his head because he knows where this is going, and he’s never considered it before. Not even once. It would be wrong because Ground Zero would never approve of something like this. 

But still, he can’t bring himself to let go of the earmuffs. They’re so rare and all he has are cheap pieces of merchandise back home, and to add these to his collection… it would be a dream come true. He can just imagine wearing them to school on snowy days, or even just at home when he wants to bundle up. Besides, he would never do it again. It would just be this one time. 

What if he gets caught, though? What would his mother say? Would he go to jail? Would he technically be a villain? No, villains are bad. And this is terrible, sure, but it’s not like he’s directly hurting anyone. Or well, it is probably hurting the owners and their profits… but they wouldn’t know about it. His mind keeps going back to how nice the earmuffs would look on his shelf, or just in the mirror when he wears them. 

Izuku takes a deep breath, staring down at them before his eyes flick back to the cashier. She’s still skimming through the magazine and she hasn’t looked up at all. There’s only one camera here and it’s in the very back corner, looking straight at the entrance rather than the rest of the store. He’s in its blindspot, so he could probably get away with it. 

It’s nerve-wracking and he feels awfully guilty, but he tears off the tags with a snap. The sound is thankfully muffled since he’s behind a few clothes racks, and just seconds later, he shoves the earmuffs into the inside pocket of his jacket. They’re not too bulky and unless someone is looking for them, they aren’t noticeable at all. To keep himself from getting cold feet, he walks straight toward the front door and escapes before the cashier can even look up. 

As soon as he steps onto the sidewalk, he breaks into a sprint. 

He hopes that getting as far away as possible will quell the guilt that twists in his guts. So he runs as fast as possible, tucking his scarf over his nose and mouth to keep the cold, winter air from freezing his lungs. The clouds are dark ahead and he thinks it’s going to snow again soon, and he really needs to get home before it does. 

But right as he turns the corner, he slams into someone. They’re much bigger and heavier than he is, which isn’t much of a feat, but the impact makes him slip on slick ice. He yelps and suddenly he’s falling, falling so fast that the world flips around him. Before he can hit the ground, however, a hand grips his arm to keep him upright. 

Or, at least semi-upright. His knees almost buckle from the soles of his shoes sliding on the patch of ice, like he’s a newborn fawn trying to stand for the first time. The spike of adrenaline keeps his heart pumping and skipping in his chest, and he breathes heavily as he grasps for dear life at something to hold him upright. It just so happens to be the stranger’s other arm, strong and sturdy.

“S-Sorry!” The apology spills from his lips before he can stop it, but when he looks upwards, his blood immediately runs cold. 

It’s Ground Zero, but he’s not dressed in his normal hero costume. Or rather, the bottom half is: black pants with dark green straps, steel knee pads, and combat boots. But he dons a black jacket over the rest, zipped up to his neck to keep himself warm. It doesn’t hide the lean muscle that bulges from his arms, though, and it makes Izuku’s mouth run dry. 

Maybe he just got off a patrol? It would make sense because his hair is gelled and spiked. Also, there’s no mask, which really makes his eyes pop… he really just looks so, so—

“You could have cracked your fucking head open,” Bakugou says, and the sound of his voice makes Izuku’s knees weak. “Don’t run so damn fast.” 

Izuku opens his mouth to say something, but he finds himself speechless. The words catch in his throat and he can’t say a thing—and to his surprise, Bakugou’s scowl slowly melts away. His eyes slide over him from head to toe and Izuku can’t even will himself to breathe. It feels like he’s being examined. Judged. 

“S-Sorry,” Izuku says again, forcing his words out even if they’re shaky. “Ground Zero, sir.” 

Bakugou releases him and Izuku manages to step off the ice safely, but he spots the earmuffs that had fallen out of his jacket. He reaches down to grab them, trying to casually tuck them back in. But Bakugou seems to have already noticed. 

“You stole those, didn’t you?” 

Izuku blinks a few times, glancing up at him. To his surprise, Bakugou doesn’t seem angry. Just… contemplative. Like he’s thinking. 

“W-What? No,” Izuku stammers, but Bakugou plucks the earmuffs out of his hands before he can hide them. 

“You see this?” Bakugou taps on a small sticker wrapped around the headband. “That’s an authentication label for limited edition items. They take these off when they sell them to you, so you can’t go and resell it as unused.” 

Izuku’s heart sinks. Honestly, he hadn’t even known. He hasn’t bought any limited edition merchandise since the All Might era. It must have been something new that companies and manufacturers just introduced. 

“I…” He tries to speak, though his voice is thin. “I’m sorry.” 

Bakugou’s eyes narrow. “Don’t apologize to me, idiot. Where did you take it from?” 

“There’s this store a couple blocks away,” Izuku murmurs. He can’t look at Bakugou at all, especially after lying to his face. “But it was the first time I ever did it, I swear. I’m just a really big fan of yours and I—” 

“A crime is a crime,” Bakugou growls, interrupting him. Izuku shrinks beneath Bakugou’s voice as guilt makes his guts twist. “I also can’t take your word for the ‘first time’ shit. I’m gonna have to take you to the station to check your record.” 

Blood freezes in his veins. “N-No, I can just return it! I know where the store is, so I can apologize to the owners and make it up to them.” 

“Yeah, you can. But you won’t, because I’m taking you to the station.” 

Before he can try and explain himself further, Bakugou grips his arm and forces Izuku to walk beside him. He almost slips again on the patch of ice but Bakugou holds onto him so tightly, the pro hero could probably lift him off the ground with one hand if he wanted. Being handled like a criminal makes Izuku more nervous than ever, and he feels beyond embarrassed for doing something so stupid. Now his favorite hero hates him and there’s no possible way he could ever make it up to him. 

“Are you seriously crying?” Bakugou mutters. Izuku touches the side of his face only to find it wet with tears. 

“Sorry.” He tries to wipe them away with his sleeve, sniffing. “I know it’s stupid, but you’re my favorite hero and I feel like such an idiot.” 

Bakugou rolls his eyes. “Stop apologizing, it’s pissing me off.” 

Izuku opens his mouth to apologize again, but he stops himself before he does. Complaints about Ground Zero’s aggressive behavior are notorious, but honestly, Izuku feels like he deserves it. He’s not good at thinking ahead so he just now realized how insulting it must be that he stole pro hero merchandise. He’s essentially taken money away from Bakugou himself, and if Izuku had thought about it like that when he was in the store, he never would have taken the earmuffs. 

Now he’s made the worst impression on the one person he admires most, and he regrets it more than anything. 

Izuku is, at his core, a fanboy. 

But his excitement from being in the backseat of pro hero’s car is dampened by the dawning realization that after this, he’s going to have a criminal record. His mother is going to be called to the station and she’s going to be so upset, he’s scared to see her that disappointed in him. He’s officially been arrested, which means he might be going to a juvenile detention center. What about court? What if he officially goes to jail? 

He’s probably catastrophizing but he doesn’t know much about the legal system or how it works. And on top of the guilt he feels for stealing, he feels awful for taking up Bakugou’s free time. It’s getting late—since it’s winter, the sky is already darkening ahead—and now Bakugou has to bring a dumb kid to the police station instead of just going home after patrols. Then he’ll probably have to stay afterwards to talk to his mom, which will definitely be a nightmare. 

Either way, Bakugou probably just wants to get this over with and Izuku feels terrible for being so annoying. At the very least, he can say that he was in Ground Zero’s car at one point, even if it was because he was arrested. The smoothness of the leather seats distracts him from his impending doom, and while he tries his hardest not to pick at them, he can’t help how anxious he feels. 

When they reach a stoplight, Izuku feels like he’s being watched. His gaze flicks up and he catches Bakugou staring at him in the driver’s mirror, red eyes burning into his own. It almost makes him jump. 

“You worried?” Bakugou asks, and Izuku swallows. 

“I’ve never been to a police station before,” he murmurs as he threads his fingers together. “And my mom is going to be really angry, so yeah.” 

Although Izuku can’t see very well, it looks like Bakugou is leaning over the passenger seat to fish something out from under it. Only a few moments later, he passes a water bottle over his shoulder and Izuku assumes he’s supposed to take it. 

“It’s just something to drink in the meantime,” Bakugou says. “There’s a lot of traffic since it’s rush hour, so it might take a while to get there.” 

Izuku is actually a little thirsty, but he didn’t want to be rude by bringing it up. Bakugou is a really good hero for caring about him even if he did something terrible, so he tentatively takes it. The cap is already unscrewed, which is a good thing since sometimes he has a little bit of trouble opening water bottles. It would be embarrassing to have to ask Bakugou to do it. 

As he takes a few sips, he feels Bakugou watching him in the mirror again. It pressures him a little, so he drinks at least half the bottle just so Bakugou knows that he appreciates his kindness. 

“Thank you,” Izuku says, once he screws the cap back on. Bakugou only nods and keeps his eyes on the road once the stoplight turns green, so Izuku allows his gaze to drift back out the back seat window. 

Neon city lights flash by, bright and hypnotic. He leans the side of his head against the glass, hugging his sides as the sky grows darker ahead. So dark, in fact, he doesn’t notice the edges of his vision slowly blacken. Spots of color flicker behind his eyes whenever he blinks and it feels… strange. The world around him seems so hazy and his cheeks are warm, for some reason. When he reaches up to touch his face, the tips of his fingers buzz like pricks of pins and needles. 

It’s a little disorienting, actually. Izuku tries to reach for the water bottle, since maybe drinking a bit more will help, but there’s a thump and he realizes it’s rolled out of his hand and onto the floor. His body is so heavy, he can’t possibly keep himself upright as he’s sliding down the backseat. He feels the cool surface of leather flat against his cheek, and although he tries to push himself back up, his muscles are too weak to move. 

Izuku wants to say something, but his ears won’t stop ringing and he can’t hear himself speak. His thoughts are void, empty and hollow as his hand loosely curls around the seat. The world comes to a standstill, eyes falling half-lidded. Has a minute passed? Five minutes? Ten minutes? An hour? His mind and body feel suspended, as if they’re floating in midair. 

There’s no way to tell how much time has passed, but at some point, the car comes to a halt. He’s barely conscious enough to hear the door beside him open, or the uncomfortable feeling of hands on him. They’re warm, oozing heat as they slide beneath his shirt and push the fabric up as far as possible. A heavy weight straddles his thighs, pinning him to the backseat. 

“You’re so small.” It’s Bakugou’s voice, and Izuku opens his eyes just enough to see the fuzzy outline of the blonde above him. Where are they? Is this the station? 

“I…” Izuku begins softly, barely audible. A thumb rolls against his nipples and he shivers, feeling exposed as fingers rub one of the perky nubs. One hand moves down to his pants, unbuttoning them to slide them down his thighs. 

“Very cute too,” Bakugou growls, palming Izuku’s small bulge through the fabric of his boxers. His cock twitches at the feeling and he whimpers, confused. 

“W-What are you doing…?” It comes out slurred, and while he manages to at least press a hand against Bakugou’s chest, it’s nowhere near enough to push him off. 

“Whatever I want,” Bakugou replies. He gives the nipple a firm pinch and Izuku yelps softly beneath him. “That’s not a problem, is it?” 

There’s a sinking feeling in Izuku’s chest. It’s true that he doesn’t know what’s going on, and this is really, really uncomfortable, but… he can’t bring himself to confess that. After all, who is he to tell a pro hero what they can or can’t do? 

“I… I guess not,” Izuku whispers, a little nervous as Bakugou rolls his nipple between his thumb and forefinger. It feels weird and wrong, but he’s not sure why. 

“That’s what I like to hear,” Bakugou purrs. As he draws closer, a wolfish smile comes into view and Izuku swallows. It looks so unlike the hero he’s seen in interviews, videos, and magazines. “You’ll be a good boy, won’t you?” 

Izuku is nodding before he can even process the question, and by the time he does, he already feels Bakugou’s lips press against his own. Ground Zero… Ground Zero is kissing him and it makes Izuku’s head spin. His thoughts whisk away as a tongue slides against his own, a bit of drool creeping from the corner of his mouth to slide down his chin. 

While Izuku is distracted, the hand pushes beneath the waistband and wraps around his cock. His hips jump and he almost instinctively pulls away, but he’s too dazed, too numb to think straight. All he can do is weakly press his knees together as Bakugou pumps his cock, fondling and touching him in places that he normally would never allow. But it’s Ground Zero, isn’t it? He couldn’t possibly say no, even if he’s not sure why this is happening. 

“You’re doing so well,” Bakugou murmurs, pulling away from Izuku’s lips for a moment. 

“It feels w-weird,” Izuku whimpers, still woozy. An unfamiliar warmth pools between his legs as Bakugou plays with the tip of his cock. “I… I d-don’t know about th-this—” 

“Do you think I’m doing something wrong?” Bakugou interrupts him with a growl, stroking his cock a little slower. “You know I’m a hero, right?” 

“Y-Yes, of course sir—” 

“And are you so stupid that you think heroes would ever do bad shit?” 

His breath hitches, meeting Bakugou’s gaze. There’s a hungry look in his eyes, like he wants to consume Izuku whole. But it feels safe somehow. Bakugou wouldn’t hurt him because he’s a hero, and heroes are supposed to protect people. It’s what they’ve always done. 

Izuku’s eyes soften at the realization, even if his mind is still empty. “This is good, then?” 

“Heroes always do good,” Bakugou says, easily tugging Izuku’s boxers down to the middle of his thighs. His assurance makes Izuku’s worrisome thoughts slip away. “If we didn’t, we wouldn’t be heroes. Doesn’t that make sense?” 

Izuku doesn’t reply, head rolling back against the seat as he stares up at the ceiling. Why didn’t that occur to him sooner? It’s so true, so utterly and completely right that it makes everything else seem wrong. Bakugou is so much smarter than he is because of course, of course heroes would only do good. They aren’t capable of evil. All Might, Red Riot, Uravity… they have never done a bad deed that he can think of. Even if this feels strange, it can’t possibly be bad. 

Bakugou shifts Izuku onto his stomach, pulling his ass up so his back arches in a perfect curve. With his knees pressed tightly together, he almost falls over but Bakugou grips his thigh to pull Izuku under him. Izuku’s head hurts a little like this, but he’s too dizzy to complain. 

In fact, he’s not exactly sure what will happen next. Even as a finger slides up against his hole, cold and coated with something slick. It makes a shiver crawl up Izuku’s spine. 

“What’s that?” Izuku asks, words slurring together again. A firm hand grips the side of his neck, pinning him further down to the leather seat. 

“Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about,” Bakugou says coolly. His voice sounds so much softer now and Izuku feels like he’s melting beneath it. “Just relax for me.” 

Izuku already feels as relaxed as he possibly could be. Every muscle in his body is calm and heavy, pulling him down like a deadweight. Soon enough, though, he understands why Bakugou gave him such directions: the finger suddenly presses in without warning, his walls seize up and tighten around it with a jolt of pain. He whimpers, too weak to squirm or struggle. 

But instead of pausing, Bakugou only forces himself deeper. Izuku cries out as an ache spreads between his legs, and the pain lingers even when the finger slides out. 

“You’re so tight,” Bakugou growls, hungry. “I bet you’ve never been fucked before, which is surprising when you have an ass like this.” 

Izuku is about to ask what that means, but before he can, there’s something much bigger prodding at his hole. It’s huge compared to the finger and his pulse drums in fear. He’s afraid of how much it will hurt. 

And once Bakugou sinks inside, he finds he was right to be scared. 

There’s an audible tear and he screams, a wail cut short once Bakugou tightly clamps a hand over his mouth. It’s muffled as Izuku sobs, crying softly as Bakugou pushes deeper, deeper, and deeper still. This is torture, agony dialed to the most painful degree. There’s only a momentary pause as Bakugou drizzles more of the cold, slick substance on his cock—at least that’s what Izuku thinks is inside him—before he snaps his hips in one quick thrust. 

Izuku’s nails dig into the leather, scarring it with deep crescents as Bakugou adjusts with a purr. It’s moving inside him and nausea suddenly rises in his gut, but he swallows the urge to puke. Why does this hurt so much? Bakugou said this is good. Bakugou said that pro heroes can’t do bad things, so why? Why does it feel like he’s being torn apart? 

“I’m too damn impatient,” Bakugou mutters against his ear, and Izuku can’t keep himself from crying. Tears roll down his cheeks as he feels Bakugou properly mount him, hips pressed flush against Izuku’s ass to bottom out. “I would have prepped you more, but waiting that long would have killed me.” 

Izuku can’t think, sobbing into Bakugou’s hand. He feels so filled with pain that he can only screw his eyes shut once Bakugou starts to thrust. 

“I don’t really think you deserve it anyway,” Bakugou whispers, softer this time. “You stole my fucking merch and you almost made me drive your ass out to the police station after my damn patrols. I guess this will be a good lesson for you.” 

This is Izuku’s fault. 

This is all his fault and it makes him hate himself. If he just hadn’t walked into that store, if he just hadn’t picked up those earmuffs, if he just hadn’t taken them—

The hand on his mouth shifts upwards, gripping a tight fistful of his hair to pin him into the seat. “You’re my quirkless bitch now. How does that feel?” 

Izuku cries, hiccuping and struggling to keep conscious. It feels like he’s breaking inside. “I-It hurts—” 

“Pass out and I’ll be pissed,” Bakugou growls, and the tone to his voice actually scares him a bit. It’s so stark in contrast compared to how warm he felt earlier. “After everything you’ve done, the least you can do is be a useful little whore.” 

Despite feeling entirely blank, he finds himself mumbling breathlessly, mindlessly as Bakugou continues to thrust. He doesn’t know what he’s saying and he thinks they’re just broken fragments of phrases or sentences. But they grow more coherent as numbness spreads through his lower body, dulling the pain: they’re the same words that Bakugou spoke into existence, burned into his brain as he chants them like a prayer. 

Heroes always do good.

Because if they didn’t, he doesn’t know what his sanity would hinge on. They’ve always represented everything wonderful and unattainable in Izuku’s life, even if he felt no jealousy. In his worst moments he’s always thought of them, and right now isn’t any different. He’s in so much pain that they’re all he can think about even if it’s stupid and nonsensical of him. 

“Fucking drugs screwed with your head,” Bakugou spits. “You’re such a freak.” 

Izuku can’t feel his legs. This is violating, humiliating. Everything about it feels so wrong, like his small body wasn’t meant for this, like his mind can’t handle this. It’s painful in ways that he never thought possible, tearing him at the seams. This is torture but he can’t blame anyone but himself. How could he? This is meant to happen. This is happening for a reason, because Bakugou knows best. If that wasn’t the case, he doesn’t think he’d be able to take it. 

Suddenly, Bakugou groans and Izuku feels something warm fill him. Goosebumps rise over his flesh, and he shivers once Bakugou pulls out completely. He feels so empty, and even as his hips slide down onto the seat, he still feels the phantom impression of Bakugou’s cock inside him. It felt so violent, so painful, but now he’s just numb. 

“You got blood all over my car,” Bakugou growls, and he gives Izuku’s ass a quick smack. “Get up.” 

But he can’t. His limbs feel so heavy and his legs just won’t move. Bakugou ends up grabbing the back of his neck and hauling him out of the backseat, throwing him onto the ground outside of the car. Like a ragdoll. Like a broken toy. 

The side of his head cracks against cold cement and he yelps, black spots flickering across his vision. With a trembling hand, he reaches to touch between his legs and his fingers come back wet with blood. There’s something else dripping out of him too but he’s just too weak to check. He’s just tired, so, so tired and it takes all of his energy just to keep his eyes open as he watches Bakugou wipe down his backseat. 

Bakugou is so kind for cleaning the mess Izuku made. 

His brain is lagging to process what happened, and he’s not even sure if he can. Everything is twisted in knots, warped and strange. There’s a giddy feeling in his chest and he has no idea why, especially after such an agonizing, excruciating experience. There must be something wrong with him. 

Now he hears footsteps approach, echoing around him. The earmuffs are tossed next to him and he almost feels a little happy that he’s getting them back. But before he can reach for them, a hand grabs a fistful of his hair, dragging him upwards as Izuku whimpers in pain. 

“Do you know where we are?” Bakugou asks, dangerously calm. Izuku tries to shake his head but he can’t, not with Bakugou’s tight grip on his hair. 

“N-No sir,” Izuku whispers, a tremble to his voice. 

“This is a parking garage that’s been under construction for a while,” he continues, even softer this time. “You’re going to pull up your pants and go down to the first floor. Take a right and just keep walking. You’ll see a train station there and you’ll take the next ride to downtown Musutafu, since I assume that’s where you live. Then, you’re not going to speak a word of what happened here.” 

Tears sting Izuku’s eyes and he sniffs, trying to hold them back. There’s a hard tug on his hair and it forces Izuku to meet his gaze. Bakugou looks absolutely terrifying: dark, heavy eyes that chill Izuku to the bone. 

“Do you understand me?” His words are icy, dead cold. 

“Y-Yes sir,” Izuku whimpers, barely audible. “Th-Thank you.” 

It’s pathetic, probably, but there’s an amused glint in Bakugou’s eyes. He leans in closer and closer until his lips hover above Izuku’s. It makes his breath catch. 

“I know it hurt a lot,” Bakugou murmurs, tilting his head. “And I’m sorry for that. But you know I had to, right?” 

Izuku blinks back tears. “Y-Yeah.” 

“I would never, ever do something like that unless it was necessary.” Bakugou’s hand slides under his chin to train his eyes upwards. “I meant what I said before: heroes don’t do bad things. I would never hurt you for no reason, but you had to make things up to me.” 

“I-I’m really sorry—” 

But Bakugou hushes him, sliding his thumb across Izuku’s bottom lip. “I forgive you, but you can’t ever tell anyone about this. If you do, I’d have to tell your mother what happened earlier today with the stealing. And we’re trying to avoid that, aren’t we?” 

Izuku’s heart sinks just thinking about his mother’s reaction. “Please d-don’t tell her.” 

“I won’t have to as long as you never say a word,” Bakugou assures him. “I’m sure you would never go back on a promise like this.” 

“I-I’d never, sir.” 

“Good boy.” 

Bakugou releases him and Izuku’s knees immediately buckle as he crumples to the ground. There’s no way he can keep himself upright, and even as he tries to sit up, every nerve in his body feels dead. Meanwhile, Bakugou opens the car door and slides inside, turning the engine on. The car pulls out from its parking space and disappears out of Izuku’s line of sight, leaving him completely alone. 

For several moments, there is only the sound of the faintly buzzing fluorescent lights at the end of the garage. The world seems to come to a standstill as he lays on cement so cold, it feels like it’s freezing him solid. His breath comes shallow, wheezing softly. The air is numbing and having asthma doesn’t make it better, but his inhaler is at home and he forgot to bring it today. 

That’s funny. It shouldn’t be, but it is. 

A giddy laugh bubbles from his lips for no reason at all, hysterical and exhausted as tears slide down his face. The sound of it echoes off the walls and he feels less lonely this way. It’s as if ten other versions of himself are laughing, crying, and breaking along with him as he spirals deeper, deeper, deeper still. 

Izuku hates lying. 

But he loves Bakugou, so when Izuku’s mother asks him why in the world he’s returning home at nine, he tells her that he fell asleep on the train and ended up somewhere entirely different. He just got lost, his phone died, and it took a while to find his way back. Thankfully, she accepts the excuse and serves him dinner, which he eats with a smile. 

Everything is perfectly fine. 

More than fine, actually. Well, not really, since he feels completely shattered. A broken heart, maybe, but he can’t be sure. There’s guilt and confusion and fear all twisted inside of him. Like steel wool, tangled and impossible to ever fully unravel. Whenever he reaches for those feelings, they slip through his fingers like sand. He can’t catch them. He can’t feel them. 

They’re pushed to the far corners of his mind because he swears this couldn’t have happened. He doesn’t know what even happened, or what any of that was. It couldn’t have been real, right? But if it was, why does he feel like this? Bakugou told him that he had to do it. He said he was sorry that it hurt, and he must mean that wholeheartedly. Izuku almost feels like he has to repay him somehow. 

It could have been worse, after all. 

But after the incident, nothing is ever the same. He wakes up each morning feeling a little emptier than he did before, like something is eating him from the inside. All he feels is an all-encompassing numbness that starts in his chest and grows, taking root as it gradually worsens. His mother can tell that something is wrong, but she never asks what. She only watches him from the doorway, from the hall, from the corner of her eye because she must know that he won’t tell her. There’s nothing to say, really, because nothing bad actually happened. 

And he’s not sure if it’s because of Ground Zero, but he’s taken an even greater interest in heroes than before. He didn’t know that was possible, but it’s clearly taken a turn because he just can’t stop thinking about them. Sometimes it gets to the point where the thoughts feel intrusive, pushing into his mind with brute force if he tries to concentrate on anything else. Their quirks, their tactics, their names, every scrap of miscellaneous trivia constantly whirls in his head. It’s strange but he supposes he doesn’t mind it much. 

Instead, he utilizes it. 

There’s no way to tell if he’s just passionate or fiercely obsessed with heroes at this point, but he might as well put that drive to good use. That’s what Bakugou did to him, right? And he feels indebted, so innately grateful, he has to do something to help heroes. 

The idea starts while browsing through YouTube one day, where he spots a clip of a pro hero being tried in court for domestic abuse. Apparently his wife accused him of beating her, pulling her hair, dragging her across the house, and other terrible deeds. It conjures a sick, angry feeling in Izuku’s guts, something uncomfortable, something annoying. 

Why would she say that about him? 

Does she think she’s fooling anyone, crying on the stand like that? What does she want from him? Money? Revenge over something petty? And the hero is shaking his head, whispering to his lawyer, probably insisting on his innocence. Izuku believes him and he hopes that everyone else does too. 

But they don’t. There’s hundreds of likes on the video and there’s so many commenters saying that they’re happy that he’s getting what he deserves. It makes Izuku so unbelievably upset, he has to shut his laptop and toss it aside to cool off. That was an innocent man, someone who helps people, someone who’s possibly saved hundreds of civilians, and he’s being put away for who knows how long. It isn’t fair and it’s actually astounding that anyone would think that he did anything wrong. 

Izuku isn’t a very strong person. If he had a quirk, he thinks he could probably do something more directly. Putting a stop to these liars and accusers is much easier said than done when he’s quirkless. And besides, he doesn’t think he has the guts to hurt or intimidate anyone. All he can do try to convince others, persuade them to see his side and hopefully understand that heroes would never harm anyone. These lawsuits and trials just make no sense and he can’t sit idly by. 

So when high school ends, he pursues a career in law. It’s unexpected and his mother never thought that he’d choose to be an attorney, but his fixation on heroes was getting to the point where it was all-consuming. He works hard, harder than anyone else, because the world has everything to lose and he’s not just doing this for himself. He’s doing this for heroes. He’s doing this for Ground Zero. 

As soon as he graduates, he hits the ground running. Izuku starts as a first year associate at a hero law firm, with his superiors clearly underestimating him. It isn’t until he wins his first case, and then his second, and then his third and fourth and fifth when he’s taken much more seriously. He has so many billable hours under his name, he’s considered a race horse by his colleagues. In no time at all, he starts raking in more clients than anyone else, and he gets a promotion only a year in. 

And while anyone would normally assume that Izuku is rather soft and warm-hearted, that only applies outside of the courtroom. Once he enters those four walls, his claws sharpen along with his mind, and he stops at nothing to utterly destroy anyone who dares sue or charge his client. He’s been known to tear down witnesses in ways that make them terrified of ever touching the stand again, or even outright refusing to testify in fear of how he’ll make them look. 

Rape, torture, child abuse, domestic abuse, involvement in human trafficking, both voluntary and involuntary manslaughter, any and all degrees of murder: in nine out of ten cases, he’ll always get his client off. The only times he doesn’t are when he’s backed into a corner, but even then, he manages to cut a deal for no jail time. It saves a lot of “victims” from humiliating themselves in front of the jury, as Izuku completely tears their lives apart on the stand. 

In some cases, lawyers are so terrified to see him in court, they do most of the work for him by coercing their own clients to simply settle before the dispute is taken to court. For others, every lawyer and every firm will turn down someone’s case just because they want to avoid facing Izuku. They know they’ll lose, so it often leaves that person with no option but to back down entirely. 

Izuku is quite proud of his work, honestly. People regard him as infamous, but that’s not really how he sees it. His greatest motivation is to help heroes and to protect them, even when they say they know they’re guilty. It’s worse when that happens, because Izuku can’t help how angry he feels that someone ever convinced them of something like that. These wives and children and self-proclaimed “victims” are abusing them, brainwashing them, even gaslighting them. It’s just terrible and Izuku doesn’t understand how those people can even live with themselves. 

And as the years pass, Izuku’s interest in Ground Zero never changes. Bakugou is still his favorite hero and he buys as much merch as he can, though he’s never had the time to go to a meet and greet. But despite his busy schedule, he always has time to watch the latest interviews or current events. It took a bit to surpass Hawks and Endeavor on the hero billboards, but Bakugou finally managed to become number one hero. Izuku has never been so proud of anyone. 

For once, life is good. The stars have aligned for both of them and Izuku almost feels like Bakugou’s success is his own. They did this together: Izuku helped Bakugou and Bakugou helped Izuku. 

Everything is finally right with the world. 

It’s a hot summer afternoon when Izuku’s world turns upside down. 

There’s a fan on his desk blowing semi-cool air through his curls, and it’d blow away his papers too if they weren’t held down by a stapler. He just got back from court so he’s still formally dressed, with his suit jacket draped over his chair alongside his tie. The first few buttons of his collar are unbuttoned because he’d be burning up if they weren’t. Thankfully, he got a corner office on the east side of the building, so the sun isn’t beating down through the floor-to-ceiling windows. 

Izuku furrows his brow as he looks through his case file. There’s numerous photos of bruises and burns taken by the wife of this pro hero, apparently claiming that he’s abusing her. Typical stuff, so Izuku isn’t too worried about it. He’s dealt with this a million times before and it never gets any less annoying. People just don’t know when to quit victimizing themselves. 

And then, there’s a knock on his door. The sound briefly snaps him from his thoughts, but he just figures that it must be one of the interns with another list of questions. 

“Come in,” he calls out, scanning through his papers. On cue, the door opens with a creak, but he doesn’t bother to look up. “I don’t mind it if you keep asking me things, but I really have work to do.” 

“Is this a bad time?” 

Izuku knows that voice. 

His eyes flick upwards and he comes face to face with Ground Zero himself, looming above his desk. Bakugou is older now, but he’s aged well despite being in his early forties. This must be a day off for him, since he’s come in casual wear: jeans, a black and orange Ground Zero jacket, and sneakers with explosions jutting from the sides like wings. Clearly designer, and made specifically for him by CDG a couple years back. 

Izuku’s breath catches in his throat and he opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. What would he even say? It’s been fifteen years since that very day and Izuku has never forgotten. How could he? After all, everything Bakugou did made him who he is today. 

A small part of him almost feels a little giddy. Excited. 

“Ground Zero, sir,” he finally blurts out, standing at once to shake his hand and give a bow. His palms are rough and calloused and Izuku shivers, remembering how they felt on him. “It’s been so long.” 

Bakugou flashes him a charming smile, but he looks slightly confused. “What do you mean?” 

Oh. 

A million thoughts tangle Izuku’s mind at once, and he swallows, mouth suddenly dry. Bakugou must not remember him. Well, that’s fine. Izuku is known for being plain and Bakugou has probably met thousands of people between then and now. It’s sort of selfish to expect him to know every face he comes across. 

“Nothing, nothing. Don’t worry about it,” Izuku says, seating himself back down. His heart pounds wildly in his chest as Bakugou slides into the armchair across from him. “Could I get you anything? Maybe a glass of water?” 

“I’m fine,” Bakugou replies as he waves his hand. “Nice office, by the way.” 

There’s cases of pro hero merchandise that Izuku has collected over the years, showcased in glass displays and often in mint condition. Now that he makes such a high income, he spends a decent chunk of his wealth on collecting. In fact, he even has a few storage units downtown where he keeps all the items he can’t fit in his house or his workplace. 

“Thank you so much,” Izuku says, ecstatic from the compliment. “It’s really nice, isn’t it?” 

“It truly is. I expected nothing less from such an amazing attorney,” Bakugou confesses, and a quiet thrill buzzes in Izuku’s brain. 

“I’m assuming you’re here for a lawyer?” he asks. Maybe he’s too excited for his own good, but he can’t help it. The number one hero is sitting right here in this room. 

“Actually I am,” Bakugou sighs, leaning back in the armchair. “I’ve gotten myself into a little bit of trouble.” 

Heat kindles in Izuku’s gut as he wonders what sort of person would accuse Bakugou of a crime. How could they not feel ashamed of themselves? 

“What are the charges?” He flips to a new page in his notebook, clicking his pen. 

“None yet, but that’s only because I’ve been keeping shit quiet. Next week, the media is going to have a feeding frenzy,” Bakugou mutters, taking one of the candies from the bowl on Izuku’s desk. “There’s this police officer who’s been making an entire file on me in secret. I think he’s being helped by an investigator, but either way, they’ve put a lot of incriminating shit together over the last two years.” 

“Did they threaten to release it?” Izuku asks as he furrows his brow. 

“No, they don’t even know that I know about it. I have some friends at the station that watch my back, so they’ve let me know ahead of time that some idiot is going to try and expose me.” 

“And that’s why the officer was working on it in secret.” 

“He’s smart, I’ll give him that,” Bakugou says with an eye roll. “I’ve tried everything to keep it from getting out, but I think they’ve finally got me cornered. It’ll get taken to court and I’m gonna hire you to keep me from losing my career.” 

Izuku writes down everything he can, scribbling to the point of illegibility. “Do you have any idea what they’re accusing you of?” 

“Yeah. Fucking and drugging underage boys.” 

It hits him like a truck and he freezes. He’s not sure what he expected to hear, but it definitely wasn’t that. Blinking a few times, he glances at Bakugou over the edge of his notebook as a sick feeling churns in his guts. 

“What?” Izuku’s voice is so small, so thin. 

“I know, it’s sort of a mouthful,” Bakugou says with a frown. “They built a pretty irrefutable case, with photos and testimonies and all sorts of stuff. But I’m not too worried, since I’m familiar with your cases and I trust that you’ll find some loopholes. I can probably help you out through a little judicial bribery, you know?” 

And Bakugou is saying something else but Izuku can’t hear it; he only sees moving lips and that bored, annoyed, disinterested expression on Bakugou’s face as the world grows fuzzy around him. Something happened fifteen years ago, but not… that. Not what Bakugou just said, right? It must be why he’s so casual. They’re just allegations, accusations. A hero would never do something like that to someone else and Izuku knows he’s innocent. 

“They aren’t true,” Izuku says firmly, interrupting him in mid-sentence. “Whatever proof that officer has is made up.” 

Bakugou tilts his head slightly, puzzled. “What, is that going to be your defense or something?” 

“No, I mean… the proof is fake. It has to be.” 

“It’s pretty damn real. I saw a few of the photos from the file and they even have pictures of me doing the deed,” he says. “Sort of embarrassing, really.” 

“How do they know that it is what they’re saying it is?” Izuku asks, and it sounds like an echo around him. His ears are ringing. Is he starting to panic? “It couldn’t have been that. You couldn’t have done that.” 

“Why are you acting so surprised?” Bakugou seems genuinely confused this time. “I thought that your job was to get guilty heroes off the hook. That’s what you’ve been doing since your first case.” 

“They weren’t actually guilty,” Izuku says, though it comes out shaky. “Heroes can’t do bad things.” 

Bakugou scoffs at that and it hurts, like a knife twisting in Izuku’s chest. “What are you, five? You’re telling me that you were on all those cases and you seriously thought that every single client was innocent?” 

“They were innocent,” Izuku insists, softer than before. 

“Look, I just need you to get me out of this.” Bakugou is getting impatient now, clearly annoyed. “I don’t give a shit about your views on morality, but I’m telling you now that the proof getting released next week isn’t doctored. That’s me in those photos and the shit in those testimonies is true. You can’t bullshit your way out of this, so figure out a better strategy.” 

He says it like it doesn’t mean anything, like it’s fact, like it’s the indisputable truth. Like it’s common sense, like Izuku is so, so stupid for ever thinking otherwise. The world halts on its axis as Izuku struggles to process and comprehend what he’s just heard, but he feels like he can’t. How could he? It completely contradicts everything he’s ever thought, everything he’s never told himself. 

And if Bakugou says he’s guilty of those things, that means… 

That means… 

No, he doesn’t want to think of that right now. But he’s spent so much time thinking the way he has, he doesn’t know if he can even contemplate the possibility of Bakugou doing something bad. Of something bad happening to Izuku. Something dirty, disgusting, sickening, something that tainted him when he was just a child and now it’s permanent, like a stain that he’ll always know is there. Even if nobody can see it, even if he hides it beneath layers and layers of lies and excuses and even if he tries to cut it out and rip it out with his teeth, his nails, it will always be there and it’s driving him insane just thinking about it.

He tries to push those memories away. God, he tries but they’re bubbling from the depths of his mind, and he remembers the dizzy feeling of laying in the backseat of Bakugou’s car, staring up at the ceiling as he’s touched in places he’s never let anyone see, crying and sobbing against Bakugou’s hand as he’s being torn open, thrown aside like a doll, his cheek pressing against the cold cement as he feels something, something dripping out of him and it wasn’t just blood, he always knew it wasn’t just blood but he was too afraid to admit to himself what it really was, because it’d be a chain reaction leading from one realization to the next like right now, just like right now—

“Are you seriously crying?” Bakugou asks, exasperated. It feels like deja vu because Izuku swears he remembers being asked that before. Fifteen years ago, on that snowy day when he felt much more happy and hopeful than he does now. 

And as tears slide down his cheeks, he laughs to himself because he feels like a child again in the worst sort of way. He’s never felt so small, so defenseless, so weak. Bakugou doesn’t even remember him. Doesn’t remember what happened, doesn’t care even a little bit. He came to Izuku thinking he was a corrupt lawyer, not a delusional idiot living a fairytale with a few plot holes. 

What’s worse is how Izuku can’t bring himself to be angry at Bakugou. There’s a part of him that can’t believe it even if Bakugou is telling this to his face. It seems so impossible, so unfathomable, that Izuku just can’t grasp it. 

“I guess I am crying,” he whispers, watching teardrops bleed into the paper. “But it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve seen it happen.”