“but i just don’t… get it. if people are born with quirks, then how can he get one by eating someone’s hair?”
“because that’s the point of this quirk! you’re supposed to pass it on and someone else inherits it by consuming your dna.”
“so like… you could—you could get it by kissing someone? or like… i dunno, fucking… fucking!”
“oh my god.”
“so it’s like a sexually transmitted disease.”
“you’re saying this deku kid’s quirk is a fucking std.”
jeongguk rubs at his eyes as though that might make anything about this situation different; he thought he was drunk, but he’s certainly not drunk enough for this: a stranger he met only a few minutes ago trying to ruin one of his favourite animes. or maybe it’s not on purpose—the man sitting in front of him on the sofa looks as though he’s contemplating the meaning of the universe, eyes half-lidded and face flushed red from alcohol. jeongguk can smell weed on him. surely jung hoseok is a bright person when he’s sober, but alcohol and drugs do things to turn off brain cells.
“and what’s—what’s this thing?” hoseok asks, leaning forward and making a grab for the grey, plastic mask hanging around jeongguk’s neck. “what’s this supposed to do?”
“it’s a mask,” says jeongguk, placing a protective hand over it. “to protect his face when he does hero work.”
“s’stupid,” mumbles hoseok, almost too quiet to be heard over the rest of the party; the room, along with the rest of the house, is packed with college students in various states of undress and even more various states of drunkenness. music filters above the din of conversation and partying, beer pong and other ridiculous drinking games. hoseok is squished between a girl in a hatsune miku costume and a couple awkwardly kissing, their facepaint staining each other’s mouths and hands a myriad of blues and reds and purples.
hoseok himself looks like he’s dressed as… mickey mouse, perhaps, or a wizard. either way, the costume isn’t executed very well, and jeongguk wants to tell him that he’s stupid, but hoseok looks as though he won’t remember any of this in the morning, so.
“it’s a hero costume,” says jeongguk, looking down at the green and black of his deku costume. he’d gone to ridiculous lengths to buy all of the parts and make it himself, and it’s fucking sweltering in this house, but he’s proud of himself for it. even his hair has been dyed with temporary hair dye, a shocking green to match the eyeliner freckles on his cheeks. this is hardly the first conversation he’s had about this costume since arriving at the party, but what he’s learned is that people who don’t fucking watch anime don’t deserve to have opinions about it.
“and—and that,” hoseok continues, undeterred by jeongguk’s pout. he leans forward and grabs the hood attached to the costume before jeongguk has a chance to stop him, tugging at the long ears. “s’he a fucking bunny? i don’t… i just don’t get it.”
“it’s supposed to be a tribute to all might,” jeongguk protests, tugging the hood out of hoseok’s grasp. “i told you this already.”
“wait… who’s all might?”
jeongguk groans. he’s drunk enough to feel a great urge to educate hoseok on this subject, even though this is the first time they’ve met and hoseok knows absolutely nothing about deku or boku no hero academia to begin with. he’d rather go back to the group of first years who fawned over him for ten minutes earlier in the night, demanding pictures with him and wanting to hear him say different lines from the anime. or he’d just like more alcohol—but hoseok is still mumbling things, something about how one of his friends has talked about all might before and the anime sounded just as stupid back then as it does now, and jeongguk looks around desperately, hoping to find any out of this conversation.
he finds throngs of other college students in different costumes, halloween in full swing now. most people haven’t put as much effort into their costume as him, but jeongguk takes these things very seriously. he’s never been able to do anything half-assed, even halloween costumes. he’s proud to say he’s striving to be top of his class upon graduation (and every year before that) and has been given numerous scholarships to the kinesiology program he’s part of, as well as the track and field team he’s a proud member of.
so he hardly has time for people who don’t care as much as him—or don’t understand how much he does care. maybe that’s why he wanted to dress up as deku in the first place. midoriya izuku feels just as much as jeongguk does, and it gets him in trouble, too. but it makes him a great hero—that’s the whole point. now jeongguk kind of wishes he’d just gone for something simpler to explain, like… zombie. maybe he should have been deku as a zombie. or maybe that would just hurt his heart.
either way, he’s glad when someone wanders past and gives him a thumbs up with a, “nice costume, dude!” jeongguk grins, shooting them a thumbs up back.
the moment of triumph at being recognized and commended for his hard work is once again tarnished by hoseok trying to grab his hand and loudly saying, “also, what the fuck does deku even mean? that’s the worst hero name i’ve ever heard. at least be normal like iron man or spider-man or whatever. like… mighty man. punch man. wait, isn’t that a different anime? punch man… two-punch man? fuck, i’m too high for this.”
“please stop talking,” whispers jeongguk. he casts a glance around the room again, hoping to find his own friends this time. he only showed up because seokjin and namjoon promised to buy him food on the way home and now they’ve gone and abandoned him with a bunch of… whatever the opposite of weebs are. the two of them are probably having a great time without anyone asking them stupid questions about their costumes or trying to convince them that endeavor is a redeemable character. all jeongguk wants is someone who understands him, understands boku no hero academia—someone who loves it as much as he does and would go to ridiculous lengths to get an accurate costume of their favourite character like him.
it’s then that jeongguk turns his eyes the other way, toward the sliding glass doors that lead from the living room to the backyard, and there, standing just inside of the room with the lights from the patio silhouetting him like a fucking angel from heaven is—
“todoroki-kun!” jeongguk shouts, a thrill of adrenaline running through his body like a bolt of lightning, and he doesn’t think twice about leaving hoseok behind, practically running across the room and leaping over someone sitting on the floor as he heads for—for his fucking saviour.
the man—todoroki, whoever the fuck he really is—sees jeongguk as he’s barrelling through the room, eyes going wide in what must be fear when jeongguk shows no sign of stopping. he opens his mouth, but jeongguk beats him to it, shouting, “todoroki-kun, thank god,” before flinging himself at the complete stranger. thankfully, arms catch him as he stumbles the last few steps, their bodies slamming together as the force of jeongguk’s body manages to knock the both of them out of the open door and onto the grass outside.
he lands with an oof on top of a soft body, colours swirling together in jeongguk’s drunken mind as he immediately pops back up, placing both hands on either side of the man’s head as he stares down at him, breathless. there—that familiar two-toned hair, one side platinum blonde and one side a blood red. jeongguk reaches up, moving the man’s hair out of his face to see the brown and red scar done with make-up over the man’s left eye, reaching up into his hair line. he even has the different coloured eyes—one grey, one a cool blue.
he’s wearing the rest of the costume, too: todoroki’s hero costume, navy blue to complement the green of jeongguk’s. and jeongguk grins at him, all bright eyes and wide smiles, as he stares down at this todoroki and todoroki just stares back at him, either shocked or confused or maybe both.
finally, jeongguk breathe out a, “hi.”
todoroki blinks back at him. “um,” he says. “hello?” something about him feels familiar in jeongguk’s hazy mind—something about that face, something about the name min yoongi, although he looks so different from anyone jeongguk knows thanks to the make-up and different hair colours. it’s certainly no one that he knows well or any of his classmates or his friends, but that doesn’t matter. it’s halloween and he’s drunk and this man is dressed as todoroki fucking shouto. this is exactly who jeongguk was looking for—the todoroki to his midoriya. someone who gets it.
there are things jeongguk could say, probably—sorry, for one, since he just knocked them both over and is currently straddling this complete stranger. instead, what comes out of his mouth when he opens it is, “wanna smash?”
todoroki practically chokes on his own spit, eyes growing wide. “sorry?”
“y’know,” says jeongguk, pointing at his costume. “detroit smash? delaware smash? like—one for all? i’m deku?”
todoroki’s eyes sweep down from his face, finally seeing the rest of jeongguk’s costume—or at least what he can see considering jeongguk is still on top of him. “ah,” he says. “right.” he focuses on jeongguk’s hair, tilting his head. “your hair is… very green.”
it sounds vaguely accusatory.
jeongguk shrinks under the attention, patting his hair. “um, yeah,” he says. “yours is… not.”
“i should hope not. it wouldn’t work with the fire and ice thing.”
leaning back, jeongguk clears his throat. it’s only now sinking in just what he’s done, a moment of sobriety enlightening him as he realizes he’s still straddling this total stranger. “sorry,” he says quickly. “this is probably… weird. i take it back.” he starts trying to untangle himself from the man, swinging one of his legs over his hips before he feels a hand on his thigh. jeongguk stops, eyes turning to todoroki—who has something curious in those mismatched eyes.
“so you don’t wanna smash?” he asks. “i’m just saying, i might seem cold now, but i’m awfully hot in bed.”
jeongguk stares at him, and then immediately feels his cheeks heat to an embarrassing degree. flustered, brain short-circuiting at the obvious flirting, he kind of just sits there with one leg awkwardly lifted in the air as he panics on what to do. the truth is, this todoroki is extremely attractive—which might be partially due to the alcohol in jeongguk’s system or the fact that he’s always maintained that anyone with todoroki’s hair and eyes and an interesting scar like that is unreasonably attractive by merit of character design. or it might just be that the person behind the costume is attractive on his own, with that fucking smirk or wicked gleam in his eyes. jeongguk really wasn’t prepared for this.
“uh,” he finally says. “i’m—what? wow. okay. i’m gonna…” he finally shuts his mouth, gaining control of his mind and body long enough to finally complete his initial task of getting off of todoroki. he stands up, brushing off his costume before clearing his throat and holding out his hand to help the other man up, pointedly not looking at him as todoroki continues to do this half-grin, half-smirk that makes something very hot crawl up the back of jeongguk’s neck, taking his hand and getting to his feet, too.
after brushing himself off, todoroki mutters, “cute.” he reaches out, and jeongguk panics before the man fixes jeongguk’s mask, helping it lay better against his neck. “just like deku. good costume choice.”
jeongguk feels his cheeks heat. “i am deku,” he mumbles.
“rushing headfirst into something without thinking about the consequences or any other better plan of action?” asks todoroki. “sounds about right.”
“shut up,” mutters jeongguk, leaning back against the wall of the house and crossing his arms over his chest. “i was just having a conversation with someone who kept calling my quirk an std so excuse my excitement over seeing someone who actually appreciates the masterpiece that is bnha.” he fixes his gloves, wrinkling his nose as he remembers his unsavory conversation with hoseok. then again, that was at least less embarrassing than knocking over someone dressed as todoroki and then failing at following through with his attempts at flirting.
“they don’t know what they’re talking about,” says todoroki. “your quirk is cool.”
“i know,” says jeongguk. “so is yours, though.”
“yeah,” shrugs todoroki, and jeongguk only realizes then how close he is, putting his hand up against the wall next to jeongguk’s head. somehow, it’s much warmer here, outside, than it ever was crammed in the house with everyone else. he’ll blame it on being closer to the left side of todoroki’s body. “i’d show you some stuff but i don’t want to scare anyone. or, you know, accidentally start something on fire.” he leans over, whispering conspiratorially when he adds, “i’m a little too not sober right now for that.”
jeongguk gasps. “todoroki-kun,” he says. “i didn’t know you liked to party.”
“there’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, midoriya izuku,” he says, grinning lazily when he fucking boops jeongguk’s nose.
“like…” he pauses, tilting his head as he watches jeongguk. his eyes flicker downward, like he’s sizing jeongguk up, eyes catching on jeongguk’s lips for a second before they return to his eyes. “like i need another drink. care to join?”
jeongguk’s grin is almost feral.
the kitchen is surprisingly empty, considering it’s where most of the alcohol has been stored for the party. jeongguk hops on one of the counters as he watches todoroki pour them drinks, definitely putting more alcohol than mix, but jeongguk isn’t complaining as he kicks his feet against the cupboards. he’s too busy admiring the costume; it’s surprisingly accurate to todoroki’s hero costume, and somehow, the man’s hair is about to same length, even the same colours. he has to wonder if this todoroki cosplays a lot, if he’s someone jeongguk should know.
“here—” jeongguk takes the plastic cup, bringing it to his lips and sipping at the drink. he almost coughs at the strong taste of vodka, but more alcohol should do well to help him get over the utter embarrassment from minutes earlier. from there, todoroki leans against the opposite counter, watching jeongguk over the rim of his own glass.
“having a good time?” jeongguk asks.
todoroki hums. again, jeongguk feels a flicker of familiarity, almost wanting to ask—wanting to know who this person is, despite the costume. but it feels like breaking some strange spell between them, to reveal their true identities, to admit the truth. it’s fun to pretend, isn’t it? it’s fun to be someone else, to feel like a hero with superhuman abilities, to put on a persona where what he says doesn’t really matter.
“s’okay,” says todoroki with a shrug. “admittedly, i’m not one for parties, but you know how it is. i get dragged out a lot.”
jeongguk gasps. “no.”
“i believe his exact words were... we’re going out, fucker, and if you complain i’ll break your face! or something.” todoroki shrugs again, sipping at his drink. jeongguk has to hide his grin behind his own glass, not wanting to admit how endearing it is that somehow, they’re trying to stay in character through this. this man seems to have the strangely nonchalant part of todoroki nailed down, like he’s so stony-faced about everything that nothing can bother him. everything about him is endearing—the costume, the hair, the low tone of his voice. jeongguk feels as though he might make a few terrible decisions about this tonight.
“where is he now, then?” asks jeongguk after he collects himself. “kacchan, i mean.”
“probably sucking face with kirishima,” says todoroki. “i don’t get it, but i try not to judge. i mean, i do, but i do it silently.”
jeongguk giggles. and suddenly, he’s too far away—all the way across the kitchen. he takes another sip of his drink, still as ungodly and strong as a minute ago, and then clears his throat, holding out the cup. “s’too warm,” he says simply.
todoroki raises an eyebrow at him. jeongguk doesn’t say more, keeping his arm outstretched as he waits. and someone shouldn’t be able to affect him so much, just standing there holding a drink. but he does—the costume fits him just right, hugging the slender build of his body. jeongguk wants to touch—wants more, always does. he’ll blame it on the alcohol, on the high of finding someone who loves something that he loves.
he’ll blame it on the way the other man finally pushes off of the opposite counter and joins him, not beside jeongguk but between his legs, pushing them open so jeongguk can hug his sides with his knees. todoroki watches him for a second, too close for comfort now, and then takes hold of the glass, fingers overlapping jeongguk’s. he holds it for a second too long—holding jeongguk’s gaze all the while, something wanting in them. then he lets go, doesn’t move away when he says, “there. now it’s cold.”
“that was the wrong hand,” whispers jeongguk.
neither of them moves, staring at each other, and—they’re too close, bodies practically pressed together. jeongguk suddenly loses any of deku’s confidence, anything he might have that helps him jump into battle or save an innocent person without worrying about the consequences. he’s just drunk enough to know it’s probably a bad idea to let any of this go further, to flirt more, to pretend—but he doesn’t get a chance to make any terrible decisions before there’s a loud, “yoongi-hyung!” from just outside of the kitchen.
the pieces finally slide into place in jeongguk’s mind, the familiarity of todoroki’s face clicking without the make-up, with hair that’s all the same colour, and his eyes widen lightly before the call comes again, closer now as someone rounds the corner into the kitchen with a, “yoongi-hyu—oh.”
jeongguk’s eyes snap sideways to find jung hoseok standing in the entrance of the kitchen, staring at them. todoroki—yoongi—doesn’t move away, still impossibly close in jeongguk’s space, hands on jeongguk’s thighs as though staking a claim.
“hyung,” says hoseok again, eyes flickering between the two of them.
“that’s him,” whispers jeongguk. “he said my quirk is an std.”
“jung hoseok,” scolds yoongi. “how dare you say something like that to this ray of sunshine? he’s delicate.”
“i’m so powerful that i can break every bone in my body just by using my quirk, todoroki-kun,” says jeongguk.
yoongi looks at him. “delicate and stupid.”
“i’m just saying, honey, just because you can doesn’t mean you should.”
“i’ll flick you in the forehead.”
“then you’d have to clean up my brains from this kitchen.”
“are you… are you flirting?” asks hoseok. “is that what this is? i don’t understand anything either of you are saying.”
without looking away from jeongguk—still so close, too close—yoongi says, “what do you want, seok-ah?”
“you told me to get you if jiminie and taehyung were doing something stupid,” says hoseok. “so. here i am.”
yoongi groans, dropping his head onto jeongguk’s shoulder. it’s too intimate of a position to be in considering they’ve only just met—and have been pretending to be anime characters this entire time, and jeongguk is drunk and very attracted to the man between his legs, and they’ve just been interrupted by the very man jeongguk tackled yoongi to escape. so he kind of just sits there, feeling a flush creeping up his neck, watching hoseok and waiting for something to happen.
at long last, yoongi raises his head again; jeongguk’s gaze moves to his, unsure which eye to focus on before he settles on yoongi’s mouth as the other man says, “gotta go save the day. being a hero is exhausting, midoriya.”
“i think you’ll be okay, todoroki-kun,” whispers jeongguk. “just, um… come back after? maybe?”
yoongi grins, wide and dangerous. then he lifts himself onto his toes, leaning up and kissing jeongguk’s cheekbone, right over the black freckles he’s given himself. “don’t do anything stupid while i’m gone, deku,” he says when he pulls away, finally stepping out of jeongguk’s space and toward hoseok. he points at jeongguk. “i mean it. no trying to fight villains or saving civilians or… i dunno, using your quirk to crush a bunch of beer cans just because you can.”
“ah, ah,” says yoongi, glaring now. “behave.”
jeongguk shuts his mouth, cheeks dusted pink. yoongi gives him another careful look before he finally turns around and joins hoseok, and jeongguk hears hoseok mutter, “that was strangely erotic,” before the two of them disappear out of the kitchen.
jeongguk continues to sit on the counter for a minute or two, willing his half-hard dick to calm down, because—it was kind of erotic. he’s not entirely sure what just happened, but all he knows is that min fucking yoongi, the senior that jeongguk has had a more-than-slight hero-worship crush on for two years, is dressed as todoroki shouto and looks indecently attractive while doing it, and he’s just out there, promising that he’s going to come back and continue this strange dance they’re doing.
jeongguk definitely needs another fucking drink.
if pressed, jeongguk will swear that he tried to behave like yoongi told him. but the nerves settle in his gut anyway, and this is a party. he’s here to have fun, to get drunk and make rash decisions. without alcohol, it’s hard to do most of those things. so jeongguk pours himself another drink, this one much better mixed than the one yoongi made for him, and then wanders back through the house.
he finds namjoon and seokjin again at some point, in passing as the two of them appear to be caught in an intense debate with a trio dressed up as the powerpuff girls. (“i found todoroki!” “what?” “todoroki. i found him! i think we’re in love.” “this isn’t a fanfiction, jeongguk-ah.”) jeongguk gets a handful of other compliments on his own costume, gets caught up in a conversation about naruto, and ends up accepting far too many drinks from people who just want to have a good time.
things get—hazy. before he knows it, jeongguk has almost forgotten about yoongi entirely, about his promise to come back and finish whatever they started. and what was it that they started in the first place? jeongguk feels like his costume is suddenly a thousand pounds as he decides he needs another drink and then gets distracted as he passes the open door to the backyard. it’s dark out, but the backyard is lit up with lamps and fairy lights, an intense game of beer pong being played in one corner of the patio. it’s more crowded out here than it was when jeongguk tackled yoongi, and jeongguk decides what he really needs is a breath of fresh air.
he barely makes it out of the door, however, before one of his massive boots catches on the edge of the grass and jeongguk trips, letting out a yelp as his arms flail out to catch himself—and end up knocking into a passing man. the man’s drink tips backwards, spilling over his entire costume and splashing jeongguk’s legs as well, and jeongguk latches onto the man’s arm to stay upright before he straightens up, realizing what he’s done.
jeongguk swallows tightly, blinking through the double vision he’s begun to see. it’s hard to focus at this point, but he’s well aware of the massive beer stain cascading down the costume of the man in front of him. he’s dressed as… the joker. and he’s not happy.
“oh my god,” mumbles jeongguk as the joker snaps out a, “what the fuck?”
“you ruined my fucking costume. watch where you’re fucking going, weeb.”
jeongguk frowns, holding up a finger as he tries to think of something to say back to that. he is a weeb, sure, but no one is allowed to call him that as an insult. he’s proud of his love for anime. and his costume is super cool, so. “that’s mean,” he decides on after a long pause. “it was an accident.”
“you were an accident,” the joker mutters. “just get out of my way so i can go refill this drink you poured all over me. fucking useless.”
and jeongguk—jeongguk is drunk. but jeongguk is also midoriya izuku. and if there’s one thing jeongguk know about midoriya izuku, it’s that he wouldn’t just stand around and let an injustice rage on. anyone being angry at him for accidentally spilling a drink is surely wrong, and suddenly, jeongguk gets a bright idea.
he’s deku for the night. he’s a fucking hero.
and he’s going to fight the joker.
“m’not useless,” frowns jeongguk, giving the joker a little shove. “we’re all here to enjoy ourselves, dude, so how about you get out of my way?”
“what the fuck is your problem?” asks the joker, shoving him back. jeongguk, with a complete lack of balance and coordination, stumbles backwards, nearly falling over before he gains his footing again and puts his fists up, completely bent on fighting this man for being rude and trying to ruin jeongguk’s night.
“c’mon!” says jeongguk. “the joker’s got no superpowers and i’m a hero. i’ll smash you into the ground!” he gives a few test swings as the joker stares at him, both bewildered and angered. jeongguk dances forward, trying to stay light on his feet before he darts out and flicks the joker in the forehead. “ha!” he laughs as he jumps back when the joker growls at him, trying to push him. “you’re lucky i wasn’t using my quirk just then. i would have exploded your head.”
“the fuck are you even talking about?” snaps the joker, finally giving jeongguk a proper shove. “if you’re gonna fight me, then just do it.”
“you don’t know anything about being a hero, clearly,” says jeongguk, bouncing back and forth more like a boxer than anything. “it’s all about—” the joker slaps jeongguk right in the face, the sound of his palm smacking against jeongguk’s cheek echoing sharply into the night. jeongguk gasps, movements ceasing as he presses a hand to his throbbing cheek and throwing an accusatory glare at the joker. “the fuck?”
“i said,” says the joker, taking a step away. “if you’re gonna fight me, then do it. stop being a pussy.”
“midoriya izuku,” whispers jeongguk, a flicker of real anger running through him now, “is not a pussy.”
the joker shrugs, opening his arms as though to invite jeongguk to prove it.
if pressed—jeongguk will swear he tried to behave like yoongi told him to. but he throws himself at the joker anyway, shouting about smashing and quirks the whole time. by then, the noise and movement has attracted the attention of most of the people in the backyard, but jeongguk can’t pay attention to that as he and the joker get their hands on each other. they push and shove each other as jeongguk tries to get a punch in and always fails spectacularly, probably because he’s drunk and unfortunately not deku, as hard as he tries. the mask hanging around his neck protects him from a few wild punches thrown in his direction, at least, and jeongguk tells himself to keep it below one hundred percent, because he doesn’t want to break all of his bones just to prove a point.
after a minute or two of tousling, with the joker’s hand pushing at his face and jeongguk trying to flick the stranger in the neck repeatedly, he hears a vaguely familiar voice shout, “midoriya izuku!”
jeongguk snaps away from the joker, shoving him away and stumbling back as he turns and sees todoroki— min yoongi—standing just outside of the house, staring at the two of them. he looks much the same as he did earlier, but jeongguk is much drunker and—somehow, yoongi is prettier now, cast in a warm glow from the lights in the backyard, even though his face is much less kind than the first time around.
“what the fuck are you doing?” yoongi asks, crossing his arms over his chest. jeongguk thinks that he’s going to tell jeongguk to stop the fight, but then he adds, “you were going to go into battle without me? even though my quirk is supposedly one of the strongest ones you’ve ever seen?”
jeongguk wipes at the sweat that has beaded on his forehead. “he called me a pussy,” he says, pointing to the joker who is still standing in front of him, calling out taunts. jeongguk thinks he hears something about his boyfriend, and that’s far from an insult, but he’s not going to correct anyone.
“well?” asks yoongi. “you wanna be the number one hero, don’t you? number one heroes don’t get bested by crazy people who like blowing things up.”
jeongguk sniffs. “how’d you know i was fighting someone anyway?”
yoongi holds up his phone.
suddenly, jeongguk gasps. “oh my god, wait!” he says. “this is just like when deku and todoroki fought st—”
the joker punches him squarely in the face.
jeongguk almost goes down with the force of it, head snapping sideways and pain immediately blooming in his cheekbone, where the man’s fist collided with his face. he gasps out of pain and shock, stumbling sideways before he hears the joker say, “too much fucking talking. and i don’t understand anything you’re saying.”
he straightens up, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his face as he gains his balance, heaving. “fuck,” he mutters, hearing yoongi yell something at him that he can’t quite make out. it hurts like a fucking bitch, jeongguk’s eyes beginning to water, and boku no hero academia didn’t say anything about this. but he’s still deku—who always picks himself after getting knocked down, who would break every bone in his body twice over just to protect someone, even himself. jeongguk staggers then, ignoring the pain in his face as he puts his fists up again. “you haven’t put a scratch on me yet!”
“wrong scene!” yoongi calls to him.
jeongguk knows, suddenly, the only way he can end this. the joker is still standing a few feet away, fists held up as he prepares for jeongguk to strike again. and jeongguk hunches over slightly, imagining his entire body lighting up in greens and reds, screwing up his face as he shouts, “one for all—full cowling!”
behind him, yoongi lets out a cheer. the joker looks infinitely confused. and jeongguk takes a running leap, attempting to do a roundhouse kick of sorts—his legs are stronger than his arms, after all, and it would surely end the fight if he could use deku’s quirk to kick this joker bastard to kingdom come.
granted, jeongguk is not actually midoriya izuku. and jeongguk is also very, very drunk.
he doesn’t get very far with his attempt at finishing the fight in style. instead, when he jumps and swings, jeongguk’s foot connects with nothing but air and he loses his balance, crying out as he topples over and lands on the grass in a heap of his own limbs. he groans as he rolls over until he’s on his back, staring up at the night sky; his cheek is throbbing from being punched in the face, his back hurts from trying to twist it weirdly, and he thinks he may have pulled his groin doing that kick. and everything—is spinning, moreso than it should be. jeongguk feels a little sick to his stomach.
and he definitely can’t get off of the ground alone.
there’s a smattering of laughter from anyone who had been watching, and as jeongguk groans and closes his eyes, he hears the joker mutter, “what a joke. guy’s too drunk to even fight properly,” before his voice gets quieter and quieter, leaving jeongguk behind. and jeongguk just stays where he is, starfished on the ground with a wounded pride and a wounded face. he really did think he could embody deku’s power and strength and confidence even for five minutes, but maybe this costume is just a joke. maybe jeongguk can’t be a hero.
then he feels a cool hand on his forehead. jeongguk blinks open his eyes, trying to focus on the face hovering over his—one eye grey, one blue. dark red scar over one of those eyes, hair split down the middle in contrasting colours.
“hey,” says yoongi. “having fun down there?”
“my face hurts,” mumbles jeongguk.
yoongi huffs out a laugh, already tugging on jeongguk’s shoulder to get him to sit up. “c’mon, number one hero,” he says. “let’s get you cleaned up.”
jeongguk winces as yoongi presses a cool cloth against his cheekbone, right over the spot where the joker punched him. in the harsh light of the bathroom, he feels the effects of the alcohol much less, cool reality settling in now that he’s removed from everything else. he can hear music and noise pulsing through the bathroom door, but it’s muffled, far away—as is the adrenaline and rush of the party, of getting into a fight. now that jeongguk is here, sitting on the edge of the bathtub as yoongi tends to his wounds, he forgets why he thought any of this was a good idea to begin with.
he’s almost too embarrassed to look at yoongi—almost. but yoongi is so pretty and gentle with him, a hand holding under jeongguk’s chin as the other dabs a cloth over jeongguk’s cheek. the punch wasn’t hard enough to break skin, but his cheek is throbbing and too warm, anyway, a smattering of dirt from the fall clinging to jeongguk. and jeongguk can’t help blinking up at him, yoongi’s two-toned hair haloed by the light from the ceiling fixture.
yoongi is focused on jeongguk’s wound, eyebrows knit together in concern. his lips are pursed just slightly, red and white fringe falling into his eyes. vaguely, jeongguk wonders if min yoongi would want to help him even if they weren’t dressed up as todoroki and midoriya, if he was just—jeon jeongguk. not a hero, not special, not anything but himself.
once he finishes cleaning the wound, yoongi sprays a bit of antiseptic on his cheek, making jeongguk hiss with the cool feeling of it. yoongi tuts, holding onto jeongguk’s chin harder as he reaches for a band-aid with his other hand.
“stupid boy,” yoongi mutters, and jeongguk shrinks a little, feeling embarrassed and unsure. “why’d you do that anyway, huh?”
“he called me a pussy,” jeongguk says again.
“you didn’t have to fight him.”
jeongguk frowns, eyes dropping to somewhere around yoongi’s stomach as yoongi gently presses the band-aid into his skin, right over his reddened cheekbone. it won’t do much, in the end; jeongguk will walk away with a massive bruise on his face and an even bigger bruise on his ego, but it does make him feel a little better.
finally, he mutters, “i just wanted to be deku.” in the moment, he was so overcome with his acting that it just made sense. jeongguk would never fight someone in his daily life, but he’s not himself tonight. that’s the point.
yoongi sighs, gently pressing the pads of his fingers into the edges of the band-aid. when jeongguk looks up at him, yoongi seems both exasperated and endeared. “it’s just a costume,” he whispers. “you know you don’t actually have one for all or any other quirk, right?”
jeongguk swallows. “being a hero is hard, todoroki-kun,” he whispers.
and yoongi—grins at him again, finally. a little soft, a little sad. this feels different, too—the two of them. feels different from the kitchen, when it was easy to flirt and be someone else. but maybe both of them have realized that at the end of the day, they’re not heroes with quirks. jeongguk has never felt more human in his entire life.
with a firm hand on his chin, yoongi leans down and presses a soft kiss against jeongguk’s cheekbone, over the band-aid. it stings, just slightly—but the warmth that blossoms from the kiss is more than enough to heal it, to make jeongguk’s toes curl in his ridiculous boots. “i know,” says yoongi when he pulls away, still grinning as jeongguk stares at him with wide eyes and rosy cheeks. “but no one said it was going to be easy. life isn’t easy either.”
“do you have to get philosophical?”
yoongi snorts as he sits down on the ledge of the bathtub next to jeongguk, placing a hand on jeongguk’s knee. in truth, jeongguk should probably be flustered by all of this—the proximity, yoongi taking care of him, the almost-kiss. but he’s upset and humiliated and maybe he deserves this, this one little thing to make the night better. this feels like a scene from boku no hero academia that he’ll never see. (he remembers namjoon telling him that this isn’t a fanfiction and he almost giggles.)
here they are, anyway—todoroki shouto and midoriya izuku, sitting on a tub together after being defeated horribly. there are worse ways to spend halloween.
eventually, yoongi asks, “why’d you wanna be deku, anyway?”
jeongguk sighs, letting his head fall against yoongi’s shoulder. “he’s my favourite character,” he says. “he’s like… so unlike a lot of other superheroes you see. he’s strong but he’s also vulnerable. he’s smart but he’s also empathetic. he’s so passionate about what he does but he still has so many flaws and so many ways to grow. you know, he’s just—he’s just a kid and he makes mistakes and he has to deal with real world problems on top of being a hero. and he feels so much pressure and he wants to make everyone proud, but sometimes it’s too hard. i’ve never seen a superhero cry, and it’s not—weird? or wrong? it’s just who he is. and i want to be like that, too.”
in truth, jeongguk likes the fight scenes and the humor of the show, but in the end, it’s so much more than that. “i think we’re pretty alike already,” adds jeongguk. “but maybe that’s in a lot of the flaws area. so for better or worse, it really fit.” he frowns, picking at a seam on his costume. “also, he looks cool, so.”
yoongi huffs out a laugh, squeezing jeongguk’s thigh. “you’re a good deku, you know,” he says. “honestly, it was very in character of you to try and fight that guy. but maybe you won’t do it again?”
“god, no,” groans jeongguk. “my face hurts so fucking badly and now every time someone asks where i got the bruise from, i’ll have to admit that i tried fighting the joker as midoriya izuku and lost. how embarrassing.”
“you can just lie, you know.”
“midoriya izuku doesn’t lie, thank you very much.”
“you won’t be midoriya izuku tomorrow, though.” and that’s—true, unfortunately. jeongguk can’t pretend forever. yoongi squeezes his thigh again like he can sense jeongguk’s reluctance to accept that, adding, “i bet you’re just as cool as your regular self, though.”
“don’t patronize me,” mutters jeongguk, sitting up straight. he stares down at his hands, frowning. “just because you’re as cool as todoroki doesn’t mean we’re all like that.”
yoongi giggles, and jeongguk shoots him a confused look. “cool,” says yoongi, still giggling. “am i also as hot as him?”
jeongguk shoves him. “shut up. that wasn’t supposed to be a joke.”
“sorry,” says yoongi, nudging his shoulder into jeongguk’s in some form of apology. “but i promise i’m not as cool as todoroki, no pun intended. he has a lot more control over himself. he’s a lot more determined, i think. i doubt he procrastinates as much on his homework as i do and he’s got an iron will whereas i am continually giving into my craving for fast food at three in the morning. and my hair and eyes aren’t two different colours, unfortunately.” he tugs at the red hair on the left side of his head. “if you’re so worried about being your regular self, then just know you’re not alone. i think everyone kind of wants to pretend to be a hero once in a while.”
it’s strange to hear yoongi talk about himself like that when jeongguk knows him as the min yoongi, senior architecture student. jeongguk doesn’t think they’ve ever had a real conversation outside of a few words here and there because seokjin and namjoon know some of yoongi’s friends, being in the same society at their university or something like that. either way, yoongi has always seemed like an unattainable hero in jeongguk’s mind, almost like all might—someone who can do no wrong, who has it all figured out, who could hold the world in his hand and make everyone fall in love with him with just a smile.
but here—yoongi is just human, too. yoongi is just pretending for a night. turns out, yoongi has insecurities and flaws, too, is unsure of himself the way jeongguk is. for the first time all night, jeongguk feels as though they’re talking as yoongi and jeongguk, not todoroki and midoriya. and it’s terrifying, but—good. he likes it.
“well, i think you’re cool,” jeongguk mumbles. “thanks for taking care of me. you probably have other thing to do be doing at this party, so i appreciate it.”
“ah, midoriya izuku,” says yoongi, grinning when jeongguk looks at him. “ever since your brother got taken down… i’ve had my eye on you.”
jeongguk stares at him. “what?”
he swears he sees yoongi blush, even under the make-up. “i mean, i know he says that to iida, but it’s close enough.”
“i’m so confused.”
“idiot,” yoongi mutters, hiding his face in his hands. “i’m just saying, i don’t have other things to be doing at this party. and i’d rather be here with you, anyway.” when he looks up again, his cheeks are pink—maybe from embarrassment, maybe from the alcohol still in his system. and jeongguk is still a little confused, but yoongi is—here, says he wants to be here. there’s banging on the bathroom door, suddenly, someone wanting to be let in, but jeongguk can’t stop staring at yoongi as yoongi stares back, and it feels like… something shifts, just a little.
jeongguk swallows tightly, eyes moving to yoongi’s lips before they snap back to his eyes. “hey,” he says suddenly. “you’re kind of like recovery girl, taking care of my wounds and everything.”
yoongi cocks his head. “is that your way of asking for a kiss?”
he’s not drunk enough for this, he thinks, as his face burns with embarrassment instead of pain. but maybe he doesn’t have to be drunk for this—he’d kiss min yoongi stone fucking sober on any given day. and his eyes move to yoongi’s lips again, subconsciously licking his own, and yoongi’s hand is burning against his thigh despite it being his right, and he doesn’t even have to answer, because they both know the truth—and when jeongguk leans forward, so does yoongi, holding out for just a moment before colliding in the middle in a crescendo of want.
the kiss is heated from the beginning, jeongguk pushing just as hard as yoongi is pushing back, just sloppy enough to know they’re drunk. yoongi tastes like vodka and soda, but his mouth is warm warm warm, soft under jeongguk’s as their lips press again and again, harder. jeongguk makes a noise in the back of his throat when yoongi slides one of his hands around his waist, awkwardly twisting his body on the ledge of the tub so they’re pressed together; jeongguk’s hand finds its way into yoongi’s hair, tugging on white red white, wanting him closer.
he forgets about the throbbing of his cheek, the humiliation of his fight—now it’s just yoongi yoongi yoongi, beautiful and careful and all jeongguk wants, lips fitting just right on jeongguk’s. jeongguk tugs on his hair, body thrumming with the noise yoongi lets out in response, teeth nipping at jeongguk’s lip.
and jeongguk—wants, wants more, feels like he’s waited forever for this. his stupid costume is getting in the way, though, and he pulls away from yoongi long enough to growl, grabbing the mask around his neck and tugging it off. he heaves as he tosses it onto the bathroom floor, catching sight of yoongi’s flushed face long enough to know it isn’t just him before he reaches out again, before he has yoongi’s lips back on him, eager.
it’s too much this time, though—when jeongguk surges forward to kiss yoongi, he pushes too hard, and with a feeling of free-falling, the two of them fall backwards into the tub. yoongi lets out a squawk that almost makes jeongguk laugh were he not desperately grabbing onto yoongi as he pitches forward, landing on top of yoongi for the second time that night—this time crammed into a tub, yoongi’s head narrowly missing the faucet.
they’re twisted awkwardly like this, legs half out of the tub, and jeongguk watches yoongi’s face for a second, fearful—but then yoongi just laughs, open-mouthed, and grabs the front of jeongguk’s costume to tug him back in again.
jeongguk goes—laughing, too, twisting until he can get his legs inside of the tub and curl up around yoongi’s body to kiss him again again again. he lifts his hand, blindly searching for purchase in order to get a better position, and feels himself connect with something metal, tugs on it—only for the shower to turn on, immediately dousing the both of them in cold water.
this time, it’s jeongguk who shrieks, getting the brunt of the water, and he jerks backwards, getting a face full of the stream. “fuck!” he shouts, scrambling for the controls again, and he jerks the knob one way only for nothing to happen, the water only getting warmer. and yoongi just keeps laughing as jeongguk struggles with the shower, both of them completely soaked—but at least the water is warm.
by the time jeongguk manages to turn off the shower, they’re both wet, costumes only slightly ruined. jeongguk wipes some of the water out of his eyes, blinking down at a soaking min yoongi lying on the bottom of the tub, still giggling. “that’s a look,” says yoongi. then—“your hair is leaking.”
jeongguk runs a hand through his hair, pulling it away to find dark green dye on his hands. it’s surely going to soak into his costume, ruining all of his hard work, and he wants to be upset about it—but then he feels a hand tugging at his costume again and he looks down to see yoongi still grinning at him, his own costume ruined and hair beginning to drip, the red on one half of his head bleeding into the blonde. it’s ridiculous—but there are worse ways to spend halloween.
and when yoongi tugs on him again, jeongguk goes—goes goes goes, flopping back down as they meet for another kiss. this one is filled with giggles, lips pulled wide in breathless grins. it’s wet from the shower, and jeongguk feels yoongi running his hands through his hair, giggling further when he mumbles, “you’re coming off all over me.”
jeongguk kisses him harder—his bottom lip, top lip, cupid’s bow. he cups yoongi’s face and rubs against his cheeks, ignoring how uncomfortable and wet and strange it is to be crammed in a tub. but he’s making out with min yoongi and yoongi is laughing at him, holding him down, kissing him and licking into jeongguk’s mouth to taste more. it feels like jeongguk’s entire body is on fire, has nothing to do with todoroki’s quirk—
he pulls away slightly to look at yoongi again, to remind himself that all of this is real. what he sees is yoongi’s flushed face, the blonde side of his hair beginning to turn pink with the red dye. his hands are green, the watered-down dye beginning to soak into the blue fabric of yoongi’s costume, as well. and he looks—happy, giddy as he watches jeongguk, pulling him down for another kiss.
“you have my scar all over your face,” yoongi tells him.
jeongguk grins, running a hand through yoongi’s hair so they match. “you have my heart all of your hands.”
yoongi groans, letting his head fall back against the tub as jeongguk giggles at him. “don’t be greasy,” he says.
“sorry, i’ve just—wanted to kiss you for like, two years.”
yoongi raises an eyebrow at him. “i can’t tell if you’re still trying to be in character or not.”
and jeongguk shrugs, leaning down to brush his nose against yoongi’s, sharing breath and space and so much more when he whispers, “guess you’ll just have to find out tomorrow.”
the banging on the door comes again, more aggressive this time—someone yells, “you better not be fucking in there!” they pay no mind as jeongguk ghosts his lips over yoongi’s again, feeling every inch of their bodies pressed together, warm and cold at the same time. yoongi curls his hand around the back of jeongguk’s neck, playing with the ends of his hair there.
jeongguk kisses him once more—softer, more careful. it feels lazier now, like they’ve used all of their energy and the alcohol has worn off enough to leave them pliant and heavy, without much desire to do anything other than this—together. always together.
eventually, yoongi groans, letting his head fall back again. “m’tired,” he says.
jeongguk huffs, letting his head fall against yoongi’s shoulder. “me too.”
“but i also kind of want food. you should go run and get some.”
“why me?” grumbles jeongguk. “i have no strength left to do anything.”
“it’s your power, isn’t it?”
“hey, that’s my line.”
“and that’s my line.”
after a second, jeongguk giggles. he closes his eyes as he feels yoongi’s chest rumbling with it, too, shaking the both of them, and he only now realizes just how tired he is—and he shouldn’t fall asleep like this, not when they’re crammed in a bathtub and his costume is wet and his friends will probably be wondering where he is and he doesn’t even know whose house this is.
but yoongi is so, so warm when he curls his arm around jeongguk’s shoulders and presses him against yoongi’s chest, and yoongi is so, so soft. yoongi is so, so—much, and it feels like a dream, and jeongguk doesn’t want to move. if they leave, none of this will be real anymore. so when he feels yoongi kiss the top of his head and then immediately mutter, “ah, fuck, now my lips are going to be green,” jeongguk can’t help giggling. can’t help lifting his face up and pressing a kiss to the smudged red of yoongi’s make-up scar, saying, “there. now we match.”
yoongi grins at him, lazy and tired, and jeongguk doesn’t care so much about anything else. in that moment, he feels brave—not as the hero deku, not as midoriya izuku, but as himself. as jeon jeongguk and no one else.
there’s a crick in jeongguk’s neck when he wakes up.
he groans as he comes into consciousness, trying to move only to find that his entire body is sore from sleeping in an awkward, cramped position. not to mention his cheek is aching with a dull pain for some reason and his head is throbbing from a hangover. when he finally manages to open his eyes, hissing at the light coming from somewhere above him, jeongguk is impossibly confused about where he is. he pushes himself up, looking around to find that—he’s in a bathroom. in a bathtub.
and, with some horror, he looks down to find min yoongi sleeping in the tub under him.
jeongguk’s mouth goes positively dry, horror spreading through him as he tries to remember what the fuck he did last night. he dares not move lest he wake yoongi, but—he notes, with even more horror, that yoongi’s hands are stained green. when jeongguk looks down, he finds his own hands are stained red. and there’s only one way that could have happened.
he tries to get out of the tub without disturbing yoongi, mind reeling as he tries to piece the night together. even with his hangover, he can remember enough—he remembers arriving to the party with seokjin and namjoon, remembers all of the compliments and questions and occasionally infuriating conversations about his costume. remembers seeing yoongi, tackling him—the fight. he remembers yoongi helping him up, and then… he sits down on the ledge of the tub, looking over his shoulder at yoongi still passed out. jeongguk might throw up.
this is the man that jeongguk has had a massive crush on for two years, whom he has been too shy to say anything to because yoongi is older and cool and knows what he wants in life, probably. and now it turns out yoongi is also a huge fan of boku no hero academia and his todoroki costume was probably super cool before he ended up at the bottom of a bathtub with vaguely pink hair and sleeves stained the colour of jeongguk’s hair.
god. jeongguk didn’t think it was possible to be disgustingly in love and horribly embarrassed at the same time.
he’s too sore and hungover to do more than sit, though, so he digs into his pocket for his phone. when he turns it on, it’s overrun with notifications—most of them from namjoon and seokjin demanding to know where he is, asking if he’s alright, and then… just a bunch of yelling. there are countless messages from other people he knows, all of them spamming him with the same links to tweets and instagram posts and fucking reddit. he blinks, confused as he unlocks his phone and clicks on the first link in the group chat with seokjin and namjoon, to some tweet they’re yelling about.
when it loads, jeongguk’s entire stomach drops. he makes a strangled sort of noise, staring at the tweet that has already garnered thousands of retweets and likes over the night—it’s of he and yoongi sleeping in the tub, awkwardly curled around each other with hair dye dripping down the sides of their faces. their hands are clearly visible in it, opposite colours dried on their skin, and it’s clear just what they’ve been doing.
the caption reads, tododeku is real ig?
jeongguk drops his head into his hands, phone clattering to the tile below. it’s this that wakes yoongi, soft groaning and noises alerting jeongguk, and he looks over his shoulder to see yoongi twisting in the tub, slowly opening his eyes and blinking up at the sharp light. in all honesty, jeongguk wants to run away—from the embarrassment, from reality. it’s not halloween anymore and they’re both sober and even if they’re still in costume, they can’t escape the harsh light of reality.
their eyes meet. yoongi looks confused, eyebrows knitting together as he smacks his lips a few times. jeongguk feels nerves curl up tightly inside of him, a ball of anticipation both bad and good weaseling under his skin as he says, “hi.”
yoongi blinks a few times, his back cracking as he struggles to sit up in the tub. he clears his throat, gaining his bearings as he looks around the room and then settles his gaze on jeongguk. “uh—hey,” he mumbles, voice thick with sleep. “what, um—why am i in a tub?”
jeongguk looks down to his phone again, face up on the ground with that godforsaken picture showing. there’s nothing they can do about it now, and he’s sure it’s already been reposted on numerous sites, saved and shared and laughed and fawned over. in all honesty, they do look kind of cute together if he ignores the fact that it’s humiliating and he’s been in love with yoongi for two years and now he’s probably ruined any chance he ever had.
but it does explain any questions yoongi might have. so jeongguk shows him the picture, already wincing as he prepares for the horror and disgust that will surely come in response. he watches yoongi’s face change from confusion to understanding to surprise, eyes widening as he peers at the photo. but after a long pause that has jeongguk fearing even more, yoongi just says, “oh.”
“oh?” asks jeongguk. “that’s it?”
“i dunno,” mutters yoongi, rubbing at his eyes and further smudging his scar. “my head feels like it’s been beat in by—by fucking deku. and my entire body hurts and i think a rat curled up in my mouth and died and i’ve always wanted to be internet famous, so like.” he shrugs.
jeongguk’s not sure how he can be so nonchalant about it. “you’re not embarrassed?” he asks.
“oh, trust me,” says yoongi. “i’m absolutely dying. but since i’m still dressed up a todoroki, i might as well take a leaf from his book and pretend it doesn’t bother me.” ah, jeongguk thinks—they’re still doing that. and yet, jeongguk feels nothing like deku now. feels none of the confidence or charm, understanding his own human weaknesses and vulnerabilities too greatly even with the hangover. there are things he wants to say, wants to say to yoongi, but he struggles to find the words. and that’s unlike deku, too, who always has something to say, always has words of encouragement even for himself.
jeongguk pockets his phone again, realizing it’s probably best if he just… leaves. he doubts that yoongi will like him as jeongguk—who is awkward and eager at the best of times, who doesn’t really know how to flirt and is afraid of too many things. who doesn’t have a quirk and isn’t a hero, who is just… jeongguk.
before he can say anything, though, yoongi grumbles, “do you wanna, like… get breakfast?”
jeongguk stares at him.
“i’m fucking starving,” says yoongi, groaning when he stretches his arms out. “i know this all-day breakfast place not far from here that has really great coffee.”
he’s impossibly confused by this turn of events, but everything from the moment he laid eyes on yoongi last night has felt like a dream, so he feels at a loss for what to say other than—“okay.”
neither of them has another change of clothes, so they head out in their costumes. and despite the embarrassment of it all, there’s something very endearing about watching min yoongi walk around outside with a todoroki hero costume on and half of his hair red, half of it dyed slightly pink, and a massive red mark on his face that was once a fake scar but is now just a huge smudge. jeongguk knows he looks no better—his neck is stained green due to his hair bleeding from the shower, his cheekbone is bruised from the fight, and his clothes are extremely wrinkled. but at least they’re doing it together.
over fresh cups of coffee and breakfast—waffles for jeongguk, soup for yoongi—jeongguk begins to feel the nerves return. it’s different talking to yoongi, sitting across from him at a booth in a restaurant when there’s no alcohol to bolster his confidence, when there’s no real mask to hide behind. right now, he’s just him. and he’s not sure yoongi will like that as much as deku, even if jeongguk was probably the worst deku in the world.
once yoongi finishes his soup, though, he puts down his spoon, wipes his mouth, and looks up at jeongguk with something bright in his eyes. instinctually, jeongguk stops eating, waiting for whatever will come next—yoongi telling him that it was nice meeting him, but please never talk to him again, or this was all a mistake.
but yoongi holds out his hand, still green. "hi,” he says. “i’m min yoongi. fourth year architecture student, consumer of sugary coffee, lover of bnha. todoroki’s my favourite character, as i’m sure you guessed. i don’t remember a lot of what happened last night, but um—yeah.” he shrugs, cheeks dusted pink even beneath the make-up. “figured we should introduce ourselves as who we really are.”
jeongguk swallows tightly, gingerly reaching out for yoongi’s hand and shaking it. “jeon jeongguk,” he says. “second year kinesiology student. i, um. also love bnha. deku’s my favourite. i’ve…” he hums, dropping his gaze as he forces it out—“i’ve really liked you for two years and now i feel really embarrassed about making out with you in a tub and getting us both splashed across the internet and if you never want to see my face again, that’s totally understandable and i’ll respect your decision.”
it takes a second, but then he realizes yoongi is laughing. when jeongguk look up, yoongi’s eyes are crescent moons, gummy smile on displays as he giggles. “what?” asks jeongguk. “am i that embarrassing?”
“no,” laughs yoongi. “it’s just—i’ve really liked you for like, two years, too, and i was going to say the same thing to you.”
“you’ve liked me for two years? but we’ve never even had a conversation.”
“i’m awkward and shy.”
“so am i. i always see you in the campus cafes and my hyungs always talk about you but i never said anything.”
yoongi looks—fond. it makes jeongguk’s chest ache, that crooked grin on his face. “well,” says yoongi. “all it took was pretending to be todoroki and midoriya to change that, i guess.”
“i was worried you wouldn’t like me if i wasn’t deku,” admits jeongguk. “he’s a lot cooler than me. and a hero. and he has freckles.”
“you don’t need to be a hero, jeongguk,” says yoongi with a shake of his head. “i don’t know you well, but i can promises i like you as you. i—probably like you more as you than as an anime character.”
jeongguk flushes, focusing on his waffles as he mumbles, “that’s how i feel about you.” he’s still not sure if they’ll get along as themselves as well as they did as todoroki and midoriya, but—maybe yoongi wants to find out. that’s all jeongguk really wants.
after a pause, yoongi says, “you know, we’re always going to be known as those people who went viral on twitter because we basically made fanfiction come to life.”
despite himself. jeongguk giggles. “then i think we owe it to the shippers to at least become friends.”
yoongi’s grin is soft soft soft. and maybe jeongguk wants more than just friends—maybe he’s beginning to remember how it felt to have yoongi’s mouth and body under his and he could never go back from it, but they have to start somewhere, as themselves. for the first time, this is jeon jeongguk and min yoongi. jeongguk likes it better that way.
(when jeongguk finally gets home, there’s already a text on his phone from yoongi. or—he assumes it’s yoongi. he’d merely handed his phone over to get yoongi’s number, and yoongi seems to have put his number into jeongguk’s phone under the contact name freezer burn.
all he’s sent jeongguk is a fucking meme, just the words—someBODY once told me IT’S YOUR POWER TODOROKI i ain’t the sharpest tool in the shed ~
jeongguk hates that he giggles at it, hates that he has to collapse face down on his bed to compose himself. hates, and loves, too, that he was wrong all along—he doesn’t have to be a hero to make any of this work. yoongi wants him as himself, wants to talk to him and know him and learn him as nothing but jeon jeongguk—and jeongguk can be that. he can be that better than he can be midoriya izuku any day. he can be the number one hero of min yoongi’s fucking heart one day, and he doesn’t even need superstrength to do it.)