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If there was one thing that the entirety of Class 2-A knew, it was that Midoriya Izuku had a terrible fashion sense. He had a love for baggy cargo pants, oversized, tacky t-shirts, and above all, those garishly red sneakers. Something that Class A hadn’t thought about was exactly why Izuku had such an awful fashion sense.
Izuku was totally fine letting them assume that it was simply a matter of taste. In reality, though? He ignored the rules of fashion for the exact same reason Katsuki dressed as fashionably edgy as he did. The Bakugous. They were some of the most famous fashion designers in all of Japan, having started out when they were only in college. Bakugou Mitsuki had been a model since she was a child, and when she met design major Bakugou Masaru in university, they hit it off. Mitsuki was the face of the company, and Masaru was the behind-the-scenes brains. Their ideas were so ground-breaking and new that their business had kicked off after only a few years. They’d met Midoriya Inko while in college, before their business boomed, and she’d stayed their best friend through it all.
She’d even let her only son be a model for the company, from the time he was a year old until he was seven or eight, when he began to reject the idea.
He and Katsuki had been the faces of the Bakugou children line for so long that it gave them both a distaste for the fashion world. It led to Bakugou refusing to wear any of his parents’ clothes, and dressing in dark, unpredictable ways. It led to Izuku dressing in the cheapest, ugliest clothes he could possibly find. The two boys had been lucky to go so long without anyone in their class finding out about their previous jobs, but they should have known that it wouldn’t last for long. Their streak was broken by Hagakure, of all people. She had found an old fashion catalogue right before Class 2-A’s weekly movie night, and was flipping through it while Kouda and Ojiro picked the movie they wanted to see. It was between Snow White and Karate Kid apparently, both of which Izuku was totally game to see.
He was sitting in between Uraraka and Kaccha, a totally normal occurrence as of late. Uraraka and Kirishima had begun dating a few months back, and their relationship meant that their two best friends often tagged along to whatever they were doing. Since Izuku and Katsuki already spent a lot of time together, it was no skin off of their nose. They only got closer as time went on. Izuku could safely say that they were good friends again, although not exactly best friends. Uraraka was and probably always would be his best friend, but Kacchan just took a different place in his life. He was something… more . Not family, but something else.
‘ Soulmate,’ Izuku’s mind hissed to him whenever he dwelled on it. He always shoved that thought down as far as it could go. There was no need to ruin a perfectly good friendship with his feelings.
“Oh my god!” Hakagure’s voice broke over the low chatter of Class 2-A. She jumped out of the chair she’d occupied, waving around the old catalogue like a crazy person. “Oh my god, oh my god!”
“What?!” Ashido asked, sounding a bit panicked. The rest of the class braced themselves for the worst, as only children bonded through trauma could do. Hagakure stopped hopping around like a deranged rabbit, folding the magazine so that on specific page could be seen by all. The moment Izuku laid eyes on it, his heart dropped to his feet. It was a picture of the Bakugou winter collection, about ten years ago, if he remembered correctly. He and Kacchan were posing on the page, engaging in a fake snowball fight, laughing and smiling with each other. They’d still been friends back then, even though their relationship was beginning to strain. Less than a year later, Katsuki would fall into the river, and they would never be the same again.
“Is that…?” Kaminari asked, leaning in closer to get a better look. “Holy shit, the Bakugou fashion company?” He whipped his head around to stare at Kacchan. “Your family owns a fashion company ?”
“More importantly, you’re a model ?” Sero hooted, snatching the magazine out of Hagakure’s hands so he could stuff his nose in the pages. “And holy shit, that’s totally Midoriya, isn’t it?”
“You’re both models?” Ashido squealed. The rest of the class hurried to gather around Sero, each of them trying to get better looks at the catalogue. Izuku put his face in his hands, groaning. When he peeked at Katsuki out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the blond wasn’t fairing to much better.
“It was nice while it lasted, huh?” He sighed.
“Yeah, it really fuckin’ was,” the older boy agreed. He then stood up and let off a small explosion, getting everyone’s attention. “Alright, listen up motherfuckers! Yes, my parents own the Bakugou Fashion Company. No, I didn’t tell you. No, you didn’t have a right to know. Yes, Deku and I used to model for the line, key word being used to. We’re not models, not anymore.” He paused, glancing back at Izuku. “Did I get it all?”
“I think so.” The green haired boy stood up, not liking being the only one seated. “Um… any questions?”
“Just how long have you two known each other?” Todoroki asked, narrowing his eyes at them.
“Yeah, you’ve never really said anything past middle school,” Satou observed, tapping his chin. “Clearly it’s been longer than that.”
“Our parents met in college,” Izuku explained, unable to keep himself from wringing his hands nervously. “So… our whole lives, I guess?”
“ Wow ,” Jirou said. “So you guys are like brothers, then?”
“ No ,” the two of them snapped at the same time. Izuku wrinkled his nose at the thought, whereas Kacchan gagged theatrically. ‘ Yeah, that’s a gross thing to think about, considering the amount of wet dreams I’ve had about him.’
“So wait, Bakugou, you’re loaded, too!” Uraraka pointed an accusing finger at Bakugou. “It’s not just Iida, Todoroki and Yaomomo!”
“Well, of course,” Yaomomo said primly. “He wears designer clothes, after all.”
“What? He wears sweatpants ,” Kirishima deadpanned.
“ Designer sweatpants.”
“Can we focus on the big picture, here?” Ashido cut in. “Bakugou, Midoriya, you both grew up surrounded by the most influential fashion empire in all of Japan, and yet you both dress like…” she gestured to their outfits. “... That ?”
Izuku looked down at himself. He wore a baggy pair of basketball shorts and his favorite “t-shirt” shirt, as well as an oversized zip-up hoodie that he wore unzipped. The shirt had once been just as loose, but given how Izuku had bulked up and grown a few inches since their first year, it fit him a bit more snugly now. The outfit was seriously lackluster, just the way he liked it. Kacchan was wearing a black t-shirt with a graphic, gory design of demons and other things on it, as well as a tight pair of black skinny jeans with rips all along the legs. If they weren’t wearing their house slippers, then he would have been wearing his ratty combat boots as well.
(Personally, Izuku thought he looked fucking hot, but apparently it wasn’t a universal opinion.)
“Um,” Izuku said, clearing his throat to get his mind out of the gutter. “We dress like this on purpose?”
“What,” Shinsou said without inflection. Izuku laughed and rubbed the back of his head, running his hand over his undercut. It was somewhat fresh, enough that it was still a bit prickly against his hand.
“I mean, you couldn’t really think I dress this way because I think I look good.” When he looked over their shocked expressions, he faltered. “Oh my god, you all totally thought that!”
“In our defense, you’re criminally clueless, kero ,” Asui stated bluntly.
“I am not -”
“What about you, then?” Sero pointed an accusatory finger at Bakugou. “Why do you dress like that?”
Katsuki’s grin was sharp and cutting. “Because it pisses my mother off so bad that she can barely speak to me. It’s fucking amazing.”
“I need to sit down,” Yaomomo muttered, sinking back into her seat on the couch.
“So what you’re saying it you both can dress well, you just choose not to?” Kaminari cocked his head to the side. “I don’t think I believe you.”
“You think we don’t know how to put proper fucking outfits together, jackass?” Kacchan barked. “We grew up in the fashion world. That’s a load of horse-shit.”
“Alright, prove it then,” Todoroki shrugged. “Ask Yaomomo to make you pieces and go put them on. I want to see this ‘fashion sense’ you apparently have.”
“Todoroki…” Izuku started, but was cut off by Katsuki’s acceptance of the challenge.
“You’re fucking on, Half-n-Half! Deku, Ponytail, get the fuck in the kitchen.”
“But Kacchan,” Izuku whined.
“Now!”
(x)
When Izuku entered the common room first, he brought out his runway swagger that he hadn’t used in a long time. He altered it a bit so it was less eight year-old-ish, but he kept one of his hands in his pockets and made sure to keep his back straight. He’d chosen an outfit still somewhat in his aesthetic- or at least, what his aesthetic would be if he bothered to try- and he was actually really proud of it.
It was a white button-down shirt and a darker brown oversized sweater vest, both of which were tucked into a pair of light khakis that hugged his muscular legs. A deep brown belt the same colour as a brown messenger bag tied the look together. As the class watched, he rolled the sleeves of the button-down shirt up, showcasing a slightly different version of the look. “There, are you happy now?”
“ Wow ,” Hagakure breathed, breaking the stunned silence. “Just… wow. ”
“Yeah, I’ll say,” Katsuki said from behind Izuku. The younger boy turned to grin at his friend, who had just strutted into the room behind him. Katsuki was dressed in the same black, ripped jeans that he’d been in earlier, except this time he’d added tasteful chains that hung down by his legs. He’d changed out his demonic, scary shirt for a white button down like Izuku’s. Unlike Izuku’s, he’d left the top four buttons unbuttoned to show off his collarbone and the top of his chest, and also unlike Izuku, he wore three separate necklaces. One was a simple, small chain that bordered on being a choker. The next was a slightly thicker chain that hung down just past the dip in his throat, a big bulky lock hanging as a pendant. The last necklace was a silver cross that went even past that, the edge of it dipping down into the buttons of his shirt. On his fingers he wore various rings, ranging from simple black bands to silver ornate skulls. Besides the white shirt, he wore a black jacket that wasn’t quite a blazer, but not entirely out of the category.
If Izuku thought he normally looked hot, he was breathtaking now.
“Okay,” Ashido squeaked, her skin a much darker pink than usual. “I take it all back. I don’t want you two to dress like this all the time.”
“So powerful,” Tokoyami muttered, squinting like they were glowing. “What a mad banquet of darkness.”
“You boys did a good job,” Yaomomo praised as she exited the kitchen behind them. “This is the last time I’ll make anyone clothes, though! It’s bad for the economy!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Katsuki rolled his eyes. He turned and dragged his eyes over Izuku’s body, licking his lips when he got down to his legs. “You did fuckin’ good, Deku. My mom would have an aneurysm if she saw.”
“Speak for yourself,” Izuku said back, smiling a bit. “She’d snatch you right back up into the modeling world.”
“Please, as if I’d let her.”
“Kacchan, have you met your mom? She could ask me to murder a puppy and I’d do it out of pure fear.”
“...Touche.”
“So you’re both telling me I shouldn’t send this picture to your mother?” Kirishima said teasingly, snapping a picture the moment both boys whirled around to look at him.
“You’re fucking dead, shitty hair!” Katsuki yelled, lunging for his best friend. Kirishima yelped, lurching away, and the chase was on. Izuku watched the two of them go, smiling to himself. He was glad Kacchan had found such good friends.
“Tokoyami’s right,” Uraraka said, sidling up to Izuku to bump her shoulder against his. “You’d have too much power if you dressed like this all the time. I’ll take your dorky t-shirts, please.”
“Me, too,” Izuku sighed. “I’m going to go change back. I forgot how much I hate tight clothing.”
He walked back to the kitchen where he’d left his folded clothes, his smile still firmly on his face as he listened to Kacchan pin Kirishima down somewhere in the other room.
