Work Header

Last Resort

Work Text:

“-ight’s destruction. Reports are still coming in, but it appears as if the building had been abandoned for some years at the time of the attack, and as of yet there are no known casualties. A homeless man who’d been living in the building claimed that the villain himself told him to evacuate just minutes before it crashed to the ground. We have with us here renowned villain psychology expert Takano Tomomi for his take on the situation.”

“Thank you, Ms. Uno. As it stands, if what that man says is true, it provides us with clear evidence of a higher value of life than is standard for most villains of his caliber. We’ve suspected this for some time, of course, due to his, shall we say, somewhat gentle handling of the heroes he encounters-”

Katsuki snorted. ‘Gentle?’ What a bunch of bullshit. Clearly that man had never so much as tried out for his local kendo club if he thought getting punched through a building was ‘gentle.’ He shifted around on the couch. His back still fucking hurt and it’d been days.

“-but we’ve never had anything so blunt. While not all of my colleagues may agree with me, I believe, given this evidence, that he might yet be turned to our side.”

“‘Our side,’ Mr. Takano?”

“Pardon me. I mean the side of righteousness. The side of heroes, if you will.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. He’d love to see what exactly he thought was going to convince him. Deku didn’t just believe in his cause; he was fanatical about it.

“And if that were to happen, what of all the destruction he’s left in his wake so far?"

“Yeah dumbass,” Katsuki muttered, “What about that?” He took a soft squish ball out of the container beside him and tossed it at the TV.

“To be perfectly honest, I don’t think that would be our decision to make. As it stands, not even Celsius or Ground Zero have been able to detain No-”

Katsuki clicked the TV off. Those guys loved to go on and on about how ‘disastrous’ their encounters were every time, and he was getting real tired of listening to that shit whenever Deku stepped out of the house.

He crossed his arms and huffed. Though, it was better than having reporters hound him about his ‘marital problems.’ Fucking Deku.

Speaking of which…

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent off a text. One, two, three, four… He counted to a hundred and twenty before grinding his teeth together and jabbing at the number pad. Deku’s secondary number lit up as it dialed.

Seven entire rings before Deku answered. What the hell was he doing?

“Hey there, what’s up?” Deku asked, in that overly cheerful tone that said he was bullshitting someone.

Deku was happy, but he was only ever that happy when he was playing idiot to some moron who was gonna get their ass handed to them the instant they underestimated him.

“Who’s that?” someone asked in the background.

“My secret lover!” Deku replied, and Katsuki could practically see his grin.

The other person snorted, as if they didn’t believe him.

Katsuki scowled. “What are you doing?”

“Buying guns.”

He gritted his teeth. “What the hell do you need guns for, you stupid nerd? You can punch people through buildings you dumbass.”

“Oh, they’re not for me.” There was a certain finality to the words that said Katsuki wasn’t going to be getting any more than that.

He knew he shouldn’t have let Deku talk him into taking a few days off. Damn opportunistic fuck.

“When should I start watching the news?” he asked. Nothing to be done about it now besides wait for the inevitable shitstorm that was to come and maybe smother Deku in his sleep tonight, depending on how things played out.

“Don’t worry. This one will take a while to set up,” Deku said, still so fucking cheerful. Like he wasn’t talking about some horrific event of his own making.

If Katsuki was honest with himself - and only himself - it was a bit terrifying at times.

Terrifying and annoying.

“If you’re not home in the next three hours, I’m blowing up your Cellophane figure.”

“What? No!” Deku squawked, his ‘give no fucks’ demeanor slipping. “It’s limit-”

Katsuki hung up on him. He closed his eyes and leaned back into the couch before opening them again and sending off a text to Deku telling him to pick up dinner on his way home. No way was he cooking for that sneaky little shit.

He let himself rest for another few minutes before pushing himself to his feet. He grunted as he straightened out his back, pausing to perform some of the stretches his doctor had showed him before shaking it off and making his way towards Deku’s home office.

‘Office’ was perhaps putting it kindly. ‘Super nerd room that happened to have a desk’ was far more accurate, considering the merchandise outnumbered the furniture thirty to one. He paused to look at the single All Might action figure tucked away in the corner near the wall; the one that looked like it’d once belonged to a child who hadn’t yet gotten it into his head that such things were for looking and not touching. It was the only All Might item that hadn’t been crammed into their bedroom when they’d combined their collections.

Katsuki looked away.

Starting at the dresser furthest from the door, he began meticulously going through each drawer one by one, shifting through papers and folders as he searched for anything that might give him a clue as to what the hell Deku was doing. Not that there was likely to be anything. Not if Deku truly wanted to keep it a secret. They had an unspoken agreement that they weren’t allowed to go through anything that was sealed, and Deku’s office was never locked. That’s what his fancy ass hideout beneath the local maid cafe was for, after all.

Damn maids were probably in on it. The owner certainly was. No one who smirked that much while wearing a blood red corset was to be trusted.

Finding a whole lot of nothing in the dressers - save for the fact that Deku had ordered someone a Uravity figure and it’d better have been him because Katsuki wanted it - he moved on to Deku’s desk. He followed the same procedure: drawer by drawer, folder by folder, paper by paper, until he finally he found it.

He stared.

There, hidden underneath a stack of video game magazines in the bottom drawer, was a notebook filled with detailed plans to murder every single big name hero from here to China.

Katsuki's eye twitched.

Why the hell did Icy Hot have six more pages than him?

Growling, he flung himself back into Deku’s computer chair. The pages strained against the journal’s binding as he snarled his way through the rest of the book. What the hell was this shit? Metal-piercing rounds for Crimson Riot? A portable speaker system for Earphone Jack? A solar canon for Tsukuyomi?

Half And Half had a twenty-two step plan spread out across nine fucking pages that detailed some kind of science shit related to temperature that Katsuki didn’t think even his old teachers would understand.

And his, his section, was a measly-ass three pages - no, two and a half - one of which was a mocking doodle of him shouting at a group of civilian children. And what was this bullshit? ‘Ground Zero thinks he’s better than everyone so just play into that and you’ll be fine.’ That wasn’t even a plan!

He kicked the chair back into the wall as he stomped into the living room, ignoring the pain in his back as he seethed. He threw the notebook onto the table in front of the couch, lest he accidentally blow it up before he could smash it into Deku’s face. Katsuki grabbed the container of squishy balls as he sat down to wait.

Deku better come up with a better idea real fucking fast when he walked through that door later because Katsuki was going to fucking murder him.


“Kacchan, I’m home!” Izuku called out as he finagled the door open, careful not to let Kacchan’s favorite take-out drop. He was going to need it if he didn’t want to spend the next week on the couch. “How was your d-”

He yelped as Kacchan came barreling into the entryway, knocking Izuku down in the process and causing the food containers to land on the floor with a worrying plop. Well, so much for that.


“Don’t you ‘Kacchan’ me, you little shit.” Kacchan’s knees slammed to either side of Izuku as he loomed over him. “What the hell is this!”

Izuku’s eyes had to readjust as Kacchan shoved something hard and black into his face. He blinked when he was finally able to read the title. Oh.

“Those are just last resort sort of things that I came up with a long time ago. You know-”

“I don’t care about that! Why the hell did you put more effort into fucking Sparkle Boy than me? And why does Icy Hot have an entire outline while I only have a damn sketch!” Kacchan opened the journal and shoved it back into Izuku’s face. “It’s not even a sketch of me dying! You think you don’t need a plan for me? You think I’d be easy to kill?”

Izuku’s startled expression morphed into something much more amused. Oh. He carefully extracted his arms out from underneath Kacchan and ran them along his sides, as if he were attempting to sooth some sort of wild beast.

Kacchan twitched when he touched his ticklish spots.

“I couldn’t bring myself to think too hard about it,” he said, voice soft.

That seemed to stop him cold, Kacchan’s huffing and puffing jerking to a quick and painful stop. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

“Weak,” Kacchan muttered, pushing himself off. Izuku let his arms drop.

Kacchan settled beside him, drawing his knees up to his chest as he scowled off into the distance. “Thought you were supposed to be some kind of notorious villain or something.”

Izuku sat up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Maybe I’m not as good at it as I think I am.”

Kacchan gave him a cool look. “What were you doing today?”

Izuku just smiled.

That seemed to prove Kacchan’s point as he shoved him. “Make me a better one.”


“You heard me! I want an actual plan, and it better be longer than Half and Half’s.”


He glared. Izuku sighed.

“Okay. If that’s what you want.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I suppose it’s for the best anyway. If anyone ever found it and connected it to me-” He didn’t need to specify that the ‘me’ in this case was ‘me-as-a-villain’ and not ‘me-as-Ground-Zero’s-awkward-and-rambly-husband.’ “-it might be suspicious if the entries weren’t equal for everyone.”

“Whatever, nerd,” Kacchan said, back to playing the aloof asshole now that he’d gotten what he wanted. Izuku pretended not to see the self-satisfied set to his lips.

He had the distinct feeling someone was going to be hassling him for the next several weeks until his plan was perfected to exacting standards.

Kacchan used his shoulder as a stabilizer as he pushed himself to his feet. Izuku beamed as he held out a hand for him then, and he let Kacchan pull him up from the floor, even if Kacchan did wince while doing it. He’d have to give him a back massage later.

Izuku reached down and picked up the food. “Well, it’s not going to be very nice-looking anymore, but the taste shouldn’t be affected.”

“I don’t care what it looks like,” Kacchan said, taking his container. He popped it open and pulled out a pepper, biting into it as if it were nothing. Izuku winced.

An idea came to him then, one he’d thought about before, but never with any sort of seriousness.

He let Kacchan eat another one before he said, mischievous grin already in place, “You know, if I really wanted to kill Ground Zero, I wouldn’t need a bunch of carefully-laid plans.”

Kacchan narrowed his eyes, third pepper already halfway to his lips. “Yeah?”

Izuku took a step back, ready to run.

“I’d just poison him.”