~ deku / izuku oneshots ~

accidentally seducing class 1A

Izuku started to pace from his spot before the class. "There are really two types of undercover missions: hands-on and hands-off. One requires real heroes to infiltrate bases and trick villains either into thinking they've converted or just genuinely go under the radar as an insignificant standby. This is the main reason why trainees and newbies are put on the job. The best, most effective and least dangerous type is from the outside, though. Hands-off."

"Using quirks like Nighteyes - or even Shinsos and Kodas, able to control people and animals in small doses - we are able to infiltrate and gather information semi-seamlessly. I was called into the recent one a while back, where Sir Nighteye almost lost a limb. The yakuza was rumoured to be hiding a small girl and trafficking anti-quirk bullets from her DNA. Most of what you can do in these missions is be prepared and hope to be stealthy enough not to get caught."

"This, however, is hard to do with hundreds of heroes flooding a single precinct." The hero stops pacing for a moment and hesitates as if sorting through the millennia of dangerous situations in the hope to word this next part correctly. "That's where analysis comes through. Ways to fully break down fighting stances, attitudes, and likely movements or positions. With that, comes the three main ways to break down a fighting style."

The class leans in to listen. Izuku becomes a fantastic teacher when he's recounting his own stories for expression and reigning in his mumbling. Bakugo sits there frozen, unable to pinpoint the greentte from past childhood experiences. 

~~~ 

"Oi, Deku." Bakugo stuck around at the end of the class to corner Izuku. The way his name rolled off his lips made Izuku's head snap upwards to face him. "You helped me manifest my quirk. I'm offended you don't remember-"

"Kacchan?"

Bakugo stops and immediately runs a deep shade of red. "My name isn't Kacchan, fuckface."

Izuku laughs softly, the action sticking a dagger in Bakugo's heart, and reaches back for the class register. "I didn't recognize your name on the list, Kacchan. You never told me it was a nickname." 

From his spot leaned towards the hero, Bakugo coughs to hide his embarrassment. Izuku catches the way his knuckles tighten against the wood and he smiles again. "I thought it was cute. Nobody uses that nickname anymore and you looked so excited about it." 

It was the day he got his quirk. Bakugo stared down at his fuming hands in belated wonder. Giddy in excitement, he turned to his friends. 

"Look, extras, I told you my quirk would be heaps better than any newbie hero out there." 

"Kacchan that's so cool!" A red-toned boy exclaimed, wings growing from his higher back. 

"Don't call me Kacchan." A five-year-old Bakugo looked up fiercely at the boy. Following the initial explosion, the summer's heat highlighted the glistening sweat on his forehead. He raised up one hurried hand to wipe it off, only for the sparks to catch and blow a small explosion at his forehead. 

There was a cry of pain and a rustle of footsteps as his friends shuffled back and sped off, running away through thin wobbly legs. Bakugo was about to aim his hands towards himself once again when someone grabbed on to his arms. 

He looked up to meet fairly vibrant green eyes, an early teen was staring down at him in what looked like immense worry. He continued his repeat explosions on the arms holding him down, preventing him from injuring himself. Bakugo wanted to be angry, looking down at those freckled arms and repeatedly releasing explosions, but he found he couldn't slow down their pace to scream at him.