Thread by @iamseeress

Have a Katsuki as a ruthless, high-priced, high-powered divorce lawyer, and Izuku, the Pretty Young Thing who wants to take Katsuki’s older, wealthy client through the cleaners with a lop-sided divorce settlement.

#seeressramblings #pyt #bkdk

Bakugou Katsuki has seen it all: childhood sweethearts who divorce in their 50s; those who trade-in their old spouses for a newer models; abusive spouses; cheating ones; substance abuse; infertility issues;

couples who tried too long to stay together for the sake of the children; some with ironclad prenups; some prenups that aren’t worth the paper they were printed on.

And then of course there are cases like this: the gold diggers. Pretty young things who married someone much older, richer, and expected to live pampered lives—until they get caught cheating with the pool boy, and they’re thrown out with the trash.

Katsuki can probably see the appeal—this Chisaki Deku is attractive enough. Brilliant green eyes, lush green curls artfully styled to entice a man to run his fingers through it, the nape and sides shaved in an undercut to show off his jawline.

Expensively dressed, of course. Expensive watch, expensive jewelry. No doubt all paid for by Katsuki’s client.

But there is too much make-up on his face, the foundation thick, and his green eyes, while beautiful, are hard and without warmth.

No matter. They aren’t here for a fun party, and Katsuki can be as hard-assed as the best of them.

The couple have been together for almost 10 years. Deku, of course, didn’t work. No children. No prenup, too—which surprised Katsuki.

Chisaki Kai was already a well-established businessman when this Deku got his claws on him—he should have known to protect himself. But then again, even the most level-headed of men lose their heads when they fancy themselves in love with a pretty face.

They’re in a private meeting room leased for the afternoon from a 4-star hotel. A neutral ground, away from both parties’ offices. Katsuki hadn’t been a fan of the decision—he likes having meetings like this in his own law firm,

in one of the many impressive, purposely-intimidating conference rooms.

But Deku’s lawyer had been insistent; a first volley in this war of wills and attrition. Katsuki smirks. He hasn’t encountered this Kaminari Denki before.

He sounded more competent on the phone. Face to face, Kaminari looks like he’s high on something. Katsuki will probably have fun this afternoon after all.

They sit on either side of the long conference table; the two lawyers directly in front of each other.

Deku busies himself with pouring a glass of water from the silver tray and only sits down after Chisaki has already chosen a seat. He takes the one on the other side of his lawyer, away from his estranged husband.

Kaminari slides over a document containing Deku’s demands as his part of the divorce settlement. It’s a long list. Katsuki’s client barely glances at it, his dark eyes fixed on Deku three seats and a width of the table away. He sits in chilling silence throughout the discussion.

Katsuki isn’t bothered. He has his instructions; he knows what to do.

Pre-nup or no, most of Chiasaki's wealth and business ventures are well-protected, shielded by various corporate veils. They spend close to three hours arguing over the ridiculous list. But Katsuki is better.

He takes away each point w/ relish, arguing Kaminari down to accept lesser amounts and fewer items. With surgical precision, Katsuki pares down everything that Deku demanded until all he’s walking away with are signed divorce papers, and barely enough money to pay for his lawyer.

He’s not getting any of the big properties, not any share of the business. After the ink dries, he’ll have wasted 10 years of his youth and pretty face—the only currency someone like him knows—and would have nothing to show for it.

For Katsuki, it’s all in a day’s work.

“We can go,” Katsuki tells his client. “I can have the papers drawn up and ready for your signature by tomorrow.”

Chisaki’s eyes linger on Deku. “You look good today, Izuku,” he says—the first words he’d uttered in the room after the initial handshakes.

Katsuki and Kaminari had been fixing their papers, sliding folders and documents back into their respective briefcases. Both halt their movements. The words were sweet, but there was something cloying about it, a stickiness one won’t easily shake off.

Deku doesn’t respond to the compliment. He gives a bored sigh. “Is this gonna take longer?” he asks his lawyer.

“No. We’re done,” Kaminari says.

Deku makes a show of not looking in Chisaki’s direction. His full lips are pressed in a pout, impatient, clearly unhappy with how the negotiations turned out.

Katsuki barely stops himself from shrugging. If Deku wanted better results, then he should have hired Katsuki.

Chisaki stands up, buttons his suit jacket, and leaves the room through the heavy double doors. Katsuki moves to follow his client.

It’s but a moment, unplanned, unintended. There is a mirror lining the wall by the doorway and Katsuki catches Izuku’s reflection on his way out.

He's slumped back on his seat, shoulders lowered, mouth slightly open in a small gasp. His green eyes, hard and bitter throughout the meeting, are brimming w/ tears now. But instead of loss and anger as he expected, Katsuki sees in them only relief. A vast overwhelming relief.

“Are you okay?” he hears Kaminari ask, voice low.

Deku nods and turns to him, the movement making the tears spill down his make-up matted cheeks. “Thank you, Kaminari-kun. You don’t know how much you’ve helped me.”

And in that moment, Katsuki can see how Deku managed to snag himself an older, wealthy, more experienced man. Kaminari’s mouth opens much like a fish, completing the stupid look on his face.

But Katsuki can hardly blame him. The smile wasn’t even directed at him, only glimpsed through a reflection, and even his jaded heart thumped hard in his chest in sympathy.

This Deku is a dangerous man. It’s a good thing Katsuki will never see him again.

======

The Chisaki divorce gets finalized. Katsuki barely thinks of either one again. He is busy. Except sometimes, he glimpses someone with green curls in a crowd or seated in a restaurant somewhere, and he remembers green eyes weeping and a smile full of gratitude.

That day, Katsuki only has enough time to rush to the toilet before he starts puking his guts out. He missed lunch again today; he was busy. He’s always busy. His mouth tastes oddly metallic.

“Fuck me.”

The bowl is awash with fresh, red blood.

Katsuki doesn’t remember collapsing. He doesn’t remember hitting his head on the porcelain, doesn’t remember how loud a thud he made as he fell on the bathroom floor, startling the people outside.

He doesn’t remember frantic people hammering on the stall door, how they barged their way in, breaking the lock, but still couldn’t get in because his collapsed body was blocking the door from opening.

He only remembers waking up in the hospital.

=========

“I took the fucking scenic route, alright?” Katsuki growls out, his voice carried by bluetooth speaker to the other end of the call. “Plus I had a long, leisurely lunch. That’s what this trip is all about, right? Slow the fuck down. Take my fucking time. I am NOT lost.”

He isn’t. At least, not anymore. Who in their right mind builds a lake house in the middle of nowhere? Katsuki peers out the dimly-lit road.

“Okay, you’re not lost,” is the patient response to Katsuki’s grousing. “Let me know when you get there, will you?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Katsuki flicks a button on the steering wheel and the call is cut. There’s a barely-there path on the left going off-road that raises Katsuki’s suspicions, but the GPS arrow is pointing confidently towards it.

He mutters a curse on Kirishima’s head once again and heads the car that way.

Twenty minutes later, and some 3 hours off his estimated arrival, he finally reaches his destination. The place is probably beautiful, with enough light and viewed with a proper mindset.

But Katsuki is tired, hungry—his ‘leisurely lunch’ actually just a sandwich from 6 hours ago— and there’s barely any moonlight tonight. Everything is oddly still but noisy at the same time, the croaking all around him sounding too aggressive to his city-born-and-bred ears.

Not for the first time, he wonders how he ever agreed to this: a month in this place for rest and zero stress. He got nagged into it—that’s how! If a serial killer or a platoon of bullfrogs kills him in his sleep, he’s gonna haunt fucking Kirishima forever.

He takes his backpack w/ the laptop in it and a duffel bag of clothes out of the car and gingerly makes his way to the lake house door, the wood planks creaking under him. He juggles bags, keys, and phone for the flashlight, and manages to unlock the door with minimal swearing.

There are groceries in the trunk of his car, but nothing that would suffer overmuch if he left it there overnight. It can wait. He drops the duffel bag on the floor with a thud and checks for a light switch.

His fingers only just touched the plastic panel when he heard the sound of a gun being cocked behind him.

He freezes. Katsuki has never had occasion to handle a gun before, but he’s watched enough TV to recognize the sound.

“I /will/ shoot,” the voice behind him says. The words are trembling but full of conviction. “Don’t think I won’t. I’m not going back to that hell.”

An escaped prisoner then—Katsuki hasn’t heard of a jail break in the news. He closes his eyes. Of all the stupid ways to die.

“I don’t want any trouble,” Katsuki says. “I have a car outside you can take. It has half a tank full of gas. You could still get away.”

Katsuki spares a thought to whoever this man would encounter next in his efforts to escape justice, and pushes it away.

One thing at a time. Survive this first, then he can aid the authorities in recapturing the fugitive.

“Step away from the door. How many of you are there?”

Katsuki follows instructions, keeping his hands up where the other guy can see them. “It’s just me.”

“Put your gun on the ground and kick it away,” the voice says.

“What?”

“What?”

“I don’t have a gun!” Katsuki exclaims.

“You expect me to—. Fine! Your knife then.”

“I don’t have a fucking knife either! I got a cellphone and car keys, that’s it.”

Katsuki can hear the doubt in the silence behind him. “Why the hell would I have a gun or a knife?”

“Your kind of people usually do,” the voice says quietly. “What’s the plan anyway? Kill me? What, suffocate me with a pillow? Or drag me back to him?”

Katsuki’s insides grew colder. The man behind him is paranoid. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Just take the car and go. There’s groceries in it, if you’re hungry. ”

“What?”

“What?”

“Why do you have groceries in your car?” the voice asks, confused.

That almost made Katsuki turn around. “Because I planned to stay for a few days?”

“What?”

Before Katsuki could respond with another ‘what?’, beginning to feel like he’s in an Abbott and Costello comedy sketch, the ceiling lights turn on.

“You don’t look like one of his thugs.”

Katsuki turns around. Slowly. Making sure his hands are still up in plain sight. “I am not a thug.”

He sees messy green hair, meets terrified green eyes.

Instead of being reassured, Chisaki Deku steadies his aim at Katsuki. “YOU! I know you. You’re his asshole lawyer!”

==========

Author's Note: It's waaay past my bedtime so this is where we'll end for the night. Let's hope Deku doesn't shoot Kacchan. He seems pissed 😂

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