Bakugou X Reader X Deku

bakugou x reader x deku

summary: after a 3 year hiatus from dating, you get more than you bargained for. A dating app match and a chance encounter start you on two simultaneous journeys, one with the number one hero: kind, caring, exhausted, and one with the rival he'd outgrown.

authors note - poly ending, no infidelity. smut, bakugou and deku will both dom, reader subs. reader's parents are dead and she's raising her little brother, she's ~28, Midoriya and Bakugou are both 30. some childhood bullying mentions, brief scene in a police station, f!reader. part one. part 2

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” You lean against a chain link fence outside of your little brother’s school. “Kaoru’s young, and he needs me.” 

“Listen,” Your best friend says, dripping syrupy sweetness, “You’re gonna get cobwebs up there if you don’t-” 

“It doesn’t matter,” you say quickly, as kids start pouring out of the double doors at the front of the school. “What matters is that Kaoru’s not ready for me to date, he needs stability. After everything that’s happened, I have to be there for him.” You hear a rush of static, meaning your friend was sighing deeply into the phone. 

“I know you care about him.” She says softly. “I just also care about you.” 

“Thank you,” you catch your brother out of the corner of your eye. “Call you later, Anna.” You hang up quickly, reaching for your brother's backpack. “Hey squirt,” you sling it over your shoulder, “How was school?” He frowns, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

“Fine.” He shrugs. “I have homework.” 

“You wanna grab a snack?” You offer, and he gives you the ghost of a smile. 

“Ice cream?” He asks, and you pretend to think about it. 

“How about tacos?” You counter, touching his shoulder, and he lights up. 

“Yes!” 

__________

You go through a normal routine, takeout aside, logging back on to work while your brother plays some video games in his room. A text pops up from your friend. 

Anna: matchmaker$.com 

Anna: get you and Kaoru a rich sugar daddy

You sigh deeply, glancing over your shoulder when you hear a sound. Your brother has peeked around the corner, tentatively standing at the edge of the kitchen. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks wide eyes as perceptive as ever. 

“Tired from work.” It’s not a lie, exactly. You lean back on your stool, stretching. “You wanna sit down for a bit, give those eyes a rest?” 

“Sitting close to the tv doesn’t hurt your eyes.” He mutters. “Mom just said that so we’d watch less tv.” You laugh, the memory of your stepmother, half frantic in the kitchen as the two of you had your eyes glued to the series finale of Avatar the last Airbender, so engrossed you didn’t realize you were moving closer, washes over you like a gentle wave. 

“She did, yeah.” You pull a stool out and he joins you, resting his arms on the table. “What’s up?” You ask, sensing the tension rather than noticing it. 

“I have friends.” He says. “Just a couple, but um, I like them. They’re nice to me.” 

“Are kids at school not being nice to you?” You immediately cut in, something simmering near the surface evident in your tone. 

“They are!” He flashes his hands, “Calm down. They’re mostly, mostly pretty nice.” He adjusts his glasses. “I just mean, you don’t have friends.” You swallow. 

“I have Anna.” You offer, and he shakes his head. 

“I know people your age usually have more people than that,” He argues, “And you seem lonely. I dunno.” He looks away. “I just, I wanted to ask if it was my fault.” 

“Oh.” Your mouth drops open. “I’m, first of all,” a smile spreads across your face, you can’t even tell if it’s genuine, “First of all, I’m not lonely, I have you, and you are more than enough for me.” He doesn’t let that lie, squirming away from your attempts to hug him. “But um, you know, I see Anna about once a week, maybe once every two weeks. I um, I know people at work-” 

“I didn’t mean friends like that!” He blurts. “I meant like,” he blows out a long breath. “I just don’t want you not doing things because of me. I don’t um,” he looks like he’s struggling for words, this time, when you reach out to touch him, he takes your hand. His palm is clammy. “I don’t want to be the reason you don’t do things. The reason your life is different.” You press your lips together. The unspoken hangs heavily in the air, that your parent's death had changed everything, that you’d dropped out of grad school three years ago to take care of him, that you’d left a promising career track, friends, a boyfriend, all in a different city. You wonder if he understands this, or if somehow, he just senses the little ticking clock that haunts your dreams reminding you that you’re not spending your twenties like the girls you see on Instagram. That you’re not drinking wine on an island in Greece, that you’re not dating, let alone engaged, and that you don’t have a gaggle of girlfriends to post pictures with. Your account had laid dormant for so long you’d forgotten the password. 

“My life is different now,” you squeeze his hand. “It’s true. There’s no getting around that, but honestly, I’d rather be hanging with you,” you elbow him, grinning, “than on a date with some loser who probably has stinky socks.” Your brother wrinkles his nose. 

“Ew. Boys don’t grow out of that?” 

“Unfortunately.” You have a vivid flash of the pile of laundry your ex had left in your apartment. “They do not.” 

“Ok but promise,” Kaoru holds out a pinky finger. “Promise you’re not gonna miss things because of me, in specific?” There’s a gap between his front teeth that means occasionally sometimes the s sounds coming out of his mouth have a slight whistle. 

“I promise.” You reach out and link your pinky with his. “I do.” You put him to bed, and offer to read him a story. Kaoru was 9, and technically your stepbrother, with your father having remarried after your mother left him when you were a child. Still, the resemblance was uncanny, the same face shape, same cheekbones, same light in his eyes at the promise of a story. He’d shunned the idea of being read to, recently, though he’d fallen back into it when you’d first moved back home after his parents had passed. You’d spoken with his doctors, it’s natural for trauma to make children regress, they’d told you. He’d wet the bed for a full year, something you’d never spoken to him about, instead, you’d begun to wake up early and change his sheets while he took a sleepy shower. You’d read to him then, and tonight he lets you do it again. 

“Read me the Deku one,” he begs, flopping hard on his mattress. 

“I absolutely cannot again,” you say, eyeing the Deku plush, the Deku posters, and the Deku pajamas he’s wearing. “How about the funny alien one, are we down for that?” 

“Fine,” he sighs deeply. “I guess it is funny.” 

“The True Meaning of Smekday,” you start, “Chapter three.” He scoots under the covers, and he’s fallen fast asleep by the time you’re four pages in, but you finish the chapter before you turn the light off. Smoothing his hair and tucking him in. 

Was it that obvious? You wonder. The lonely ache that tears at your chest start to awaken now as you pad through your empty childhood home. You trace a framed photo of you in your prom dress, your date had gone on to study software engineering, and he was working for some hotshot startup in Silicon Valley. Your ex in New York had moved on painfully quickly when it became obvious you weren’t moving back. You flop hard on the couch and open your texts from Anna. 

Anna: matchmaker$.com 

Anna: get you and Kaoru a rich sugar daddy

You: it looks like an escort site

Anna: it’s not!!! 

Anna: I know someone that works there, she’ll hook you up 

You sigh deeply. Your cousin Anna was a moderately successful influencer, who had on multiple occasions claimed to be taking you out to lunch only to try and haggle a free meal in exchange for clicks. 

Anna: for realsies. You can’t get the signup link from just anyone, it’s exclusive. 

You: aaaaa are you sure?

Anna: ARE YOU ACTUALLY CONSIDERING

Anna: SHUT UP IM FILLING IT OUT FOR YOU RIGHT NOW

You: ANNA NO

You: Anna, please. Let me. 

Anna; You have fifteen minutes. If you haven't submitted it, I’m gonna do it for you.

You sit straight up on the couch. 

You: Deal. 

Anna: AMAZING 

You pull up the application she sent you on your laptop, and rub your eyes, filling out the questions to the best of your ability about your moral leanings, whether you want children, or you smoke, and then pause, hovering over the final question box. 

Is there anything else we should know about you?

You swallow, hands shaking, and text Anna asking for an extension before going to your cabinet and taking a bottle down, pouring yourself a glass of scotch before sitting back on the couch. The cursor blinks. You take a deep breath. 

Is there anything else we should know about you? 

Moved back home to raise my younger brother after his parents died. Don’t know a lot of people in the city. 

You bite your lip and take a huge gulp of your drink. You delete that. 

Is there anything else we should know about you? 

You pause, staring at the screen for a full five minutes, completely paralyzed, torn between hiding your baggage to make yourself palatable and laying it all out on the table. You down the rest of your drink and then type quickly, before you can stop yourself. 

After my father and stepmother died three years ago, I moved back to this city. I left everything I’d built, relationships, a job, and half a graduate degree. I haven't been on a date in three years, if I was ever competent in bed I’d definitely forgotten anything I knew, and from what I remember of sex I probably remember even less about flirting. I know people feel bad for me. I know it’s pitiable, I know that’s how people see me. 

But what you should know is that I don’t regret it. I can’t bring myself to. Not for a single second, and sometimes that makes me feel bad like I’m not mourning the right way, that it’s fucked that I’m happier now than I ever was on my own, that tragedy gave my life purpose. But it’s the truth, and you should know it. 

You hit send then, refusing to let yourself edit anything else, letting your application zoom off into the internet before flopping back on the couch with a loud groan. 

____

You’re spooning ravioli onto your brother’s plate when your phone buzzes loudly. You jump a mile, you only ever got texts from work or Anna, and both of those had their special text tone. You glance at it. 

UNKWN: Hi y/n! This is Zaire, your matchmaker from the MatchMaker$ service! 

You choke on your orange juice. Your brother notices, raising his eyebrows. You cover to the best of your ability waiting until he’s retreated upstairs to answer.

You: Hi Zaire! This is fast I didn’t expect to hear from you so quickly. 

Zaire: well, Anna put in a good word for you

Zaire: But honestly you scored with such a high percentage of answers with this person I couldn’t let a second go to waste! 

Zaire: don’t let this offput you, but he hasn’t had a lot of matches. I’m going to send you his profile, scrubbed of all identifying information, and you let me know if you’d like to meet up, we will arrange it so you know you’re safe. 

You: aaa ok 

You: suppose it couldn’t hurt to read!

Zaire: That’s the spirit!!

Zaire: MI.exe 

You flip through your file after your brother’s gone to bed, family-oriented, absent father, strong value system, intense career, you squirm a little at the idea of going out with someone who’s so much larger than you, 6’4? However, with that being the only potential red flag you feel you have no choice. 

You: I’m in! I’d like to meet him. 

Zaire: Incredible - first dates are usually just one step above casual, feel free to gut-check your outfit with me, that’s what I’m here for! I’ll make sure neither of you is overdressed. 

Zaire sends you details, a restaurant downtown, a dress code, a time, and the menu in advance, and asks if you have any allergies. You float through your week, banging your head on the cabinet when you open it to get cereal for your brother. He asks you a question though, that catches you off guard, a couple of hours before you leave. You’re attempting an eyeliner look when he comes in and sits on your bed. 

“Can I,” He starts, “How um, how do I, can I ask you something?” You nod, glancing over your shoulder with concern. 

“Anything.” You answer, and he nods. 

“I um,” he fidgets. “How do you stand up for someone else, when you’re smaller?” You put your eyeliner pencil down and come to sit with him on the bed. 

“What’s up?” You ask, leaning back on your palms. 

“There’s a kid in my class,” he mumbles, fixing his glasses, “Some of the older kids pick on him, and he’s told the teachers but they don’t care.” He looks away. “I wanna help, but I uh, I dunno.” 

“Hey, squirt,” you elbow him, “I’m proud of you. For wanting to help, even though I can tell you’re scared.” He nods, fidgeting. “You can’t get into a physical fight, alright, that’s not a good idea.” He looks a little dejected, nodding. “But you’d be surprised how many people back down when you stand up for yourself verbally, most kids are all talk. You can also offer the kid they’re picking on comfort and friendship, and that’s ultimately more valuable than any fighting you could do for him.” 

“Yeah?” Your brother lifts his head. 

“Yeah, be nice to the kid.” You stretch a little, “You can do so much by just being sweet to people, listening to them, making them feel less alone, and they’re less likely to pick on you if there’s two of you.” He nods like he’s thinking about it hard. 

“O-okay.” He adjusts his glasses. “I’m gonna think about that.” You watch him leave, struck for the millionth time by how you’re so unsure about anything you tell him, how much of parenting is stumbling around in the dark pretending you know where you’re going. You’re still thinking about it as you wave to Kaoru and his babysitter, as the uber takes you across town, as you find a small patch on your legs you forgot to shave. You’re a few minutes early, heart racing, considering texting Zaire, considering texting Anna, considering running into the woods and changing your name. You take a deep breath, and no matter what happens tonight, you remind yourself that you’d have Kaoru. That you’d have that house, and the stability that comes with monotony. 

Your first surprise is that while the restaurant is fully staffed, it’s empty. Someone takes your jacket, and you’re so surprised you let a hostess lead you across the room to the only occupied table. You don’t notice the softly crackling fires, the way the light gleams off the dark wood accents on the white walls, the way that even though you’re the only people in the restaurant, every place is set with full silverware and water glasses. You don’t see any of those things, because standing at the side of the table, at a stately 6’4, is the number one pro hero Deku. He’s bigger in person than he is on TV, in a mostly buttoned white shirt that’s impeccably tailored, and a gray suit jacket. You stop walking, surprised, and he touches the back of his neck sheepishly before striding over to you. 

“Hi,” he says quickly, “I assume, um, based on the reaction you know who I am.” You nod, swallowing in an attempt to bring more moisture to your mouth. “Is it a problem?” He towers over you. “Because no pressure, no problem, I can call you an uber, my treat, I don’t want you to think-” 

“It’s fine.” You squeak and then reach out a hand to him. He shakes it awkwardly. “I’m sorry, by the way, if that was weird, I haven’t um, well if you got my file,” you feel your face warm, “Then you know I haven’t been on a date in a while.” He laughs, and the sound is physically warming. 

“It’s not in mine.” He says, giving you a soft smile. “But actually, same.” he steps to the side and pulls out a chair for you, “Ah, please, I’m,” he looks nervous again, “Please, sit.” You do, smoothing your dress as he sits down across from you. “So I’m, I’m Midoriya Izuku.” He offers, and your face warms when you realize you haven’t introduced yourself. 

“Oh ah, Ln Fn.” You take a deep breath. “So you’re um, you’re a pro hero.” He nods. “I’m um, I work in marketing.” He nods again, as a waiter comes by and fills each of your water glasses. “Whatever I was expecting,” you laugh a little, stomach twisting with nerves. “It wasn’t this.” Midoriya nods sheepishly, eyes flicking from the way the firelight is reflecting on the high planes of your face, to the perfect double bow of your lips. 

“You seemed so earnest.” He says, taking a sip of his water. “I’ve been um, I’ve been in the database for a while, I guess I’m difficult to match or something.” He runs his fingers through his carefully parted green curls, “I mean, ah, I don’t want to insinuate that I’m difficult, I think I’m, um,” he thinks about it, “I don’t think I’m difficult.” He finishes lamely. 

“No I get it,” you say quickly, feeling your stomach roil with nerves. “This is weird, please, don’t worry we can um, we can be accommodating of each other’s inexperience, or I suppose, in my case, inefficacy.” He laughs again. 

“Ah, okay, cool. Good.” He scoots his chair in. “So you’ve been in this city for three years?” You nod. “What do you think?” 

“It’s much bigger than where I was,” you consider, as a basket of bread is placed in front of you. “I never thought I’d want to live out here, but I like it a lot.” He nods. “A lot changed in my life very quickly, I guess.” 

“Can I ask what made you want to date again?” His eyes are bright and alive, the same deep green color as his hair. “After three years?” 

“Oh gosh,” you fold forward, “So my father and stepmother passed when Kaoru was six, and um, the thing about grieving while caring for a small child is that you can’t be     externalizing those feelings all the time, even if they’re there.” You look down at your hands in your lap. “I think it was a bit freeing, to just stop all self-focus, and focus on him. He needs me, it’s been easy.” 

“So that’s why you didn’t.” He pushes gently. “I was wondering why you decided to meet me, tonight?” You let out a long slow breath. 

“Kaoru said something to me,” your hands fly to your face shyly, “About being worried that he was ruining my life, or taking things away from me because I’ve just been focused on him, and I um, I thought it’s true, I am lonely.” You pick the menu up, feeling self-conscious. “I feel worse that he noticed, I try to keep my problems off his plate.” 

“I’m sure he’d want to help you.” Midoriya offers, “What’s he like?” He asks and gets the pleasure of watching you light up like a firecracker. 

“He is the best kid,” you smile, exuding warmth, “He’s kind and patient, and so, so smart. He’s in advanced math this year.” You dig in your pocket for your phone instinctively. “Would you wanna see a picture?” 

“Yeah,” Midoriya leans forward in his seat, and the chair underneath him groans a little. You select one of him holding his certificate of excellence from coming third in the spelling bee and turn your phone around to show the pro hero. “He looks just like you,” Midoriya breathes, surprised. 

“He is pretty wonderful.” You put your phone away. 

“Did you have to think about it?” He blurts, and you raise your eyebrows, he adds more context, “Sorry if this is rude, I mean, did you have to think about leaving your old life to come here and do this.” 

“No.” The answer is easy. “It was muscle memory. He’s family.” Midoriya nods thoughtfully. 

“Did you always want to be a hero?” You ask and he nods emphatically. 

“From the day I could pronounce the word,” he thinks about it, “Honestly maybe earlier. I um,” he looks self-conscious again. “I had a pretty lonely childhood, I would have killed to have a sister like you.” 

“I am far from perfect,” something crosses your face, just a flash of darkness, a microexpression, but he picks up on it easily. 

“What’s up?”

“Oh, ah,” you lean back in your seat, “He asked about what he should do if he sees another kid being picked on.” You chew the inside of your cheek. “I’m not sure I gave good advice.” 

“Can I ask what you said?” Midoriya glances down. “And um, I can order for you, if you’d like.” 

“That would be amazing.” You push the menu across the table. “And I said that sometimes offering the person being picked on comfort, and friendship, can be ultimately more powerful than getting into a physical fight.” Midoriya softens immediately, inching his hand across the table towards yours almost instinctively. 

“I agree.” He says quietly, and the waiter comes over. “We’ll have a bottle of the 2007 Pinot Grigio, and,” He turns to you, “Do you like fish?” You nod. “She’ll do the smoked salmon, and I’ll do the filet mignon.” The waiter bows and then disappears. 

“So tell me about you,” You say, feeling awkward, distracted a little by the way his smile is perfect and dazzling. There’s an odd feeling of comfort that comes with his presence, you find your nerves are slipping away. 

“Oh gosh,” he thinks about it, “Aside from work I have some video games I like, spending time with friends, work kind of bleeds into a lot of other parts of my life.” He shrugs. “Everywhere I go people know who I am.”     

“That sounds exhausting.” You give him a weak smile. “I’m definitely on the introverted side.” 

“Me too!” He blurts excitedly and gives you for the first time, a less practiced, less polished smile. It’s boyish and genuine, your heart does a backflip in your chest. The conversation continues, warmth creeping up your cheeks as food comes and goes, as the bottle of wine empties. His hand inches across the table, and lands less than a centimeter from where yours is resting, but you don’t touch, just sit there millimeters apart for the entire dinner. The light outside dies, and eventually, you sigh and check your phone. 

“I had to pay a babysitter,” you confess reluctantly. “I’ve got to be home before midnight.” Midoriya looks shocked, checking his own phone. 

“It’s so late,” He murmurs, “I hadn’t realized.” He stands then and offers you a helping hand out of your chair. “I’d meant to um,” he shakes his head, “I’d meant to tell you around nine, to ask if you had a sitter, or a friend watching your brother.” You shake your head. “But I lost track of time.” Without thinking, you slip your hand into his, and he pulls you slightly closer so that your shoulders brush. 

“We could share an uber home?” You offer. He looks embarrassed. 

“I have a driver.” He confesses. “If you don’t mind me knowing where you live, I’ll have him drop you off.” 

“Oh gosh, isn’t your apartment in the center of the city? It’s out of your way.” You turn to him, and he laces his fingers in between yours. 

“I really would just love to spend the extra half hour with you.” He says, looking sheepish again, “If that’s alright.” A slow warm smile, the kind of involuntary girlish reaction you hadn’t felt in years, spreads across your face. 

“I’d love that.” He squeezes your hand. 

“Good.” He helps you into your coat, even though it’s summer, the night air is cold. Before you can do anything, he presses some bills into the hand of the woman working coat check, and you’re suddenly struck by the fact that no bill had been presented. As if he can read your mind, Midoriya speaks up. 

“I paid while you used the restroom.” He slips an arm around your waist as the two of you walk out of the restaurant and onto the sidewalk. “I didn’t want to give you a chance to reach for your wallet.” You laugh. 

“I’ll get you next time.” You offer, and he rubs a circle on your waist. 

“No,” He murmurs, as the car pulls up in front of you and he lets go of you, opening the door. “I don’t think I’ll be letting you do that.” 

“I have to pay some time,” you argue, scooting across the seat and he laughs, getting in after you and closing the door. 

“No.” He says again. “You don’t.” He looks nervous for a single second before reaching a hand out tentatively towards you. Your heart thrums in your chest, and you slide across the expensive leather seat underneath it. He wraps a huge arm around you, and sighs. “It’s nice to be close to someone,” he says, the words falling from his lips before he can stop them, fuck, what an odd thing to say to a person, he probably sounded like some virginal-

“It is,” you sigh, relaxing against him, cutting off his internal monologue. He smells good, like sparkling citrus and pine, and he touches you so gently that your eyes nearly drift shut. “Sorry,” you look up at him, “I’m exhausted, and it’s only Thursday.” He laughs a little at that.

“Thanks for making a weeknight work,” he says, “I have a few things I gotta do for work this weekend.” 

“Oh, like saving the city?” You suggest brightly, “Rescuing damsels in distress?”

“There are a few kittens in trees,” He confirms grimly, “Someone gotta get them down.” You giggle, and the sound knocks the breath from his chest. “Or I’d want to see you again.” He blurts, and you laugh, looking nervous and shy. “Right away, I mean, but I can maybe, I could see you late on Saturday?” You nod. 

“Yeah, I could do that.” You hand him your phone. “Put whatever bat signal I should use to contact you in here.” 

“The bat signal is antiquated.” He tells you, pulling his sleeve back to reveal a silver chain bracelet. “This vibrates if they need me.” You look for a clasp on the bracelet and realize there isn’t one. He must never be able to take it off. 

“They can just call you? Any time?” You ask, and he shrugs. 

“That’s the deal. I don’t get a lot of private time, but uh,” he reaches out and cups your face, thumb sinking into the plush of your cheek. “Maybe we don’t have to talk about work right now?” 

“Maybe.” You whisper, and he leans down, pressing his lips to yours softly. You feel a bundle of nerves burst in your stomach, but he guides you, one hand on your face, one on your hip. It’s soft, and a little sweet, but there’s a needy undercurrent, it’s been a long time since either of you has been touched. You’re not sure who initiates the movement, you’d both deny it if asked, but you slide into his lap, straddling him, and he guides the movement, hands flying to your back, squeezing you against him. 

“Wait,” he lifts you effortlessly, adjusting your weight on his thighs, before kissing you again, it’s tender and deft, and the car moves through the city, panes of light passing over the two of you. Your hands move up to tangle in his hair, and even at the slightest tug, he groans into your mouth, holding you tighter, hands squeezing your thighs, your waist, your hips. You keep kissing, feeling the hum of the engine radiating through your bodies,  you hold him tightly and he reciprocates until the car slows to a stop and he pulls away, pressing his forehead to yours, eyes closed. You sit like that, in the quiet, for a full five minutes before he releases your thighs. You expect him to be embarrassed, sheepish maybe like he had been in the restaurant, but instead, his eyes sparkle in the darkness in a way that makes you feel very small and soft. He sits up and cups your face, pressing his lips to your forehead. 

“Can I give you my number?” You whisper, feeling silly, and he nods. You palm your phone to him and watch him text himself. He glances at your house, at the fence around the yard, at the porch with furniture on it. He struggles with something that it would take you time to understand. 

“Be safe, for me, huh?” He kisses you again. 

“I will.” You promise, not entirely sure what he means. He opens the car door for you, and when your feet hit the pavement it’s a hard rush back to reality. The light in your brother's room flicks off, and you sigh, before turning back to the car. 

“I’d walk you to the door, but uh,” He starts, and you shake your head. 

“It’ll be a bit before I’d want you to meet him, I just-” You manage, and he flashes his palms, cutting you off. 

“Of course.” He grins. “See you Saturday.” 

“See you Saturday,” you repeat, then nearly trip on the uneven sidewalk. Immediately you feel strong arms around your body and feel a strong breeze blow your hair back, as Midoriya catches you, and stands you back up, hands lingering on your waist for a second. 

“Breaking promises already,” He teases. “I said safe.” 

“Yes, yes sir,” you say weakly, opening your gate. “Night, Midoriya.” His cheeks go a little red, it’s been a long time since a woman even called him by his family name. 

“Goodnight.” You float up the walkway and into the house, and check in with the babysitter, getting yourself a glass of water before padding up the stairs to check on Kaoru. His fake sleeping is good, but not perfect, you see the white-knuckled grip he’s got on the stuffed animal that’s always on the floor when you come in to wake him up. 

“Hey squirt,” You say softly, sitting on the edge of the bed, and admire the care he puts into the performance. “How was it?” He rubs his eyes. 

“It was okay.” He mumbles. “I get scared when you go places.” You take his hand, rubbing a tiny circle in it. “I’ve talked to Patrice about it.” 

“Good.” Patrice was the therapist Kaoru spent an hour with twice a week, sometimes they’d talk, and sometimes he’d just color. “Are you anxious right now?” His mouth twists. 

“I don’t want you to think you can’t go out because I’m a baby,” tears, probably exacerbated by the fact that he’s awake well past his bedtime, start to well in his eyes. “But it’s hard.” His voice is small and pinched, you reach around and give him a squeeze, heart racing when you realize he’s in his Deku pajamas. 

“I promise.” You whisper. “I promise to always come home.” He nods, wiping his eyes, scowling. “You want me to read to you?” He nods again, and you get up and take the book off of the shelf. 

______

You’re sitting at your desk the next day when your phone buzzes, again with the generic ringtone that makes you jump. You avoid the odd looks from your coworkers at your borderline theatrical gasp and check to see who it is. 

Midoriya: I’m distracted 

Midoriya: that doesn't happen often, I’m trying to do paperwork and I’m thinking about you. 

You: oh dear 

You: perhaps you shouldn’t see me again

Midoriya: or perhaps I should see you sooner 

Midoriya: all joking aside I had a wonderful time with you. 

You: I did too!

Midoriya: did everything go alright with the babysitter? 

You: ah sort of 

You chew your lip, wondering how honest you could be without turning him off, without revealing more than Kaoru would want you to share with his hero. 

You: if I tell you something you have to promise not to be weird about it. 

Midoriya: deal 

Midoriya: but if this is about press coverage of me I promise I’m never dating whoever the magazine is printing me with 

You: oh oh no

You: it’s about Kaoru

Midoriya: Okay, shoot. 

You: he still freaks out a bit when I go anywhere, especially at night. Because his parents died in a car accident coming home from a date

Midoriya: ahhh

Midoriya: I understand

Midoriya: Can I say something maybe too forward to you? 

You: go ahead haha

Midoriya: you’re putting a lot of pressure on yourself to be a perfect parent, but not only are you not his parent, but the idea of perfection is also ridiculous 

Midoriya: you’re doing your best. 

You: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

You: that’s very kind of you.

Midoriya: you didn’t internalize a word of what I said, huh?

You: oh absolutely not. 

Midoriya: we’ll work on it. Saturday. I’m 90% sure I’ll have a few hours off. 

You: I’m looking forward to it. 

You put your phone down, hunching over your laptop, when it buzzes again, this time it’s a phone call. You swipe to answer, standing and bringing it to your ear, speaking in a hushed voice as you jog to the stairwell at your office for privacy. 

“Hello,” your voice is hushed. “Can I help you?” 

“Ms. L/n?” The woman at the end sounds bored. “We picked up your brother, this is the District four police station.” 

“Oh, my god.” Fear clutches at your heart. “Is he alive?” Your world shifts and the ground slides out from under you. 

“Yes, ma’am,” the woman says, “He’s alive, just started a fight with some other kids. You’ll have to come down and see if they wanna press charges.” 

“He’s nine,” you snap, suddenly on the defensive, “I, he’s-” 

“Ma’am you really oughta come down here.” You take a deep breath and hang up the phone. You barely grab your things, forgetting your jacket and clattering down the staircase, unwilling to wait for the elevator. You fly across town, and stammer your way through the front desk, so nervous you’re visibly trembling, but none of the cops will tell you where he is, they just direct you to a waiting area where there are two women already. They’re much older than you, with bleached hair and expensive outfits. 

“Are you his mother?” One of them snaps. “Tachi Momo,” she says, introducing herself angrily, “If your mongrel of a son put his hands on my child-” 

“And I’m Honda Yuki,” the other woman says, standing and turning to you, “And you bet your ass we’ll be pressing charges, there was a pro hero who saw the whole thing, your son antagonized and then hit my son,” she inspects you, you’re frozen, rooted to the spot, so angry speech is failing you. “Typical.” She scoffs. “Of course, have a baby out of wedlock and raise a delinquent.” 

“Shoulda let the state raise it.” The other woman says catlike eyes narrowed. 

“I’m his sister,” you snap, so angry you’re visibly shaking, “First of all, and second of all Kaoru’s the smallest kid in his grade, there’s no fucking way he antagonized your kids, he’s shy and intelligent, he’s,” you search within yourself, “And brilliant and kind.” You take another step towards them. 

“If you come any closer,” one of them says haughtily. “I'll have you charged with assault, my husband works for the mayor, you know, they don’t send siblings to prison together-” 

“No one’s goin’ to prison.” A deep voice cuts through the small room and you turn to see a huge hulking man standing in the doorway. He’s blonde, with a scar on the right side of his face and an extremely recognizable costume. Black and orange, with touches of green. He leans against the door frame and then lumbers forward. “I saw the whole thing.” He touches your shoulder. “Two older kids picked on the little one, he got a good hit in before I jumped in. Their kids are coolin’ off in the holding cell. Kaoru’s in a waiting room.” You whirl around, and he reads the desperation in your face, the fear, and softens. “Let’s go see him, yeah?” 

“Wait just a minute,” One of the women says, “You put my Rindou in a holding-” 

“Yeah,” Pro hero Dynamight turns around, an evil grin on his face, “Ya want a cell of your own, or are ya gonna keep your fuckin’ trap shut?” The woman looks scandalized but backs down immediately. He squeezes your shoulder. “This way.” You wordlessly, still shaking, follow him down a hallway and into a stairwell. He lets the heavy door shut behind you. “You want a second?” He asks quietly. “I can see your hands shakin’.” 

“Oh my god,” you choke out, covering your face with your hands and leaning against the wall. “He’s,” you try to take a deep breath, and find you can’t, your eyes well with hot tears, “He’s all I have.” You manage, before starting to cry, the endorphins of the last half hour breaking over you. “He’s,” you try again, “Please, he’s such a good, a good kid.” Dynamight stands in front of you, unreadable, arms crossed. You give yourself ten good seconds of breathing slowly before looking back at him. “Thank you, I can’t, I’ll never be able to repay you, you’re um,” you wipe your face, “Oh god you’re such a big deal I can’t believe you were there and you cared about some kid, I-” 

“‘S my job to protect people.” He interrupts you. “I was on patrol, just doin’ my job, they pay me enough you don’t owe me shit.” You shake your head, brushing off his words. 

“You don’t understand,” you nearly start crying again. “Sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m a mess, I-” he hands you a handkerchief from his pocket and you wipe your face with it. It comes away sooty and stained with your makeup. 

“It’s alright,” he shrugs, “You uh, you got some,” he gestures to your cheek, where your tears have left a huge black smudge from your eyeliner. You rub at it hard, but it only spreads the makeup around. He takes the handkerchief from you, and holds your chin steady with one hand, wiping delicately at it with the other. He inspects you clinically, wide innocent eyes, pretty even when you were sobbing, and you’d been ready to go toe to toe with the bitchiest woman he’d ever met. He takes his time, feeling your pulse racing under your skin, measuring the way you’re willing to make eye contact, and decides you must not be starstruck at all. Good. “Got it.” He withdraws his hands and you sigh. 

“Thank you.” You take a deep steading breath. “Is he okay?” 

“Little black eye,” Dynamight confirms. “But he’s pretty chilled out, I uh,” he looks a little sheepish, fuck he’d have done more if he’d realized the kid had such a pretty legal guardian, “I got him a coloring book.” You light up like he said he’d handed Kaoru a million dollars. 

“You’re a lot nicer than you seem on TV,” you grant him a dazzling smile, “I’m ready, if you um, if you can show me where to go.” He nods, and leads you out of the stairwell, and further down the hallway to a room filled with kids' toys and books. Kaoru’s alone, sitting at a table. His glasses are gone, and he’s sporting a huge bruise below one eye, but he looks calm, though you can see puffiness in his face, he’d cried hard not too long ago. You push the door open and run inside, he gets up and you swing him off his feet, hugging him tightly. He holds you back, burying his face in your neck. 

“I’m sorry about my glasses,” he says, and you can hear how much he’s been crying in his voice. “They broke, I know you said if I lost them again-” 

“I don’t care.” You cut him off, “I don’t care, I'm just so glad you’re okay.” He nods, and Dynamight turns to leave, cursing himself for not finding a way to get your number. At that moment, a young woman pokes her head into the room. 

“Ms. L/n, we have some paperwork for you to fill out.” You sigh, putting Kaoru on the ground again. 

“Be right back.” You pat his head, and look to Dynamight, “Is it too much to ask you to wait with him for a few minutes, I-” 

“Not at all.” He interrupts you. “Get outta here.” You follow the woman out and spend the next few minutes signing Kaoru out. When you return, you hover at the door, listening to the conversation. 

“So if you’re fightin’ someone bigger than you,” you hear the pro hero say, “First of all ya should run, I don’t want your sister comin’ in and kickin’ my butt for givin’ your ideas.” You hear Kaoru giggle. “But if they got your back against a wall, whatcha gotta do is use their momentum against ‘em. Like this.” There’s some sound of movement, you assume a demonstration occurs. 

“Woah,” You hear Kaoru say. 

“But don’t pick fights or ah, if you do, you didn’t hear anythin’ from me, got it?” Dynamight rasps. 

“Got it,” Kaoru repeats, and that’s when you re-enter the room. You observe the scene, Dynamight is squatting on the rug, even bent like this he’s still taller than Kaoru standing up. 

“Hey,” He says, grinning sheepishly at you. “We were just-” 

“Don’t worry about it.” You wave to Kaoru, “Got your stuff?” He nods. “How about ice cream?” you watch your brother's face split into a smile. 

“Can Dynamight come?” he asks, tugging on your shirt, “Please, please, he deserves ice cream too.” 

“Ah,” you look over at him nervously. “I’m sure he’s very busy.” 

“My shift ended half an hour ago.” He admits. “I was on my way out when I heard those women talkin’ to you like that.” You swallow and squeeze your brother. “I’ll come with ya little man.” He reaches out and ruffles Kaoru’s hair. “There’s uh,” he says, “There’s a place around the corner, but d’ya mind if I change outta my suit? I don’t wanna attract too much attention. If a villain picks a fight with me you’ll get in the way.” You nod, but a few minutes later when he meets you in the waiting room, tall, broad, and handsome, you can’t imagine he’ll attract any less attention than he did when he was wearing his costume. His shirt is black, as are his pants, and the baseball cap he’s got on backward might obscure his identity, but his hulking silhouette gives him away completely. 

Kaoru chatters happily to him at the ice cream parlor down the street, and you can’t help but watch the way he nods, the way he engages the younger boy, swallowing his hand in a high five when Kaoru starts to talk about the flat teeth apatosauruses have. 

“They like plants,  yeah?” He says, and Kaoru nods, rewarding him with a gap-toothed smile. 

“I gotta pee,” Kaoru announces, darting off to the bathroom gleefully. You let out a long breath. 

“You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to.” You say quietly, unwilling to make eye contact with the blonde. “I, I understand that you probably have important or cool things to do.” 

“What makes ya think I wanna go back to my empty apartment so bad?” He says, adjusting the baseball cap. “He’s a sweet kid.” 

“I’ll never be able to repay you.” You lean forward, and there’s something in the plainness of the statement that hits him hard. “Not ever.” 

“That’s my job,” he protests and you shake your head. 

“He’s my whole world.” Your lips twitch. “Fuck, and you know what, it’s not your job to stand up for people like me. I know plenty of people who would have let those bitchy moms lay into me.” His chest puffs out a bit. 

“Yeah, well, not on my watch.” He looks down at your melting ice cream. “If ya, If ya want. No pressure. I’d love to take you out sometime.” You couldn’t have been more shocked if he’d thrown the cone in your face. 

“What?” 

“I,” his ears color but he plows forward. “Think you’re really pretty.” He grins, some of his confidence returning. “Plus,” he looks over at Kaoru’s empty seat, “Can’t let spend all your money on Deku merch for the kid.” That makes you giggle. “Think he’d like a Dynamight plush? They’re sold out in most places but,” he grins, leaning back in his chair. “I know a guy.” 

“Do you?” You grin, leaning forward. 

“You got some ice cream on your face.” He informs you slyly, and you feel  your skin burn with embarrassment as he takes the upper hand again, “Nah,” he watches you wipe your mouth, “Not there.” You wipe your cheek. “Not there either.” 

“Where?” You whine, a touch of petulance to your tone. 

“Here.” He reaches out, and flicks a finger in your ice cream, smearing it on your nose. “See, you-” 

“Dynamight!” You giggle, unable to stop yourself from swatting at him. He grins widely, showing off sharp canines and his mean smile. “I can’t believe you just did that!” You swat at him again and he ducks it easily. 

He drives you home, and insists on it, patting Kaoru on the head before leaning against his car door. 

“So what about it?” He says arms crossed in a way he knows makes his muscles bulge. “Gonna let me take you to dinner?” You think about Midoriya, think about his soft smile, his intelligence, his dark, needy kiss. It’s been a few years, though, since anyone has asked you out, and the more you think about it the more you realize there’s no way he’s just seeing you, right, he’s the number one pro hero? 

“Yeah,” you grin, handing him your phone. “I’d like that. I have plans on Saturday, but maybe sometime next week?” He nods, texting himself on your phone as Kaoru dashes inside. “What do you want to do?” He shoots you a shit-eating grin. 

“Bring the kid. I’ll cook.” 

“You want me to bring Kaoru?” You raise your eyebrows. He shrugs, glancing up at the house. 

“I gotta figure you’re getting a babysitter for your plans on Saturday, that’s expensive but what I’m thinking is that Kaoru’s probably not used to you bein’ away, and you won’t be able to focus on me if you’re thinking about him. And I want you focused on me.” You can’t fight the soft smile that spreads across your face, and he’s got one to match, patting your shoulder. “I’ll see ya on Sunday. Cool?” You nod. 

“Yeah,” You feel the weight of the day fall off your shoulders. “Cool.” 

____

“You can’t be fucking serious.” Anna flops on your bed, watching you try on the dress you’d picked up especially for your date on Saturday. “Two pro heroes?” You sigh deeply, twirling a little, inspecting your body in the dress. 

“I am so nervous.” You confess. “For either of them, Anna, they’re tall and handsome and cool and I am this,” you gesture to your body, “The most action I’ve seen in years is from the vibrator in my desk.” 

“Oh god,” She rubs her eyes. “Well don’t say that to them.” 

“I wouldn’t!” You protest. “I wouldn’t, I wouldn’t, I swear.” You rake your fingers through your hair. “I’m sure I can find a way for this to blow up in my face, like, absolutely positive.” She shrugs. 

“Or you could stop being anxious and enjoy the ride.” 

“I am incapable of that.” You lean into the mirror and blend your under-eye concealer a little more. 

“Shame.” She smirks. Shameful.”

hi! if you liked it, please rb. if you wanna be tagged in the next part, make sure you have your age in ur bio and send me an ask. I cannot keep track of comments asking to be tagged adhd too bad you Must Send Me An Ask! thank you.

part two