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Side Note To Fan Fic Authors
Here’s the thing.
I read a lot of scripts. A lot. From professionals to aspiring writers to complete newbies. Features and pilots. Specs and treatments.
And 8 times out of 10 the fan fic that I’ve read over the last, oh, 15 years is leagues better than this stuff. It’s more inspired. It’s more compelling. It’s genre bending and creative and heartfelt. It’s well-paced and intense and funny and sexy and meaningful. It’s smart and thoughtful and good. It’s novel-quality. Better than, sometimes.
Rare is the script I don’t want to put down, but how often have we stayed up until 3am to get to the last chapter of a 100k fic? And it’s not even a fan fic author’s day job. This is what they do on the side. In their spare time. For free.
So my point is, fan fic authors, you’re good. You’re good writers and great storytellers. I know it doesn’t always feel like it, especially if you’re one of the authors who’s not a BNF and doesn’t get the notes/hits that a few do. And because some people still view fic as “not real writing.” You guys know the shit that gets made into movies. You’re better than that. So be better than that. If writing is what you think want to do, then just know you’re already doing it. You’ve already started.
And you’re more talented than you might think.
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Had a dream this morning that Archive of our Own had a Random button which would simply take you to a random fanfic, like Wikipedia has. (AO3 does not appear to really have this, I checked and couldn’t find one, but I kinda wish they did.) Someone had started a game where whatever fic you got, that was your new fandom, which is very fun! I would love this meme in real life.
The problem came in where so many people used the button that it broke and just started sending everyone to Stealing Harry, and like…I have fond memories of Stealing Harry but it’s not my best work and nobody should be assigned to be a Harry Potter fan in this day and age.
So I decide to go off and find Astolat and demand she fix this but when I finally did (there was a whole quest) she turned to me like the baddie in a horror flick and said, “But that’s the most random story there is” in a dark voice and I was terrified and woke up.
In the cold light of day I know there are more random stories by me on the archive, let alone by others, but I’m not going to try to get back there to argue my case. Pretty sure whatever I spoke to was actually the demon specifically assigned to plague fandom and not Astolat at all.
I’d say “get thee behind me, demon” but I know just how many porny fics on AO3 begin with that premise. (I’ve written some.) Begone foul spirit, and take your Satanic Panic with you!
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I’m just saying summertime rendering had the most absolutely satisfying ending I’ve ever seen in an anime and when I tell you I’m buying the manga immediately I-
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★ 【小刀】 「 1 // 2 // 3 」 ☆ ✔ republished w/permission ⊳ ⊳ follow me on twitter
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I’ve had Shinpei for an episode and I’ve declared him the new love of my life
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just read the entirety of summertime rendering. man, this manga really has representation for all sorts of people huh. jock girls who will beat the shit out of you with her fists. little sisters with inferiority complexes. dissociating orphan boys. autistic women with- and i can’t stress this enough- HUGE badonkers. repressed lesbian eldest daughters. guy who dies a lot and a girl who dies almost as much. dead little boys. dead little girls. white people in japan. kids who grew up on tiny fishing islands yet somehow never learned how to swim. cannibals. three hundred year old gamers. the most convoluted one way love triangle involving 2 pairs of siblings and none of it is technically incest. there’s also a grandpa with a gun
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Bumping 2000s hits this morning and thinking why was my mother letting me sing It Wasn’t Me that loud on the way to school when I was 7
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thinking barber!katsuki (?)
you take your little brother to the big boy salon for the first time, having been there multiple times yourself since your youth to watch your father get his hair cut. walking in, it’s all old, familiar faces.
what you don’t take into account is the new head of blond hair that’s taken up a spot in the midst of it all, looking as if he’s just finished up with a customer.
“bakugou’ll take you. here, i’ll call him over.” your father’s usual barber, and owner of the shop, calls the scowling man over. the blond’s biceps flex under his white button-up, the sleeves rolled up to reveal the subtle veins in his forearm. intimidating.
“he’s new but the kid’s plenty good,” the owner looks to your brother. “he don’t bite, but if he does, just spritz him.” the blond’s scowl that was already embedded before has now made a permanent home at the older man’s words but takes your brother nonetheless.
your hand still hovers over your mouth in shock as you watch the two walk away, bringing snickers out of the older man next to you. “don’t worry, hun. he may look like a hooligan but he’s nice—and not just for customers.”
you turn to the owner in question, quirking your head. in an almost comedic manner, the owner discreetly whispers to you behind the back of his hand. “and he’s single too.”
a wink and a cheeky smile makes you scoff with heat crawling up your neck, looking away to focus on your brother. though once you’re able to fully take the sight in, it’s almost as if your brother had never been nervous in the first place. chatting his ear off, you brother talks animatedly to the blond—bakugou. bakugou’s scowl has been replaced with a gentle smile, one that seems reserved and thoughtfully shown. he nods along to your brother’s words, patiently taking them in before dishing out an appropriate response.
it’s as bakugou is readying his tools, that his eyes meet yours. it’s quick and sudden before you break away from him, thumbs twiddling in nerves. maybe it was just you, but despite the briefness of it, you felt a sparking connection—
“oh you want my sibling’s number? yeah, they’re single, so you should definitely shoot your shot.”
your brother really couldn’t have said it louder. over your silent embarrassment, you can’t help but suppress your laughter, all the while the owner full on howls at your brother, slapping bakugou on the back and shooting him a promising look.
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Clairvoyance
Bakugou x fem!reader
warnings: angst if you can pick up on what’s happening
a/n: Hey I’m attempting a stylistic choice for this one since apparently people only read dialogue and skim fics. Enjoy!
He’s not gonna answer.
He’s not gonna answer.
Do you even want him to answer?
Doesn’t matter, he’s not going to answer.
The phone rings and rings and rings. It’s 4:28AM.
“Who… the fuck…is this.. And do you know what time it is?”
You hold your breath, pull your lip between your teeth and stay quiet on the other line.
Tell him. Tell him why you called. Don’t be stupid. This is serious.
“Umm…hey Bakugou I–”
A hint of familiarity and then an affirming groan as he confirms your identity.
“It’s 4 AM. What the he–”
“I had a dream about you!”
The words spill out of you before you’re able to put a blockade on your thoughts.
Silence follows the sentence, moving slowly like the tortoise behind the hare.
Seconds pass, then minutes, and when it’s silent for too long he sighs.
“Ya gonna elaborate or what?”
“I had a dream about you so…so you know what that means…”
You shouldn’t have called. You shouldn’t have said anything. In fact, it’s strictly against all the rules you’ve made for yourself living with this curse of a quirk.
“When?”
Your voice trembles.
“Tomorrow.”
“How?”
“Not pleasant.”
“Violent?”
Your answer is barely a whisper.
“...yes.”
Another deep breath, surprisingly calm given the information being shared.
“Why’d you tell me? Ain’t you supposed to keep it all to yourself.”
Another whisper.
“...yes.”
“So… why didn–”
“I couldn’t. Not when it’s you.”
More silence, too silent, deathly quiet.
Shadows loom, the chill covers your bones, your breathing wavers and then salty tears slide down your cheeks.
“I’m sorry.”
“Tch, don’t apologize ta me. I don’t need pity.”
“It’s not pity. It’s genuine remorse.”
“Why?”
“Because I want nothing more than for it to be false.”
“But it ain’t.”
“No.”
“And I can’t stop it.”
“...no.”
Five seconds of silence.
“Where are you at right now?”
“I don’t want to tell you.”
“Outside?”
A sigh of defeat.
“Yes.”
“Right now?”
“Yes.”
The curtains in the window you’re staring up at pull back, and there’s a man staring down at you, brow furrowed, shirtless, pants hanging low on his hips and surprisingly, no scowl.
“Tsk, worrisome fool.”
“I know.”
He disappears and the curtains swing ominously back and forth.
A door opens on the bottom level and there he is again, staring and beckoning you over to him with a lazy nod.
You meet him, put your ear to his chest, feel the warmth of his palms on the small of your back.
Despite the calm that radiates from him, his heartbeat is racing.
Thump thump thump in your ears.
Like a drum. Announcing the end of a performance. Revealing the end.
“Guess I took too long ta ask but better late than never.”
“Ask what?”
“Ya wanna be my girl?”
Your eyes pop open and meet his ruby stare.
He doesn’t look sad, more frustrated but content.
It’s funny, to finally hear the words you’ve been waiting to hear from him.
“Only til tomorrow. Then you can fuck around with whoever ya want. But for today…Be Mine.”
You laugh and it’s loud in the dark of the morning.
His hand caresses your cheek, wipes the wetness from it with his fingers.
There isn’t anything you’ve ever wanted more.
“So whaddya say? Mine?”
“Yours. Today. Tomorrow. Always.”
–
leave a note in the comments if you can get the gist of what’s going on. I’m genuinely curious.
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When Mitsuki walks in the room for the fourth time since her son took on the arduous task of making homemade chocolates, the latter finally regrets the phone call he made earlier this week.
“Just make sure you leave my kitchen like you found it,” she says, leaning ever so slightly on the kitchen island. Katsuki considers a sharp remark, but is too nervous counting down minutes and seconds in his head before turning the chocolate on the stove. She also has a good reason to be concerned - the kitchen is now as cluttered as the recesses of her perfectionist son’s mind, mixing bowls of various sizes and shapes strewn all over the place, along with strawberries, smears of white, milk and dark chocolate and wooden and plastic spoons, measuring and otherwise.
“Got it,” he replies, gruffly. She crosses her arms and readjusts her position as she watches her son work. His apron is coming loose and he has a worried expression on his face as he moves from surface to stove to other surface. She would fix it for him but that would only serve to prickle him further.
“I thought it was odd you asked to borrow the kitchen, but now seeing all this-” she waves vaguely at the scene with one hand - “I think I get it.”
Bakugou narrows his eyes at her but gets back to work. Mitsuki is frankly quite fascinated at how diligent he is at the task - while she’s always known him to be careful, for once he seems��� stressed. It’s in the wrinkle in his nose as he turns melted chocolate over and fiddles with instructions and powdered sugar, and it’s in the way that he looks carefully at assorted molds and prepares his dipping sticks in advance… she wonders if you are the first to make him feel this way… this anxious to impress.
She walks over and with the tiniest of spoons scoops a bit of chocolate out of the pot which earns her the rise she’s been trying to poke out of him for the past hour.
“I need every bit of that, what are you-”
Mitsuki smacks her lips together then tosses the tasting spoon in the sink. It’s delicious, as she expects, and she knows you’ll love it but it still needs something.
“Try a little bit of vanilla,” she offers. “I have some in the pantry… premium stuff, if you’re interested.”
Bakugou blinks, then deflates back to normal. And yet somehow, he seems to light up as he asks:
“Where?”
Mitsuki shakes her head.
“You don’t visit enough,” she says instead, bopping him gently on the head, but as she rolls her eyes and turns, she smiles. “Let me go grab it.”
As she runs to the pantry, she thinks about how much she can’t wait till he brings you home.
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What @strafepanzer should be insane about tonight. *Clears throat*
Single mom you at the beach corralling your kids around the waves struggling to be wonder woman when one baby is gunho ready to dive nose first into the waves and the other doesn't even want the ocean touching their toes but refuses to let you pick him up.
30 year old Katsuki, who is supposed to be relaxing, can't help but watch you, with your hair tied up nice and your sunglasses and your typical one piece because almost all moms think they need to hide what their children did to their bodies like Katsuki didn't have the upmost respect for women in general.
He doesn't see a ring on your finger but he tells himself it's the beach. He should mind his own business until you're more spirited baby rushes in while your shyer one screams their head off at the approaching wave stealing all of your attention.
The fearless, the youngest , rushes into the wave as it's about to break, sure to swallow the tyke whole and tossel them a bit too much, sure to make them scared of the water as they wash up a salty sobbing mess.
But Katsuki is quick, quicker than nature as he lands beside your kid, picking them up under their arms but not fully over his head, lifting them so that it was as if they "dove" through the wave without ever putting their head underwater. They squeal with excitement.
"Again again! Dynamight again!" This pulls your attention and you gasp audibly.
"Dy-dynamight. S-sir. I'm so sorry. She just is such a free spirit and you had to-"
"It's fine." He cuts you off, coming in a bit much to the girls dissatisfied pout, he offers to trade you kids, "I'll take this one."
He gets onto the kids level, hands on his knees, the kid takes a step back as the ocean washes over Bakugou's ankles.
"Ya see, ocean ain't that bad if ya respect her." He looks down to his feet, sinking into the sand a bit and the kid watches, "Wanna try?"
"What if- what if my shorts get wet?"
"Then yer ma will wash 'em."
"What-what about sand in them!"
"It'll rinse out under the shower."
Then the truth is uncovered as the boy leans closer and whispers into Bakugou's ear while you watch your shy son while your girl dances in the waves while holding your hand.
"What if I get stung?"
"By what, mate? A jelly?" Bakugou asks and he nods his head, Katsuki dead pans, "Then ya get stung."
Bakugou shrugs, keeping eye contact with the kid who's face quickly turns to shock.
"BUT IT'LL HURT!"
"Like hell but lissen." He turns his face and tilts his head upward to show a deep fisher across his chest and throat, "See this? Got this fighting a bad guy, knew one day I'd get hit good but that never stopped me."
"But you're a hero! You've gotta save the day."
"Nah I'm just a guy with a shit temper most days. 'Sides sometimes ya gotta be your own hero. For some people that looks like beating up bad guys, others it looks like risking getting stung by a jelly cause ya wanna feel the ocean."
The kid looks up at him for a long long time and you blink slowly thinking maybe Bakugou broke your kid especially since he didn't even try to sugar coat that this world was full of big bad things.
Katsuki holds out his hand silently and your son grabs onto his big palm with no hesitation. Almost pulling the hero from his sunken spot as the water retreats, building upon itself again to kiss the soft sand beneath your feet.
And when the water comes rushing back your son breathes quickly, like he's scared, closing his eyes.
But he lets the water rush over him. Let's it swallow him to his waist and when the water pulls away he looks up at "just some guy" and he laughs loudly.
And the sight makes you cry cause you haven't heard your baby boy cry since his daddy passed away.
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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.
“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.
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You hate not bringing your phone to the bathroom.
But in your defense, it was an emergency! Katsuki was so caught off guard as you push off of him and all but dash away, just so you can use the pisser before you pee yourself. You didn’t even think about grabbing it; it wasn’t like you needed it anyways. You’re sure it’s fine on the couch.
But your breath hitches in your throat when you come back, and Katsuki’s thick thumb is scrolling casually through your phone.
“What are you doing!” You gasp, eyes darting around the scene.
He gives you an indifferent shrug, “lookin’ through your phone.”
“How did you get into it!”
“You left it unlocked, dumbass,” he scoffs, thumb scrolling through your phone. “When you sprinted to the can.” Your heart rate speeds up and you quickly shout “no, no, no!”’s as you reach for the device in his hand.
Offended, he holds the phone away from you, brows furrowed in anger, “the fuck you think you’re doing?”
“Don’t look at it!” You whine, stretching as far as you can. Instantly, you see the hurt splay over his face, but he’s quick to cover it with fury.
“What,” he snarls. “You scared I’m gonna find your other fucking boyfriend or something?” Despite him not wanting you to see it, the idea that that’s why you’re so worried about him seeing your phone fills him with rage and hurt and-
“No!” You assure, making one final grabby hand. “I just talk a lot of shit about you and I don’t want you to know what I say!”
“…what.”
He tries more than he ever has to fight the smirk that wants to spread on his face, desperate to keep the facade that he’s beyond furious to your secrecy.
But that little pout on your lips his making him crumble, and you huff before petulantly crossing your arms, “I constantly tell our friends how much of an idiot you are, and you don’t need to know what exactly I’m saying.”
“So you’re going to look me dead in my fucking eyes and tell me there’s no other man on this phone?”
“I barely deal with your stubborn ass, dickhead.”
“And you expect me to actually believe it?”
At this challenge, you narrow your eyes, “I told the group chat about how you made fun of one of my teddy bears, and Eijiro kindly told me that you keep the stuffed pig I bought you in your desk drawer.”
His face loses all color, and you proudly smirk as you hold your palm out for your phone. “I tell Midoriya about the countless times you blow me off for date night, and he so generously told me that you keep cute polaroids of us on your desk. Sometimes you cry-“
“I’m gonna fucking destroy them,” he snarls, throwing your phone at you and crossing his arms petulantly. “Next time, just cheat on me, will ya?”
You snort and lean over to plant a kiss to his cheek, “sure. I’ll get right on that the second Shoto tells me where you keep my engagement ring-“
Immediately, Katsuki pops up on his feet, his brows buried deep into his face as he stomps off towards the bedroom. “I’ll fucking kill that IcyHot bastard!” He roared, but all you could do was smirk on the couch happily.
Because you didn’t know there was a ring. Until now, of course.
Surely Shouto will forgive you when he hears the news.
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still experiencing a deep hyper fixation over the mirko suit i fear
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