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quinncupine · 1 year

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Chapter 14: Fall From Grace

Chapter Word Count: 6,700

Relationship: Izuku Midoriya X Female Reader

Previous Chapter: Thirteen

Next Chapter: Fifteen

MASTERLIST

Warnings: violence, drugs, cursing, weaponry

Notes: I actually had to split this chapter into two because the word count got a little out of control😅 so Reader is not mentioned much in this part. She gets her spotlight in the next chapter though!

I know it's taking an eternity to finish this story so for those of you still hanging on, I appreciate you. And as always, please enjoy!

Bakugo shouldered a heavy punch to the back and twisted on the impact, a growl rising in his throat. Teeth gritted in frustration, he countered a second punch with a swift kick to his attacker's heels. The woman tumbled and he delivered the finishing blow. A satisfying knock upside the head. She definitely wouldn’t be getting up from that one anytime soon.

Sparing a quick breath, he glanced around and spotted a mini tornado full of debris headed straight for him. Tables, dishware, and even a few unconscious heroes had all been caught up in the dust devil that was launched in his path. He took to the air to avoid the whirlwind that knocked aside the surrounding heroes whose mental states had declined to the point that they hadn’t even seen the giant swirling mass behind them.

A few of them crashed into the stage, shaking the plexiglass podium where Toshinori was supposed to be giving his speech later.

Toshinori.

That was another alarming detail he’d yet to solve. The man had disappeared among the chaos and he wasn’t quite sure whether that was a good thing or not yet. The retired hero, who once could’ve easily stopped anyone in his path, was now a liability. He silently prayed that Toshinori had somehow made it clear of this mess and was safely waiting it out where he wouldn't be in the way. But that never was Toshinori's style. It’s another annoying trait that Izuku shared with the old man. But for now, he needed to focus on the problem in front of him.

"Stay down ya drugged-up idiots!" He yelled, breathing labored. His landing was less than stellar and he stumbled a bit to stay upright. More converged on him the moment he landed. "Come on then! I can go all night!"

The sound of crinkling ice reached his ears just before a long jagged spire tried to impale him from behind. He pulled all the strength in his blast to dodge the sharp spear. Shoto was quick and powerful with his ice, which was usually invaluable in the field. Although, in this case, it was more trouble than Bakugo wanted to deal with at the moment.

"There you are." He grinned ferociously, facing the man.

Shoto wavered on his feet, looking almost in an angry trance. None of the heroes seemed to be cognizant enough of what they were doing. Which, in part, was actually a good thing. They were haphazardly using their power with no direction and barely any concentrated strength behind it. The hits that actually managed to land still hurt like a bitch though. Not that he would ever admit to anyone. Ever.

Something struck Shoto in the shoulder and he looked down to find an arrow tip embedded through the flesh. He glanced behind him and pulled on the wire attached to it, dragging Momo right off her feet. She quickly cut the line with a dagger popping out of her hand like magic and rolled back up, swaying almost like a drunkard.

Bakugo inwardly groaned as the two faced off. He knew the drug was altering their mental states. But they were still just as deadly in this state as in any other. Especially two of his…he supposed they were his friends. After all these years, it was still hard to admit the fact so he normally didn’t. But now, after all that shit with Izuku, he had somehow ended up as the emotional support crutch for everyone and that was something he was definitely not used to.

The two exchanged vicious blows that he knew were going to leave marks in the morning. If they all actually managed to survive this. Shoto slipped his foot forward, spreading his ice across the floor, trapping her feet in little glaciers of freezing ice. She fell forward, using her hands at the last second to stop her fall, and glanced at the ice, a snarl spread across her face.

Shoto didn’t give her a chance to counter as his boot smashed straight into her chest. The blow was so rough that even the ice at her feet couldn’t hold her in place and she bounced backward, rolling before she came to a halt on her stomach, breathing hard.

Though Momo, even in her dissociated state, was still clever. She had left three small discs lying at Shoto’s feet. The moment he kicked her, the mini bombs exploded, launching him back into a pillar, cracking the beam in two, and sending the giant marble columns crashing to the ground, nearly flattening a few heroes.

Bakugo smirked before he stepped in, wrenching Momo’s searching hands behind her and using his cuffs to secure her wriggling form. “Damn Momo,” he said glancing over to where Shoto, groaning, was getting back to his feet. “Where was all this vigor when we were sparring last month?”

Once she was secured, he picked her up and placed her off the side, behind a few overturned tables. The safest place he could gauge for the time being. As nonchalantly as he could, he searched her dress where she had stashed the few serums she had made in case any of them were infected. When he looked up, he couldn’t help the frustrated growl that bubbled up from his throat.

It was complete bedlam.

Bakugo spared a quick glance at the cameras mounted around the room, red lights still blinking. The world was watching this mess play out live unless Tsukauchi had been able to cut the public channels. This plan had backfired to a horrifying degree and he was wondering why he agreed to go along with it in the first place.

There wasn’t much time to spare thinking about it as he watched heroes drop left and right, viciously clashing with anyone within range and those iron-coated fears resting in the pit of his stomach had him doubting they would get up again.

Jumping back into the fray, he searched for the angry peppermint among the crowd, though he seemed to have momentarily disappeared. Striking down a younger hero who had decided it was a good idea to charge him head-on, he felt flames slash his back before a pillar of ice encased his right arm. With a bit of firepower, he managed to break the ice and flip back sans his usual grace, flying just over Shoto to launch an assault from above.

Shoto's reaction time was too slow in his current state and didn’t dodge. For the second time that night, he was blasted backward with intense firepower and slammed into a few other squawking heroes. All of them went tumbling in a writhing heap. Bakugo pursued, not wasting his chance to subdue him while he could.

"You better not make me regret this Icy-Hot!" Bakugo hollered, flying straight into him like a missile, landing a solid fiery punch. Shoto gasped and his eyes widened in pain, body stumbling back before Bakugo grabbed the scruff of his neck. "Making me do all the work as usual!" He pulled out a small syringe from his belt and ripped the cap off with his teeth, the other hand in a vice grip around his collar. “Time to get off the crazy train!”

He plunged the needle into Shoto’s neck and the man stiffened, eyes narrowing as he bellowed, ripping the syringe off and tackling Bakugo to the ground. The two wrestled for control. Ice spread down Shoto’s right arm, encasing most of Bakugo’s torso before he slowed, face going slack and eyes rolling into the back of his head. He slipped off Bakugo and would’ve slammed his head into the ground if Bakugo didn’t catch him. With a rare gentleness, he laid Shoto on the floor and crawled to his knees, brushing the crackling ice off his already scruffed-up suit jacket.

Bakugo’s vision went a bit fuzzy as he slowly got to his feet. Wait, it wasn't fuzzy…that was mist. Coming through the vents above the room was a fine white wreath of mist he recognized.

"Dammit Deku!" He growled, scrambling for the mask that was no longer around his neck. It had been shattered by a lucky punch to the mouth a while ago.

Soon the haze grew in intensity and the air stilled as the mess of quirks died down. Though the deranged heroes took little notice, continuing to fight with their fists instead of their power. But Bakugo took a good look around and noticed they seemed slower…weaker. The drug was wearing on them and soon enough it would use up all their strength. He just had to hold out until then. Easy-peasy.

Bakugo struck out his hand to test his own quirk and was met with nothing. "Fuck." He muttered and rolled to his feet.

He was still heavily outnumbered here. Now without this quirk, it would make things even more difficult. Though he would never admit it to anyone but himself.

The hair on the back of his neck tingled and he twisted, narrowly avoiding a sharp punch to the jaw. Ochaco didn’t miss a beat and used her own momentum to wrap her arm around his throat, climbing onto his back and using the counterweight to flip him off his feet.

They both slammed into the ground, Ochaco using her body weight to keep him trapped beneath her. Out of all their friends, Bakugo always enjoyed sparring with her the best. She was probably the best hand-to-hand fighter he knew. Even drugged up, she seemed to retain all her muscle memory. Impressed as he was, he couldn’t let her get the upper hand on him.

She slammed her forearm into his throat, shutting down any attempts at talking. As pointless as he knew it would be, he still had wanted to try for some reason. Ochaco always had a way of doing that to him. She was really the only one he could stand to be around or talk to, or…he was going to stop there.

Gripping her arm, he wrapped his leg around one of her own and pushed his hips to the side. It was a move that ripped her off him and she went sprawling. Before she could recover, he had her pinned down in a reversal this time. Her angry shouts went ignored as he dug around his belt for the next syringe.

“As much as I wanna fight you right now, I’ve got other priorities,” he grumbled, biting off the cap of the syringe and struggling to keep her pinned in place. “But let’s do this again.”

He jabbed the needle into her neck and she gasped. Her hand shot up to grab his collar, fingers scrambling to try to tug him away, but in her current state, she wasn’t able to put up much of a fight.

It seemed the fog cleared from her eyes for a moment, even as they dimmed into unconsciousness. “Katsuki? …what…” Then she went limp.

He let out a heavy breath, staring into her slack face. Her red face was beaded with sweat, her hair slightly disheveled ( what did it matter that he smoothed it back into place?), and he still thought she looked beautiful.

Those unbidden thoughts were interrupted by an awful metallic screech of what sounded like microphone interference and he rose to his feet, standing protectively over Ochaco. The sound echoed around the room so loudly that it stunned the still-brawling heroes around him.

He covered his own ears as the noise crescendoed to a deafening level. The room came to a crashing halt as heroes dropped like stones. Bakugo nearly fell to his knees but through sheer determination and probably an abundance of fury, he stayed standing.

"Well, well, well," a woman's voice boomed over the speakers. "It seems like we have a real party going now. What a show that was!"

Bakugo glanced around suspiciously, wiping a bit of blood from his left ear. The sound reverberated too much to pinpoint where the source was.

"All we need now is the guest of honor. Where did that coward of a hero run off to?"

Now that the fight was over, Bakugo wavered in place, and fatigue rolled through him. He bared his teeth, now onto a whole new fight with his body. Not that he would ever admit it, but fighting that many heroes off alone, was taxing. Though he suspected, this was only the beginning.

The quiet, aside from the tinnitus ringing in his ears, was unsettling. The room was a little too still. Whatever she did, it took everyone out in one fell swoop. That was powerful.

"Oh? No threats?" Where's that fighting spirit hero? Have you lost your tongue?" She laughed over the speakers. "And here I thought you might've had what it takes. I guess I was wrong."

"Oh, you'll get what's coming to ya!" He shouted to the air. "So stop hidin'!"

"If you insist." She sounded smug and didn't that just grate his nerves.

The very air bent in on itself. Ikari appeared like the demon she was. Standing on the stage in her old hero costume, she flashed him an overconfident grin.

He knew to expect her to show up tonight, but still seeing her in that old costume brought back memories of that night she was arrested. Izuku was the key factor in that arrest, but Bakugo had consulted on the case enough to know all the details. What a piece of work.

Stepping forward, Bakugo reflexively smacked his fists together, frowning when that familiar spark didn't flare between his hands. Right. Old habits die hard. Even that movement was enough for his body to protest. He was more exhausted than he realized. Like hell he'd let his weakness show.

"What's the point in fighting something that's already been decided." She said. "Stay down and you might just survive this. I'm not here for you, after all."

He growled, clenching his teeth. "Revenge. What a stupid notion."

"To you perhaps. But this is about more than revenge." Lifting a finger to the ceiling, she cocked her head. "Isn't that right?"

Izuku had strapped the plastic long gun to his back, a bit awkwardly with the parabolic dish attached to the end, as he made his way up the stairwell. Phantom hot on his tail with his own twin stun guns holstered to his hips. There weren't many weapons inside the stash, and Izuku wasn't too inclined to give him something really dangerous, so they settled for stun weapons.

The two men were quiet, dress shoes clacking against the concrete as they briskly made their way to the top. Izuku used the time to get lost in thought. He couldn't even count all the things that had gone wrong. How had their plan gone so wrong so quickly? Did she also have a quirk that could predict the future tucked away into that arsenal of artificial quirks? That would certainly explain a few things. It's like the woman had only spent the last few years devising the perfect plan, accounting for every action that he would take, and over-analyzed all of them. He suddenly knew how it felt to be on the receiving end of such a personal analysis. He shivered at the thought.

“So…” Phantom broke the tense silence, “you sure you’re ready for this?"

Izuku started at his words and spared a glance back at him. “We have to be.”

“Yeah, I know that. It’s just-” he paused on the stairs, eyes narrowed. “I know you’re the older -ah more experienced- hero, but this plan totally sucks. Remind me why I agreed to this?"

Izuku held in an exhausted sigh, absentmindedly rubbing the newly done stitches to his chest. He was really not in the mood for this. "With what you told me, I have a rough idea of what she might try. This is the only way we can get close enough to spring a trap on her. Attacking from above is to our advantage. Kach- Bakugo and all of the heroes down there are relying on us. Phantom,” Izuku turned to the man, desperation clear on his face. “right now we're all we have. All they have. If we can't work together, the chances of saving everyone in that room plummets. I’m trusting you to trust me." Grabbing the railing, he eyed the hero. "And for what it’s worth… I am sorry."

The younger hero harrumphed but he looked away, muttering something under his breath.

The rest of the trip up was taken in silence until they reached the maintenance access door for the ballroom. The door was locked but Izuku pulled out a thin wire from the metal band around his wrist and wrapped it around the hinges on the door, praying it would work. It took a few seconds before the wire began to glow orange and the metal sizzled. In no time, the hinge snapped off and he removed the door silently. Of course, he'd be a fool to doubt Mei's work.

"Why do you get all the fancy gadgets?" Phantom whispered the question leaning close to see the band but backed off as Izuku shot him a warning glare. "Well, aren't you unusually moody today? I thought you were always Mr. Smiles in the Face of Danger."

Izuku didn't respond, simply heading through the door out onto the darkened balcony that overlooked the ballroom. He'd left his smiles at home, with you. It was hard to muster one up this time. His mind and body had been stretched to the limit recently and he still hadn't quite regained that confidence ever since the whole subway fiasco.

The high vaulted ceiling was about two stories high, meaning a fall, especially without quirks, would be deadly. The catwalk itself was narrow and expanded out across the ceiling to reach various lights and ductwork. The metal that made up most of the bridge was rusty and the railing was covered in a layer of dust. It hadn't been used in a long time.

Holding a finger to his lips in warning, he crept to the edge and peered down. Most of the heroes were out for the count and he hoped it was just because they had finally exhausted themselves instead of the alternative. Fog still marred most of the room, obscuring his vision, but he did catch sight of the unruly blond hair poking out. Relief flooded his already aching chest as he stared at Bakugo. Still Standing. Still breathing. Still alive.

Phantom moved to stand beside him, taking in the scene below. He wore a more serious look now. That playful (if you could call it playful) attitude was gone. His eyes moved rapidly, searching the floor with eagle eyes as if looking for something.

"They aren't dead, are they?" He glanced at Izuku for an answer.

"No." At least he hoped so.

An earsplitting squeal of electric interference resounded around the room. Izuku stumbled away from the edge, grabbing his ears. It reminded him too much of Tatsuya and for a moment, he was back in that faux house again. Then he shook his head, refocusing on the situation below.

Phantom had crouched down, covering his ears with a grimace. "That never gets easier to hear."

“What?” Izuku murmured, rubbing his sore ears.

"Well, well, well," a woman's voice boomed over the speakers, "it seems like we have a real party going on now. What a show that was!"

Izuku blinked, recognition crossing his face. He knew that voice. How could he forget the voice that haunted his dreams?

"All we need now is the guest of honor. Where did that coward of a hero run off to?"

Now was not the time to be getting lost in his memories. He moved back to the edge of the balcony, thankful for the shadows obscuring him in the darkness. Her voice boomed across the room, making it nearly impossible to tell where she was. Instead, he focused on Bakugo who seemed to be on the verge of collapsing. Even from this height, he seemed shaky, visibly trembling from exhaustion. Below him, Ochaco lay sprawled out on the ground. Guilt lanced through him just as painfully as the wound in his chest.

"Oh? No threats? Where's that fighting spirit hero? Have you lost your tongue?" She laughed, electricity crackling as the octave capped. "And here I thought you might've had what it takes. I guess I was wrong."

"Oh, you'll get what's coming to ya!" Bakugo shouted, his voice losing none of that fiery will. "So stop hidin'!"

"If you insist."

Up on the stage, the air condensed in a stomach achingly familiar way before Ikari emerged. She had even donned her old hero costume with the overconfident, egotistical grin to match. Beside him, Phantom hitched his breath, appearing to recognize her as well.

Izuku noticed Bakugo waver as he stepped forward, determined to face her head-on. "Don't be reckless," he muttered to himself, all too aware of the hypocrisy in his words.

"What's the point in fighting something that's already been decided." Stay down and you might just survive this. I'm not here for you, after all."

"Revenge," Bakugo growled out. "What a stupid notion."

"To you perhaps. But this is about more than revenge." Face still sporting that overconfident smirk, she pointed a finger up, almost directly to where they were hidden in the shadows. "Isn't that right… Phantom."

Izuku instinctively took a few steps away, turning to face the hero, on the defensive.

Phantom had the stun gun pointed at him, a dark look on his face. They stood in silence for a moment.

“Why?”

Phantom took a step forward, finger twitching on the trigger. “Nine years ago. Nine years, Deku. Her name was Umi. She died because of you.”

Izuku’s eyes widened, the name and the memory burning fresh and bright in his mind. It had been the first civilian death he was responsible for. He remembered that day all too well. A villain had escaped police custody, running rampant in a small neighborhood. By the time he’d gotten there, most of the evacuations had been complete. Except for her. She had stayed, hiding, watching, and filming in one of the half-demolished buildings.

She was young. A bright dream of becoming a journalist and one misfired attack from the villain crushed that dream in an instant. He had spent over an hour trying to dig her out and when he finally found her, she was on the verge of death, terrified and clinging to him like a lifeline. Her once-silver hair was caked in dirt and blood. Equally silver eyes had dimmed as her life drained out in his arms.

“Your sister.” He said quietly, hands held out in a pacifying gesture.

“The closest thing I had to one. To family.” He growled, gripping the gun tighter. “And you let her die.”

Izuku took a step back, bumping into the gate that led onto the catwalk. He glanced down to see both Ikari and an unsteady Bakugo staring up at them. By the satisfied grin on her face, she probably could hear their every word.

Looking back to Phantom he took a deep breath and made the first move. He launched himself at the hero, fist poised to strike.

Phantom fired. Two darts shot out and Izuku dove to avoid the sparking tips. Rolling to his knees, he unhooked the gun from his back and aimed the dish. But Phantom was already charging and before Izuku had a chance to fire, his hand was kicked, and the intense burst of sound from the dish missed. Invisible waves of noise crashed into a large chandelier, shattering the ornate glass and sending the entire structure crashing onto the stage beside Ikari. Though she didn’t even so much as flinch, watching the fight with keen interest.

The gun flew from his hands and skittered out onto the narrow catwalk where it came to rest precariously on the edge.

He gritted his teeth and blocked the next hard kick with his forearms, then twisted, managing to grab Phantom's ankle to pull him off balance. Phantom stumbled back to regain his footing. Izuku used the chance to bolt onto the catwalk, hopping the little gate and running for the gun.

Phantom was right behind him, quickly closing the distance. He crashed into Izuku and they both tumbled onto the steel grating. The platform wasn't nearly big enough to fit them both so they struggled in the tight space, glancing a few rough blows off each other before Izuku managed to slide his knee underneath him and kick him backward.

The force knocked the younger hero back a few feet but he grabbed the railing to right himself and charged again. Izuku had rolled onto his stomach to reach for the gun, but Phantom was on him again, pouncing above him to grab it first. Izuku's fingers bumped it just enough for it to teeter over the edge before slipping through the bars.

"No!" Izuku slapped the metal band around his wrist and the wire shot out, wrapping around the handle of the gun, catching it about ten feet below. It dangled in a moment of silence as both heroes looked at it.

Izuku used the opportunity to see what was happening below them. Both Bakugo and Ikari were staring up at them, watching the battle. He caught Bakugo's gaze, giving him a slight reassuring smile that Izuku knew would probably irritate him before Phantom grabbed his wrist and smashed it into the grate. With a cry, he released the hold on the gun and it clattered to the floor.

The force of the blow creaked with the metal on the platform, making the entire structure sway. Cracks on a few structural wirings suggested someone's quirk must've reached high enough to damage them. The entire rig was destabilizing. They needed to get off or risk falling.

"Phantom," Izuku turned to the man shouting, "think about this. You're a hero!"

"Oh, trust me, I've put plenty of thought into this. For nine years, I’ve thought about how it would feel to do this!" He grinned and with one heavy kick, sent Izuku sprawling across the grates.

Izuku groaned and scrabbled at the metal to pull himself into a sitting position. His back pressed into the thick bars of the railing. He took a deep breath, clutching at his chest and doing everything in his power to keep the pain at bay. His newly done stitches were probably torn and Bakugo was going to kill him if he survived this.

He watched with a heavy glare as Phantom slowly closed the distance then his eyes flicked down below and he couldn't help the small grin that flashed across his lips.

A loud snap drew both their attentions as the entire rig abruptly listed to the side, forcing Phantom to hold on or fall off. Izuku wasn't so lucky as he slipped through one of the bars and half his body was flung over the edge. He managed to catch hold of the lowest rung while the rest of his body swung over the deadly drop. He cursed, sucking in a harsh breath as he tightened his grip through a pained gasp.

"Well Deku, what do you think?" Phantom made his way over and leaned across the bars to stare down at the dangling hero. "Think that was enough of a distraction?"

They both glanced below.

Phantom buckled the holster to his waist, spinning the twin stun guns before slinging them. He glanced at Izuku fiddling with the plastic band on his wrist. The guns were plastic too, he noticed. In fact, all the weapons in the bag were plastic.

“Let me guess, Creati made these?” He gestured to his weapons. “Smart.”

“Ikari's quirk,” Izuku explained. “She can manipulate metal.”

“Yeah, I know.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “Still, it probably won’t work attacking her head-on. You’re doomed to fail.”

Izuku looked up at him, his eyes sharp and almost…nervous? Phantom grinned. It wasn’t every day he could ruffle the number one hero.

“You’re working for Ikari, aren’t you?” He watched the pale white-haired hero warily, almost resigned. “You’re a promising hero. There has to be another reason why.”

Phantom lost his smile, body tensing. “I don’t know, you tell me. You always thought you had all the answers, World's Greatest Hero.”

He was silent for a moment, ignoring the barb in favor of choosing his words carefully. “It’s clear you hate me. Maybe you and Ikari share the same goals.”

“Newsflash Number One, ” Phantom grumbled, “I do hate you. But if you seriously think I’d let that ruin my entire life, my entire career, then you’re even more dumb than I thought.”

Izuku blinked, still on edge as he watched the man in front of him. “But you are working for Ikari, aren’t you.” It wasn’t so much a question as it was a simple statement.

“Yes.” A simple answer in return.

“Phantom, I don’t have time for this. Every minute we waste in here, people get hurt.” Izuku leveled a glare his way. “I assume you have a good reason for doing so.”

He smiled wide, perplexed. “You’re so trusting. I can see why Bakugo is always so agitated by you. Or maybe that really is his whole personality. Regardless,” Phantom sighed and stepped off the wall, “how long have you known?”

“That you were working for her? About a few minutes ago. That she was back? About a month.”

“Two years. That’s how long ago she brought me in on her cabal.” Phantom held back a snarky remark at Izuku’s wide-eyed gape. “She thought she could use my hate to add fuel to the fire that would eventually destroy you. After I realized just how big an operation she was running, I knew I couldn’t turn down the opportunity.”

“The Kobaruto. Trace. You helped fund her entire plan.” Izuku said though he looked slightly baffled. “You wanted to play the long game, take them all down from the inside? That must’ve been a major undertaking. I’ve never heard about anything remotely close to something like that in the works.”

“Because it wasn’t government-sanctioned. I ran solo.” He gauged Izuku’s reaction, continuing when the man didn’t say anything. “You really pissed her off, you know? It took a lot of background work to keep everything running smoothly with minimal losses.”

“Minimal losses?” Now that fury Izuku was keeping in check came out with a passion. “So you knew Ikari would sic Tatsuya on Y/N? Did you know she was planning to slaughter the Hashira gang? You knew they were going to attack us on the bridge? You knew about everything?”

Phantom’s face hardened. “She wanted to just kill Y/N outright. To kill all of them. Her orignal plan was to slaughter your entire family and friends. She wanted nothing more than to see you left with nothing. I convinced her otherwise.”

Izuku faltered at that, stepping back as if the very words had sucker-punched him right across the face. “What?”

I spied on you for months. You had no idea, did you?” he asked. “I did my due diligence. Spied on everyone. That’s how I found out about Tatsuya too. Figured I could take out two birds with one stone. Though, I didn’t expect him to get that far. I never meant for it to get that out of hand, but there was little I could do with Ikari breathing down my neck.”

Izuku fisted his hands but kept silent.

“I did damage control. Hate me if you want, but I saved you all.” His words seethed through his teeth. “I did what you couldn’t do.”

They both glared at each other for a long tense moment before Izuku broke away, turning his narrowed gaze to the weapons bag still lying on the floor.

“Why did she turn to you?” He asked silently, a fragile tone to his voice. “You said she wanted to use your hate. Why do you hate me so much?”

“You really don’t know?” He scoffed, folding his arms defensively, or maybe…protectively. “A guy like you, I’m sure you haven’t forgotten that day.”

Izuku racked his brain, running through every scenario they’d ever run across each other. But nothing to deserve such hatred that even Ikari would turn to it.

“Umi.”

It was just a name but again, he felt an impact right in his gut the moment it left his mouth. Of course, he remembered the name. It was one he would never forget. He would never let himself forget it. All of Izuku’s anger deflated as he stared at Phantom with a new light. It all made sense now.

“Someone you cared for. Someone important to you.” He heard himself speak, though his tongue felt numb. “Phantom I-” he paused, then let out a heavy breath. “Hirata, I’m-”

“We weren’t related, but we grew up together. She was my little sister in all but blood. You know, when we were young, we used to play heroes. I was always the hero, but Umi never wanted to be one. She always dreamed of being a journalist. We had even made a pact. I would become the hero and she would become the journalist that would make my name known to the world.” He laughed bitterly. “And I always keep my promises.”

Izuku could only stare at the man in front of him, those hard walls cracked in a few places as he spoke. He was lost in the memory. That same wrenching in his gut, full of devastation tried to pull him under again. That day had been almost too hard to move past because if he had just been a little bit faster, a little bit stronger, a little bit…better, then that girl might’ve survived.

Guilt had completely floored him that day. It ate away at him until he was nothing but a ruined, hollow mess. The first civilian casualty he had been directly responsible for. Toshinori had been there to help him through that day. He played through thousands of scenarios, all coming to the same conclusion that left him in such a dark place that even All Might had a hard time pulling him out of.

“I don’t blame you Midoriya.” Phantom’s words cut through that thick layer of self-depreciation Izuku was working himself into, shocking him to his core. “I mean, I did. For a long time. But I knew placing blame on people never solved anything. I’ve analyzed that day more times than you could count.” He took a deep breath. “I’ve only ever wanted to be a hero to protect people like my sister from getting hurt. I know you’re the same.” He fell silent for a second as if his next words were hard to form. “...there’s still some part of me that has trouble forgiving you, but that doesn’t make me a villain and it never will.”

After what felt like an eternity, Izuku locked eyes with him again. “I don’t expect your forgiveness.” His voice was barely heard above the white noise of the ventilation unit. “But I need to know what you plan to do. There are too many lives at stake tonight.”

Phantom smirked, though it held no joy behind it. “Well, obviously play the villain.”

Ikari stared at the two of them, satisfaction clear on her face even from this high up. “How does it feel Izuku!” She called up to his dangling form. “To be betrayed by a fellow hero? It hurts, doesn’t it? Maybe you can finally understand the pain of betrayal that I felt that night!”

Izuku focused more on keeping his grip. But he did spare her a glance, one that was not of despair, but one that mirrored her own triumphant smirk. Ikari blinked, confused before she whipped her head to where Bakugo had been wavering on his feet minutes ago. He was gone.

A thunderous sonic wave rocked the stage she was standing. The glass podium shattered under the powerful attack and Ikari's own scream was drowned out. Her hands slapped over her ears to try to fend off the attack to no avail. When the sound died down, she was left shaking in place before her knees gave out and she crumpled to the floor.

Behind her, Bakugo stood on the steps, the long sonic gun in hand with a bloody grin. He dropped the gun and marched over to the hero, dug his knee into her back, and roughly slapped some metal-free cuffs on her.

Izuku let out another shaky breath, relief evident in this one. With one threat taken care of, he turned back to Phantom.

"I never took you for such a dramatic actor," he wheezed, a bead of sweat rolling down his face. "You don't pull your punches, do you?"

"Why should I, Number One? You can take it, right?" He reached down and gripped Izuku's wrist. "As crazy as your plans are, I'll admit, I have always wanted to kick your ass."

"Heh, not the first time I've heard that." He adjusted his loosening grip and offered him a wobbly smile. "Mind helping me up?"

Phantom grabbed both arms and hauled him halfway up before another rope snapped, this time tipping the entire catwalk on its side. His jacket sleeve ripped as he was torn from Phantom's grip. Eyes wide, he watched as Phantom tried to grab him again, nearly succeeding before Izuku disappeared over the edge. It took Phantom everything he had to stay on the dangling rig, nearly slipping off himself.

"Izuku!" Bakugo screamed from below, powerless to stop the fall.

The metal band on his wrist reacted, sending a thin bolt of wire back up to the catwalk, wrapping itself around one of the bars. He came to a sudden and harsh stop that jerked every stitch he had, but all he could do was hiss through the pain and hang on. Black spots danced in his vision as he tried to focus on Bakugo down on the ground. He was still high up, but he swore he could have seen a prick of fear in his eyes. A rarity on the man. He must really be in trouble this time.

"Deku!" Above him, Phantom cried out.

Izuku refocused, looking up. A faint hum from the wire grew louder as it slowly glowed brighter. The metal bar, the only thing tethering Izuku to the platform, had started to sizzle. A thin stream of smoke wafted from where the wire bit into it. His eyes widened as he smacked the band, but the interface had been damaged during Phantom’s attack. He desperately fidgeted with the overlay, peeling off the cover with his nails, and ripped the wiring loose. The entire thing shuddered and powered down. The wire cooled almost instantly and Phantom wasted no time in grabbing hold to act as another anchor.

He let out a shaky breath, tapping the fine filament a few times with caution.

"Use those stupid muscles of yours and climb up!" He yelled, grip straining.

Not wasting any more time, Izuku hoisted himself up, holding in the wince as his chest screamed at him. He wasn't at full strength, especially when each movement sent a flurry of pain down his torso. With as deep a breath he could manage, he pushed it to the back of his mind and kept climbing. He managed to make it halfway before the metal bar, the wire having melted halfway through it, irrevocably snapped in two.

Phantom scrambled to keep his hold, sliding along the edge of the platform with a yelp. The wire sliced his hands and wrenched itself right out of his bloody fingers.

Izuku plunged into a free fall.

#izuku midoriya x reader #pro hero deku #deku x y/n #taken series #bnha #mha #deku #izuku midoriya #bakugou katsuki #momo yaoyorozu #shoto torodoki #angst #violence #gala #fighting #weapons #izuku is the epitome of the im in danger meme #my hero academia

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beauleifu · 2 years

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Hello!^^ May I request a fluffy Mk x reader oneshot please? I don't really have a plot in mind, but I imagine him to be super dorky in a relationship. Thank you for reading this^^

~Spectral Anon

oh my god YES MK DESERVES MORE LOVE i swear

A bit shorter, this one, roughly 1.6k oneshot. ENJOY, MY LOVELIES. (and thank you for all the love! Loves you too!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MK X READER

Lego Monkie Kid

Context: You lose to a bet that was settled over the most infuriating game of Uno you've ever played in your life. But hey, as long as you remember you're going roller skating with MK, it'll all be worth it.

TW: None.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

"Babe!"

You're unable to muster a proper glare from the stupid smile that blooms on your face. MK simply grins at you, all pride and no pity.

"Don't 'babe' me, you cheated!" You huff, arms crossed tightly over your chest.

MK mimics your position. The two of you are situated on the ground with a boardgame in the middle, the pieces scattered due to your frustrated episode. Of course the Monkie Kid won, and you suspect he'd manifested a duplicate of himself behind you to cheat his way to victory.

Said duplicate is nowhere to be seen, though.

The Monkie Kid snorts, nose upturned. "You have no proof! And you're just mad 'cause the cards were in my favor."

"Cause you cheated."

"Did not."

You snort, standing up and striding away. "Did too!"

He's wearing an absolutely infuriating smug look, watching as you fetch a snack from the pantry and head back over. "Pfft, okay. Honestly, I never thought you'd get so competitive. It's literally just a game!"

"A game with stakes, mind you," you remind him, crunching on your favorite chips. "I'd rather not lose this bet."

MK reaches into the chip bag, humming thoughtfully. "Well, you have another chance."

"Yeah. And you're going down."

"Then I'll take you wish me. Don't forget I'M the one with the magic staff!"

You cock a brow. "Wanna mention those cheating duplicates of yours as well, MK?"

"They'd never do such a thing!" He retorts passionately, mouth full of chips as he re-organizes the boardgame to start over. You're content to watch instead of help, munching on food.

So.

The bet. MK wants to go to Rollertainment, a roller-skate rink that's busy 24/7 with music blasting loud and strangers speeding around in circles. It has zero regards for explicit content, but MK just wants to go to zoom around the rink and see how fast he can go. You know for a fact that he's pretty talented on skates, but your desires lie with a different source of entertainment. (place: park, mall, other activity).

MK immediately decided to host a competition to decide the activity for today. You expected as much.

Honestly, this game is taking up half your day as it is.

"All right, last round," MK huffs, handing you your piece. You take it gingerly, regarding him with a determined look that he immediately copies. "Should prolly just give up now, (Y/N)."

"Like hell."

"Heh. You're gonna eat those words!"

It's on. You flash your partner a wicked grin and make your move. What is the game you might be playing? Uno.

Simple, fun, stressful. MK is winning, obviously. And another round proves you the loser and puts MK on such a tall pedestal that you fear for your safety. He's practically glowing, grinning like an idiot as he places down his last card and foils your plans. You throw your hand up, the cards flying as you rush forward and attack the board game menace.

"You're dead!"

" Wha- (Y/N)!" He has barely two seconds to react, arms outstretched to brace for impact. You land with a crash and effectively pin him on the carpet beneath you both.

The game is forgotten, cards strewn across the floor like soldiers stranded on a battlefield. A bloodbath, minus the details. You give MK's hands a sharp squeeze and glare. "HA."

"Oh - okay, you're pinning - I'm pinned. You got me. Truce?" MK offers weakly.

You have to look away from those puppy eyes, that soft half-smile that tells you they were merely joking. Besides, it's just a game; perhaps you are overreacting. But it's nice to see him beneath you, so close you get to see the small freckles dotting his cheeks, the relaxed glint to his eyes.

The Monkie Kid tilts his head. "(Y/N)?"

Startled out of your daze, you blink stupidly down at him. "What?"

"You're staring."

"I am. So?"

A sly smile twists MK's features, and he wiggles his eyebrows in an exaggerated fashion. "I mean, I don't mind. See something you like?"

Realizing the implications behind his statement, you quickly let go and sit up, still straddling him. "Dude, back off. All I see is my significant other being an asshole to the only person who'd actually play Uno with them. How's that for a fact check?"

MK chuckles, propping himself on his elbows. "You played with me because I'm too handsome to refuse and you love me. Fact check that!"

Your glare falters. "I . . . Gosh, you're mean when you're right."

"Noooo, don't call me that!" MK grabs your face, pulls you close. Your eyes fly wide open. "Call me something else. I don't want my gravestone to read something stupid like 'he was a board game menace'!"

"But you are!" You laugh.

He rolls his eyes, wrapping his arms around you and falling backwards. A sound of surprise escapes you, but the Monkie Kid cushions your fall and you both laugh hysterically, rolling to the side as you plant your head on the palm of your hand. Your idiot grins up at you from the floor, fingers tracing patterns on your arm. You snort, unable to stop a smile.

"Bro, you are such a goof," you say, free hand running through his hair.

"You wish you could be this awesome."

"Do not."

"Do too! Now get your skates on, I still haven't forgotten about my epic victory!" MK laughs, eyes twinkling as he fishes out the skates he'd set aside.

As though he knew deep down he'd win. Like he knew you'd let him.

Of course you let him.

~~~

The skate park is actually quite full, to your great surprise. It's almost 9 p.m., but who are you to assume that people in Megapolis get at least 6 hours of sleep? Not even MK can abide by your expectations, seeing as he won't sleep much unless you agree to a cuddle session.

So you're sitting beside him, tightening the laces on your skates, warily eyeing the rink.

MK slides closer on the bench, bumping into you joyfully. "You nervous? Don't be!" He says before you could reply. You give him an exasperated smile, and he hums; "I won't let you fall."

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die," MK says as you tie the knot and stand.

Your balance is a bit off, but you make it to the rink entrance with MK in two minutes flat. He can't help but laugh at your efforts, then reducing his amusement to a simple smile when you glare. It's all in good fun, though, because you're doing this for him and you love to see him so happy. So you step inside the rink, turn around, and wait for MK to join you under the neon lights.

The skate rink is set indoors, with huge lights dotting the ceiling that project intricate and colorful designs on the rink surface. Wooden, to provide leverage for your wheels. Music blasts from the sound booth, with the dojo man encouraging everyone on with beat drops and the like.

It's almost overwhelming, but the adrenaline prevents it from becoming uncomfortable. Besides, the scenery is too cool to ignore.

MK grabs your hand suddenly, skating backwards as his fingers lace with yours. "Ready, babe?"

"No!" You yelp, stumbling a bit as he gently drags you along the edge of the rink. You grip his hands tightly, eyes wide as you stare at your feet. C'mon. Get your balance!

Your boyfriend laughs, blushing slightly. "I had no idea you suck at roller skating."

"I had no idea you had no idea," you say; "It's just been awhile-"

Once again, your wheels give way, and you're lucky MK is strong enough to keep you steady as you use his arms to righten yourself. Heart hammering, you look up at him and offer a weak smile. This is actually quite fun. You are enjoying this, and the music helps to drown out the fear you feel. Sure, you're not terrible at skating, but it's been so long that muscle memory finally failed you.

"Just push off with your foot," MK says, letting go of one of your hands to skate beside you. With that, he demonstrates the movments. "See?"

You watch him. "Yeah . . . Okay, I'm starting to remember."

"You are?? Prove it, then."

Oh, no.

He's asking you to let go and skate off on your own.

Sighing, you sidle closer to him, pushing with your feet and getting the footwork locked down. "Maybe I like skating, um, here with you," you mumble, not looking at him. "Fact check that."

"Awww!" MK gushes, holding you close and beaming. "Why the heck are you so sweet?"

You roll your eyes, about to say something - when you suddenly trip on thin air. Hands tightening on anything you can get ahold of, you fly forward, yelling and bracing for impact. Unfortunately, the object you'd snatched had to be your boyfriend, and he is the first to collide with the ground.

Oops.

The both of you hit the wooden floor with an uncomfortable thud, but it doesn't hurt that bad. Groaning, you twist around and suddenly find yourself laying on top of MK, hands gripping his orange jacket.

Luckily, the two of you had fallen along the edges of the rink, further down and beyond the judgement of passerbys.

Unluckily, MK is the first to come to, blinking around. "Oh. Did you fall?"

Huffing, you nod guiltily. "Yup. Sorry, we can try again, though, I think the universe just likes to see me suffer," you say, ready to get to your feet. Sure, you might struggle doing it alone, but MK suddenly stops your movements before you could even get off him.

He's wearing a mischievous grin, eyebrows lifting. "Huh! Now why does this feel familiar??"

You realize instantly. "No! DON'T-"

"Oh, right! You did the same thing back home! You must love being on top!"

"BABE."

#lmk #lmk oneshot #lego monkie kid #lmk mk #mk x reader #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #mk is a fluffy cinnamon roll #protecc them #no angst here we only serve cute shit #if you're a pro at roller skating and you're reading this #then eat it #cause im a pro too #but this is for MK and we must SUCK AT IT

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ughgoaway · 4 months

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bff anon joining cookie anon on the angst >>> smut train fr..... we see each other...

really cool to see you so excited on a new au idea tho!! bff anon lore is that im.... not.... really... a smut reader (rip)..... so thats a shame but trust and believe i will be here for whatever teacher au content that eventually comes!! :D (can't wait for the angst i need to feel emotionally torn bc january is lowkey depression season)

- bff anon <3

literally, you two are campaigning for depression and I love it. Two anons united by one cause - making everyone sad <3

ahhh, I'm so sorry that this new au will be quite smut heavy bff!!! BUT I will still be posting so much about the teacher au, and I will continue to be insufferable about how much I love those two :)

just bc I'm being more of a whore does not mean I will stop posting tooth rotting fluff for the teacher au, they are my babies fr.

January rlly is depression season, and I can not wait to make it worse (I say with love lmao) <333

#so much bff lore!!!#no smut but pro angst?? an unexpected twist!!!!!#loving it tho #i will still be obnoxiously posting about the teacher au im so sorry y'all #now im just double as annoying :)#teacher au!#anon!#bff anon <33333

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sinnamonpork · 2 years

Text

"Have you finally gone mad, birdbrain?"

"Mad with love, probably."

#i imagine them sitting quietly on a rooftop when this convo took place #and the absolute full on blush on dabi's face lol #can be fluff or angst depending on how y'all read it #dabihawks #dabi x hawks #dabi #pro hero hawks #todoroki touya #imagines #bnha #mha #this is actually for a fic im writing but it didn't fit the pacing so into tumblr u go

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criticalrolo · 1 year

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trying to find good 3zun fics in this fandom when ur actually a fan of nie mingjue is a fucking nightmare. girl HELP none of these writers even actually like him ;_____;

#hes at best a Prop in most of these. or just a source of angst for jgy who exists to Apologize For Being So Mean. ur all killing me out here #im having flashbacks to 2013 when i tried to find pro Thor content that wasnt him just apologizing. thats literally whats happening. HELP #this is so silly lakjsdfhgalkjsdf i love focusing on fake problems like this

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seneon · 2 months

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I want mashle angst

it's sitting somewhere in my drafts wait 🧑‍🦯

#⋆ ❨ voice ❩ ֢֢֢ ۟#rayne angst #angst gitlies we 🆙🆙#not me tho i dislike angst #but im a pro at it trust

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ariiii33 · 10 months

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I have gotten so many eyelashes in my eyes when THEY ARE SUPPOSED TO STOP THINGS GOING IN MY EYES!!!!!

#im fucking dying #death #eyes #my nails are too long for this #it takes EFFORT #i could wear contacts lenses i am a pro now #pain #suffering #angst with a happy ending #grrrr #angry #sad

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tteokdoroki · 10 months

Text

✩࿐TRACK 01: RIGHT HERE. katsuki bakugou (2K)

about. leaving katsuki bakugou was the hardest thing you’ve ever done. pretending that you no longer love him every time he calls is even harder.

warnings. minors and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, slight angst, fluff, hurt-comfort, happy ending, break ups, mentions of harassment, exes to lovers, pro hero + fem!reader, pro hero!bakugou.

things to note. yay !! the first fic of the series !! idk im really excited about these and they were super fun to write. i hope you guys enjoy <3 - masterlist / series masterlist / playlist ✩

leaving katsuki was probably the hardest thing you’ve had to do in all your years of living.

being one another’s first loves, you feel like you owe a piece of yourself to him. the relationship that you founded together leaving high school had taught you so much, about yourself, about him and about how the world worked. it was comfortable with katsuki, he knew you liked the back of his own hands — what made you smile the way he liked, what made you laughed in the way that made his stomach twist with a joyous emotion he didn’t even know he was capable of, what made you squirm and what made you pissed off, too.

and as you navigated the challenges of adulthood, grew into your lives and yourself — stretched the skin around your bones to spread your wings you realised that overtime, katsuki made you sadder than he made you happier. you made him feel angrier than he made you feel calm.

neither of you were prepared to let go, holding onto frayed ends of a love that had built up your confidence and set you on the course for the rest of your lives. but to say it ended on good terms would be a lie too. you needed an out and took the first one you saw, a friend on the other side of the country was starting an agency on their own and needed a partner. you knew it would hurt bakugou more than anything, so perhaps, that’s why you did it.

you left in the middle of the night to fulfill the dream you and the blonde had come up with together — with someone else.

of course, leaving him behind wasn’t easy and it still isn’t. cutting katsuki completely out of your life wasn’t a viable option and at least not for long, three months after your big move he came across your agency on the news following a huge rescue and shift in the hero rankings. katsuki was proud of you, he missed you, dialled up your agency to tell you himself and for some reason you found yourself clinging onto his every word not knowing that he felt the same.

you couldn’t forget about him, your golden boy and his golden smile that made heat spread through all four chambers of your heart and blood rush through your ears to the point where you were dizzy. bakugou was your day and he was your night, each of you taking turns returning from patrolling shifts that ran late for two semi-pro heroes like you — practically running into one another’s arms.

in another universe, it would still be that way for the both of you — but katsuki was bad for you, and you inevitably worse for him. even if you’d found new soil to settle your roots in, you secretly hoped that bakugou would come find you in every single timeline, every single world either of you existed in.

maybe that’s why you kept in touch despite the dates you went on to get over him. maybe that’s why emails turned to texts and texts turned to phone calls that centred around reminiscing the past — the songs that you shared and the plans that you made. together.

“how’s that boyfriend of yours?” bakugou grunts absentmindedly, the gruffness of his voice evened out by the static on his end of the phone. from the corner of your eye, you watch on the screen as he slips through your old kitchen easily — knowing where everything is, knowing that he used to pin you up against those counters, knowing that he used to corner you while making coffee and...

you shake your head, popping it into view so that the blonde can see you roll your eyes in mock annoyance. “he’s not my boyfriend… just a friend from work.” you still have no idea why you lie to bakugou like that, actively pretending that your dating life isn’t flourishing. you tell yourself that it has nothing to do with the fact that you still want him. even though it never works out when you lead each other back into bed whenever you get the chance. “what are you making?” you ask, to distract yourself.

“he likes you though.” katsuki returns from the fridge and steps into frame to show you the pack of tofu you know that he likes to cook with. you could have probably found it in your local convenience store with your eyes closed at this point. but you didn’t want him to know that you still remembered all of the little things about him. his likes, dislikes, hopes and dreams. “s’that tofu recipe fuyumi gave me back in high school. the one that makes ya—“

“the one that makes me shit my guts out, yeah. thanks for the reminder, bakugou.” you huff, glaring at the phone and wander into your own kitchen, subconsciously. probably to feel a little closer to your ex. “he doesn’t like me. how would you even know that?”

“hah? bakugou? what happened to katsuki?”

“don’t change the subject.”

the swell of bakugou’s lush lips press into a thin line and you can just about make out his pout as you set the phone down to make yourself a fucking drink because you really can’t do this. you hate that you still seek him out in your darkest hours, when you’re alone in this city and it feels like the world is slowly turning against you.

you’d turned off your television hours ago to avoid hearing the news. deleted the social media apps off your phone, too. called bakugou to fill the silence of your home with something soft, familiar like the deep depths of his voice. he provides a distraction that the chaos in your brain recognises, watching katsuki cook in that same old flat you rented right after going pro soothes the tensions in your body.

his tatted arm with the sleeve flexes as he skilfully wields the sharpest knife from the set you gifted him on his twenty first. his crystallised ruby eyes squint and his nose scrunches in that adorable way as he reads the cooking instructions on the tofu even though you know that bakugou knows how to prepare it off by heart.

all of these little things about katsuki make you feel at ease even though you’re worlds apart and taking your lives into different directions.

“what happened today wasn’t your fault,” his timbre voice was over the line, grasping at the straws of your attention. you hadn’t realised you’d been zoning out when katsuki snaps his fingers at you. “quit that. ‘m talkin’ to you.”

“don’t snap at me, i’m not your dog.”

katsuki looks like he’s about to make a comment, but refrains when you scowl at him over the FaceTime call. “yeah but you weren’t listening to me, i know why you called me. saw it on the fuckin’ news, but i wanted you to hear from the resident fuck up that this’ll all blow over. the media is just shit.”

even through bakugou’s brashness he still helps you lick at your wounds like you’re still his. “i hope so,” you sigh quietly and pick up your phone so that you can get a closer look at his expression, concern etched into his features. “being a pro hero decking a fan in the face doesn’t exactly instil confidence.”

“he was a creep who’s been stalkin’ you for months. he fuckin’ deserved it. if you hadn’t,—“

“dynamight would’ve, my hero.” even though your tone is sarcastic, bakugou can tell that you’re thankful, that you mean it. he never liked that you were always one to suffer quietly, let the world walk all over you as if you weren’t worth standing tall and being proud of yourself. in some ways, the blonde wanted to be your hero — not the world’s. he wanted to stick up for you where you couldn’t even if he was defending you from yourself.

you hated him for it, he loved you through it. perhaps that’s why your relationship was always falling from grace.

bakugou knows that you’re struggling to keep it all together, lock up all your troubles and throwing away the key with the hopes of never seeing them again. he knows that you carry that weight and that you’ll collapse if there isn’t someone to help you bear the burden.

so he tentatively reaches out, metaphorically crosses that line you’d drawn after ending things, because you’re in need. “yanno, if you need me, i’m right here.”

it’s like his words have snapped you back into reality, and you shoot him a look over the call. “katsuki, you shouldn’t say that.”

“why not?” he quips — you almost miss it over the sound of his food sizzling as he begins to cook.

“we’re not together anymore… we’re broken up. it’s weird.”

“it’s not weird to look out for friends.” bakugou snarls gruffly, though he’s all bite and no bark — mostly embarrassed by your rejection. “you think just ‘cause ‘m not callin’ you mine and giving you head every night anymore, i don’t wanna be here for you?” but of course he still finds a way to make the conversation go lewd, to fluster you. “i told you that wouldn’t change. broken up or not...what? what’s with that face. don’t make that face, sweetness.”

a hand comes up to mindlessly touch at your face and brush over your lips, you don’t even realise that you're pouting.

“katsuki i’m serious.” you say, whining like a child.

“and so am i.” your ex mumbles right back and you can see his tongue running over his teeth from behind his plump lips — just barely holding back a cocky smirk.

“you’ll only make this harder.”

“we’ve never been easy.”

“we’re supposed to be moving on from each other.”

“you’re the one who called me, sweetness.”

“that doesn’t mean—“

“you miss me.” bakugou has always been brutally honest but that doesn’t mean you’re prepared for him to hit you with the truth. it’s like a punch to the gut that makes the world start spinning and your heart stop beating. you do miss him, you always will — he’s all you’ve ever known even if it’s been years since you last embraced his love. what you have now has teetered on the blurred line of friendship and love, it’s far from normalcy. but tonight you feel like letting yourself fall a little harder, return to your old ways. “s’okay. i miss you too.”

static echoes between your phones during the call, breaking the pocket of silence yourself and katsuki find yourself basking in.

“you mean it?” you question the blonde tenderly. the world has been so tough on you lately, you’re not sure if you could handle bakugou breaking your heart again. or you breaking his. “you’re not just…playing with me like you used to.”

“i’m being serious, sweetness.” you can tell that he means it, genuinity etched into his voice as it reverberates through your kitchen. “i’m by your side through everythin’, thick ‘n thin just like i promised.”

“yeah well so am i.” you mock his little quip from earlier and it makes him smile — brightly, the corners of his lips just touching his ears and the red in his eyes shimmering with a familiar affection you truly have missed so much. promises were easily broken, but bakugou’s made good on every one that he’s ever made for you. including this. “katsuki…”

he tests the waters, dipping into your old routine with an air of hope about things. “yeah, baby?”

“will you come see me?” you bleat, picking up the phone as if it’ll bring you any closer to him. “i need you.”

“if you need me, i’ll be there.” bakugou whispers without missing another beat.

he doesn’t care what he has to do, what either of you have been through — you called because you needed him, because the world had put you on your knees and you were losing yourself in the mess of it all.

katsuki bakugou books the next flight out to see you, intending to keep his promise to you.

no matter what, for you, he’ll always be right here.

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deanbrainrotwritings · 5 months

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— GIMME HALF

REQUEST : “hi!! I was wondering if you could maybe write an age gap (legal obv) with female!reader × dean winchester where the reader is like in her 20s and dean's in his 40s :) just some rough smut with choking and hair pulling and spitting (if you're comfortable with it) and dean being like super "hungry" for her, like he's waited a long time for it to happen. also lots of dirty talks cause i absolutely love them hahah :) anyways im in love with your writing and all your stories! thanks a lot! <3” — anonymous

PAIRING : dean winchester x professor!reader (f.)

CHARACTERS : miracle, sam winchester

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), angst, enemies to lovers, age gap, voyeurism, smut, oral sex, p in v, praise kink, choking, hair pulling, dacryphilia, rough sex, spitting

WORD COUNT : 8.4k

A/N : devil wears prada song title. @spnkinkevents : #12daysofspnkinkmas2023 — chair sex and food play. I wrote this half-asleep while listening to ASMR, like… that’s how I write most of my stories, plus, they’re always written between 00.00-02.40. Doctor Who references, ‘cause I’m a nerd. I got carried away…. Cliffhanger bc I’m cruel.

There were countless pros and cons to having houses built so close together with windows facing the same direction.

Pros: Accidentally seeing your hot neighbour walk around naked in the living room and kitchen. Accidentally catching your hot neighbour jerk off when they think that everyone’s asleep.

Yup, she’s seen all of that and more. All from that nameless, freckled, green-eyed man next door.

Even wholesome things, like him playing with his cute dog, babying the little rascal and spoiling it. Him cooking and baking, being wholeheartedly content with feeding it to the tall, Hazel-eyed puppy dog of a man, the tall man’s gorgeous deaf wife, and his tiny adorable son; the blue-eyed, dreamy dude in a trench coat; and that endearing young boy with blue eyes who looked like a combination of all three of the men.

There were times where she’d seen the green-eyed man dressed as a cowboy and even a princess to entertain the little baby boy—his nephew. For sleepovers with him, he’d read him bedtime stories while being completely animated. He’d build a bunch of forts, with sheets, the couch, pillows, and some Christmas lights. He'd talk to the little boy and hold serious conversations despite neither of them being able to understand each other. He’d teach the young boy and the baby boy how to fix cars—at least he tried to. He’d pack his best friends' lunches every morning with his hair unkempt, half asleep, while sipping on some coffee. He’d even take naps with the baby, treating him as his own son.

He’d do ridiculously endearing things, too, such as baking bread at night when he couldn’t sleep. He'd read books only when he was alone, as if he’d be made fun of by his friends, and she finally understood why. They were either romantic, erotic, or completely nerdy and abstract. He had range. He’d watch cheesy soap operas and rom-com k-dramas when he did chores. He loved to collect things such as Pokémon cards and even legos.

There were a million things he did that she thought were cute. The windows into his house were like the screens of a television, like her favourite character, she got to see him when he’s relaxed and surrounded only by those who love him

As for the cons, we’ll get to that…

When they first moved in, it was about three and a half years ago. She’d been visiting her family in Kansas City for her oldest brother’s birthday in June.

When she returned to Lebanon, they had already settled down. There was a brown and beige Ford pickup truck, a black Subaru—both parked in the front, and a sleek black Impala in the driveway.

The youngest, Jack, waved at her one day when he returned with Cas after buying groceries. Then, Cas awkwardly introduced himself and Jack, and gave her the names of the other two men who were brothers, Sam is the tall one and Dean was the freckled one.

Sam was the most social one. He’d spark up conversation with her whenever he saw her, dropping bits and pieces of information about himself, his brother, his fiancée, Cas, Jack, and Dean’s loyal dog, Miracle.

After seven months of living together, Sam moved out with his wife, Eileen. They’d just gotten married, and they both invited her. She’d gone, the wedding was pretty, cute, and modest. Y/n had spoken to a few of their close family and friends. Dean, however, kept to himself the whole night as if he were grieving. He’d smile occasionally if any of his friends came to him, he was enthusiastic, and then he'd go back into himself.

Four months later, Sam and EIleen returned; she was pregnant. It was a boy, he’d planned on naming him after his big brother, which Y/n thought was adorable. He hadn’t told his brother, but planned on telling him the day his son was born.

Y/n could tell Dean had mixed feelings about his brother’s departure, mostly negative feelings. He loved Eileen and his nephew. But when it was just him, Cas, and Jack, he'd often drink, despite concerned, useless interventions with Cas. Unless Sam, Eileen, and his nephew were there. He’d never even glance at that top-shelf cupboard.

The good thing was that at least Dean was a happy drunk.

The first time she interacted with Dean was a few weeks after she’d returned from Kansas City, she assumed two things: his heart was closed off to new people, and he’s one hot, irritating, grumpy, sour, old man.

It was the spring semester at Kansas University. Y/n was grading her students’ creative, personal essays in the office downstairs. She was perplexed by the small percentage of her students and their inability to use proper grammar or follow the thorough, detailed checklist she created to get them to pass easily.

Just when she thought she’d gotten great at making their lives easy, they return the shittiest, half-assed essays. She felt bad for the bad grades, but since the rest of her students managed to get perfect scores or at least proficient scores, she couldn’t just let them pass.

Loud banging on the door startled her from reading an impressive essay. Her blood ran cold and she scrambled up from her rolling chair, ignoring that she pushed it halfway across the room.

Her socked feet were quiet on the wooden floor, making her way quickly down the hallway until she got to the shelf where she kept her gun. She pressed it against the door and looked through the peephole, then relaxed when she saw Dean.

She was irritated by the loud knocking, though, regardless of how cute he looked when he was clearly pissed off. She opened the door and set the gun down on the table where she usually placed her keys.

“Lady, have you seen the mess you made outside?” Dean asked her, pointing behind him. She stared at him, stunned by how much prettier he looked up close. Her cheeks turned hot, but she looked past him trying to see whatever he was pointing at.

She looked at her red Mustang parked in the front as a reminder to restock the kitchen, then looked close to where his house was. She winced at the mud and the running water from her hose going into his nice lawn.

“Shit,” she murmured, toeing her socks off before moving past Dean to turn the hose off. She got distracted by the mud and the puddles as she pulled the hose, and coiled it back where it should have been. It’s been a while since she last let her bare feet feel this beneath, the smell of wet dirt was amazing, even when it wasn’t caused by rainfall.

“Do you always do shit like this?” He asked from behind, his tone harsh.

She frowned when she turned to look at his furious face, careful to not touch her forehead with her muddy hands when she used her wrist to move hair away from her face.

“I’m sorry,” she apologised, tilting her head at him. He just rolled his eyes at her, then he stared at his lawn, and ran his hand down his face. “Did I do somethin’ else to piss you off?” She asked, looking around to see if there’s anything else she may have forgotten.

“One, your cat’s too damn loud, crying and meowing for my damn dog when you let him out,” he started, which made her blink in confusion. She didn’t expect something like that to get on his nerves. “And B, why the hell do you have cameras facing my place?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, her ego being injured fueled her anger and defensiveness. “Okay, listen, Doctor Who, I said I was sorry, okay?” She could tell her words stunned him by the furrowing of his brows in bewilderment, disarming him and shutting him up. “It’s not my fault your dog likes my cat, too. And the cameras are off, they’re there to scare people, so fuck off,” she snapped before she stop herself.

Dean scoffed at her, “fuck you.” She rolled her eyes at him this time, staring daggers into his back when he turned around to get to his home.

“If you’d fuck me, maybe you wouldnt be such an asshole.” Her snide words made him freeze. He laughed dryly and he turned to face her once more, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Pretty sure I’d still hate you, sweetheart,” he chuckled, crossing his own arms. That stung, even if she didn’t know him personally and half the time she spent romanticising him based on the little bit of information she had. “And I’d rather go fuck some other chick.” She clenched her jaw and breathed in slowly, angry heat began rising up her neck the faster her heart started to beat.

Entirely unintended, she venomously spat, “according to your brother, you haven’t been lucky enough, and you’re not going to be.”

“You talking to my brother about my sex life?” He stepped closer to her, his nostril flaring in anger. Betrayal and hurt crossed his features and she realised her mistake.

“No, just overheard him ‘cause you’re an overbearing douchebag,” she lied smoothly. Truth was, Sam and Eileen did accidentally—drunkenly—tell her how hard it was for Dean to maintain a serious relationship for more than three months. They don’t remember sharing that information. It was easy for her to casually ask about Dean’s love life and availability, masking her attraction to Dean as mere surprise as to how the younger brother got married before the older one. “Makes sense now why no one will sleep with you,” she laughed mockingly, stepping closer to him defiantly.

His face was red now, too. Angry, offended, he rolled his eyes at her smug face and body language. “You don’t know shit about me.”

“Sure, yeah, if that makes you feel better,” she snorted, patting his very nice, broad shoulder with her muddy hand as she made her back into her house. Preoccupied by the small mud-print on his beige Henley, he couldn’t get the last word in or stop her from leaving him flustered in her swampy driveway.

That was the start of a horrible relationship with her neighbour. The neighbour she had a crush on.

He found all kinds of reasons to complain. Big and small. And she secretly did things to piss him off, occasionally sabotaging his plans.

The thing was that deep down, she still liked him, but he made her so angry and frustrated. And it felt good to see him angry and frustrated by things she caused either on purpose or accidentally. Any attention was better than no attention.

Eventually, that all changed. The fun, the it’s-better-than-nothing feeling, it didn’t last. Fourteen months later, she stopped the cruel games and decided to avoid him completely.

When her friends offered to take her out, she agreed, even if she wanted to stay home. If Dean was home, she made sure to never say no to them, and sometimes she’d offer to take them out. Wherever.

She’d started to grade at the cafe, library, or the diner, even if Dean went to all those places often. At least he wouldn’t say anything there around all those people.

When she grew closer to Sam, Cas, and Jack, she’d find excuses not to go over to Dean’s when they offered either food, game nights, movie nights, or random hangouts. They started to notice too—the tension, the avoidance, the hostility—and they’d go over to her place instead, often without Dean, who’d choose to go out to avoid staying home alone.

It was awful. The rejection started to hurt, yet, he had her heart in the palm of his hand. Deep down, she knew that Dean wasn’t a bad person; he just didn’t like her.

Eventually, Dean ended his animosity, too, and everything went back to ‘normal’. She slowly started to reject offers from her friends to test the water, stayed home to grade, and didn't permit her cat to leave even if it cried for an escape. If she took him out, it was with a leash she eventually got him to get used to.

They ignored each other when they crossed paths—in the driveway, at the grocery store, at diners, at the cafe. They acted like complete strangers. She’d keep her curtains closed, at least she did for the windows that face his house. She made her presence as unnoticeable and as invisible as she could to prevent causing more damage to each other.

Then, about two months ago, on Halloween, Sam, Eileen, Cas, and Jack went to her house to collect candy. Sam made a point of staying back while the rest of them walked to where Dean was waiting—looking anywhere but at her house—to convince her to go to his and Eileen’s place for Thanksgiving.

He was honest, cute, wide hazel eyes attempting to convince her to try and make amends with Dean. She didn’t doubt it, when he told her that Dean felt guilty, but her pride was bruised, and her heart was broken. She told Sam she would be visiting her own family for that holiday. She omitted that she’d be going to her mother’s house a few miles away, still in Lebanon. And she easily convinced her mother to let her stay the rest of the week until she had to go back to work.

Now, Christmas was near—in four days, to be exact. It wasn’t the holiday spirit that made her change her mind, it was the hurt and the exhaustion of planning her life around avoiding Dean.

So, she called Sam, she asked if he could do anything to get Dean alone tomorrow.

For the rest of the day, she would start to prepare everything—even though it was Dean who created the mess—she was willing to make the first move and hopefully meet him halfway.

She couldn’t lie that she felt embarrassed by how excited she was to see Dean. She couldn't even differentiate the meaning of the butterflies in her stomach, but she powered through her fluttering heart and her shaking hands as she prepared everything before going to see him.

She considered not doing it at all, calling it quits—but the consequences of that quickly made her miserable. That would just mean more avoidance, more hiding, more changing everything about herself to make him happy.

All of this over one little misunderstanding. One bad day where her mouth ran without consulting her brain first ruined what could have otherwise been a good friendship—perhaps even a romantic relationship.

She was twenty-six and just like Dean, she hadn’t had a serious relationship since… Well, ever. The last time someone convinced her to date them was in highschool, and even before that, it took her a month—or less—to figure out she wanted nothing to do with them. She didn’t like the people she dated. She realised quickly that she didn’t even want a future with them, she didn’t even allow them to kiss her or touch her. So she figured that if she didn’t want to marry them, what was the point of wasting her time?

For so long, the first thing she thought of when she felt attracted to someone was: can I stand the thought of their touch? Can I see myself kissing them, letting them kiss me? Can I stand the thought of the fights and staying with them through thick and thin? Can I picture myself with them in the future, permanently?

The answer was always ‘no’ and the attraction died immediately after the realisation.

With Dean, the answer was different. Not for some stupid reason, like fate, or the boy-next-door trope. No. This was reality, and the real reason was the fact that she got to see who he was before she was attracted to him.

It was the selflessness, the love in everything that he did, the gentleness of his heart, the kindness that radiated from him, and the ease in the way he did chores, the way he made his friends laugh, his playfulness, the loyalty, the way he was clearly protective.

It was the open windows of her house into his open windows that let her see through him, down to his very beautiful core. It was the lack of hidden things, the openness of his soul because he felt safe, unwatched. It was real because Cas, Jack, and Sam were proof that even though Dean wasn’t perfect, he was worth it.

The Doctor did say once: the good things don’t always soften the bad things, but vice-versa, the bad things don’t necessarily spoil the good things and make them unimportant.

For the first time, she was willing to take a chance.

She smoothed down the silky emerald-green dress. It was pretty, flowing down her body perfectly, stopping at the middle of her calves…. Actually, now that she looked at herself in the mirror, her curls perfectly maintained, the light touch of makeup, the heels… was it too much?

She ignored those anxious thoughts and made sure she had everything she needed and everything that she prepared before stepping out into the cold.

The spaghetti straps didn’t stop the cold, but the heat of her nervousness at least did something as she walked up to his door and waited after knocking gently.

When he opened the door, he was stunned to see her.

“What?” He asked bluntly.

She could tell that the way she was dressed caught him off guard. His eyes moved from her face, up to her hair, back down to the boxes in her hands, and lower to her feet.

“I’ve got pie,” she said the first thing her mind thought of. Yes, it was blunt, yes, it disarmed him further… It was not smooth, but Dean looked behind him, and then he looked at her once more while biting his lip before opening the door wider, and stepping out of the way for her to enter.

She exhaled shakily as he scratched the back of his neck. Out of habit, she slipped out of her heels before stepping inside his home, planting her bare feet on the soft, long rug he had. He kindly, wordlessly, took her heels from outside and placed them on the shoe rack he had inside before shutting the door behind her.

She felt so… warm. Finally, she was inside the place she longed to be in. Right where Dean was. Along the walls there were dozens of pictures, but she didn’t go too far, she waited for him.

She felt his presence behind her and it made her shiver, but she couldn’t bring herself to look back at him. Instead, she stared at photos of him with Cas, Sam, Jack, and other people she hadn’t met. Women and Men. Dean was smiling in all of them. And in a large majority of them, they were looking at him while he looked at the camera.

What a funny thing.

“Here,” he said from behind her, his deep voice sounded soft, gentle, unlike the last time they spoke to each other. It made her shudder. “Let me help.” She slowly braced herself when she turned around, staring into his beautiful green eyes, illuminated magically by Christmas lights.

“Thanks,” she whispered, carefully loosening her grip on the objects in her hand for him to take what he wanted—which was everything.

She stepped to the side when he murmured, “no problem,” and started to walk off to the kitchen. She followed him slowly, took a look around, respectfully, curiously, just when she heard the clicking of nails and the thump of paws on wooden floors, and the bark of his dog headed in their direction.

“Miracle,” Dean grunted, setting everything down on the table, “not inside.” While the fluffy dog did stop its excited running, his enthusiasm was not lost as he wagged his tail, and playfully got down on his stomach in front of her feet. Still on his belly, Miracle approached Y/n slowly, paws and tongue at her toes, as if testing the waters.

“Hey,” she greeted softly as she squatted slowly and laughed quietly, gently scratching Miracle’s head as he nudged her hand with his wet nose, staring up at her with adorably wide eyes—much like Sam did. “You’re so cute,” she cooed, her heart warming up when Miracle barked quietly.

He then jumped up and turned towards Dean, who was watching them—perplexed, happy, conflicted.

“You were asleep,” Dean scolded, but sweetly took Miracle’s head in his hands and kissed him between his ears. Miracle whined and stepped away, sitting in front of Dean as if saying ‘I’ll be good if you let me stay’. “Whatever,” Dean groaned with a smile, which made Miracle happy, because he laid his cheek on his paw and stared up at Dean, resting.

Now, it was awkward.

Dean caught her staring at him, her expression inquisitive. She cleared her throat awkwardly, but she couldn’t form words. She only now noticed that he was wearing a faded black shirt and hotdog pyjama pants.

“So…” Dean began instead, “pie.” It wasn’t any better, but it’s as she always said: it was better than nothing.

“Yes,” she confirmed, “strawberry… you weren’t getting ready for bed…?” She inquired, tipping her chin in the direction of his attire.

“Not to sleep,” he reassured her, taking a few steps toward the cupboards to pull out two plates, glass cups, and then some utensils from the lower drawer. “Why are you doing this?” Dean asked quietly from where he was across the kitchen, everything still in his hands.

“I deserve better that’s why,” she snapped. He blinked at her, guilty, but she paused and took a deeper breath. Careful to not smear her eyeliner, she rubbed her temples instead. She reached behind her to wrap her ankle around the leg of a chair to pull it out and sit down. “Sorry, I don’t like… being angry,” she breathed out, looking out his kitchen window into her dark living room. She switched the Christmas lights off. “It's very stressful because I…” She turned to look at him and forgot her words as he came closer.

He looked cuter in person and prettier, still. Three years and nothing has changed, he still had her heart right in his hand.

“Why?” He pressed, placing everything down on the table in front of her. Looking up at him felt intimidating, so she averted her gaze. He was much older than she was… it made her… feel dumb. See-through. Like he could figure her out in seconds.

“Because I’m friends with your friends,” she admitted without looking at him, then she reached out to arrange the plates, cups, and utensils. He sat down thoughtfully, and watched her unstack the small boxes she brought over.

“You’re doing this for them,” he laid out flatly, but he took a seat next to her and stared at her. His eyes on her made her self-conscious, flustered. She bet he could see everything, all the ugly and the weird in her.

“I’m doing this for me,” she corrected him gently, “I just want to be happy,” she sighed, removing the plastic wrap she placed over the pie she baked. “Is that selfish?” She wondered out loud, taking the knife, she stared at it.

“No,” Dean sighed, wrapping his hand around hers to take the knife. She inhaled sharply at the warmth of his touch, his calloused palms brushing against the back of her hand, sending warmth over her chest, pressing into her wrist with her heart excitedly pounding against her ribs.

She released the knife into his hold, trying to hide how much he affected her, but she doubted she could fully do that with the Christmas lights exposing the blush she could feel on her face. She could feel her veins pumping blood faster, caught up with the heavy beating of her heart. If he looked down at her neck, he could probably see it in her veins.

She looked away, down at Miracle who was still peacefully laying on his belly, and Dean looked away towards the beautiful pie to start slicing into it.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, taking her plate to give her the first slice. She looked up at Dean, taking the plate with a generous slice of strawberry pie.

“I wanted to be the first to say it…” She complained playfully, trying to maintain eye contact with him, but his beauty was intimidating, forcing her to look away, “soon as my ego stopped being sensitive,” she added.

Dean laughed softly, placing his own slice on his plate. The sound of his laugh made her smile, her stomach flipped with elation, at the crinkles by his eyes. Her breathy exhale made him look at her.

“Well, I’m forty-four, my ego’s been bruised enough times,” he told her, “I don’t care much for it when…” he trailed off and chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully. She bit her lip, too, trying not to stare too long at his pretty mouth.

“Well, thanks,” she murmured, her jaw twitching as she looked away from him.

“I’d consider all this an apology,” he told her, gazing at her as she opened two rectangular boxes. She smiled, shaking her head. She pulled out a bottle of homemade eggnog along with a decorated jar filled with white frosting, and a small container with crushed peppermint candy. “This isn’t… poisoned, right?” He teased, still watching her while she opened the bottle of rum eggnog, she tilted her head at him, amused. “Just making sure… you did make all this…” he trailed off, impressed.

“Taste the pie,” she encouraged as she started making the drinks.

“You’re just trying to shut me up,” he chuckled gruffly, but he picked up his fork and started to dig in. The strawberry filling barely touched his tongue when he moaned, she watched him not even begin to chew. His brows furrowed and he closed his eyes, savouring the pie.

It made her blush, but she focused on covering the rim of the cups he brought with the whiskey frosting she made and the peppermint candy shavings before filling it with eggnog.

“You made the frosting, too?” He asked, tipping his head towards the jar. His mouth was full, some strawberry filling dripped down the corner of his mouth, but he picked it up with his tongue. She licked her lips, trying to stop herself from breathing airily, and passed him the eggnog with a nod and slid the jar of frosting towards him to serve herself some eggnog.

Dean dipped his finger into the frosting, collecting a large amount before wrapping his lips around his finger to suck the frosting off. She forced herself to look away from how hot he looked and ate her own slice of pie instead.

“I’ve seriously been missing out,” he murmured regretfully. “I was real childish,” he told her, “I never should’ve gotten pissed over… everything-”

“Dean,” she interrupted him, giving him a sheepish smile, “you already apologised and I forgive you. Besides, I did things, too.. on purpose… so, I’m sorry.” She pursed her lips and took a sip from her eggnog, swiping her tongue along the sweet frosting.

“You did things on purpose?” He repeated, a smirk on his face. She breathed out a laugh and nodded bashfully. “Why?” he wondered, leaning into her curiously, subtly moving his plate of food towards her. She considered being blunt, but she chose to test him instead.

“Probably the same reason you got pissed at everything I did and didn’t do,” she laughed, pulling a piece of strawberry out of the pie to put it in her mouth.

“I doubt that,” Dean muttered, picking up his own drink, and taking a large gulp. She eyed him closely, her eyes becoming hooded when he licked across his lips after drinking to collect the thin layer of sweetened alcohol on his mouth.

“What was your reason then?” She wondered flirtatiously, her voice low and seductive. She pushed her plate away with her arm., and mimicked his body language, scooting forward in the chair.

She watched as his eyes darkened and his jaw clenched, his hand tightening around his fork before he dropped it. She’d never quite been stared at that way before, but it suddenly—almost, made her laugh. Her legs felt weak, her stomach heavy, almost fooling her into thinking she couldn’t get up, but she did.

With a rapid heart and shaky knees, she pushed her chair back, and Miracle lifted his head in alarm. Dean leaned back in his chair, sliding his palms up his thighs, and watched hungrily as she lifted her dress up her legs, squeezing in front of him and part of the table to sit on his lap.

“Seems like we’ve both been missing out on a lot of stuff,” she whispered, her stomach fluttering for a variety of reasons, but mostly from excitement. He bit his lip, eyes twinkling as he placed his hands slowly on her thighs. She sank her teeth down on her lip, too, breathing heavily when his hands began sliding up her thighs, lifting her dress higher, and higher.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered, continuing to move her dress up until his hands were wrapped around her hips where he could realise she wasn’t wearing any underwear. “I thought I should tell you, before I ruin you,” he rasped, tightening his hold on her hips.

“Fuck,” she moaned, moving forward in his lap until their hips were pressed together. She brought her hands into his hair, and pulled it gently, bringing her mouth close to his, but she never kissed him. She breathed against his lips and when he leaned forward to kiss her, she pulled back teasingly.

“You’re seriously gonna make me wait?” He whispered, slowly rolling his hips up into her, his hard cock pressing into her wet core. She gasped softly against his mouth and laughed breathlessly.

“You feel good,” she praised, flushing as she ground against him harder.

“I’d feel better inside you,” he smirked, sliding one of his hands farther up her dress, his warm palm flattening up her stomach reverently, stopping beneath her breasts..

“I bet,” she moaned, arching into his touch before finally pressing her tinted lips against his. Dean moaned softly against her mouth, pressing against her hungrily, then lifted her up, carefully moving his plate and cup aside to lay her down on the table.

“Miracle, bed,” Dean ordered when he pulled away from her lips. The dog obediently stood up and excitedly made his way to where Dean’s room was. Dean kissed her once more, drawing her attention away from Miracle and back to him.

She’d never been kissed the way Dean kissed her or touched the way Dean touched her. His hands were everywhere, testing, learning, skillful. He scratched her skin sending sparks down to her already soaked core, kneading her body roughly until she moaned against his mouth. He squeezed her and made her wet. He dug his blunt nails into her and made her nerves ignite. His hands smoothed across her, sailing over her body like she were an ocean and he was a sailor.

He was desperate, devouring her mouth with his tongue and his teeth, putting his all into the kiss, licking her lips, teasing the inside of her mouth, brushing against her warm tongue. He yearned to memorise the taste of her mouth, to feel close to her, pressing and moaning against her the way he’d done when he ate the pie and frosting. He nibbled on her lips, tugging, biting, claiming, taking the air from her lungs and pulling away at the perfect time.

He rolled his hips into her frantically and finally started to move away from her now-swollen lips, the colour of her raspberry tint robbed and replaced by the redness of his kiss.

He dragged his teeth teasingly along her jaw and licked his way down her neck, pressing his stubbled face into her neck, kissing and sucking softly, searching. She rolled her head to the side, giving him all the access he needed, until finally, she moaned loudly when he sucked into her sweetspot. He smiled against her throat, feeling her take handfuls of his shirt, her hips wiggling impatiently beneath him.

He kissed lower still, then back up to the other side of her neck, and bit her collarbones, kissing every inch of her skin, her shoulders and her sternum. She loved every second of it and slipped her hands beneath his shirt, touching and scratching his skin, pulling him closer as he bucked into her bare core.

“Did you know your shirt was see-through when we first met?” He whispered into her cleavage. She laughed and replied with a breathless ‘no’. “Well.. your tits on display, legs bare in those tiny shorts, all pissed as hell… it was hot,” he chuckled, lowering the thin straps of her dress until the top started to reveal her breasts.

“Is that why you jerked off that night?” She asked, gripping his hair and tugging hard. He grunted and laughed, staring into her lustful eyes.

“You saw?” He teased, bringing his hand to her breast, squeezing roughly. “The answer’s yes.. And everytime after that, it was also ‘cause of you,” Dean confessed, “couldn’t stop thinking about you, every day and every night. I thought I hated you, but I guess I just needed to fuck you.”

She chuckled, gripping the hem of his shirt, dragging it up his body as he latched onto her nipple. She hummed softly, tugging hard at his hair, in complete bliss as he wrapped his mouth around the bud, licking, sucking, and biting until she whimpered for him to give her more—which was impossible. He moved onto her other breast, savouring her warm skin with his hotter mouth, tugging her neglected nipple with his fingers, twisting and pinching.

“Please,” she moaned, yanking his hair so he’d pull away. Dean growled against her flesh and bit down hard on her breast, before pulling away, drawing a mewl from her of his name.

“You could be nicer,” he muttered, allowing her to lift his shirt up off his body, but he continued to kiss her breasts, sucking gently around the flesh to leave red marks. He lifted her feet up on the table and pressed her thighs close to her chest, opening her up to admire her soaked sex.

“We’re long past nice, pretty boy,” she teased blushing and biting her lip when he stood up straight. She didn’t look at him, too insecure to watch him as he brought his hand to the inside of her thighs, teasing her vulva.

“You think I’m pretty?” He grinned, circling her entrance, moaning at copious amounts of arousal on his fingers. “So wet… you that needy for my cock inside you?” He asked smugly.

She looked at him now, heat flooding up her face at his obscene words. Before she could say anything about it, the tattoo on his chest drew her attention away from the adorable pride on his face.

“You’re a hunter,” she stated, stunned, blinking at him with a smile. He looked down at himself then at her, speechless. She lifted her hips and hitched her dress up higher to reveal her ribcage where she had the same tattoo, twice as small.

“You’re a professor,” he remarked with arousal on his face, pushing his finger into her. He lowered himself down her body and wrapped his arm around her legs, holding her open as he breathed warmly against her wet cunt.

Before she could close her legs to him demurely, Dean dove in, his mouth hot on her pussy. He ate her out the same way he kissed her, teeth making her whimper, his tongue parting and tasting, picking up the flavour of her wetness as she moaned.

He salivated on her, humming in satisfaction while he sucked her clit into his mouth while he fingered her. Her hands found his hair once more, pulling hard and almost painfully, but his cock jumped each time inside the thin material of his pyjamas. Dean added a second finger as he moaned against her swollen clit, knuckles deep, pressing against the front of her textured walls, drawing silent moans from her, making her squirm more and more.

“Fuck,” she panted, “you’re so good,” she praised, flexing her hand above his head before gripping at the honey strands. He slurped lewdly, devouring her pussy, squeezing her hips desperately holding her close to his face while she pushed him harder against her cunt. “Dean… I’m close,” she moaned, closing her legs around his head.

He moaned again, adding another finger, shoving deep as he circled her swollen clit with his tongue, drawing figures on her clit possessively. She gasped loudly and cried out his name, tensing up when she orgasmed, her walls clamping down on his three fingers. The rapture of her orgasm seemed endless as he continued to tongue at her clit, it made her writhe uncontrollably, and he smirked against her pussy.

Her whiny laugh and the way she squeezed his head to stop him made him chuckle, and he tapped her thigh once he pulled his fingers from within her pulsing walls. She released him, melting into the table while he licked his fingers clean of her release.

“You taste good,” he told her earnestly, “so fucking good.” She bit her lip, giving him a look of disbelief. He narrowed his eyes at her, leaning down to lick a long stripe up her pussy, then down, pushing his tongue past her clenching, wet hole.

“Dean, fucking…” she moaned, “oh, God, why does that feel good?” She snickered, then he pulled away hovering above her. She opened her eyes to his smug face, his clean fingers squeezed her cheeks roughly until she opened her mouth. She furrowed her brows, whining out with her hands around his wrist so he’d release, but she shut up when he spit in her mouth.

“Taste yourself,” he ordered, licking his lips. Her pupils dilated as she looked into his eyes, the tangy taste of herself made her mouth water and she swallowed. “D’you know how hot you are?” He asked rhetorically, kissing her roughly once more, ravenous and stopped only when he felt her hands pushing his pants down his legs.

“I want you, Dean,” she whispered against his mouth, biting his lip before returning the passion of his kiss.

“Where?” He asked teasingly, wrapping his arm around her waist, he sat her up on the table and gently held her face in his hands, before releasing her to strip completely.

“I want you inside me,” she told him coquettishly, hopping off the table to slowly let her dress pool around her feet. “I want to ride you, to feel you stretch me open…” she walked towards him, watching him completely aroused, a look of pleasant surprise on his face, “I want you to fill me up, and make me cum on your cock…” she licked her lips, staring down at his cock, erect and leaking precum. “... I’ve never seen a dick this nice,” she told him, wrapping her hand around the base and stepping closer to him.

He grunted, “suck it then.” She laughed through her nose, releasing his cock to fondle his balls. He moaned, stumbling slightly. “I’ve been wanting to shut you up with my cock in your mouth,” he told her, a smirk on his face, “now, I’m just thinking how pretty you’ll look with your lips wrapped around me.” Dean reached up and curled his fingers around the back of her neck.

She looked behind him, removed her hand, and tipped her head to the chair, “sit.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he grinned, kicking the chair towards him like she had earlier, then he sat, legs wide and tempting. “You’re sexier than you were in my imagination,” he told her, watching her get down between his legs, kissing his thighs while looking up at him through her curled lashes.

“Keep talkin’,” she grinned up at him, taking his heavy cock in her hand once more. Dean gave her a sexy look, smug and aroused.

“I wanna finish in your mouth,” he told her, “want to see you swallow my load.” Pleased, she moved forward and began kissing and licking the length of his cock, teasingly and experimentally feeling the velvety, veiny texture against her hand, tongue, and lips. “I want to hear you choke on my cock, and see what you look like with tears in your eyes as I fuck your pretty face.” She moaned softly, intrigued by the description of his fantasy.

She dipped her tongue into the slit, moaning at the taste of his precum, drooling over the soft head of his cock before sucking him into her mouth.

“Fuck,” he moaned, tangling his fingers in her hair. She slowly took him deeper, pulling him out of her hot mouth teasingly, then swallowing inch by inch of his hard cock. “You’re so good at that, baby,” he panted, letting her take her time at her own pace, but he gripped her hair tightly. “Don’t stop,” he moaned, staring into her eyes as she continued to take his cock, bobbing her head, not stopping until he hit the back of her throat. She swallowed around him, and he bucked his hips up, releasing a whispered curse, attempting to keep his eyes open to watch her suck him off.

She got comfortable between his legs, taking his freehand to put it in her hair. He took her hair, put it together, and waited for her permission before slowly lifting his hips, pushing his cock slowly into her throat. When she gagged, he slowly pulled back, then pushed back into her, lips parted, releasing quick breaths.

Eventually, he started to fuck her face in earnest, lifting his hip up off the chair, pulling her hair hard to guide her on and off his dick. Her spit dribbled down her chin in a mixture of his precum. She swallowed as much as she could, moaning and blinking tears that tickled her eyes and her jaw.

“You look so fucking…” he chocked on a moan, “so damn sexy.”

She ignored the soreness of her jaw, relaxing it as best as she could as he fucked her near mercilessly. Her pussy throbbed with every sound of his pleasure, clit aching for attention at the way he gazed down at her with burning desire, but she refused to touch herself, enjoying the build-up, the desperation for another orgasm, for his touch.

He throbbed in her mouth, turning to mush beneath her mouth. He even began to whimper and moan her name, praises and dirty words becoming scarce in attempts to hold back his orgasm, edging himself with her mouth. It didn’t take long for him to hold her with her nose against his pelvis breathlessly.

He pulled her off his cock, and released her hair to wipe tears tenderly from her hot cheeks with his thumbs, trying to get his mind off the near-pleasure of her mouth around his cock while catching his breath.

“Yummy,” she rasped, pulling a breathless laugh from him. She wiped her chin with her shoulder and smiled up at him, slowly getting up on her knees to get rid of the ache of sitting on her legs.

She got up, leaning back against the table, admiring him in his red, flushed, somewhat sweaty state. His hair was a mess from her hands and he had a blush around his neck to his ears. She knew the hardness of his body accounted for the fact that he was a hunter, as well as the scars she felt beneath her soft hands, bite marks, bullet wounds, and healed slashes.

“Come closer,” she told him and he laughed, bringing himself and the chair closer, stopping when she sat on his thighs, fixing herself over his strong thighs. “Gonna cum if I tease you?” She asked, tapping the head of his cock. It twitched instantly and he moaned.

“Depends,” he replied breathily, sliding his hands up her body. She hummed softly, spreading her legs, positioning his cock near her soppy folds.

“On what?” She cackled playfully, parting her folds with one hand, circling her clit with her fingers. He watched her lustfully, the wetness that made her pussy shine coated her fingers.

“How wet and warm you feel on my cock,” he replied truthfully. He grabbed her hand and moved it out of the way anyway, taking his cock to push it between her folds, pressing the tip against her clit.

“Fuck, Dean,” she moaned softly, grasping his shoulders, “you feel… I need you,” she whimpered, rolling her hips along the length of his cock. He moaned with her, moving her hips closer to him, her wetness coating his cock.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, sweetheart…” Dean moaned, watching her lean back against the table, positioning the soft head of his cock to her entrance. Completely enthralled, he watched himself slip inside her, and she watched him, biting her lip hard in concentration, the stretch of her walls around him almost painful. “Fuck… I can feel how bad you need me… I need you just as bad,” he panted, flexing his hands on her thighs, desperately trying not to thrust up into her warmth. He dug his nails into her flesh, his head tipping back, his hips rolling up.

“Dean,” she moaned again, starting to lift herself up and down his cock, reaching up to cup her breast. “Shit, you feel amazing,” she breathed out, grinding her hips against his until he was fully inside her.

“You okay?” He asked, one of hands drifting up to knead her breast comfortingly. She nodded, buried her fingers in his hair and brought him in for a kiss as she bent her knees, and tucked her feet in between his thighs.

“I could cum like this,” she mumbled against his lips. His chuckle rumbled through his chest and he shook his head, her pussy clenched at the sound and she started to lift herself up again.

“Don’t worry,” he told her, sucking on his lip momentarily. “I’ll make you cum so hard…” He paused to moan, thrusting up into her slowly, meeting her hip. “...you’ll never want to fuck anyone else,” he promised her, building up the pace of his thrusts until she stopped moving with him altogether, letting him fuck up into her needy cunt.

“You’ll only wanna be fucked by me,” he continued, watching her lean back with her elbow on the table, her hands roaming his warm body, “and I’ll be there, ready to fuck you hard.” He looked over her shoulder, at the jar of frosting. “Pounding into your sweet cunt,” he swore breathlessly, reaching behind her, dipping his fingers to gather frosting, “makin’ you beg, makin’ you impossibly wet.” He smeared frosting over her nipples, over her collarbone, her sternum, until he had no more while she moaned his name needily.

“Makin’ you feel things you’ve never felt before.” He gripped her hip with frosting-coated fingers, leaning forward to lick and suck the whiskey frosting from her body. “I’ll fill you up as many times as you want,” he vowed, smoothing her hand up her back, into her hair once more, pulling until she whined his name. “I’ll fuck you wherever you want.”

Her pussy continued to gush over Dean’s cock the more he talked—his breathless, husky voice taking her over the edge. Each rough pull of her hair made her mewl and whimper as she rolled her hips desperately against his.

“Dean, please,” she whispered, scratching down his back, digging marks into his skin the harder and faster he thrusted into her. Loud skin slapping, the wet sound of her pussy being penetrated, with every push of his cock in and out of her, squelching and driving her crazy. She dug her nails into her palm, making obscene sounds that made her self-conscious.

“I’ll fuck you all over your house, all over mine.” Another moan of his name, another rough pull of her hair. “I’ll fuck you in my car, in your car, anywhere and all over town.” He pulled away from her sticky chest, licked his lips at the sight of her, so she screwed her eyes shut. She felt a warm pool of wetness on her pelvic bone, opened her eyes to him spitting between their bodies, watching his saliva drip down her folds to her clit.

She’d never heard of or experienced sex quite this raw and dirty.

“I’ll make you scream my name, make you forget how to talk, how to walk…” She leaned back into him, panting into his ear, keeping him close while rubbing her clit. He yanked her hair, forcing her to look at him.

“Dean…”

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he whispered, closing his eyes, he breathed against her lips, “and I want you forever.”

As he promised, she cried out his name when she came, squeezing his cock hard, coating him in her release. He grunted her name, cursing loudly as he came inside her, his hot seed spurting into her, filling her as he said he would.

He circled his arms around her as she writhed once more, releasing her hair as she put her arms around his neck, panting and catching her breath until the pleasure subsided.

“I want all of that,” she murmured after a few moments of silence, kissing his cheek. He squeezed her and moved back, bewildered. He moved hair from her face and tilted his head at her, drawn to her nakedness, her flushed beauty. “First, I want to shower…” Slowly, carefully, she climbed off his lap, her legs shaky, her pussy releasing the mixture of their pleasure.

“That’s a good start,” he told her softly. “Son of a bitch,” he mumbled when he stood up from the chair and looked around at the mess in the kitchen. “No one’s coming home anytime soon… thanks to Sammy…” Dean trailed off, smoothing his hand over his head to fix his hair.

“Thanks to me,” she came clean with a shy smile, bringing his gaze up to hers. His eyes twinkled and he laughed loudly, tugging her towards him again by her arm, his lips pressing against hers.

➥ sempiternal

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miaisocool · 3 months

Text

Johanna

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary - Wanda was your best friend in college that you had feelings for... were your feelings reciprocated or not?

Warnings: Mentions of underage drinking, Angst, Fluff in a way?... YES THIS WILL HAVE A PART TWO!

Word count: 4k

Note: This is inspired by the song Johanna by suki waterhouse :) so i recommend listening to that song..

Oh, my Johanna, Johanna...

There you were at a party that wanda invited you to it was just a simple college party nothing else the atmosphere felt weird... and tense your vision was hazy including nothing but people passing out, strobe lights flashing over your face red solo cups plastered all over whoevers kitchen counter.. drinks that you didn't recognize the name of assuming it was something fancy. It made sense since it was apparently some rich kid who's dad owned a big company hosting the party you didn't even recognize anyone there except wanda, clint, tony and maybe natasha?...

You and natasha never got along well due to your past with her meaningless hookups that would end up with nobody in her bed the morning after. It was a on and off thing for a while with you catching feelings for her when she didn't want you and natasha catching feelings for you when you didn't want her it was a confusing thing between you both it was on and off like that for a while during your freshman year of college but, you guys talked it out and discussed how it was better for you both to just keep the relationship between you two EXTREMELY platonic she went on a rant of multiple pros and cons about it and how it would keep your friend group together you didn't care as much as she did but you went along with it. So did she.. she soon got used to it and distanced herself from you she was tired no matter whether or not the friendship included those hookups or if it was platonic she couldn't manage to be friends with you knowing she was gonna catch feelings again. Did she have a good reason to? maybe but those were hookups that you and her both strived off of everyone moved on from it except for her it was somewhat of a cold atmosphere between you and her for a while but its okay now, which you assumed since she gave you a quick smile at this party...

"come on.. go talk to her!" clint nudged your shoulder as he nodded to the direction wanda was in she looked so beautiful.. whenever you got a glance of her the signal of butterflies would turn in your stomach and it made you somewhat smile to yourself it was common for you to do that.. smiling at the thought of wanda or smiling whenever you had a interaction with her you couldn't help it who wouldn't fall for her? he was bothering you all night to go up to wanda and dance with her or at least have a conversation with her but he knew you were too afraid to "I think i just need to sit down.. i dont know clint.. this party is just.." it was true the party was overwhelming with the music pulsating off of the walls even when you stepped outside for some "fresh air" it was nothing but the music still blasting strobe lights were even set up outside to "keep the party going" which was doing nothing but making everyones face in the crowd unrecognizable and the strong scent of weed making the air thick, the scent of sweat and alcohol mingling with the aroma of wanda in your mind wasn't doing you justice she always smelt like cherries and wine in the best way possible the only scent that you could ever get drunk off of, the only scent that ever brought comfort to you when you didn't feel safe, the only-

"Y/n! im so glad you made it!!" Wanda had the biggest smile on her face as her slender fingers caressed your shoulder bringing you the sense of home and getting rid of the overstimulated feelings you had from the party. You were caught off guard with the sight of wanda suddenly coming up to you, you didn't expect it but yes you did how couldn't you? you guys were friends and she was known for being the sweetest to you, you sometimes wonder if thats what made you catch feelings for her. You hated it but no matter how much you did it wouldn't go away.

"wanda.. hey.." it took a while for you to regain your composure as you were drunk off of literally nothing except the thought of wanda in your system well to be honest she was the only thing in your mind that night "i couldn't find you" you lied, you saw her multiple times throughout the night even when clint brought your attention to her and tried to pressure you into talking to her. You avoided her, you felt guilty about it. how could you? wanda was basically your friend that you had feelings for just a friend that you had a really good connection with, the first person to ever show you what true love was like? or was it just fully platonic you always wondered what she thought about your friendship with her..

"i was looking for you!" she giggled her laugh was like the only noise that ever brought you happiness the noises from the party fading away and the soft rustle of the cup she was holding which had a bit of what you assumed was rum her eyes glistening from the backyard lights really making the emerald green remind you of the beautiful grass that you always dreamt about laying in with her and being far away from home you stood there taking in the moment of her presence until she spoke again "let me get a drink for you!" she said loudly but quietly in your ear it was hard to speak with speakers literally making the music blast in your eardrums the music was too loud for you to understand what she said but you made it out in your mind as you nodded she took your hand gently dragging you through the big crowd of people who were all over the place dancing, drinking, smoking or just passed out all over the atmosphere was still a mess but with the sight of wanda your mind was blurred from the chaos of the party the noise quickly faded as you took in wandas features from her dark brown reddish hair to the curves on her body your mind was in awe her presence was like a aura of light in darkness

A few seconds later as your back inside of the house wanda hands you a cup of a drink you couldn't even recognize but you knew it was alcohol you weren't used to liquor but you decided to put on a front for wanda as you chugged it and had sort of a face of grimace as you put the cup back down onto the counter "i know you don't drink" you turned your gaze back to wandas as you spoke

"i know.." it was true you didn't drink but you decided to act tough for her or maybe loosen up once in a while but she knew you.. she knew that you hated parties, hated smoking, hated the thought of being peer pressured, hated alcohol. anything that was sinful for you in general you despised, but this night wanda was your heaven sent angel

"just thought i would've gave it a try you know?" you murmured into her ear the music was still too loud to have a conversation with one of you yelling or whispering into the others ear "I guess its not my thing" wanda brought her hand up to your back as she slowly caressed it up and down making a wave of comfort wash over you.

"it doesn't have to be your thing" her eyes softened as she noticed your discomfortness " Y/n.. you don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with" "you don't have to pretend with me you know?" you couldn't help but feel your cheeks warming up and blushing at the sound of your name coming out her mouth and the sentence that tugged at your heart strings heer words truly resonated within you, cutting through the noise of the party and the insecurities that had you held up throughout the party. A reassurance that you didn't have to adjust to anyone else's expectations to belong.

"honestly you could just be yourself and thats all i want" her pupils dilated as she looked into your eyes this caught you off guard "nothing else?" you smiled and teased wanda seeing how far you could push her back into her regular state she quickly hit your shoulder and rolled her eyes as she giggled.

A flashback to two months ago

You were invited to breakfast by wanda you weren't used to waking up as early as her. This restaurant spot was where you guys would meet up countless times to talk, study or just have a coffee you didn't like waking up early to meet up with wanda like this but you couldn't help but fiend for her presence so you pushed yourself cause it was wanda and you wanted her, you loved her, you desired her. The morning sun was glistening over your skin as you stared at your phone until wanda spoke up "The service is awfully slow today.." you weren't used to seeing wanda be impatient was she complaining too much? no she wasn't it's true the service was very slow it makes sense since it's summer there was many tourists visiting the city just for food, beaches, views and expenses it held. "I could've cooked my own food faster than this.." wanda muttered under her breath you weren't used to seeing cold attitude come from her even her voice was laced with venom but you quickly spoke up and decided to ignore it "i'm sure they're just busy.." you noticed she was biting the inside of her cheek wanda would always do this whenever she had something heavy on her mind or if she was just frustrated. It hurt you seeing her like this so you snapped her out of her thoughts "wanda our foods here" she quickly re adjusted herself straightening her posture in the seat as the server set her food down along with yours "Sorry for the wait, enjoy." the server smiled at you both as he walked away quickly attending other customers. Wanda just rolled her eyes leaving a awkward but comforting silence you weren't sure what to say to cut the tension in the air until wanda spoke up "So.. i have news" you noticed something was off her voice was a bit hesitant before speaking that wasn't normal either she was always so confident before she spoke.. you raised your eyebrow giving a signal to wanda to continue talking as you bit into your food "I've been seeing this guy.." your heart immediately stopped at the mention of a guy wanda is with, the oxygen in your lungs felt nonexistent, the butterflies in your stomach died, it felt like you were suffocating almost, your chest started to burn as you coughed on your food a bit as you tried to force a smile "That's great wanda" you spoke up trying to suppress the feelings of jealousy within you, you wanted to scream at her telling everything you ever felt for her what you loved about her and how much you longed for her but you knew you couldn't. wanda spoke up again silencing the ringing noise in your ears "We're still figuring things out you know?" "I just wanted you to be the first to know" she smiled at you how could you not love wanda? The room fell silent once again, the weight of Wanda's words heavy in the air. You glanced around the restaurant until you swallowed scrambled eggs and your feelings of jealousy "im happy for you" your voice was slightly trembled oh how you wished wanda wasn't so blind..

I was drinking hard, acting tough But it was just a crush, just a crush

There you were dancing with wanda you were at least two shots in not enough to be drunk but enough to start pouring out your heart to her of how you wanted to marry her, make her yours, or be hers? your body was starting to loosen up so was the lump in your throat with every secret you held you towards her you couldn't help but notice how beautiful wanda looked even with messy hair your mind would sometimes drift off wondering if that's what she would look like if you ever had the chance to wake up next to her. You couldn't help where your mind was drifting off to but it felt strange, your mouth started to open up as if it was a feeling of vomit the music made you deaf from any words that were about to come out your mouth you tried to protest it but soon your body gave up

"Wanda.." You said her name as if it was a prayer she kept dancing as she heard you speak up the lights looked so beautiful in her eyes as it glistened over her face making wanda a bit unrecognizable and making your vision hazy mixed with the alcohol you had...

You knew she didn't want you, You knew she was with vision, she belonged with vision, She didn't even think of you that way but here you were about to dump your feelings towards her the weight on your chest was starting to feel heavier.

As Wanda danced like a angel gracefully, her laughter ringing out like in your ears, you couldn't help but feel a pang of longing deep within your chest. She was so close, yet so far away, a distant star shining brightly in a sky you could never reach.

"Wanda" You repeated once again... You leaned into her waiting for her to send or give a sign of some assurance that she knew what you were trying to do or if your feelings were reciprocated she soon leaned in and brushed her lips against yours. Your heart started to pound quickly as if it was a ticking time bomb that was about to explode. The kiss was soft, tender she tasted like cherries, rum and wine with a hint of cinnamon you were testing the waters first until she deepened the kiss making it become more passionate with a trembling touch you cupped her face into your hand you could feel how warm her cheeks were getting and the smile forming on her face as you pulled back she pulled back into the kiss making her breath warm and sweet you could tell she wanted this too with the way she pushed her body against yours the longer the kiss continued you pulled back and started kissing onto her neck as she moaned into your ear all you wanted to do in that moment was melt into her arms but it soon came to a end.

The feeling of vomit was starting to get heavier on your chest the more you stared at her figure dancing in the strobing lights

"im gonna get another drink" Your voice trembled with emotion as she nodded and smiled give you assurance that she would be right there just dancing the night away knowing she'll never walk away from you. You wished you could stay there forever with her but you walked away quickly to the bathroom making your way through the crowd getting elbowed a few times and struggling to get out of some tight spaces

You immediately shut the door once you stepped in and looked at yourself in the mirror, your hair was messy droplets of sweat were pouring down your face, watery eyes, pupils dilated. You looked completely out of it, you couldn’t tell what was real or fake, there was still adrenaline running throughout your veins from the sensation wanda had once placed on your lips and the melody she left ringing in your ear it was everything you ever wanted you soon closed your eyes turning on the sink splashing your face with water noticing the vivid image of wanda’s face and the lights you soon opened your eyes and smiled recollecting your thoughts of what just happened you were all happy and thought about how it was finally the right time to confess your feelings to wanda. You resented that vision was going to hold a spot in wanda’s heart even if you wanted to be in a relationship with her but you daydreamed about ways it could work out for the both of you.

Soon after you stopped smiling to yourself and daydreaming what you and wanda could be you soon stepped out the bathroom your eyes being greeted with the sight of clint coming up to you

“i’ve been looking for you everywhere!” He drunkenly swung his arm around you catching you off guard forcing you to regain your balance “Clint right now is not the best time…” You whispered into his ear trying to look for wanda in the crowd. It was hard to look for anyone in general even with the strobe lights flashing and fog in the air masking everyone, making it impossible to find her.

The air was choking up your throat as you tried to get a fresh breath of air from how terrible the party smelled but you had to adapt your senses to it even if it meant passing out all that mattered to you right now was getting to wanda. Your heart started to race the more you were scanning the crowd with desperation of finding wanda but you could barely recognize anyone… The feeling of clint trying to tug you back into his presence wasn’t helping you focus much either and the fact that he was yelling into your ear was just causing you more overstimulation. You bumped into a couple of people having to apologize profusely over and over your voice noticeably shaking with fear and emotion until….

You finally spotted wanda crossing out everyone in the crowd making the lights that were once flashing into your eyes causing a headache, you noticed she was dancing with a tall figure you really couldn’t make out who it was but you noticed it was some tall blond lanky man dancing and grinding against her they looked like two intertwined souls dancing with not a care in the world. You couldn’t help but feel a lump build up in your throat as you spotted the two having such a intimate dance, your throat got even tighter when you recognized it was vision the man who she would brag about all the time and how happy she was with him..

Was that why she was smiling at you all night? Was that why she didn't pull away from your kiss? Your mind drifted off to multiple scenarios maybe she was trying to get her mind off of vision. You knew he wasn't the perfect boyfriend for her well everyone had their reasonings but that's what you wanted to believe so you could swoop in and be with wanda because at the end of the day you believed that you were the one she belonged to. You remembered those nights you stayed up late just to hear her rambling about how many times she caught vision cheating on her you tried to convince her to break up with him not out of jealousy but out of how you wanted the best for her even if that meant not being with you. You didn't really have the right to be upset with her even if she was dancing with vision..

Feeling suffocated by the weight of unrequited love, you needed an escape – something to numb the ache in your chest and quiet everything that was going on in your head. So, without a second thought, you gave Clint a quick glance and pulled him into the kitchen, where all the drinks were stocked.. Your throat was tight and burning enough already, the alcohol was not going to suppress your feelings for her, it wasn't going to suppress the numbness you felt at the sight of wanda dancing with vision but you decided this is what you need to clear your head so you drank away

"Hey.. y/n lets slow down the drinks alright?" although clint was a bit drunk he still had a mind of his own. To be fair he was the only one out of the group who knew you best even since you didn't speak your feelings he could still tell what was wrong with you. You could notice that clint was very concerned and worried for you all you needed to do was to communicate with him so he could stop you for whatever disaster was about to happen.

"I'm fine."

You paused, your hand hovering over the bottle, the weight of Clint's words sinking in. In that moment, you realized that drowning your sorrows in alcohol wouldn't make the pain of seeing wanda with vision go away – it would only numb it temporarily. But either way you took a long chug of whichever alcohol you chose from the counter and how it left a sharp pain in your throat the same sharp pain wanda was leaving..

Clint watched you silently, his eyes filled with understanding and empathy. He knew all too well the pain you were having as he soon came to what made you this way the agony of watching someone he cares for slip through his fingers. "I just need a moment," you muttered, your words slurring slightly as the alcohol began to take effect. But even as you spoke, you couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that gnawed at your insides, a constant reminder that wanda would never be yours and that her happily ever after would be with vision even in every other universe..

You were already soon too deep it had been a few minutes ever since you chugged multiple cups of alcohol and clint snatched the bottle from you although you tried to fight him and protest but you knew he wasn't doing any wrong so you soon gave up after.. You noticed a few looks coming from the crowd as you started to cause a scene while all clint was trying to do was diffuse the situation as he took the bottles and cups away from you.

Your body was starting to give up as you tried to lean against the counter for support even clint was trying to help you regain your composure your muscles were slacking and the lights started to turn into a hazy vision of a kaleidoscope, the weight of the alcohol and emotions bore down on you, the world around you began to blur and spin. With each passing moment, the room seemed to tilt on its axis, the sounds and colors melding together into a haze.

You tripped over your own foot as you tried to lean against the counter again but without warning you soon saw every overwhelming sense come to a halt as the last thing and all you could perceive were scurried footsteps and Wanda's voice, a distant echo calling out your name in panic and worry. The last sensation being the vibrations of her voice coming through and her hands reaching out to catch your weak body as you felt droplets from what you assumed were tears of concern coming from wanda.. In that moment, as darkness closed in around you, you couldn't help but not have a single thought but for now, all you could do was surrender to the embrace of unconsciousness and wandas arms wrapped around you as she tried to help you.. The voices of the crowd and clint and wanda and then vision were the finally the last thing.

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lynnlovesthestars · 6 months

Text

Why?

Pairing: Astarion x Reader. Genre: Hurt/comfort, angst, fluff. Warnings: mentions of past abuse, self-harm, astarion is a little bitch that can't accept someone can take care of him, blood sucking, lots of pulling and letting go i guess?, messy emotions for messy people, self doubt and insecurities. Anxiety, panic attacks, nudity but not sexual. (if i missed something, please let me know. Summary: night is that moment when you can take care of yourself, but what if you find someone that needs more care than you? WC: 4.4k

Author notes: omg i finally finished this one, i've been working on it for a while now and initially it was supposed to be published before i started getting requests, which by the way im loving and im diligently working on<3, anyways this was a small challenge for me, i've been trying to work with stuff i wasn't entirely comfortable with to push my boundaries and learn something new, and this came out.. I hope you'll enjoy this read while I work on the next draft<3 love you lots!

When the moon finally made its way in the sky, and dinner had been consumed, you knew you finally had some time for yourself.

You’d take that time to scrub away the blood that stuck to your skin and the filth of the day. Traveling along a river had it’s pros: you found a nice spot along the bed of the Chionthar that seemed perfect for a bath.

That night the place was particularly silent, the wind was blowing between the leaves and it was the only sound that you could hear until you passed that funny rock shaped like a bear.

Initially you thought it was an animal, or at worse a beast, but as you delved closer rhe sound became much clearer.

Heavy breathing.

It was a sound you could recognize everywhere, because it was a sound you’d make on those nights when anxiety would take over and you felt helpless. Since you went through all the hardships of your life, you promised yourself you’d do your best to help people in need, and in that moment there was definitely someone that needed help.

Your stomach was churning as you followed the shallow breaths that reverberated in the silence of the undergrowth. It led to a small clearing where the moonlight was free to enlight as much as possible of your surroundings. On the opposite side from where you came from, someone was coiled on himself, exposing their bleeding back your way.

The slender fingers clawed at their own flesh leaving deep marks, but it was the whimpering that helped you recognize the person in front of you.

Astarion.

Astarion that was completely naked, his nails were digging into his shoulders, and trembling like a beaten puppy. His clothes were scattered around the clearing, they were ripped in the haste of the panic, you assumed.

You rushed to his side, dropping your bag next to him as you crouched and cradled him to you.

“‘Starion” You whispered as you scanned him, from the way he hid his face, to the red streaks along his chest, the pale skin stained with tears and his glassy, raw eyes.

His whole body was a trembling mess as he couldn’t hold back tears. The slow wails were filling you with anguish as you tried to calm him down just enough so he could make out a few words.

“Who did this to you?” You whispered softly, as you slowly dried his cheeks. The question awoke something in him, he slipped out of your arms before you could object and he tried to sit up.

His arms were shaking as he rested his palms on the leaves-covered soil. “No one.” He turned his head away, his eyes subsequently diverting from yours. “It doesn’t matter anyway.” He breathed out as he tried to stop his eyes from getting more and more teary, yet failing at each attempt.

“Yes, it does.” You insisted, raising your palm and reaching for his cheek. Gently you guided his eyes back to you making sure he knew you cared. Making sure that he knew you only wanted to help him.

The pit in your stomach felt like a dark hole in you, swallowing everything with it. You’ve never seen him like this since you two met, not even when you learned his vampirism while he was starving.

Even when you learned small bits of his past, like how he got turned, he always kept composure, though you knew he was hurting. Now instead he was so vulnerable.

You felt a pang of guilt hit you, you were invading his personal space and he probably wanted to run away, yet he was growing on you, and if there was something about you, it was that no one hurt the people you cared for.

“Who did this to you?” You repeated still gently yet firm. You caressed his cheek with your thumb, taking your time to wipe away the remnants of his previous tears.

For a moment he hesitated, he wanted to hold back, but then his body gave out, almost slumping on yours. His eyes were duller, his lips were quivering, and he wasn’t sure he could ever form a full sentence properly, but you were there and you were trying to help him. No one ever tried to help him.

For so long he wished someone would waltz in and come to his rescue. He desperately wished someone would shake him awake from his worn coffin to drag him out of those filthy kennels. He wished someone would dry his tears and heal his wounds, yet for 200 years he suffered alone.

Instead you did much more than what he expected: you insisted, you didn’t recoil disgusted or gave up. You sat there trying over and over to patch him up, to find answers, and to find who hurt him so deeply that he’d end up bleeding alone in a forest.

You knew, of course, that he didn’t tell you his whole story when he opened up, it would have been foolish of him to do so since you were a stranger. He didn’t mention the scars that covered his back, or the constant nightmares during his reverie, cause of course elves couldn’t live without over analyzing things, or the true extent of his master’s punishment. You couldn’t have known yet.

His voice was shaky, broken, a whisper as he muttered Cazador’s name, afraid that even saying his name out loud would be too much, like that would make the monster materialize in front of him, but once he muttered his name, he couldn’t stop his words from being vomited out of his throat like sharing all of this with you was a new compulsion bestowed upon him.

“I was meditating when my brain decided to gift me an old memory” He sighed shakily. “And of course the memory was related to whatever is carved in my back. The pain was so vivid it felt like I was back there, hunched as that bastard was having the time of his life.” His voice was feeble, broken, it was so raw you were not sure how to react.

“When I woke up I was covered in blood and everything was hurting.” His eyes widened for a moment like he could rewatch those images over and over again, right there in front of you.

“My body was clearly not mine anymore, I was taken over by this fear that you’d all hate me for whatever this is, so I ran looking for a spot to hide.” He lowered his gaze.

“I guess before I could look around me, I sank on my knees. I felt like I was suffocating, Tav.” He was trusting you with something that he was running away from, something that terrorized him, something that you knew went opposite of his survival instinct. It was something that made him so fragile that he had to run away from a place that he should have considered safe, your camp.

Despite the gushing wounds he still ran, and yet he allowed you to get a piece of his mind, he didn’t kick you away like he’d usually do.

“My clothes were too much, the pain was too much, everything was too much. I'm not gonna lie. I literally ripped everything off before I could even process what I was going to do to myself. The only thing I knew was that the old scars were open again and they were gushing. I could feel it, Tav. I could feel the blood dripping down my fucking back.” His eyes were brimmed again with tears that he couldn’t hold back even if he tried, it was such a haunting feeling he wished he could erase the memory. “I couldn’t stop.”

He looked at his hands, his fingers were covered in blood and specs of his skin were hidden under his fingers. He was so disgusted at the sight that another sob quivered from his lips.

“You’re safe, nothing can hurt you now.” You leaned forward wiping his cheeks with your palms.

The remorse in his eyes was vivid, he just had trauma dumped on you and he knew you were going to hate him for it, but then you said his name so gently, so caring, that he allowed you to caress him.

You gave him time to ragain as much control as he could muster before you helped him up. He did look in need of a bath undoubtedly, and you had to go to the river anyways, so you asked him if he wanted to join you. You offered to clean his wounds so he could avoid infections, though you weren’t so sure vampires could get infected like that.

You both took your time standing up, his head was pounding so hard that his balance faltered. Your arms were there for him before he could hit the ground.

How was it possible that whenever he'd be deep in shit, you saved the fucking day? Just that day you did it twice and he would have sworn he didn't deserve any of it.

“I’ve got you” You made sure your arms were anchored on him, steadying his movements, and taking the opportunity to ask him if you could clean his wounds. He wanted so bad to refuse but his body felt so heavy, and his eyes pleaded for help no matter how much he’d try to hide it. Astrarion couldn’t recall a single person that cared for him so tenderly.In the past 200 years all he got was beatings, starvation, indifference, it was all so foreign to him, so much that the words you told him bounced in his head incessantly for days. “I know you can handle it yourself, but it doesn’t mean you should have to do this on your own.” I know you can handle it yourself, but it doesn’t mean you should have to do this on your own.”

It was like a second nature to you, you could read his eyes like no one ever did.

Yyu guided him towards the river, in that secluded spot you liked.

You settled down your bag on a stump, and along with it Astarion’s clothes. You decided you were going to clean those after you were done with your baths, and afterward if your fingers didn’t feel too sore, you’d work on fixing the tear along the back of his blouse.

You picked up the small bunch of bottles, and one of the small towels you usually carried around to clean your wounds.

Astarion let go of your hand only when you picked up those things, and even in that brief instant, his legs could barely hold him up. It was like he was dragged back in the kennels, like he had not fed in goddamned ages, and he lost too much blood to even breathe.

You didn’t notice it until you turned towards him, his body was quivering like a leaf in the middle of a tornado.

Despite the tremor and the blood, there was still something about him that leaked confidence, like the hurt that was encompassing him was not making him look smaller, or weaker. It was.. real.

If you thought you saw through astarion when you first met him, this was the moment you realized you were wrong. When you were slammed in front of this raw sight, you knew.

This was the closest you could get to the real Astarion, and it hurt. You didn’t understand why it hurt so much, but it was much worse than any other pain you could recall. It was a feeling that was eating you from the inside cause you knew his wounds were much deeper than what he shared with you so far.

Nevertheless, you didn’t hesitate to throw the bottles closer to the water and pass to astarion the towel, then before he could even understand what was going on, you whisked him up in your arms.

He wanted to complain- he wanted to rely only on himself-, but his body didn’t agree. It was like it was screaming at him, screaming to tell him that he needed help and that even for a moment, it would have been okay to let someone patch him up.

You sat him right at the edge of the river, where a log was already propped nicely so travelers could clean themselves without the risks of the flowing water, then without thinking too much about it, you stripped off your own clothes, discarding them quickly. You weren’t embarrassed, or rather, you were, but he exposed so much of himself already, that you felt safe to do it as well.

You joined him, sitting yourself in a spot that allowed you to slip in the water effortlessly, while still being close to Astarion.

The towel was the trick: you dipped the cloth in the water just enough that you could wipe away the blood without soaking the skin, then you’d gently run it down Astarion’s body to wipe it all.

You worked one small patch at a time, starting with his right shoulder and working your way through his scarred body.

His back was towards you, exposing the carving, which you identified as infernal runes. You cleaned him slowly and with a softness you didn’t know you had in you.

Everytime you’d move away to dip the cloth in the water, his body would soften, even if for a moment, before the towel grazed again on his scars, and he couldn’t help but flinch ever so slightly.

“I’ve got you” You whispered under your breath as you pressed the cloth on his neck, causing a long shudder to run through Astarion’s back.

He wasn’t sure what if was anymore: whether it was the towel still startling him or your words that seemed to mend him like tiny plasters putting his wounds back together. What you were doing for him.. it was nice. You soothed his skin, while whispering supportive words as you took care of him.

“I won’t let him hurt you again” You whispered while taking a moment to squeeze the blood off the towel, before resuming your slow descent.

As you worked on another patch of the runes, you couldn’t help but stare at the way the moonlight shone on his skin, it was a sight that otherwise you would never see.

Your eyes took in all his form as you cleaned and cleaned, and you could feel your heart running an extra mile.

The slow passing of time started to affect him after a while, his back slowly hunched under the heavy weight of his thoughts, his breath hitched as you diligently traced his back. No one was ever allowed to touch his back before you. He could feel the tears swelling again under his eyes.

You were so concentrated on cleaning that you didn’t notice until he was almost curled up again, and you helped him up.

You kept your arm around his waist so he couldn’t fall prone as you started working on the wounds on his chest, and that’s when his eyes met yours, the crimson was shining as the tears piled and piled on them, the moon only served the purpose of highlighting them.

Then when you scooted him closer to you and allowed his back to rest against your chest, he was a crying mess again.

This time his lips were moving before his brain could process his thoughts, for a moment you could see his sanity slip away hidden in the drops of his tears.

“Why?” He pleaded. “Why? Why? Why?” His voice rose between choked sobs.

“Why now?” The more he would ask, the more his voice would raise, until it finally broke in a whisper again. “Why didn’t you show up earlier? I could have been plucked from...” His words felt like a stab right through your chest.

"Shh" You whispered as you left the bloodied rag on his thigh, and you wrapped your other hand around his waist.

"I might have not made it in time, but I promise you I'm not leaving your side now" You pulled him on your lap, leaving a soft kiss on his temple. You knew that if he was still alive, you’d feel his chest pound incessantly as everything became overwhelming, but the only sound you could perceive was the rushing of the water. In any other occasion you would have hated the closeness of your naked bodies, you would have been weary of such intimacy, yet it felt different. It felt right.

“Why? Why are you doing this?” He asked when his breath finally set down again, and the only memory of it was the long streaks of tears still sulking his skin.

“Cause you don't deserve this” You still held him close as you lowered your voice, making sure the sound of the water could shield you both if you needed it, like a bubble around you.

“Liar” His tone matched yours, but with much more spite. “I've done awful things” He shook his head, it was something that heavily plagued him, he’d often have flashes of some of the horrible things he did, and that moment was one of them: he could hear the echo of the screams of the poor victims he’d bring back to Cazador.

“That doesn’t mean you deserved torture.” You cooed. “You didn’t have a choice.” You traced small soothing circled on his hip as you still held him close.

He sighed deeply, he knew you were right as much as he wanted to say that he could have ran away. The memory of the darling boy and the consequence of his action were a fierce reminder of it, everyday of his life.

“You are a fool.” He sneered. “I have stabbed in the back everyone I got close to, and you are still doing…” He pointed at the two of you, at the position you are sharing, at the rag on his thigh, at your arms around him, and the words you just told him. “This.”

“I like taking risks.” You chuckled softly.

“This is not a risk, you are doomed to fail and you are a dimwit” He rolled his eyes, evidently it was obvious for him, unlike you that still believed fairytales.

“Am I?” You didn’t falter, in that moment you felt confident in your choice.

“Are you forgetting the knife I held at your throat darling? What makes you think I wouldn’t do it again?” He retorted trying to make you waver, it was his survival mechanism at the end of the day. If he was able to slither in just enough doubt, he wouldn't’-

Your words caught his attention again right away, as you started counting on your fingers.

“The fact that we’ve been traveling together for 3 weeks, that I let you feed off me several times and you have not sucked me dry, the fact that you told me about your past, and that you allowed me to just wipe away blood from your back.” You stopped for a moment, building up tension and to perceive what went through his mind in that moment. “..and the fact that you are literally crying in my lap.” You finished.

“Okay what if i'm just manipulating you? How would you tell?” What was the game he was playing?

“I don’t think that what i witnessed tonight could be faked, ‘Starion” You finally sighed, relaxing your shoulders. You didn’t even feel your body tense up, that’s how much you were absorbed by this conversation between you two, cause it was so confusing.

He didn’t answer anymore at your last remark, he just allowed you to finish your work diligently as he was lost in thought again.

You made sure his wounds were clean before leaving the rest of his body up to him, and then you finally took your time to properly clean yourself as well as your clothes.

Drying your skin was by far the hardest step since you carried only one big towel with you: you opted to pat your bodies dry before slipping in your clean clothes, then you’d give him the towel to cover himself, since his clothes were in heavy need of repair.

The walk back to camp was fairly silent, since Astarion was still affected by the blood loss and you were lost in your thoughts.

You left your wet clothes next to the fire where they could dry while you’d rest, and then you started to walk back to your tent.

When you were just a few steps away from your little nook, you remembered.

Instead of sneaking directly into your tent, you made a beeline towards Astarion’s. He was still outside, sorting a few empty containers he had around, while his frustration was palpable in the air.

“‘Starion” You called quietly, avoiding to wake up everyone else.

“What? Are you here to give me your pity?” He scoffed as he was still fixated on the conversation you just had.

“Actually, I was wondering if you needed to be fed.”Your voice betrayed your worry which was loud and clear. “Earlier I noticed you were struggling, and your eyes are.. dulled” You explained, you wanted to pat his shoulder but you stopped just a moment before you touched him.

“So? Are you going to make fun of me if I am?” His walls were back up, the vulnerable elf you saw earlier rushed away behind this mask he carefully handpicked to push you away.

“No, you can feed off me though” You suggested encouraging. “If you want of course, take

your time, I’ll be in my tent” The last thing you hear was a muffled ‘thanks’ as you made your way to your tent again.

Astarion finally made up his mind, he strode quickly toward your canopy. “Darling?” He brought your attention to him. Your tent’s entrance was wide open, offering zero privacy to you as you were nose deep in some tome.

“Hey, come in.” You smiled, you were glad he was no longer avoiding you. “Can you please unhook the flap?” You asked while you moved the book away from the two of you. “I don’t wanna make you feel too exposed” You clarified.

“I appreciate it, but are you sure you want me to feed off you? I mean I know it’s not the first time, but it’s-” He hesitated, sure he wanted you to stay away, but at the same time that thought made him flinch away, like he should have felt differently.

“Yeah I’m sure” The apple of your cheeks warmed up at the nervousness, especially when you noticed he was fidgeting with his fingers. “You lost so much blood and the shock.. you definitely need to get your fill”

“Thanks” He avoided your eyes before sitting next to you.

On the other hand you took your time readjusting your little reading corner, making sure it would comfortably hold both of you.

“Just relax, I’ll take care of everything” He finally gave you the closest thing to a smile after a whole evening of tears. His arms wrapped around your middle as he helped you to lay with him. His touch was impossibly gentle: he moved away your hair and tilted your head to expose your neck, but he didn’t bite right away.

His teeth grazed your skin, sending a shiver down your spine as he held you to him, just like earlier you held him to you. He traveled down your neck with his lips, looking closely for your pulse, or so you assumed, then when he found a nice spot, he sunk his teeth in your flesh. Your body tensed for just one moment as you could feel his lips press around the wound, and your blood slowly leaking out.

Then you became putty in his hands, the dizzying sensation rocked you sweetly as you let it take over you.

He was slow, tender.

He held your head gently and pulled you impossibly close, almost as he wanted to fuse your bodies.. His legs naturally tangled with yours while he sucked and sucked on your skin like his life depended on it.

It took everything of you to repress the whimpers that would build up in your throat, it was different from all the other times he drank from you: in the past you’d just be very tense, but in that moment you felt like air was directly pulled out of your lungs, like your body was being set on fire.

He wasn’t in any different condition, he was barely repressing the moans as your warm blood rushed against his tongue, and his breath was hardly regular.

Even your blood tasted different, sweeter than before taking over all his senses. It was madness, it was like your blood suddenly turned into a drug he couldn’t resist, making his head spin.

He stopped only when he noticed you were starting to slump in his arms, a sign that you were getting too close to a no-going-back point.

He took time to lap away the blood that was still leaking from the pinpricks, sending jolts down your limbs, and stealing a sweet mewl from your lips. He didn’t concentrate on the sound he coaxed off your lips, cause he knew that if he did he’d probably spiral into insanity, so he focused on the wound he had inflicted, leaving a few kisses right where the pricks of his teeth made home, before reaching for your blanket and covering you with it.

He didn’t let go of you, or move at all for what it mattered, he had to internalize all those feelings that were overwhelming him before he could walk out. He knew that if he didn’t stop there until he was back in himself, he would have felt dizzy as well, and he wasn’t fond of the idea of passing out on the floor.

Was he blood drunk? Whatever feeling was cursing through his body, he wasn’t sure he could identify it, but moving was not an option anymore when he noticed you were still nudged in his embrace. He tried to sneak away, but you were cradled on him, ‘peace’ crossed his mind before it got swept away by something you’d mumble, he had to wait for a bit to catch what you said since you murmured something he couldn’t quite comprehend, until your voice became clearer.

“I wish I could have saved you sooner” You murmured under your breath. “Stay, i’ll protect you.” Your arms around his waist pulled him closer to you, slotting your bodies together like pieces of a puzzle. Your warmth, your sweet flowery smell, your surprisingly gentle snore slowly lulled him in, closer and closer until he felt safe, and quietude took over him.

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