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gfguren · 5 months

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pro hero!bakugou x sidekick!reader | fluff, mutual pining, blatant flirting, bakugou calls reader darlin', bakugou is soft(ish) | cw: injury, mentions of alcohol, name calling (idiot), kisses kisses kisses

-bakugou tends to your injury, pining for you nearly as much as you do for him-

Your arm burns in waves, like kindling fire, the plain between your elbow and wrist a bramble of red and purple. It stings like a million tiny thorns pricking your skin.

"Why'd ya get in the way, idiot!" Bakugou's words are fierce and his brow is drawn, but you see the way his cheeks flush. He's embarrassed, guilt-ridden though it's not his fault. Not really.

You were both too overzealous for your own goods, determined to land the final blow on the villains. But his quirk was bigger, more explosive, harder to stop when your hands inevitably collided. You're just lucky your arm took the brunt of it.

Still, you smile despite the pain and his frown deepens, "What? Ya hit yer head too?"

You take a step forward, then two, crossing the threshold of your front door, reveling in the way his blush travels to his ears. "Did you come all the way here just to nag me?" There's a lilt of amusement in your voice, and he huffs, exasperation on his breath. "Or are you finally gonna give me that?"

You point to the bag dangling from his fingertips, pharmacy label half hidden by his baggy combat trousers. He's still in costume, mask pushed up over his wild, blonde hair, light sheen of sweat dotting his forehead and shoulders.

He's a proper distraction from the pain at least.

His gaze falls to his own hand, as if he'd entirely forgotten. There's a palpable moment of hesitation, and then he grunts, knuckles clenching; he thrusts it against your chest.

"Did'ya sterilize it, at least?"

You're half listening, shuffling through the contents of the bag. "Mhm, rinsed it with water when I got home."

"Yer hopeless, darlin'."

You shrug, "If a little burn could take me out, I wouldn't be much of a hero, now would I?"

He snorts, "If ya were such a good hero, you'd have dodged in the first place."

"You think?" You humor his attitude, heart swelling in your chest when you spot your favorite candy hidden beneath the ointments and bandages. You have half a mind to tease him about it. "Are you gonna help me put this on?"

His arms fold across his chest, half a scowl twisting his face. He leans back, tapping a heavy boot against the floorboards. "And why would I do that?"

He must think he's subtle but you read him like a book, finger the pages, read between the lines. There's worry in his brow, guilt, turmoil, anger directed at his own self.

You figured it would help alleviate his conscience, at least.

"That's fine. I'll get around to it eventually." You turn on your heel, adding a cheeky "probably" to accentuate the wave of your hand, nudge him into action. It works.

Warm fingers encircle your wrist and you bite your tongue, suppress the laugh inching it's way up your throat. Predictable, cute. It takes everything in you not to grin.

Two big hands push you down by the shoulders, cushions folding beneath your thighs. Bakugou holds a palm out expectantly and you place your own atop his, reveling in the way his nose scrunches in frustration.

You don't miss the way he lets it linger - just for a moment - before finally swatting it away with a half-hearted flick of the wrist. "The ointment, idiot."

You relent, handing him the thin white tube. He spreads a stripe down his fingertips, seat dipping beside you; he extends his opposite hand. "Now your hand."

You grin, fingers gently curling around his own. It's not meant to be romantic, the way he draws you forward, presses your knuckles to his chest. He's just trying to get a better look at the wound, head tilting this way and that. But his hand is so warm, and he's so pretty from this angle, and when his eyes rise to meet yours his breath hitches in his throat; and so does yours.

It's intimate, familiar.

It makes you want to break whatever this unspoken 'something' is that the two of you have fostered - this growing affection you're both too proud to admit that wears on you, leaves you yearning to lean just a little closer and finally concede.

Just like all those nights ago, when he got a little too drunk at the hero convention, quickly annoyed by the crowds and reporters, the loud, boasting heroes. His champagne glass was quickly emptied once more, grunting when he pushed back in his chair. You remember leaning closer, close enough to discretely ask if he was alright. His red hot stare followed, burned through your chest and down to your core, left you shifting restlessly in your seat.

The air was thick when he finally careened upward, swaying perilously as he took you by the wrist, led you up and out of the dining hall until it was just the two of you, alone in an empty corridor. You could still hear the echo of stranger's voices, but it didn't bother him, not when he crowded you against the wall, not when his big hand fell to the space beside your head, or when his face dipped to linger just close enough to have your heart beating wildly in your chest.

"What about the party?"

"'as boring." He'd replied, fingers 'round your wrist, lingering on your pulse; he feels it stutter beneath his touch. "Ya scared?"

You would be, should be, if it was anyone else. Big, leering, all rippling muscle and explosive temper - but it was Bakugou, your mentor, your best friend, heart of a hero and handsome as hell. You've loved him as long as you've known him.

"No."

He'd grinned, leaned forward til' his lips found yours, deeper, sweeter than you'd ever imagined, and gods you had, too many times.

"Good."

You're so lost in thought that you miss the way skin meets skin, thin buffer of ointment between you, and it burns - his fingers against your aching forearm. Your cheeky smile twists into a grimace and you can almost taste his guilt.

"Quit bein' a baby." Bakugou's bark holds no bite, touch softening until his rough fingers border featherlight. "Yer a hero, r'member."

You watch as he carefully applies the medicine, touch gentling each time you flinch until he's barely touching you at all.

"You've said that a lot today. 'Hero'." You muse. "It's usually sidekick this, sidekick that."

He shoots you a look before wiping the ointment from his fingers. "Yer my sidekick."

"Yeah?" You tilt your head, leaning forward to rest your chin on your unattended hand. "And what's the difference?"

He could answer you honestly, if he wanted. You're capable, brave, strong in your own right - beautiful to boot. You're the best of the best; Bakugou would never settle for less after all. Not that he was going to admit that.

Instead his lips twist in amusement, curling, lopsided, askew; you realize you won't be getting a straight answer.

"Ya should know by now when t' stay out of my way, is the difference." He pulls a bandage as big as his fist from the bag, pressing one corner to the flat of your palm, working it up and around until it reaches your wrist, and further still. "Was perfectly capable of handlin' it on my own."

"Seemed like you had your hands full with the big guy," you quip back, rubbing your thumb absently over the scratchy bandage. "Was I supposed to watch while the other one pummeled you from behind?"

He quirks a brow, you're not sure if he's annoyed or amused. "Woulda been fine. How d'ya think I made it to the top twenty, 've practically got eyes on the back of my head."

"You sure? Think I recall a time or two you've been whacked upside the head."

His eyes stray for only a moment, simmering up at you beneath dark lashes. "Think we might need t' get yer eyes checked, darlin', seems yer seein' things."

"Guess I need a hearing test too, since I remember you being a total crybaby about it."

He centers the tips of his thumb and pointer just above your brow, fingertips bouncing off your forehead, a tepid flick! and he's resuming his handiwork.

"Hey!" you pout, rubbing the offended area with your unfettered hand. "I'm a patient, you're supposed to be nice to me!"

"And who's fault is that." He grins, light and easy and gone in an instant, with a flash of realization, guilt that reaches his eyes and worries his brow. It's his, still.

You sigh, "Look at me." And he does, begrudgingly as it may be. "It's not your fault. I should have trusted you more. And you should have trusted me. We're both idiots so quit blaming yourself." You lightly flick his forehead in return; he doesn't flinch, eyes never leaving your own. "Finish the wrapping and we'll call it even, yeah?"

He grumbles something lost on you, stretching the last bit of fabric beneath your elbow and tucking it into itself. He turns your arm over in his palm, lightly, carefully inspecting it before leaning back against the cushions. You can feel his guilt dissipate, the stress in his shoulders slowly deflating.

"Ya hurt anywhere else?" His voice is low, quiet. He desperately hopes not.

You think for a moment, read his face, his body language, and then you're rubbing the space above your brow, faking a pout if only to lighten the mood. "Yeah, some brute bruised my forehead earlier, think it needs medical attention."

He crosses his arms, muscles flexing, brow tightening in discontent. "I'm being serious."

You struggle to suppress the laugh bubbling up in your chest. "So am I. What a devastating injury, I fear I won't live long." You dramatically throw yourself over his lap, knuckles laid flat over your brow. There's a conflicting look in his eye; you struggle to read it. "If only a big, handsome hero woul-"

You nearly miss the annoyed huff, the subtle roll of his eyes, too enamored in the way he encircles your wrist with one big hand, guides it to rest against his chest before leaning down and pressing his lips to your forehead.

You're sure there's hearts in your eyes when he straightens his shoulders, hand still idle against his heartbeat; his thumb absently strokes the soft underside of your wrist but his gaze doesn't linger. A hint of a blush creeps up his neck, eyes fixated on the opposite corner of the room. "Done bein' a crybaby?"

You try and fail, miserably so, to hide the delight dancing in your chest and curling your toes. There's a grin splitting your cheeks when you sit up, face an inch from his own. "Mhm."

You can feel his breath, his hesitation, the slippery, fluttering feelings he's struggling to catch, and name, and put into words. He decides it's easier to turn his back to them, to you - again.

It's always the same song and dance, one step forward, two steps back.

He's up in a moment, fidgeting with his tank, his gloves, his mask, anything he can get his hands on. You sigh, pushing off the couch, taking one step, two, arms wrapping snug around his middle. "What're ya doin'?"

"Checking something."

"And what's that?"

"Whether or not you have eyes on the back of your head." He ignores your teasing, so you press a little further, tease a little more. "Either you don't," you squeeze him tighter, closer, smush your cheek against his back. "Or you totally just let me hug you."

He croons his head to stare you down, if looks could kill, you'd be very very toasty right about now. Still you laugh, hide your smile in the shadow of his broad shoulders, tip toe around him when twists around to face you.

Finally he catches you, two big hands clamped down on either shoulder. You wait for him to scold you, tongue between your teeth, bated breath in your lungs. But he only grunts, fingers curling around the base of your neck until he can slant his lips over your own.

You sigh, it's the second time Katsuki Bakugou's lips have been on yours. But they no longer taste of saltines, white wine, impulse or hesitation; it's not some drunken mistake or whimsy he'll pretend to have forgotten by morning. This time he's kissing you because he wants to. Because the feelings he harbors are just the same as yours.

And when he pulls away his red eyes have mellowed, a dull amber, an expectant cinnabar. There's a palpable silence, one beat, two, three - possibly. His impatience gets the better of him. "Well?"

You stifle a laugh, keen up at him, hands absently against his chest. "Well what?"

"What d'ya mean 'well what'?!"

What ever self control you had wavers, the incredulous look in his eyes sending you over the edge until your devolving into a fit of laughter.

"What's so funny, huh?"

"'m sorry." The laughter rattles you, chest like a suitcase too small to pack away the joy that fills you, spills over the brim in fits of laughter. It's infectious; Bakugou grins.

Your hands cup his cheeks. "You're too cute not to tease."

He sucks on his teeth. "Cute huh?" His hand cups your wrist, thumbs the bandage, careful, cute. "I nearly cooked ya and 'm 'cute?'"

You lean forward, bump your nose against his. "Mhm."

"There's somethin' wrong with you."

"Yeah, it's called the guy I like is completely oblivious and won't tell me he likes me."

"I kissed you, twice. If ya didn't take the hint, that's on you."

You're smiling when you press your lips to his - quick, tepid, chaste, and over and over and over again.

He breaks away, eyes full of suspicion. "What was that for?"

"What? Didn't you take the hint?" You slant your mouth over his, linger a little longer this time. "I like you." You kiss him again, again, again.

He snorts, palm falling to the small of your back, big hand heavy on your skin. "Point taken."

He dips his head low, kisses you, soft and slow, fingers flexing against your shirt, dragging you closer when you move to pull back. "I like ya." His breath is hot against your mouth. "Always have."

#bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha x you #mha x you #finally finished the anime #now this blonde menace lives in my head rent free 😩#if anyone was wondering why i disappeared for 3 months its the 6+ bakugou wips in my phone ☠️

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scarlet-ancunin · 24 days

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♡You Love Me To♡

A/N: The song below inspired the fic for me

☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

" I Care About you to"

Those five words rang through the vampire spawns head over and over. They really like me. Astarion was sitting alone in his tent thinking about it. Of course the events that happened after struck something he didn't think was possible... but was it.... Love... from such a simple moment between them such a simple hold.

It wasn't forced but gentle. It didn't have strings attached- wanting something in return... no it was a genuine feeling of love and care that came with that simple gesture of affection. He enjoyed it he wanted to feel more of that.

After 200 years of abuse from Cazador, locking him in the dark with nothing, feeding on rats and bugs he forced him to eat, trying to break his mind, using his looks and his body to bring him poor helpless souls to his lair. Like lambs for the slaughter. And he was the cause of it all. He had many lovers or rather flings but at this moment the only person who stayed on his mind was You. You were special in ways he couldn't understand and that probably is what led to his original plan of using you to fail miserably.

He realized while skimming through the same page in his book that more than anything he wanted to see you smile more because of him. Its probably what led to this sudden idea to walk towards the tent that occupied the "blade of frontiers".

'This is a stupid idea' the pale elf thought while approaching the man cradling a goblet of wine looking up. Astarion cleared his throat to catch the mans attention. "Oh? Astarion a rare occurrence to be visiting me at such an hour what do you need?"

Astarion also found wyll more annoying then he care to admit out loud but right now he was the only one he could... Trust with this little idea. "I...I need a favor I'll gladly pay you back later but i need your help can you help me?" Astarion says this with a vague motion and a simple wave of his hand.

Wyll ever the "hero" agrees "sure but what does this favor intel?" Astarion suddenly found the dirt on the ground more interesting avoiding eye contact. "Astarion?" Wyll asked softly but a hint of curiosity.

"Can you teach me... ugh can you teach me how to, well, dance" that was all Astarion said nothing more nothing less and certainly not sharing his reasons for this request. Wyll was surprised "Astarion you don't know how to dance?"

The vampire glares at the man suddenly "i wouldn't have ask for the damn favor if i did" seeing Wyll frown made him pause and look away with a huff. "I- never really got around to it.. can you teach me?" He sounded more calmer slight hints of plea.

Wyll nods smiling "sure a man shouldn't miss the opportunity to show off not only his skills with the blade but also with movements of his body" Astarion grimaced at this before rolling his eyes. "We can practice at nights while everyone is asleep" he said before walking away quickly. Wyll blinks before chuckling low and retiring for the night.

Astarion was surprisingly a quick learner he watched each move just like he watched his prey before feeding. There was one problem... the man wanted to learn something a little but more romantic and rather closer.

"Ah as much as i like to prance around all day i was hoping for something a little more on the intimate side of things" Wyll gives him a knowing smile "fancy wooing someone in particular?"

Astarion plays ignorant "oh please i simply want to learn because it is a good skill that's all" he crossed his arms and tilts his head up towards the night sky eyes closed. Wyll hums low "well i suppose i don't need to show you because i taught you the good skills already"

Astarion was quick to change his tone "alright, alright it is to flatter someone I suppose" "anyone I know of?" Wyll asked enjoying this to much. The Pale elf rolled his eyes with a huff he mumbles out a soft maybe.

"Its Y/n isn't it?" Wyll said matter-of-fact and it annoyed Astarion to no end. He doesn't meet his gaze but Wyll knew he was right. "They will like you no matter if you dance or not Astarion i see the way they look at you with adoration not many hold such a gaze to anyone they didn't care about."

Astarion sighs pinching the bridge of his nose. "I am aware my looks draws-" Wyll cuts him off "its more than that Astarion even Halsin knows this" Wyll pressed and Astarion red eyes flicked between wylls devil eyes and the small fire they made far from the camp.

"Just teach me...." he stares at the man before him for a moment "please"

Luckily Astarion had fed the night before so he was happy and was able to be useful for the team consiting Himself, You, Gale and Halsin. Every time you wasn't paying attention behind you it was fine because the sound of a fast ice, fire or lightning arrow whizzed through the air landing strong damage on them.

Back at the camp Gale and Halsin made it their mission to make sure everyone else especially Scratch stayed occupied to give Astarion a moment alone with You which meant going far from the camp and taking a wine bottle and some simple food to snack on but most importantly the fancy music box he stoled from that pompous man when he wasn't looking.

Gentle laughter filled the air as Astarion mentioned how he stoled the music box giving a fake story of "how can you blame me I'm a victim to" and how gullible they were. Astarion smiles at you. A real one enjoying your laughter and company all the same. Its when he stood up walking to the tree truck with the misic box opened and ready. He gave the dial behind it a few twist and it started to hum to life.

You blush deeply when Astarion holds his hand out to you "may i have this dance" You stood up grinning like an idiot and nod taking his hand in yours "well i suppose you can" you teased playfully before you both slowly began to dance to the soft tune.

It was perfect you thought to yourself looking up at him getting lost in those crimson eyes of his. His smile was sharp and while he doesn't like when you mention the crease of his smile to him, it always made you admire him more. What he assumed was imperfect meant so much to you.

He twirls you slowly and then dips you smiling lightly "your full of surprises my love" you said softly smiling up at him then giggle before moving in closer and kissing him passionately.

"I love you very much" he said softly before leaning his head on top of yours when you rest your head against his shoulder. The music a soft background to the moment you both are sharing.

☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

Narrator: hidden behind the trees and bushes silently observing the intimate scene before them was their loyal companions all supportive of their friends successful moment

As always i hope you like it, thanks for your support and requests are open for Astarion from BG3 😁❤️

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