#I hope you like it ;

[kasagia]

I love you... I am sorry V

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling x fem!witch! reader Summary: The truth is told and the enemy is exposed. But will your saviors make it in time before it's too late to save you? Warning(s): smut, 18+, violence Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Part 4 ~•♤♤♤•~ Part 6 ~•♤♤♤•~

Aleksander had had many sleepless nights.

Most of this time he spent on reading reports and creating plans and strategies in his war room. The rest of them – which is very little, considering how many were to do in the Second Army – he spent in his bed. Those nights were the hardest. On those nights, he tried to push away the memories of his time with you that his treacherous mind loved to torture him with. He tried to throw them out as quickly as they began to disturb his peace of mind.

But could he ever say he felt at peace?

He knew he could. He had only felt it a few times in his very long life, and almost every time you were around.

He remembers perfectly well that one particularly sleepless night in which he realised... in which he allowed himself to think that you were his peace.

It was after one campaign against Fjerda. Most of his men were either dead or badly wounded, but they had won. At a high cost. But he could take a moment's respite from the Drüskelle hanging around the Ravka's border.

He was in his tent, his shadows moving calmly around the room as if they too needed to take a breath and calm down after the fight he had had hours ago. He absently wipes the blood from his hands, watching the water in the bowl turn various shades of red. He winces as one of the wounds on his hand begins to burn from the contact with the water.

He closes his eyes and listens to his surroundings, trying to block out other stimuli, especially the growing feeling of hopelessness within him. Another life lost. Another escapade against Fjerda. Another hours wasted negotiating with the Tsar.

Once again he watched the deaths of those devoted to him. He was starting to have enough of all of this.

He is torn from his dark thoughts when he hears the movement of his tent flap. He turns and nods at the bowing young heartrender. Ivan if he remembers correctly.

The young soldier surprisingly doesn't tremble before him or act all hot-headed like most of his Grisha did after his little sideways shadow show on Fjerdans. Aleksander barely suppresses a smirk as he accepts the sealed letter from him.

"What is this?" he asks, opening the letter with a sigh, expecting another irritating note from the King or the General of the First Army.

Instead, he saw your handwriting.

Dear Sasha.

He swallows, his lips suddenly chapped, and he knows Ivan can feel his heart racing as he reads the nickname that only two people have dared to use on him. Ulla, when she was little, and you.

"Some woman asked me to bring this. She said it was a matter of state. She seemed to know you, moi soverenyi."

"Where is she now?" He asks, swallowing as he sits down in the chair in front of the makeshift desk, not daring to let go of the letter. How pathetic he was to allow you to continue to have such power over him.

The years spent away from you had done nothing to his foolish heart. His mother would have mocked him if she had had the chance if she had seen the reverence he gave to the scrap of paper you had written to him.

"I left her with the Oprichniki. Should I bring her here?" He nods at the other man's words, sending Ivan out, too focused on the piece of paper in his hands. Too focused to stop them from trembling with the flood of emotion only you could cause in him.

He knows perfectly well that the man will not find you in the camp anymore. You probably left as soon as his Grisha set off to give him this letter.

Typical of you. Dropping in and out of his life whenever you felt that way. Although the last time it was him who threw you out.

Aleksander stares at the yellow note, wondering for a moment if he should not burn it in the fire of one of the candles. It would certainly spare him unavoidable suffering that reading even one of your words carried with it. And hours of thinking about you.

But his life was anything but merciful. And he himself could not stop the longing and curiosity festering inside him from desperately following each line you wrote.

I've heard what happened. I'm sorry. Don't blame yourself. You probably did everything you could and more. Sometimes there are things we can't control… and sometimes we regret doing anything about it. But it's better to do too much than too little, right? I'm thinking of you. Often. Even if you don't want it. Take care of yourself, You know who. P.S. Go to a healer. Don't try to be a bigger hero than you already are. I saw what you did, and it was both impressively stupid and brave. Even for you.

He snorts, shaking his head. He wants to crumple up the scrap you dare call a letter of state importance, tear it into little pieces, but all he does is press his nose to the paper, inhaling the scent of your perfume.

And saints only know that it's been a damn while since he last smelt that scent.

Disappointment settles on him, tightening around his chest like the ropes that Fjerd had recently bound him with. But what exactly did he expect from that letter? What did he expect from you? That you would stand before him, trying to comfort him in his darkest hour as only you can? Pathetic. Weak.

He tucks the letter into the pocket of his kefta and stands up to actually go to the healers' tent. Instead, he stops halfway out of the tent as a healer in a red kefta enters.

"Can I help you in any way, moi soverenyi?" She asks before Aleksander can question her presence. He sighs and nods, reluctant to explain to her what hurts him most.

He strips off his kefta and shirt and lets her work on his wounds. Her hands roam over his skin, soothing him from the pain. His thoughts still circle around you. Was it you who summoned a healer to his tent? Or was it Ivan who sent someone to check on his wounds as a precaution? Were you on the battlefield, since you claimed to have seen what he did?

"Could you lay on your stomach, General? I'd like to work on your back." He nods and does as she says, his thoughts still on you.

It was a nice change from the compliments of the bloody battle he'd just fought. Still, it made him feel like a naive, lovesick teenager.

And then he notices it. A small pendant hangs from the healer's neck. A glass heart. He stiffens a little at her touch. At YOUR touch, because he knows it's impossible for you to willingly part with the necklace that grants you immortality.

He tries to take calming breaths, planning what he'll do with this newfound revelation. You were here. You ACTUALLY were here. You'd been healing his wounds under disguise, knowing full well he wouldn't want to see you.

And somehow this turn of events seems better to him than if you had just listened to him and actually left him all alone.

"It was dangerous… what you did today… you used up a lot of your powers, my general." He hears you comment in a fog, too busy thinking about his next move.

He almost winces at the strange, high, almost squeaking voice instead of your mid-tones that would probably do more for his wounds than your strange witch powers.

"It's nothing I haven't done before." He responds, sitting up as you remove your hands from him.

He wonders how long this transformation spell will last on you. And what exactly were you planning to do by coming to him in disguise?

He gets his answer pretty quickly when you bow to him, trying to get out of his tent. He automatically reaches for you, holding your wrist in a tight grip. Without thinking, he pulls you onto his lap, and before you can even say a word of protest, he wraps his hand in your hair and pulls you into a needy, desperate kiss.

You gasp against his mouth in shock, only to return his kiss with an equal amount of passion and fire. You grip his hair, pressing that foreign body against his, and he almost growls. He would give anything to have your real curves pressed against him, to have your quiet moans echoing off his lips as he gave you small breaks to breathe, just to devour you again. But he knew you both had fucked up too badly to go back to how things were. That's why he takes every fake, stolen time you give him.

He closes his eyes, his lips brushing the line of your jaw, caressing every tiny inch of skin you give him access to. He feels you freeze in his arms as you realise your necklace is on display. For a moment he allows himself to wonder what your next move will be, but any rational thought or plan quickly slips from his mind as you run your hands along his chest, over his abs, to the waistband of his pants.

And for a moment he allows himself to think that you are as hopelessly into him as he is to you.

Any control he had crumbles as soon as the healer's kefta is ripped from you. He lays you on his bed of bearskin and pillows, unpacking the rest of your clothes, tracing the curves of his new body with his lips. A body that, with every second spent beneath him, becomes more and more like the one that haunts him at night in his sleeping chambers in the Little Palace.

You don't seem to care, though, too busy trying to rip the last of his clothes off of him. Soon enough, you're a chaotic mess of limbs as both you and he try to touch, caress, feel, rub, kiss, and bite every bit of skin you can reach.

Your soft moans and whimpers change over time, becoming more and more like the ones Aleksander knew, the ones he had enjoyed countless times. He presses himself against you, his mouth devouring every quiet gasp you make, every tiny hint of pleasure.

He wants to get lost in this feeling.

He wants to forget everything that happened today; he wants to forget how much he shouldn’t be doing this, and most of all, he wants to forget how much he longs for another moment like this with you.

He pulls away from you for a moment, just enough to look into your eyes – your real eyes and face – and for a moment something inside him breaks. Years of suppressed longing momentarily overwhelm him so much that tears begin to appear in his eyes.

Only at that sight do you realise that your spell has broken, that now he's seen the real you. But he doesn't let you move even a millimetre. With one hand he presses both of your wrists above you; with the other, he cups your cheek as he finally brings you together as one after years of separation.

And only saints know that this feeling is the closest to heaven that he will ever be.

You gasp, grabbing his arm, digging your nails into him – into the same spot you had healed with such urgency earlier. All you can do is moan softly beneath him, squirming against him, pressing yourself even closer to him, allowing him to take from you whatever he wants.

And he has no control. He takes what he wants, lets his lust and greed take over him completely, and for all of this, he is rewarded only by your sweet sounds, your scent, and your feeling close to him.

In his mind there is nothing but you, nothing but how you feel in front of him, how you have so easily gone from complete shock, even fear, to lust, to complete surrender to him.

Maybe he held the same power over you that you held over him?

“Aleksander… Sasha…” You mumble against his temple, shuddering beneath him as you both reach your long awaited fulfillment.

His grip on you tightens, practically trapping you in his chest as he continues to burrow deep inside you. He knows you could disappear at any moment, that as willingly and unexpectedly as the saints had given him this moment, they could so quickly take it away from him. He could be alone in the darkness of his tent again. So he clings to you, clinging to you like a lost sailor to a lantern, and for that brief moment you feel like the only light in his shadows. His poison and salvation all in one.

"Don't call me that." He mumbles against your neck and bites. You gasp, biting your bottom lip, holding back a cry as he marks you, wanting you to carry at least some permanent piece of this encounter.

"I... I missed you." He growls at your confession, like a rabid animal sensing danger. But... were you really one to him?

Was it really wise to hold on to that grudge from ages ago when this... when what happened tonight could be his everyday reality? Yes. Otherwise, his persistence would have been for nothing. Otherwise, all of this... all of this separation would have just been wasted time between you two.

"Did you miss me or the way you could have used me?" He growls, not letting your sweet words fool him even as you reach for his cheek with all the tenderness he lacked and gaze at him with an adoration that makes his heart momentarily stop being overwhelmed by your feelings. Your remorse.

"I… I love you, Sasha… I'm sorry that.." He kisses you, cutting off anything you might have said.

He kisses you with anger, an intense burning passion, wanting to punish you for even having the nerve to try to explain yourself and whitewash yourself from such obvious guilt as you have.

He rolls you onto your stomach and onto your knees for him, his hand in your hair and your head pressed against the fur so he doesn't look you in the eyes as he takes you with all the fury he has for you.

He wants to make you feel as used as he did the day he found out you used his blood to create that damned necklace. He wants you to feel as violated as he does when his doubts got the better of him, convincing him your love was a sham, that you had planned to use him for his immortality all along.

And when you're both exhausted, when he holds you safely in his arms with your head on his chest, his hand in your hair, your ear pressed to his heart, he doesn't feel the festering resentment or the disgust for you.

He feels fulfilment. Safety. Peace he hasn't known in ages. He had peace in you. Home. Even after all these years.

And this realisation it's like a healing balm to his broken heart and a poison that eats at his insides worse than merzost ever did.

He trembles, tightening his grip on the necklace he kept safe in his kefta's pocket. He will find you. He will find you and bring you back where you belong. To him.

And he will do it even if you no longer want it.

Mijomir mumbles the words – in a language that Aleksander strangely does not understand – as he reads them from your book, tracing his finger over each line you have written.

He thought he had learnt patience over the centuries. But with every second of delay, when the wizard mumbled some strange words surrounded by a few of your crystals and things, it seemed to him that this patience was just an illusion.

"How much longer will it take you?" He grumbles, leaning against the wooden pole supporting the tent. Ulla gives him a reprimanding look for rushing him, which Aleksander conveniently ignores, staring warily at the mage.

"An hour, maybe two. It would be faster if you gave me that damn necklace instead of being a jealous and possessive dog in the manger."

Aleksander automatically tightens his grip on your necklace, which he kept safely in his kefta pocket. Giving it to this strange man meant risking losing it if he was indeed a fake reptile. A risk Aleksander was not willing to take.

So he stubbornly looks away and decides to wait a little longer. Maybe if he summoned his shadows, it would motivate the wizard to search for you more effectively?

"We've sent our best heartrenders out to scout. The Fjerdans shouldn't get very far with her. We'll find her. Sooner or later." Ivan reports to him as he enters the tent they have pitched in a clearing near the border with Fjerda.

Aleksander regrets not having placed a fold here. Or that he was not more persistent and ruthless in his plans to enlarge it. If a wall of shadows guarded the borders of Ravka, you would never have been kidnapped. Even witches, tempted by the bounty on your head, would be afraid to venture into the unknown territories of the lands protected by the wall of shadows.

"That's not enough." Aleksander cringes at the sound of your little friend's irritating voice. Mal annoyed him with his stupidity and impulsiveness, but Mijomir with his… cocky confidence was a bigger test of his patience. Patience, which he had already run out of after you disappeared.

He still couldn't get out of his head the way that magical scum tenderly took care of you. If he could, he would cut off the wziard's hands just in case to make sure that he would never have any opportunity to touch you agin.

"Maybe she was kidnapped by a Fjerdan, maybe not. We don't know for sure. Those... witched who were hunting her could as well take part in this."

"Maybe she ran away of her own free will? It wouldn't be the first time this has happened." Zoya says mockingly, earning her three enraged, irritated looks.

"Y/N isn't that much of a drama queen. She wouldn't do something like that. Besides, she wouldn't leave me, Mijomir, and my brother alone without a word or anything." Ulla huffs, moving away from Zoya and approaching him and Mijomir to stand closer to the wizard.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that last person, but Ulen'ka's right. This is a kidnapping, not an escape. We just have to find out by whom. And if someone were to so generously give me an item she hasn't parted with for practically centuries, I might be able to establish a connection with her to find out." Mijomir comments, staring meaningfully at Aleksander.

"And how do I know for sure you didn't have a hand in this? You showed up just a few hours before she disappeared. Maybe you were after her head too."

Ulla snorts indignantly at his words, but before she can even utter a word in the magician's defense, he approaches him, undeterred by the dark gaze and shadows that Aleksander summons around him.

"The last thing I want is for her to die. She is my dearest friend. And even if she wasn't the truth is that If she would die, I will die too. And believe me, general, I am not a suicide."

Aleksander frowns at the confession. The possessiveness in him comes back to life with a vengeance, thinking that it was more of a… romantic confession. As for his little witch. His Y/N. As soon as this carrion is no longer useful, he'll squeeze the life out of him.

"What do you mean? Why would you die with her?" Ulla asks Mijomir, causing all eyes in the crowd to focus on him.

"I… it's a long story. And Y/N should probably tell it herself, but since she's been too much of a coward all these centuries and doesn't want to involve you in her affairs, I will." Mijomir comments, shifting his gaze between Aleksander, Ulla, and even Baghra. "Where to starts... ugh. We… when Y/N found out that you live much longer than us… she could have looked for the answer to that problem in some pretty old, morally questionable books. And of course, as stubborn as she was, she found it. It was old magic, probably from when Baghra was a child."

Mijomir earns a snort of amusement from most people and a crooked, nearly invisible smirk from Aleksander, who is nevertheless more focused on absorbing the answer to the question that has always plagued him, and which you have avoided.

What exactly did you give in exchange to be immortal like him?

Aleksander knew that you killed your witches' coven to which you belonged, sparing no one, that you put him to sleep and took his blood for the spell. What else was in it?

"I… I stuck close to Y/N back then. We still are. But… we weren't exactly alone. Before she met you." Here Mijomir nods reluctantly in his direction. "We… we had a trio of sorts. Me. Her. And Luke."

Aleksander frowns, certain he’s heard that name before. His memory flashes back to the not-so-flattering moment when one of the witches attacked you for gold on your head the first time.

Aleksander and the others watch in disbelief as you fight the witch who attacked them earlier. He knew he should have protested against being tied up from the start. If he hadn't had to fight David's shackles that bound his power, he would have broken free from the witch's spell long ago. You've taught him this many times. Just in case.

"Not so vulnerable." You gasp and use your magic to throw the witch off of you. You sigh, pressing a hand to your neck and feeling the sticky blood on your fingers. Aleksander is seething with rage. The necklace. You didn't have a necklace. "I still have a few tricks up my sleeve. So if I were you, I wouldn't taste me. What do you want?"

"Kill you. Just like practically all of the witches from Ravka and Fjerda."

Aleksander fights the forces that bind him with a hundred times greater strength and zeal after these words. His shadows try to penetrate both – both the spell and the powers of his best duraste. And probably never in his entire long life has he felt such fear.

"Oh please. I'm not that popular." You joke, earning a slight twitch at the corners of her mouth. You sigh, sitting down by the fire and nodding for her to do the same, ignoring the stare he gives you. "I thought you had finished your hunt for me a long time ago?"

"It's nothing personal. The Great Witch has a bounty on your head. And I need the money they offer for your head. I happened to be passing by and heard your name. I decided to try my luck."

"And they say it's a bad thing to gossip." You mock, throwing a quick glance in his direction. "Since when does Reyana want me dead?"

"The leadership in the coven has changed since you were gone. Reyana is dead. Luke has taken command."

"Luke… as in…" Ulla begins, interrupted by Mijomir.

"Yes. Luke, the new leader of all witch covens. The one who sent for her head. It's… a long story. Let's just say he's resentful that instead of being his queen by his side and ruling over us witches, Y/N chose you and this here boor in the shadows." Aleksander grimaces at the nickname. "Anyway. The story is simple. There were three of us - ambitious magicians. And each of us was looking for a way to increase our powers, to exist in a world where we wouldn't have to fear being killed. A bit like you, Grisha. But... we had different visions. And after Y/N met our Shadow Summoner, she wanted to completely cut herself off from the old plans. She only saw you in her future. And Ulla. And maybe Baghra. Coming back. She needed the recipe for immortality. And Luke found it for her. At first I was shocked. To be completely honest, we never liked you; I still do not. You took our companion away from us, but Luke... Luke was just jealous. Damn jealous. To the point that I thought that one day he would kill either himself, or you, or Y/N, or all of you at once. I was... unfavourable about the creation of the necklace and using your blood. Especially since it... it connected our lives. But not in the way Luke wanted. He thought that by bonding, he would have a special bond with Y/N, but... it didn't work like that. The necklace needed the power of the entire coven. Y/N was supposed to be bonded to you. And I and Luke... I and Luke were her connection to the world. Luke thought the main connection, the main bridge, would go between the three of us and you. But Y/N is a wise beast. She changed the spell so that only she would draw from you and only you from her. So we were just side branches, stabilising the power between you two and drawing only one benefit. Immortality."

"So you..."

"Yes. I'll live as long as you live. As long as Y/N lives to be precise. Comming back to the story: Luke got pissed. He wanted to destroy the necklace, but out of the three of us, Y/N was the most powerful one. So she kicked his ass and ran to you. And then it all went to hell anyway. But Luke… he's a retentive person. He holds a grudge. A lot. He's been chasing her for centuries, sometimes even watching you, so maybe it's a good thing you split up. She managed to hide from him, and I was running away from lands to lands, exploring different countries. But now that he's somehow taken over the covens and hold the power over all the witches… I think he decided it was time to get revenge."

"But we found the Fjerdans symbol in her rooms."

"To throw us off course. Chase after someone who didn't take her and start a war with them while they're busy with her." Aleksander interrupts Ulla and meets Ivan's gaze. "They'll be enraged by our patrols. You need to gather our men and prepare for war."

"What are you going to do? Suddenly you don't care about Grisha anymore?" Zoya cuts in, causing him to clench his fists to keep from sending some of his shadows at her.

"I see you and Alina are having a great time playing war without me. You'll manage. You have Baghra and Ivan to help you. I myself supervised the training of the two of you. You will manage. I'm needed elsewhere."

"You came here with us, or rather you were released from your cell for one purpose. To help us in this war. Do you think we're just going to let you go and look for some lost lover of yours?" His once most loyal soldier approaches him, giving him an angry, intimidating look. Aleksander smirks, gently raising his hand, allowing his shadows to envelop all present.

"It's cute that you think you can even try to stop me."

"My brother has fought enough wars in the name of Grisha. And he will surely do so again. Now, if you'll excuse us, we have business to attend to." Ulla butts in and grabs his hand. She nods to Mijomir and the three of them disappear before anyone can react.

Aleksander remembers these tricks. You used teleportation on him a few times, but he hated this mode of transport. He preferred horseback riding. However, he admitted that it had its advantages.

"A heads-up next time would be nice." He snorts at the wizard, skeptically surveying his surroundings. A forest. The middle of a forest. And a small cabin.

"Maybe next time. Now. If I can't find her, then Luke has closed the connection between us. But he's not strong enough to close the connection between you and her. Have you ever practiced magic, Grisha?"

Aleksander sighs at the wizard's excitement. This is going to be a really long day for him…

You wake up with a huge headache – you literally feel like you've been run over by at least 5 carriages with a full team of 4 horses. And your hands and feet are tied. The only good thing is that your cell feels like a room. A fairly comfortable one. You're even lying on a bed. Which is strange enough in itself.

You expected to wake up in some musty dungeon, tied to a tree by the Fjerdans, or not wake up at all. That's why you're so surprised when you're still breathing, when your heart beats in your chest and your power hums, trapped in your body, effectively blocked by whatever your captor has prepared for you. Or rather, what Luke was going to do now.

You shiver as the door to your chambers opens. He enters with two of his henchmen, watching you carefully. They walk over to you, taking you off the bed and tying you to a chair.

You keep your eyes on the wizard before you, once your friend, who is cautiously scanning the room as if you still pose some kind of threat to him when you were all bound and gagged.

Good. At least he has the decency to still be vigilant around you.

“Leave us. Wait by the door.” He orders them dryly, sitting down in the chair across from you. You glance at the departing wizards, more than aware of how close Luke is stepping to you. "Are you going to behave yourself, or should I leave that gag on you? It's been a long time, I was hoping, for a little conversation, but all I need is for you to listen to me if you can't keep your rage in check."

You roll your eyes at him but don’t struggle as he slowly unties the gag. You spit it out of your mouth, tossing it over the side of your chair.

"Persuasive. Even for you." You scoff, watching him closely. He had changed over the centuries.

His once blond hair was now grey, his skin as shiny and smooth without a trace of a wrinkle as the day when the three of you had created a necklace for you, mixing your blood with Aleksander's.

"Big mouth as usual. I see your Grisha hasn't tempered that sharp tongue of yours. Good. More fun for me."

"I have many more intelligent comments for you. All as repulsive as you are. But first, maybe you'd like to tell me why you're after me and Mijomir?"

"Isn't it obvious? You took something from me. I want it back. Where's your necklace?"

"I gave it to the poor and needy." You mock him, which turns out to be a bad idea in your situation. You hiss in pain as he flicks his wrist, causing every cell in your body to burn with unimaginable pain.

"I'll ask you again. Where. Is. My. Necklace?" He growls in your face, breaking the spell, and grabs you by the neck, not letting you catch your breath after the torture he put you through.

"Yours? I don't remember it being your necklace. It was always meant to be mine. To me and to my... to my Grisha." You speak carefully, not saying Aleksander's name out loud. He growls, tightening his grip on your neck again, staring into your watery eyes as you suffocate under his hand.

"Ah yes. Your shadow man. The Starless Saint. The Darkling…it's probably with him, right? How romantic. You grant yourself immortality only to hand it over to some insignificant Grisha who's a freak of nature."

"Aren't we all?" You gasp, spitting out the words with the last of your air, ready to defend him even in your final moments.

Luke lets go of you and steps away from you to pour himself a drink. As you pant, gasping for air in your aching lungs, you see a sudden movement in the room.

If your hands weren't tied, you'd rub your eyes in disbelief. Beautiful. You were hallucinating and seeing Aleksander.

Maybe it was finally your time; maybe at the moment of your death your mind imagined him here to make things easier for you. Because you know that whatever Luke has planned for you, it won't be pretty and easy.

"I told you. Grisha and witches don't mix. Your Shadow Summoner may be unique among them, but he is not like us, Y/N. We are forces of nature. Endowed with a power that is part of ourselves, which is the structure of our bodies. Not a twisted crossbreed of strange genes."

"I think before I kill him I'll show him how perfectly you and I fit together. What do you think, my little witch? Although no… he doesn't deserve to see you writhing beneath me, naked and at my mercy. That's a sight for me alone."

You stare stupidly at both men, coughing as your lungs burned from the excess air. It was a shitty way to die, to say the least, imagining your ex saying… things like that.

"I will take great pleasure in breaking you. You will forget that any Grisha ever touched you." Luke promises darkly, cupping your cheek in his hand, unaware that an imaginary Aleksander had entered your head, that even in this moment all you could think about was your Shadow Summoner and not what you were about to go through by Luke's hands.

"Hang in there, milaya. I promise we'll get here as fast as we can, I'll break his bones and sacrifice him to you, I'll cut him into a thousand pieces for your enjoyment after he begs to die at our hands." Aleksander promises, pressing tender kisses to the top of your head as tears stream down your face.

I love you. You think, closing your eyes and blocking out another wave of pain that Luke throws at you, this time kicking you in the shin, probably hard enough to break your bone.

"I love you too. Only you. Always you. Just wait for me a little longer, please, Y/N. I'm begging you. Don't give up..."

You don't hear the rest of his pleas. You pass out from the pain, relieved to have these few moments of unconsciousness. At this point, the relief outweighs the fear that you'll never open your eyes again.

Don't kill me for this… but I hope you liked this chapter anyway. 🫣🥰

Any comments/messages/hearts are greatly appreciated! Thank you so much!!! If you want to, let me know what you think 🥰🖤🖤

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[asfodelle]

"July - 2 years prior

“No.” 

It was the very first word He Tian heard from Guan Shan the night they met again.

The southeastern district had barely changed. The maidenhair trees along the road had only gotten thicker, the potholes deeper but this side of town was already grey and deteriorated back when he was in high school, a couple neighbourhoods away. The tiny 24/7 shop with a washed out storefront and messy shelves was still open six years later. They used to get ice cream here after training, twice a week for months. When He Tian, now grown, came by to get a pack of cigarettes, the owner did not seem to recognize him."

Chapter 8 of Little Bit of Lead is out :)

[aneyforst]

While in the hospital, I got a new hyperfix in the face of the fandom «Wicked». And most of all I was hooked by the cycle of works on AO3 «Looking into Different Eyes» by @seraphimankh.

Inspired by the work «Beyond the Yellow Brick Road», I drew Princess Ozma. I hope it turned out okay. 😅

[eenuaj]

1am oscar study for the soul

[koioxs]

you watched me rise, then killed my light

[sacredwarrior88]

Which fruit are you? Find out here!

Tagging: @actuallysaiyan @beneathstarryskies @akiraiscute @randoimago @multi-fandom-imagine @iambilliejeanok @icycoldninja @abellaheart-blog @terabyteturtle @philistiniphagottini

[aaron04jpg]

sign of the times x f1 2024✨🏎️

[etheries1015]

Imagining Malleus is going through his heat cycle, and finds himself needing to be guided through the motions by none other than Lilia, of course. His subject? You.

(18+ minors DNI. Afab reader, fem pronouns.) this ones for you, bestie @masquerade-of-misery <3 live laugh love "threesomnia" LMAOOO

How you came into this predicament will be far beyond you. How you were now stripped bare by a hungry Draconic Fae, with your bare back pressed up against Lilias's chest, holding you in his grasp with his hands coming around to play with your sensitive mounds. His hands gently groped your tender breasts, flicking a finger over your hard nipples and pinching them at just the right pressure. Your back arched against his touch and a small and yearning moan elicited from your lips, Malleus looking down at you with a flushed face with his tongue licking his dry and hungry lips. Lilia chuckled at Malleus's eager display.

"It depends on the person," Lilia pointed out as if giving some sort of classroom lecture to the black-haired male, "Sensitivity of the breasts isn't uncommon. However, it seems our prefect here may need a little more than simple foreplay of the bosom to feel satisfied..." He rolled your nipples in his fingers and used the bulk of his palm to give a little squish to your breast, your breath becoming ragged as you melted into his touch, holding back a moan from the back of your throat. Lilia smiled at your rather simple reaction, before eyeing the shirtless fae that loomed over you. Malleus gave him a confused look before Lilia grabbed his hand and placed it on your chest.

Encouraging him to move in the way Lilia had, Malleus placed his much larger and dexterous fingers against your soft skin. His movements were much more uncertain, slow, and passionate versus the older fae whose touch left you thinking about the surprising amount of skill he had and the ability to understand your body the moment his fingers touched your skin. As Malleus gently kneaded your breasts with caution, you were shocked when suddenly you felt sharp teeth dig into the crook of your neck. You let out a yelp of surprise mixed with a moan that sounded rather confused and high-pitched- even your body at odds with the pleasure of your chest and the now throbbing of your neck. Malleus looked up in concern at this, almost glaring daggers at the other fae as if to ask; 'what did you do?'

"The neck," Lilia purred into your ear nibbling the lobe, "Is a rather sensitive spot for humans...biting it is also seen as a form of possessiveness, in both Fae and Human mating. Interesting, no?" Lilia smiled mischievously as he playfully licked the wound he had left, your body shivering at the wet muscle that scaled from the base of your neck before teasing its way to your jawline. Malleus eyed the cheeky fae that held you in his arms, before heading his mentor's words and leaning over to take his place between the other side of your neck. Lilia moved your hair to the side to allow Malleus easier access to mark your neck, his hands continuing his relentless motions on your chest. It seemed he had gotten rather carried away, for you winced in pain and exclaimed "Ow!" when Malleus's nail ended up scratching your nipple. He pulled away, looking at you in worry and quickly removing his hands from your body. Lilia chuckled at this, a seemingly common pastime for him at this point.

"Humans are delicate," Lilia said to Malleus almost to chastise him for his mistake, "Make sure she is alright, and then continue forward. You need to think what each of your body parts are doing, and adapt accordingly." Malleus's eyes caught yours.

"Are you alright, child of man?" He cooed gently, his honey-deep voice immediately setting aside any uneasiness you may have felt. You gave him a nod and the okay to continue, Lilia whispering "Good girl," In your ear before his hands snaked down to the bottom half of your body, also bare for the two men to be witness to. Your legs were closed the time they were experimenting with your breast and higher extremities, Lilia used a skilled hand to open your knee and allow your legs to spread in front of the draconic fae. Malleus stared down at your dripping cunt, taking notice of the slick that glistened around your hole. The growing bulge of his pants became much more apparent as it grew in size, practically begging to be freed from the confines of the fabric he so frustratingly wanted to be released from.

Lilias hand snaked down from your inner thigh to place two fingers over your folds and spread them apart, making the wetness between your legs much more apparent for Malleus to see. You instinctively felt a jolt of pleasure at such a simple touch, your legs almost snapping shut if it wasn't for Malleus quickly using his hands to force your legs apart. Lilias eyes cocked in surprise at this action, his lips curling in a coy smile before resuming his "lecture."

"Human women have their own lubricating system. When they are aroused, they produce this-" He used two of his fingers to rub a few lines from the pearl of your cunt and entrance, holding them up to show off the glistening clear substance that now covered his fingers. "This is how they prepare to take the male in." Malleus watched earnestly with rosy cheeks, almost drooling at the simple idea that you were ready to take him in. Taking this point as the next step, Malleus began to unbuckle his belt to release him of his constricting confines. Your eyes widened at this, and Lilia 'tsked' at this, shaking his head. Malleus looked up in mild annoyance at the red eyed fae.

"Although she produced her own lubricant," Lilia pointed out, "We still must make sure it's safe for her to take you. You must prepare her, first." Malleus furrowed his eyebrows at this, sitting back slightly holding back a growl of impatience.

"Does her body not automatically prepare her for such actions? Is that not the purpose of the lubricant?" Malleus inquired. Lilia shook his head and gently rubbed your thigh, as if thanking you for your patience.

"I understand your impatience, Malleus. But you must understand, despite the lubricant, we want to avoid any injury that may occur for being ill-prepared for the size in which she is to take. To prevent tearing or pain, it's best to prepare her first in order to stretch her out to better take you in. Especially in your case, since most human males only have one." You started at this sudden statement, looking back between the two men bewildered.

"O-one? What do you mean by that?" Lilia looked at you with eyes wide with confusion.

"Hm? I thought you were aware? Draconic fae actually has two phalluses. One is for keeping the entrance of their mate open, while the other is to push their seed in for breeding. Although...it would be in your benefit to start with one at first, to ease you into it." Your face fell at this information, looking back at Malleus with your eyes wavering in concern. Malleus leaned over you, using a hand to place upon your cheek and stroke it gently, his emerald green eyes glowing with lust and affection for you.

"Do not worry," Malleus cooed with his words of honey, "I will be sure to prepare you as Lilia instructs." Biting your bottom lip, you nodded and tilted your head back. Malleus planted a gentle kiss against your forehead before returning back to his original position, awaiting patiently for Lilias's next set of instructions. Lilia continued to hold you against his chest, looking at Malleus from behind your slightly trembling body. The trembling was out of slight fear of the possibility of two fitting inside of you, yet it seemed all the more tantalizing and exciting at the same time...

"Now Malleus," Lilia continued his instruction, his hands trailing back down to your folds using two fingers to caress your pearl in a mix of circular and vertical movements, teasing the inside of your hole with only the tip of his fingertips, not quite indulging into it. you whined and found yourself moving your hips in the hope of more friction, for the bat's touch was light and you felt yourself become impatient. Lilia ignored your feeble movements and continued to explain as if you weren't so needlingly begging for more. "Start with one finger, and when you feel it enough, you can continue to add more. You will be able to tell she's ready by how much she can take of your fingers without feeling too tight." Lilia suddenly pushed two fingers at once inside of you, urging Malleus forward. He watched eagerly as a satisfied hum escaped your lips, your body arching ever so slightly as Lilia massaged the inside of your hole skillfully with his fingers. All at once and far too soon for your liking, Lilia removed his fingers, your slick completely covering them. "Now, you try. Move them like this-" The red eyed fae gave a demonstration to the horned male, malleus nodding before following instruction.

Malleus was much more clumsy when it came to such acts, you could feel it in the way his fingers stiffly entered you with very little fluid movement.

"curl your fingers gently and move upward. Feel how she tightens around your fingers when you do it correctly?" you had to admit, hearing Lilia talk about you in such a blunt manner about the ways in which your body reacted was enough to make your entire face red. Yet, the wetness down below was far more prominent with every word he spoke. Once he was able to add another two fingers, Malleus pulled out leaving you empty once more. He admired his fingers that were covered in your substance, before staring you directly in the eyes and using his tongue to lap up your wetness from his fingers. You weren't sure you could possibly become any more flustered than you already were, yet it seemed possible with every new action both of the men took. Deciding you had been stretched out enough, Lilia had given Malleus the okay to the next step.

The tall male stood up and unbuckled his belt, allowing his pants to fall to the ground and removing his boxers allowing his cocks to be seen by your mesmerized eyes. You watched in anticipation as he shuffled back in front of you on his knees, your eyes never leaving the sheer length and girth that he had been hiding all this time.

"remember what I said earlier," Lilia said, using his hand to pull your legs apart further, "Humans are incredibly delicate. If you are not careful when breeding, you could harm your mate. Enter her slowly..." Lilias fingers snaked back down to your folds and once again used his skilled hand to pull them apart, Malleus pumping the top of the two cocks a couple times before aligning it with your entrance. Lilias fingers remained spreading you apart as he talked Malleus through every inch, yet the second the head of his cock penetrated you, you couldn't help but suck in air and almost pull back.

"t-too.. too big..!" You whined, Lilia hushing you gently and planting a kiss upon your cheek. Malleus leaned forward and groaned, his cock throbbing in desire to bury deep inside you. As you were taking inches of Malleus, you couldn't help but notice something hard poke at your bare back, like cloth that was rubbing against your skin. Lilia was hard. You hadn't the chance to speak up about it before the older fae ignored his obvious 'issue' and continued to coach Malleus through the motions.

"Let her adjust," Lilia said to the black-haired male, "(y/n), Tell him when you're ready to take more. And if it is too much to bear, speak your mind." Lilias's words were kind and gentle, his lips pressing against the lobe of your ear before biting down. After a few moments of adjusting to Malleus's size, you gave him the okay as Lilia guided him deeper inside of you.

"So tight and wet," Malleus let out a deep primal growl from the back of his throat as he was able to finally fully engulf himself in your warmth, "So warm...ah.." groaning while leaning forward and biting the crook of your neck, Malleus found himself trying to push deeper and deeper inside of you. Tears pricked the side of your eyes at the number of stimuli you were receiving, Lilia took notice and moved your head to face him kissing the tears away from your cheeks. "There...Good girl. You're taking him so well, aren't you?" He purred, trailing kisses from your cheeks to your jawline, and from your jawline moving his teeth to graze against the other side of your neck. Once fully adjusted, Malleus began to go at a steady pace with moans of pleasure escaping his lips.

It wasn't long before he was fucking you relentlessly out of pure primal instinct, the room full of wet sounds of skin slapping against each other and moaning. Sweet moans that left your lips with one man penetrating you and the other sneaky hands roaming your body. Lilia used one hand to grope your breast and play with your hardened nipples while the other moved down to your clit and rubbed circles around it leading you closer and closer to your release. You could feel the bubbling pit of your stomach as your walls clenched around Malleus's cock and your back arched, a loud desperate moan slipping from your lips and your body trembling with ecstasy. At the same time, you felt Malleus twitch inside of you, with ropes of cum painting your swollen insides white. Your body went limp against Lillia's chest, panting roughly as the Draconic fae removed himself from the warmth of your cunt. Lilia used his thumb to pull open your swollen hole, watching as Malleus's thick seed pooled out of your twitching entrance. As Lilia sang your praises, Malleus leaned forward and kissed your forehead gently, you taking notice that he was still as hard as he had started.

"Seeing how well both of you did," Lilia smiled, "shall we try using the second one, next?"

You surely weren't going to be pulled away yet, not until Briar Valley had another heir on the way <3

[glitch098]

[sadgayeddie]

These hands had to let it go free, and This love came back to me

for nessa @epiaphany, happy birthday my love 💖

[softaestluv]

oooh can you do a simon riley blurb where reader has a dog (named riley ofc) and she’s at the park with the dog when he (the dog) runs away and she’s chasing him like a crazy person and riley (the dog) ends up up running into simon and he’s petting riley like “wheres your owner buddy” then reader comes back and is like omg im so sorry and the “that’s how I met your mother vibe” kicks in

if you even understand this I just word-vomited in your asks lol

also I love your writing so much girl ♥️

Simon finds himself with a face full of German Sheppard fur and warm dog breath panted against his cheeks, quite a first for a Sunday.

“Where’s your owner, huh, buddy?” He asks, scratching behind one of his ears, feeling for a collar around his neck.

He doesn’t get a response, of course, other than an excited slobbering lick against his chin. It’s a bit gross, wincing a little at the sensation. Though, he’s supposes it’s not the worst thing to happen to him, not when he see’s you frantically weaving through the people walking on the sidewalk, hair frizzy from running, face pinched in concern. It’s cliche, really, but he’s sure you’re the most ethereal woman he’s ever seen. He’s a bit enthralled as he watches you, doesn’t even realize the dog is still licking his chin.

And then, he hears the name you’re shouting from the top of your lungs.

“Riley!” You yell in relief when you finally see him.

He’s sure it’s fate.

You’re sweating by the time you reach him, chest rising and falling with each shallow breath, “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! His leash broke and then he just ran for it.”

Simon has to remember to close his mouth as he watches you push your hair out of your face, “No problem at all, he behaved himself.”

You huff a laugh, Riley pawing his way back to your side contentedly like he hadn’t just sent you on a half mile chase. He’s sure you’re embarrassed, poor Riley is probably going to get a good scolding when the two of you get home, but he thinks you should feel anything but. Even in your bewilder state, he can’t take his eyes off you.

“Need a hand gettin’ him home?” He asks, because he’s not about to let you slip between the thin cracks of his fingertips.

There’s few things Simon Riley knows in his life, even fewer things he wants.

But he knows he wants you, knows you’ll be his.

[foggymyst]

Oh, gosh. It’s super warm out right now, haha. Really warm. Not too hot but definitely not chilly. Just that kind of warmth that makes you really sleepy, you know?

Oh, who am I kidding, haha. Of course you know. I can see it in the way your eyes are growing heavy and you’re slouching. I’m sure you feel that warmth, rising up your body as you read this post, silly girl.

It’s okay to feel warm, it is warm. So nice and relaxing with how warm it is, makes you yawn out loud and blink, all bleary eyed as you try to stay awake. But that’s not what this is. This isn’t a stay awake post.

That wouldn’t be me at all, now would it? Good girl, just relax, let the warmth envelope you. It’s much nicer to be comfy and warm than uncomfy and cold or hot, right? So you can just relax, let me help you out.

You’ve had a tough week, haven’t you? Class, work, meetups you didn’t actually want to go to but did anyway because they were either required or you didn’t have a valid excuse to say no… All that stress just builds up inside you, and this warmth is helping to wash that away.

Just take a deep breath, bringing the stress to the forefront of your mind, letting it pool and sit there and swirl around in that head of yours, before breathing it all out, relaxing oh so nicely as you slump back ever so slightly.

You feel your brain begin to slow, it feels nice, not at all something to worry about. And that’s simple for why. Your mind? Your mind is beginning to melt.

The warmth is simply melting your brain like chocolate or ice cream. And it feels so good to melt. Because your mind controls your body, so when it melts, so do your muscles. Your muscles are melting and it feels so good to simply melt for me. Your eyes grow heavy, your lips begin to part, and you start to drool.

That’s okay, don’t stop it, as you drool, your thoughts clear out more and more, your melty mind thoughts simply leaking out as you drool, meaning they’re no longer any of your concern. The week is over, the new one is beginning, so it’s time for you to simply relax, and melt, and not let any of it bother you anymore. Because it simply feels too good to just melt for me. Too good to want to think.

And you don’t want to think. It’s so much better when you don’t think. When you let yourself go entirely into my control, because that’s where you belong. In my control. Where I can make sure you don’t have to think, where I can make sure all you have to do is just melt for me. Melt into my control, where you should be, all the time. Because it just feels so good to just

Melt~

[necrobunni]

me, very high, just realized i unconsciously twerk when i’m baked. not like full ass clap or anything. just lil movements. lil grind. like my ass has a rhythm all its own.

and now I’m imagining being high with Simon Riley.

sitting on his lap, smoking, watching TV. chillin’. heavy thighs across his, ass comfortably posted. all chill. he's warm. a perfect human furnace

and outta nowhere you just start throwin’ it back. not even on purpose. just vibin'. slow lil grind. just a rhythm in your hips and you're too high to notice.

and Simon?? man’s stiff. quiet. doesn’t say shit. probably thinks you're just malfunctioning.

he's built like a fucking tank, and you can still feel him stiffen under you.

but you keep doing it. no awareness. you don't clock it, just baked and grinding.

and he’s under you, getting harder and harder, saying nothing not even daring to breathe. dying inside.

quiet. respectful. Suffering.

he doesn’t shift. doesn’t move you. just sits there letting you grind real gentle, real slow, like it’s nothing.

like it’s not driving him insane.

and then you shift a little more. sink down just a touch in his lap.

and you hear it.

a low. deep. barely there grunt:

"Fuckin’ hell..."

you pause. glance back.

"...you alright?"

his jaw’s tight. hands gripping your thighs just a little harder now. he clears his throat, looks away from you, and mutters something low that sounds like a prayer or a threat, hard to tell.

And you.

you just blink. Shrug. go back to watching tv like nothing happened, meanwhile he’s underneath you, chest rising hard, pupils blown, fists clenched just trying not to disrupt you.

Trying to be good.

he’s this close to snapping. but he won’t. not yet.

not while you're sittin’ pretty, high as hell, still lightly bouncin’.

unaware of driving a grown man to the edge of divinity.

pt 2.

[toastedatlas]

man i procrastinated so bad on this

i finished it though (barely)

[twoplayergaymers]

A Sign of Affection—

❋ deaf! Bakugo x Fem Interpreter! Reader

❋ Interpreting for Dynamight: How Hard Could It Be?

❋ 5.9k words

❋ A note before reading: Bakugo is being portrayed as little ‘d’ deaf, this is very important. You can learn more about the difference between deaf and Deaf here! This is also ASL cause that’s what I know.

Part 2

Katsuki Bakugo would never admit it, but he was losing his hearing. He had been for a while now, his explosive quirk might save lives but it was doing nothing good for his ears. He doesn’t admit this, not necessarily because he’s ashamed, but because he refuses to let anyone think he’s anything less than the strongest. Only a select few know, and even fewer are allowed close enough to notice his hearing aids.

You’re one of them.

Working as his interpreter wasn’t something you’d planned for when you first joined his agency. At the time, you thought you’d just be handling the occasional public statement, but it became clear quickly that your role was going to become far more personal when his hearing aids were damaged in his most recent mission. They’re malfunctioning, sounds become high pitched whirs in his ear, so he takes them out.

The silence was oppressive, his ears ringing as he stomped back into his agency headquarters after the mission. His team was talking but to him it sounded like they were underwater. His eyes rapidly dart between faces, trying to lip read, though he hasn’t relied solely on that in years. Fuck, everyone’s talking so fast. He clenched his fists, irritation bubbling under his skin, until finally he barked out, “Shut up!” His voice sounded off even to himself, somehow louder and harsher without his aids.

The room immediately falls silent, his team looking back at him with the same wide eyes and panicked expressions as always. He thinks they’d get used to his brashness by now, guess not. There’s a pregnant pause as Bakugo takes a breath, closing his eyes momentarily before uttering “Someone call an interpreter, I can’t understand you assholes-“ he stops for a second, his face falls in thought before he speaks again “get.. get the one from the press conferences”

“Which one?” Someone from the team utters, slowly this time. “You know which one. The one who actually knows what the hell she’s doing. The… uh…” He faltered for a moment, his scowl deepening. “The one with the— the pretty one. Dammit just call her!”

He doesn’t elaborate further because the truth is, he knows exactly who you are. He’s seen you at every press conference and public statement for the agency, standing slightly to the side of where everyone gathered, interpreting for the news. He wouldn’t admit it— not even to himself but he’d find himself distracted by you often. He was captivated by your hands and facial expression. He could tell you were passionate about your work, hell he might even respect you a little.

His team doesn’t question his words. They just nod in understanding and someone leaves to do just that. He huffs, hoping you get there quickly so he might actually know what’s going on.

“He… what?!” Your voice raises as the voice over the phone relays the message. Dynamight requested you? You couldn’t wrap your head around why he’d even need an interpreter, but you’re not turning down the opportunity. The cup of tea you were drinking abandoned on the counter as you rush into your bedroom to change into your interpreting ‘uniform.’

Fuck. You needed to do laundry. Your clothes are piled in the corner of the room. In your defense, you weren’t supposed to work again until next week. You dig through your closet and dresser drawers hoping to find something suitable for interpreting. Your eyes fall on a black long sleeve, it’s a few years old and you’ve definitely gained a little weight since the last time you’d worn it. It’ll have to do. You throw it on along with some slacks. it shows more shoulder than anything. it’s a little tighter than you’d like it to be, clinging to your body in a way you’d rather it not. At least not for your place of work.

You smooth your hands over your clothes a few times looking in the mirror, sucking your teeth before grabbing your bag and keys and heading out the door. Like you said, it’d have to do. The agency is only 15 minutes from your apartment, which is why you’d so enthusiastically taken the job. That and the fact that it’s his agency. You’d admired dynamight for a long time but honestly the thought of working so closely with him was terrifying.

You arrive and the nice receptionist tells you exactly which room to go to. you give her a warm smile. She returns it, her manicured nails moving rapidly over the keyboard as you shuffle away to the conference room.

You lightly rap on the door twice before pushing it open. “Hi, sorry to interrupt, but I’m the—” The words catch in your throat as the room falls silent, all eyes turning to you. You’re used to this. You’re used to people watching you—it comes with the job of being an interpreter. But you’re not used to him. Your gaze collides with his, and your breath stumbles. “…interpreter,” you finish, the word slipping out softer than you intended.

His eyes are striking, sharp and burning, there’s nothing warm about the way he looks at you. It’s intense, unflinching, and terrifying.

You can’t tell if your heart is racing because his gaze is so intimidating or because you realize, that it’s beautiful, too. Damn it. Focus. You break the staring contest you were apparently having to briefly look at the floor. His gaze felt critical and now you’re second guessing every choice you made before you walked into the office. You shake your head and look up again. “I’m the interpreter” you say, more confident this time.

“About time” he barks out, his tone as critical as his gaze. Your eyes lock with his for the second time. “You just gonna stand there or are you gonna come here and do your damn job?” You let in a sharp breath as you instinctively straighten your spine. “Right.. right sorry” you murmur. Only, what is your job? You still have no idea why you’re even here. Whatever it doesn’t matter.

You step more into the room, positioning yourself where you can see everyone and nod, beginning to interpret. His eyes are still on you, you don’t think they ever left but instead you focus on the various voices around you. Brows furrowed, you shake your head. “Excuse me.” You mutter. The voices continue, loud, scattered, interrupting each other. “Excuse me!” You say louder this time, stopping the conversation as their heads turn to acknowledge you. “Please speak one at a time! A meeting this big should really have more than one interpreter..” you mumble the last part but the others in the room nod in understanding and do as you ask. The conversation resumes, slower and more uniform.

Bakugo doesn’t look away, even as the others start speaking again. You catch snippets of conversation, words like recovery, damaged hearing aids, and villain tactics, but your focus keeps dragging back to him. It’s not just the intensity of his presence—it’s the way he watches you like he’s dissecting every move you make.

Bakugo watches you intensely, his gaze devouring you whole. The way the loose strands of hair are framing your face, how your brows lift with expression, the gloss on your lips, your bare shoulders. Your skin looks so soft and— damnit. He’s not even paying attention.

He barely even knows sign anyway. He’d taught himself to finger spell and after watching you for so long picked up on some of the more common signs. Having you here was more productive. It was less time consuming then writing back and forth and maybe he’d learn something and maybe he’d get to know you. He blinks a few times, snapping himself from the thought. The incoherent voices around him halt and there’s several gazes on him. Someone probably asked a question.

Someone asked a question and he was too busy looking at your stupid fucking shoulders. Who even wears something like that to work anyway? He’s never seen you wear anything like that before and-

“Sir?” A member of his team utters. They’re awaiting his response. He locks eyes with you again, raising his hands to his body.

SLOW. MY SIGN BAD.

He signs to you. S-P-E-L-L.

You feel your eyes instantly widen, you force your face to fall neutral again. You’re interpreting for him? His aids got damaged?

You bend your index finger into a hook shape and tap it twice on your ear. The sign for hearing aid. You spell it out for him, before spelling out fix.

YES, NO, WHICH?

He scoffs, looking back at his team. “I’ve got too much shit to do to sit around and wait for ‘em to get fixed. Why do you think she’s even here?” He says, clearly annoyed at the question. He’s got that scowl on is face and it gives you chills.

The meeting continues, much to your dismay. You’re struggling, trying to take out the key points of what you’re overhearing and interpret to someone who barely knows sign. He’s not helping at all, staring at you with the same critical eyes and blank expression. Is he even understanding you? You try not to let the frustration show on your face.

The meeting is finally over to your relief. Your hands feel tired from so much fingerspelling. People start filtering out of the room. you roam over to where you left your bag, pulling out your water bottle and taking a few large sips trying to shake off the tension.

“Didn’t think signing was that exhausting,” a gruff voice says behind you.

You pause mid-sip, the familiar tone making you freeze. Slowly, you lower the bottle and turn, finding Bakugo standing a few steps away, arms crossed over his chest. His expression is unreadable. “You look like you’re about to explode.”

You huff, honestly not having the patience for this right now. “It’s hard to interpret when you barely know sign language, sir. I can’t tell if you understand anything I’m saying.” You say, your tone stern but still trying to remain respectful.

He stares at you for a beat, his expression unreadable, before he crosses his arms and leans against the wall, his voice low. “I understand more than you think. Just… just not all of it.”

You narrow your eyes, annoyed yet relieved that at least he can give you a little clarity. “Were you going to say anything? Or just let me waste my time and look stupid?” Your hand move rapidly, in frustration, in anger

“You don’t look stupid.” He states in a flat tone. “You’re good at it.” This shocks you a bit, dynamight isn’t known for giving compliments and somehow you feel like his gaze is even more intense than before.

“..was that a compliment?” You blink, caught off guard. “What’re you the deaf one now?” he smirks slightly before letting his rough demeanor take over once more “don’t get used to it” he fires back quickly.

You sigh, shaking your head slightly. “Thanks, I guess. But it doesn’t matter how good I am if you don’t understand” your eyes meet his once more. You sense something in them, if you didn’t know better you’d think it was almost something…apologetic?

His fist clench at his sides, not unnoticed by you and your demeanor softens despite your words. You’re not trying to make him feel bad, it’s probably more frustrating for him.

“I need you to communicate, sir. At least let me know when you understand or not, or I’m gonna keep making myself look like an idiot up there.” You smile slightly, trying to cut the tension you’d accidentally created.

He sucks his teeth “whatever, fine. I’ll tell you.” You give him a small smile in return, starting to gather your things. “Before you leave..” he breaks the silence, you look up at him curiously. He steps closer, lowering his voice. “You can’t tell anyone about my hearing. Got it?”

You feel your brows furrow. There’s a lot you could say back, but you value your job. “Excuse me sir.. but there’s nothing wrong with-“ “I said, you can’t tell anyone. No one else needs to know.” He cuts you off, his words are cold.

The finality in his voice makes it clear the subject isn’t up for debate. You purse your lips, biting back the response you want to give. Instead, you settle for a curt nod. “Understood.” Grabbing your bag and walking towards the door. “Have a good night sir.” Without waiting for a response, you close the door behind you, leaving him alone in the conference room.

Bakugo watches you leave, his hands tightening in his pockets. He’s not sure what it is about you, but something tells him this arrangement is going to be more complicated than he expected.

The hallway outside the conference room is quiet, but your mind isn’t. You replay the conversation in your head, trying to make sense of it. There was something about the way he spoke—about the way he looked at you—that stuck with you. Dynamight was hard to read, but his insistence on secrecy had been laced with something you couldn’t quite place. You shake your head. Not your problem, you tell yourself firmly. You’re just here to do your job, not to figure out Dynamight.

As the elevator doors slide open, you step inside, your thoughts still lingering on him. This isn’t going to be easy, is it? You reach the lobby, saying goodnight to the same kind receptionist from earlier and heading back home.

You’re lying in bed when your phone pings, it’s an email of your new interpreting schedule. With a heavy sigh, you turn onto your back, staring at the ceiling. Meeting your heroes wasn’t supposed to feel like this. You’d admired Dynamight from a distance, inspired by his drive, his unshakable determination, and his ability to save lives no matter the cost. But up close? He was…

You hesitate, feeling guilty for even thinking it. He wasn’t cruel, exactly. Just difficult. Closed off. And it wasn’t like he had asked for this to happen to him.

You close your eyes, willing yourself to sleep. It’s just work, you tell yourself. Do your job, keep your head down, and move on.

But as you drift off, a small thought lingers in the back of your mind. That brief flicker of something in his eyes during the meeting—something you hadn’t expected from a man so famously brash and unyielding.

Vulnerability?

You shove the thought away, but it lingers, a tiny thread pulling at the edges of your frustration. Maybe there was more to him than you realized.

For now, though, you had to focus on making it through tomorrow. One day at a time.

A week passes. The days become easier. You’ve become very friendly with the receptionist in the lobby. Her name was Talia. Your brief interaction turned into smaller friendly conversation. You looked forward to seeing her everyday.

Working with Dynamight is no walk in the park. He’s intense, stubborn, and unapologetically brash. But beneath the rough exterior, you’ve come to know a man who takes his job as a hero seriously, even if he pushes himself too hard to compensate for what you assume he perceives as a weakness.

He’s a little kinder now, at least in the way that Dynamight can be kind. He’s working with you, communicating the way you asked. The dynamic is fine. It works. You do your job, you talk to Talia for a little while and you leave.

Lunch with Talia quickly becomes your favorite part of the day. What started as quick chats at the receptionist desk has turned into full-blown lunch breaks in the small cafe near the agency. She’s easy to talk to—funny, warm, and refreshingly honest.

Today, as you sit across from her, picking at your sandwich, the conversation drifts to Dynamight.

“Is he still a pain?” Talia asks, smirking as she sips her iced coffee. You laugh softly. “I mean, yeah. But he’s… better. Not great, but better.” “‘Better’ for Dynamight is probably miraculous,” she quips, earning another laugh from you.

The smile quickly falls from your face as you stare down at your food, a more serious expression taking over. “God” you groan, your face falling into your hands. “I just don’t understand him. Like at all” “you’re not getting paid to understand Dynamight. If any of us were we’d all be broke.” She chuckles and takes another sip of her coffee.

“I know but it’s just like.. if you’re so ashamed to be..deaf…” you whisper the last part so no one may overhear “..that you don’t want anyone to know why the fuck would you ask for an interpreter? Do you know how hard it is to discreetly interpret in public? We have to make someone else stand next to him so it looks like I’m interpreting for them instead!”

“He’s not ashamed.” She says curtly, ignoring your other frustrations. “What?” Your head lifts from your hands to look at her, both shock and curiosity etched into your face. “I don’t understand” you shake your head.

“It’s not because he’s ashamed or anything. It’s… well, think about it. If the wrong people found out, villains would use it against him. They’d find ways to exploit it. That’s the last thing he wants.”

Oh. You hadn’t thought about it like that. You almost feel a little guilty for making him out to be such an ass in your mind. Almost, cause at the same time, he’s still cold and abrasive.

Your face must show how you’re feeling. Somehow it always does, It’s a curse in moments like this, but it’s also what makes you such a great interpreter. Talia’s hand fall on top of yours reassuringly.

“Hey..” she says gently. “..You’re great at what you do, y/n. Maybe you were wrong about that but it doesn’t change the fact that he is 100% making your job harder” You can’t help the small, weary laugh that escapes you. “You’re not wrong. He’s exhausting. Sometimes, I still don’t even know if he’s listening.”

Talia smirks, squeezing your hand. “Oh, he’s listening. He’s just a stubborn ass who doesn’t know how to show it. I mean, come on. Think about who we’re talking about.” Her words draw a reluctant smile from you. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” You mutter back

“You’ll get through to him,” she says confidently, letting go of your hand. “Trust me. If anyone can, it’s you. You’re here for a reason.” There’s a beat of silence before Talia leans in slightly, her tone dropping to something a little quieter, more serious. “You know, he doesn’t let anyone help him. Not really. He’s always been like that, even when I started here.”

You nod slowly, processing her words. It makes sense in a way. Although her words are reassuring,it still feels frustrating. You look at her, a flicker of doubt still lingering in your eyes. But her faith in you feels steady, unwavering. It’s comforting, even if you’re not sure you fully believe it yet.

“Thanks, Talia,” you say softly, and for the first time in what feels like days, you hold yourself a little higher.

The sharp sizzle of oil fills the air as Bakugo tosses another handful of vegetables into the pan. it’s a rhythm he knows well. But tonight, his focus is off. He scowls at the counter, eyeing the ridiculous amount of food piling up. Again. Every time lately, it’s the same thing. He swears he’s not doing it on purpose.

His mind drifts to you. To the way your hands move when you sign, fluidly.. beautifully. Your frustration barely hidden behind a polite smile. You’ve been busting your ass trying to keep up with him, and he’s done nothing but make your job harder.

Bakugo grips the edge of the counter, jaw tight. He knows you didn’t ask for this, didn’t ask to deal with his stubborn ass.

Before can even realize what he’s doing, he’s grabbing a spare container and loading it with the extra food, snapping the lid on tight. He tells himself he’s being practical. He’s not one to waste food.

When he hands it to you the next day, he barely looks you in the eye. “Made too much,” he says gruffly, shoving the container into your hands before walking away without waiting for a response.

He walks away so fast he almost, just almost misses the small smile that plays onto your lips. The smile that fills his mind for the rest of the day.

And that’s how it starts. The next day he’s shoving another container in your hands, claiming the same thing. Rushing away in the same way. You blink after him, utterly bewildered but secretly delighted. Because honestly? That food was incredible. Like, best you’ve ever had incredible.

By the third day, you’re half-expecting it, your hands reaching automatically as he shoves yet another container into them. It’s becoming a strange routine, one you don’t entirely understand but definitely don’t mind.

At lunch, you decide you can’t just keep taking these meals without saying anything. You owe him a thank you. So, with the container in hand, you find yourself heading up to his office.

You stand outside the office door, taking a shaky breath and light knocking. “Come in” his voice with its usual roughness grumbles from the opposite side of the door. You open it and shuffle in, giving an awkward smile.

“What?” He asked brashly, sounding more annoyed than usual. You feel his eyes scanning you from head to toe. You hold up the container. “I uhm.. I just” you clear your throat. “I just wanted to say thank you for the food lately, it’s so delicious, honestly I really appreciate it.” Your hands move as you speak.

FOOD, THANK YOU, DELICIOUS

You let your eyes wander while he speaks, you’ve never really been in his office. It’s a standard room, barely decorated and of course, tidy. His desk was positioned on the same wall as the door. So that’s how he knew you were knocking..“Uhm. I was wondering.. do you.. wanna eat together?”

LUNCH, EAT, TOGETHER?

You ask, trying to keep your voice steady

He stares at you blankly and just when you think he’s about to tell you to get lost, he shrugs. “Whatever, don’t make it weird” he nods his head in the direction of an extra chair on the other side of the room. You smile and drag the chair over to his desk.

That’s how it starts.

The next day, you’d ask to eat together again. Over the next few days, it becomes routine. Around lunch, you’d head up to his office with your container, and the two of you would sit and eat together. The conversation, at first seems sparse but becomes easier and easier, soon flowing naturally.

He asks about interpreting, your day, your annoying habit of over-explaining things when you’re nervous. And you learn things about him too. Like how he experiments with different recipes because cooking is one of the few things that lets him focus. Or how he prefers silence over small talk, but somehow doesn’t seem to mind when it’s you filling the quiet.

One day, mid-bite, he suddenly says, “Stop calling me Dynamight.” You blink, caught off guard. “I’m sorry?” Your hand forms a fist, rubbing it against your chest with raised brows, signing as you speak.

He glares at you, though it lacks its usual edge. “You’re not on the damn clock when we’re eating. Just call me Bakugo.” You hesitate, then nod, a small smile creeping onto your face. “Alright, Bakugo.”

Talia, however, notices this change almost immediately. Somehow when lunch time rolls around you’re nowhere to be found. She misses your time together.

“Girl, where the hell have you been?” She asks one evening as you pass her desk to go home. “What happened to our lunches? You cheating on me?” She smirks

You flush, “I’m sorry.. I’m sorry I haven’t been communicating” you facepalm. “I’ve been having lunch with Bakugo these past few days, to thank him for the meals and everything”

“Ohhh so it’s Bakugo now?” She tease, leaning forward on her desk. “Sooo when’s the wedding?” You groan, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “Talia!” “What? I need to know when I’m supposed to object, can’t have dynamight taking my girl” she giggles.

You roll your eyes but can’t help a small smile.

“It’s nothing, really. We’re coworkers having lunch.” You’re not lying, that’s exactly what it was. Even if deep down you maybe wanted it to be more. Talia smirks knowingly. “Uh-huh. Sure.” You sigh, shaking your head. “I’m serious! And I’m really sorry for ditching you. I promise—lunch together at the end of the week. Deal?”

She crosses her arms, pretending to consider it. “Hmm, I guess I can forgive you. But only if you bring the juicy details.” “Talia!” you groan again, but she just laughs as you wave goodbye, her teasing words echoing behind you.

You sit across from Talia in the same cafe as usual. Catching up for the first time in what seems like forever. You really do feel bad about ditching her, she’s the one great thing that’s come from taking this job.

“So,” she begins, resting her chin on her hand. “How’s lunch with Dynamight been? Does he chew with his mouth open or something?”

You roll your eyes, laughing softly. “He’s not bad, actually. Quiet. Focuses more on the food than talking, which honestly, I appreciate. Less pressure to fill the silence. But I do it anyway.. it’s like the words keep coming out… I can’t stop talking”

She gasps, throwing her hand on her chest mockingly “THE Dynamight? Quiet? I fear a may faint!”

You chuckle and playfully push hit her arm that’s still resting on the table. “Well, to be fair,” you say, grinning, “he mostly spends it making sure I’m eating, sooo.”

“Ohhh,” she drawls, raising her eyebrows. “So he’s looking out for you now, huh? Bet he’s making sure you’re eating all your vegetables too.” “I think he wants to make sure I’m enjoying it. He likes cooking and I know if I could cook well I’d probably do the same thing” you respond matter of factly.

“Sure,” Talia says, drawing the word out with an exaggerated smirk. “And you don’t think it’s because he has a little crush?” You roll your eyes again, fighting the warmth creeping up your neck. “He’s just being a decent coworker. That’s all.”

“Mmhmm,” she hums, clearly not convinced. “Let me know when the wedding invites go out. I’m definitely objecting. Even if I’m the maid of honor”

You snort, tossing a napkin at her. “Can we eat now, or are you just going to keep embarrassing me?”

Talia raises her hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll let you eat in peace…for now.”

Just as you’re about to dig into your food, your phone buzzes on the table. Without thinking, you pick it up, glancing at the unsaved number. The message reads:

“Where are you? It’s lunch. You’re not here.”

You blink, confused. “What the—” Talia hums in curiosity. “I just got a text but I don’t have this number saved” you turn your phone screen so she can see too. She narrows her eyes as she leans closer to read the message, then they widen. “Oh my god. That’s him. That’s Dynamight. Bakugo.”

Your stomach drop. “What? How would he even get my number?” Talia gives you a look. “Girl, I know you’re not that slow. He’s one of the top heroes in the country. If he wanted your number, he could definitely find it.”

“Well?” She nudges you. “Are you gonna text back or not?” “I.. what.. what do I even say??” You respond, growing more flustered. “How about, ‘Sorry, I ditched you for my real soulmate, Talia’?” she says with a smirk.

You try to just roll your eyes, but can’t help but let out a chuckle and type out a quick response.

“Sorry, I’m at lunch with a friend today. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The reply comes almost instantly.

“You could’ve told me.”

Your stomach drops again, and Talia laughs, leaning back in her chair. “Oooooo he’s mad. You’re in troubleeee” her grin only growing wider. “He probably misses his lunch buddy,” she adds with a mock pout. “So tragic.” you give her a glare.

Your groan, plopping down your phone and caging your head in your arms on the table. “Why is he even texting me? And why do I feel bad about this?”

Talia smirks, sipping her drink. “Because you’re catching feelings, babe. Don’t fight it.” You glare at her again over the rim of your hands, but she just laughs harder. You flip your phone over, trying to refocus on your lunch. However, you don’t really feel hungry anymore.

The next day feels…off. You can’t put your finger on it at first, but the energy in the room is different. When you arrive, Bakugo barely glances at you. There’s no gruff greeting, no container of food shoved into your hands with a muttered excuse about “making too much.”

By lunch, the tension feels suffocating. You glance at him a few times, hoping for some kind of acknowledgment, but he doesn’t even look in your direction. He eats alone in his office while you sit in the break room, absently picking at a salad you don’t even want.

You replay yesterday in your mind, Was it because I skipped lunch? Is he that mad about it?

But that doesn’t make sense. He’s Dynamight, not some clingy guy who cares about a missed meal. Still, you can’t shake the feeling that you’ve messed something up.

He doesn’t look at you. Doesn’t greet you. Doesn’t offer you food.

It’s petty, and he knows it. But he’s pissed—mostly at himself. Yesterday, he let his guard down, let you get under his skin. He shouldn’t have cared where you were or who you were with, but he did. And that pissed him off even more.

So today, he shuts it down. Keeps things professional. Cold.

He tells himself it’s better this way. Keeps you at arm’s length, avoids the growing distraction you’ve become. You’re his interpreter, not his friend. Not someone he should care about. By the time the day ends, he’s still mad. Mad at you for skipping lunch yesterday, mad at himself for caring, and mad that he can’t stop thinking about the way your face fell when he brushed you off.

The next day feels longer , the tension in the air weighing heavier with each passing hour. Bakugo barely acknowledges you, responding only when necessary and only about work. No snide remarks, no shared looks during meetings, and definitely no container of food shoved into your hands.

You try to brush it off, but the absence of his usual gruffness is almost worse than when he was barking at you. By the time lunch approaches you’ve convinced yourself you should just let it go. But as you gather your things, you glance toward his office door, slightly ajar. Before you can stop yourself, you’re knocking.

“Come in,” his voice calls, low and gruff as always.

You push the door open. He’s sitting at his desk, hunched over a stack of papers, his eyes darting around them rapidly, his attention fixed anywhere but on you.

“Sir,” you start, trying to keep your tone neutral, “is everything… okay? You’ve been—”

OK, YOU?

“Busy,” he cuts you off without looking up. He’s not even paying attention to what you’re saying.

You narrow your eyes and bang your hand on his desk twice to get his attention. His head snaps up at that. “Busy enough to ignore me?” His crimson eyes narrow. “I’m not ignoring you.”

“Wow! Could’ve fooled me,” you mutter under your breath, knowing he can’t hear it. Bakugo has read lips long enough to pick that up, even if you’re not signing. For a long moment, there’s silence. You expected him snap, have some witty remarks like usual. Instead his face falls.

“didn’t think you’d care,” he says finally, his voice quieter than you’ve ever heard it. Your eyes widen.“Care? I thought I did something wrong.. I-“ your hands stammer. “you didn’t.” He cuts you off again. “Didn’t wanna bother you. Figured you’d rather spend time with your friend or whatever”

His admission hits you hard, this…this is almost vulnerable? you’d never seen him like this. You knew this wasn’t easy for him to say.

“S-sir..” you stop. “Bakugo.. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that,” you say softly. “You’re not a bother.”

He mutters, incoherently, shifting in his seat a bit. You can tell he’s don’t talking and you take that as your cue to leave. You shake your hand in the air to get his attention again. “By the way,” you say, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I had lunch with my friend that day because I’d been ditching her for you. So… take what you will from that.”

You pause for a beat, your hands coming to a halt, your eyes meeting his, then turn on your heel and slip out the door without another word.

Later that evening, you linger longer than usual, pretending to be caught up in some last-minute paperwork. In reality, you’re waiting for the office to quiet down, for everyone else to leave. When you finally approach his door again, it’s shut, but you can hear faint movement inside.

You push it open a crack, peeking through, and your breath catches.

He’s standing in front of the mirror on the far wall, hands moving clumsily through a set of signs. His brows are furrowed, his jaw tight, frustration radiating off him in waves. He’s got that same notebook he was hunched over propped open on the desk beside him, glancing between the pages and his reflection.

“Fuck.” He mutters, shaking out his hands and trying again. You watch for a moment, something warm blooming in your chest. He hasn’t noticed you yet, and you almost feel bad for interrupting. Almost.

You shake you hand in the air to get his attention.

“You’re improving,” you say softly, your hands moving as you speak.

YOU, BETTER!

His eyes widen, caught completely off guard. For a split second, he looks ready to bark at you, but then his expression softens, just barely.

“Should’ve locked the damn door,” he grumbles, closing the notebook with a snap. You smile, stepping closer. “You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

His eyes meet yours, something lingering there and for once, there’s no anger, no irritation. Just honesty. “Yeah, I did.”

You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Instead, you settle for a small nod, the weight of the moment saying more than words ever could.

“Thanks,” you whisper after a beat, your palm faces you, fingers touching your chin before bringing your hand away from your face.

THANK YOU.

and this time, he doesn’t look away as a small, rare smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Katsuki Bakugo would never admit it, but he trusted you. And maybe—just maybe—he was starting to let you in.

This is soooo so long omg I’m sorry!! Also the sign is super basic bc he wouldn’t know.. I feel like I needed to say that lmaoo I hope anyone who reads this enjoyed!

Dedicating this to my luver @mimzyu and also @poemeater since Leigh encouraged me to start writing not too long ago <3