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joelsgreys · 5 months

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someone to be thankful for

DBF! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: It’s Thanksgiving—when dinner with your nightmare of a family goes south, you find comfort in the person you least expect it from: your father’s best friend, Joel Miller.

warnings/tags: 18+ only, MINORS DNI. (AU, NO OUTBREAK) non canon, DBF! Joel, AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s, i do not specify her age, but she’s a recent college grad so do with that what you will, not everyone graduates at the same specific age ya know? Joel is in his mid-ish 50’s). Reader’s a teacher, she is visiting her suburban childhood home from a big city. Reader’s parents are religious and practice traditional-ish gender norms (i.e father is head of the household kinda thing) reader’s family celebrates Thanksgiving (sorry) several mentions of food and alcohol, reader’s parents suck, she has two brothers who come with names, a lot of her relatives come with names, watch out for Aunt Ines she’s a bitch. (TW) body/weight shaming (twice) PLEASE BE MINDFUL if this could be triggering. mentions of and implications of childhood abuse (not graphic) reader’s dad gets in her face, implied infidelity (reader’s dad), implied toxic marriage (reader’s parents). soft, caring, protective Joel. Joel’s recently divorced, mention of Sarah, mentions of the ex-wife. SMUT. oral sex (female receiving) p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) reader states she’s on baby blockers (birth control), creampie, DADDY KINK (bc reader clearly has a few daddy issues), LOTS of pet names (darlin’, baby, pretty girl, sweetheart, honey), size kink (ish?), cockwarming. think i got it all?

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. if this isn’t your thing, that is fine but just keep on scrolling.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION.

word count: 11.5k

a/n: yeah…idk. this was very delayed because it turned into a whole thing. if anyone actually reads all 11k of this, i will bake you muffins.

You take a deep breath and look in the mirror.

Skirt pressed, not a wrinkle in sight.

Hair brushed, not a single strand out of place.

Makeup done, not a blemish to be seen.

And somehow, someone will still find something.

Something to point out.

Something to comment on.

Something to criticize.

If not your appearance, it’ll be something else.

Because someone always had something to say.

“Should you be eating all of that?”

“Another year gone and still no boyfriend?”

“Don’t you want to get married?”

“When I was in my twenties, I had two children.”

Boundaries didn’t exist on Thanksgiving.

Actually, for your family, boundaries didn’t exist at all—somehow, they are still scratching their heads and wondering why you’d decided to up and leave the minute your high school principal handed over that diploma, your ticket to freedom.

“Sweetie!” Your mother’s shrill voice calls from the kitchen downstairs. “I need a hand! Our guests are going to start arriving soon and there is still plenty left for us to do before they get here!”

You groan outwardly.

There’s still plenty left to do?

How’s that even fucking possible?

You’ve been cooking and baking since sunrise.

“Don’t you think it’s too early?” you’d grumbled at five o’ clock in the morning when your mother had pulled you out of bed, declaring it was time for the big dinner preparations to begin—even though it’d be several hours before your family came over and gathered around the table to break bread. She had pulled the turkey out of the freezer a few days ago, a massive, thirty-pound whole bird that looked big enough to feed a small village. In addition, she had picked up a ham and a brisket. “Mom, why’s there so much food?” Rubbing the sleep from your eyes with the sleeve of your robe, you’d started making your way over to the Nespresso only to realize that the coffee machine was hidden behind paper bags full of groceries. “Are we cooking for all of Texas or something?”

“Very funny,” she had glared at you. “Of course we aren’t.” She started unwrapping the turkey. “We’re simply making sure we have enough food and that we have different options for everyone to enjoy, so knock it off with the wisecracks and get to peeling those carrots for me for the stuffing. There is not a single minute to waste today, you hear me, missy? We’re hosting a dozen people, so everything must be absolutely perfect. I won’t accept anything less than perfection today, do you understand me?”

Thirteen hours later, she’s still driving you insane.

You’re only home visiting until the end of the week and then it’s back to the Midwest. You can survive her for three more days, right?

You hear her calling your name and exhale a small, frustrated sigh. “I’m coming, mom!” you call back. It’s difficult to mask the annoyance in your tone of voice, but somehow you manage it. “One minute!”

Smoothing down your pleated plaid skirt, you take one last look in the mirror to make sure everything is in order—there is a loose thread on the sleeve of your brown, knitted sweater and you carefully snip it off with a pair of scissors before sliding your feet into the comfiest pair of ankle boots you’d packed and head downstairs, nose leading the way as you follow the warm, delicious scent of the made from scratch biscuits and rolls baking in the oven.

You find your mother standing at the center island counter garnishing a charcuterie board with sweet gherkins and sprigs of fresh herbs. She is donning festive apron embroidered with fall leaves over her designer dress; her hair’s still up in rollers. “Finally, there you are,” she huffs out loudly the second she hears you walk into the kitchen. Down the hallway, your father and two younger brothers are shouting at some football game on the flat screen television in the living room—men don’t lift a single finger on this day, at least not in this household. “I need you to start setting the table for me. I have place cards in that bag over there. Make sure your dad’s at the head of the table. Oh and don’t forget to bring out the children’s table for all your little cousins—” She glances up, letting out a small gasp when she sees you. “What in the world are you wearing?”

Frowning, you look down at yourself. “Clothes?”

Her ruby red lips purse together in a tight thin line.

“Honey, that skirt is too short. It’s inappropriate.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at her. “It’s like an inch above the knee, how is that inappropriate? It’s not like it’s a miniskirt, mom.” As she eyes your skirt with disapproval, you decide you’re not in the mood to argue and say, “Okay, fine. I’ll go upstairs and change into something else then—”

“No, no, forget it,” she shakes her head. “We don’t have the time for that.” Your mother whirls around, picking up the bag of place holders—she’d special ordered little turkeys carved out of wood. She also takes a marker and a notepad, shoving everything into your hands. “Here. I wrote down all the names of everyone who’s coming for dinner. The children get place holders too but make sure the little ones are sitting beside someone older to help them. Oh! Did I already mention putting your dad at the head of the—”

Tuning her out, your eyes scan down the guest list and if there’s one thing to be thankful for today it’s the fact that your mother’s given you the power to seat everybody wherever you want. Halfway down the list, you see the names of several relatives that you don’t want anywhere near you at the table. An Aunt Miriam who smells like the inside of a casino; a cousin Jennifer who refuses to acknowledge her forty-eight month old is actually four years old; an uncle Richard who always has one too many beers and winds up spewing antigovernment conspiracy theories, ranting until he’s passed out somewhere, such as on the floor of the guest bathroom.

You get to the bottom of the list and can’t help but raise an eyebrow in surprise. “Joel Miller?”

She nods, returning to her board.

“You remember Mr. Miller, don’t you, sweetie? He and your father went to college together—he’s one of his oldest and dearest friends. Don’t tell me you forgot about him? You’ve met him plenty of ti—”

“Yeah, I remember who Joel is, mom,” you mutter, cutting her off. “Didn’t he and the family move out to Arizona like, four years ago? To Phoenix, right?” You’d been away for college then. Taking a second glance at the list, you notice she had forgotten the names of Joel’s wife and daughter. Surely, it’d just been a mistake on her part, though. “I had no idea they were in town visiting. Dad didn’t mention it to me at all.”

“They’re not.” She lowers her voice, as if someone else is standing in the room listening. “Joel moved back to Austin, he’s been back for a few days now. He and Connie, they um—” Pausing for a moment, she reaches up and clasps the cross hanging from her neck before whispering, “They got divorced.”

Taken aback, your mouth parts slightly. “What?”

“I know. Joel and Connie were the last people that I ever thought would get divorced. Such a shame,” your mother remarks, shaking her head. “I ran into Mrs. Adler at the super market and she was telling me all about it. Thinks they could have saved their marriage if only those two—”

“Would get right with Jesus,” you finish, biting the tiny smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “She says that about everything, mom.”

“Well, she isn’t wrong! The sacrament of marriage is a lifelong bond that shouldn’t be broken. It’s not right.” Dropping her hand away from her necklace, she crosses her arms over chest. “Anyway, Connie stayed in Phoenix. Sarah’s spending Thanksgiving with her. Your father didn’t want Joel spending the holiday alone and invited him over for dinner. That means I need you to be on your very best behavior tonight. I don’t want you embarrassing your father in front of his closest friend. Is that understood?”

You can’t help but scoff a little. “I’m not a child.”

She narrows her eyes at you and scoffs right back, planting her hands on her hips.

“No, you’re a smart aleck. Need I remind you what happened last Thanksgiving with Aunt Ines?”

Of course she didn’t have to remind you about last year’s fiasco with her insufferable bitch of a sister.

“That’s an awfully big piece of pumpkin pie,” she’d remarked loudly, eliciting snickers from everybody sitting at the table. “Don’t forget, dear—a moment on the lips, forever on the hips. And you have quite a few forevers on your hips already, darling.”

You had smiled sweetly at her, your fingers itching to fling your mother’s fine china at her. “I wouldn’t really worry about my pie, Aunt Ines,” you had said as soon as you realized that nobody, not even your parents, would be coming to your defense. “Much less when your husband’s stepping out and eating someone else’s pie when he’s away on all those so called business trips. Worry about that instead.”

That comment hadn’t gone over all too well. Three months later, Aunt Ines and Uncle Louis started to see a marriage counselor. Whoops.

“Well?”

“She deserved that,” you say, shrugging lightly.

“She’s family.”

“She’s a jerk.”

“You crossed a line.”

“She crossed it first.”

Before your mother can respond, the sound of the doorbell ringing echoes throughout the house.

“Jesus, we don’t have time for this!” Your mother’s eyes widen when she tries running a hand through her hair and realizes she still has her rollers in. “Oh no, people are arriving and I’m still not ready!” She makes a beeline for the hallway. “Get the door and greet our guests, I’ll be down in five minutes!”

She disappears upstairs into her bedroom and you hear the doorbell ring again. Your father shouts for someone to go answer it, someone other than him or your brothers because it is the end of the fourth quarter and they just can’t possibly miss that.

You make your way through the foyer and open up the front door expecting it to be one of your family members, but it’s not.

Your throat instantly goes dry at the sight of him.

He’s broader than you remeber, so much broader.

The fabric of his sage green dress shirt is nice and snug on his frame—stretched taut over the planes of his chest and his wide shoulders. He’s holding a box of store bought something or other but you’re much too preoccupied with the way the sleeves of his shirt are hugging his biceps to notice what it is although you assume it’s some kind of dessert. He looks far more delicious than whatever sweet treat could be in that white box he’s got in his hands.

After a minute, you realize you’ve been gawking at him and the heat rushes to your cheeks. “Hello Mr. Miller,” you greet him politely. “It’s very nice to see you again. Please, come on in.”

He smiles, his brown eyes warm and sweet behind his square, black-rimmed glasses. “You remember me,” he states and the syrupy richness of his voice sends a pleasant tingle up your spine. Stepping off to the side, you allow him inside—as he steps past you over the threshold, the tantalizing scent of his cologne almost brings you to your knees. Notes of a citrus accord like tart grapefruit, fresh bergamot mixed with the woodiness of vetiver and musk; it’s intoxicating, something you could easily get drunk off of if you’re not careful. “I’m surprised. S’been a real long time since you last saw me.”

“It hasn’t been all that long,” you reply, closing the door behind you. You speak to him in the steadiest voice you can muster, with nonchalance—as if you aren’t one missed heartbeat away from feeling like a silly little schoolgirl with her first crush. “Has it?”

He thinks about it. “‘Bout four and a half years.”

“That’s really not that long.”

“S’not,” Joel admits with a chuckle. “But with how much I’ve aged in that short amount of time, I just wasn’t sure if you’d recognize me, y’know? I look a lot different than I used to.” He pauses and laughs, shaking his head. “I must look like an old geezer to you now, don’t I?”

Grays lightly pepper his thick dark brown curls, his beard and his mustache. He’s got crows feet when he smiles, he has worry lines and creases between his eyebrows—he does look a lot older, but he’s so goddamn handsome, wrinkles, fine lines, and all.

You toss him a playful eye roll, prompting a grin. “I don’t think you look like an old geezer, Mr. Miller.”

“Well, you’re sure as hell makin’ me feel like an old geezer by callin’ me that, darlin’ girl.” He gives you a little wink and you’re not quite sure if it’s that, or if it was the way he’d used a pet name that knocks all the wind out of your lungs. “Please, just call me Joel.”

You nod and shyly agree to it. “Okay, then. Joel.”

“S’much better.” His grin widens and a prominent, deep dimple appears on the left side of his cheek.

There’s a silence that follows, but it’s not awkward or weird. It’s comfortable—being in his presence is comfortable. His sweet disposition makes you feel so calm, so at ease.

Joel’s always been a nice man of course, although your interactions with him had been limited—kind, quick hello’s in passing on Sundays whenever he’d come over to watch football with your dad, maybe a polite how are you here and there if you bumped into him at gatherings like a backyard barbecue or birthday party. But you’re older now, no longer the child who greeted her father’s best friend because it was bad manners if she didn’t. You don’t want to throw him that kind, quick hello or that polite how are you and then scurry off the way you used to as a little kid. You actually want to talk to Joel Miller.

But you suddenly remember he’s not here for you.

He’s here for your father.

Joel!” Your mother screeches, five-inch high heels clacking loudly as she descends the staircase. She had ditched the apron and hair rollers—and put on one too many layers of her heaviest perfume. With a delighted squeal, she rushes up to Joel and pulls him into a bone crushing hug, almost causing him to drop the box he’s still holding. “Oh, it is so good to see you! It’s been far too long!”

You force back a small, amused snort.

As if she hadn’t been judging the man for a failed marriage just minutes ago in the kitchen.

It’s performative, too over the top to be sincere.

“S’good to see you too.” He steps back and laughs as he adjusts his glasses with one of his hands. He holds out the box to her with the other. “Picked up a pecan pie on the way over here. I would’a tried to make it myself, but the kitchen’s still all packed up in boxes.” He pauses, laughing again. “Then again, I ain’t really much of a baker. Store bought was for the best I reckon,” he admits, sheepishly. When he shrugs his shoulders, his shirt strains a bit over his frame and even your mother can’t help but stare a little.

Lightly clearing her throat, she takes the box from him and reminds him, “Didn’t I tell you that all you had to bring tonight was a nice, healthy appetite?”

Joel lightly pats his stomach. “Brought that too. In fact, I didn’t eat a thing all day long. I’m absolutely starvin’ right now. Could eat a whole horse.”

“Good! Dinner’s going to be served soon. William’s in the living room with the boys, watching football game after football game. Come with me, I’m sure you’re eager to see him.” Your mother spins on her heel and hands you the dessert. “Sweetie, will you be a gem and go put this in the kitchen for me?” It isn’t a request, it’s an order masked as a request—it’s the kindest she’s been to you all day. She takes Joel’s arm and leads him down the hallway, calling out over her shoulder, “And please set the table!”

You do set the table, and when you do, you decide to sit yourself right next to Joel Miller.

Your mother lightly clinks her knife against the rim of her wine glass and clears her throat. “Everyone! It’s time to join hands and say grace before we dig into our meal,” she announces, her voice breaking through the loud, buzzing chatter at the table. She waits until there’s complete silence and then takes her seat, the chair adjacent to your father’s. You’re on his opposite side and Joel’s right beside you. “I think you should do the honor, William. You are the man of the house, after all.”

Nodding, your father begins the prayer.

“Heavenly Father, bless this food we are about—”

You’re not listening. You’re distracted by the jolt of electricity that zips through your entire body when you put your hand in Joel’s. His hand dwarfs yours and it’s rough and calloused, but somehow it’s the most gentle, soothing touch. Heat prickles at your face and neck when you feel him sweep his thumb across the back of your hand—you open your eyes and glance over at him, wondering if that had just been an accident. You’re convinced it was, until he does it again, running his finger over each knuckle one at a time. Slowly, like he’s savoring the touch.

Biting your lip, you give his hand a gentle squeeze.

His head is bowed and his eyes are still closed, but a faint smile tugs lightly at the corner of his mouth and he firmly squeezes your hand back. There’s an unmistakable desire that’s already burning deep in your lower belly, a flame you can’t extinguish even when the angel on your shoulder reminds you that not only is Joel Miller twice your fucking age, he is also your father’s best friend. His best friend.

“…through Christ our Lord. Amen.”

“Amen,” your relatives chime together in unison.

You force out the declaration. “Amen.”

“Amen,” Joel murmurs, opening his eyes. He turns to you and his gaze flits to your hand in his and for a moment, it almost seems like he doesn’t want to let it go. It feels like Joel doesn’t want to let it go—and he doesn’t. He doesn’t let it go until the sound of your father’s loud, booming voice announcing it is time for him to carve the bird startles the two of you apart. Clearing his throat lightly, Joel turns his attention forward and reaches for his cabernet. He gulps down half his glass in one easy swallow.

Dinner’s fairly uneventful.

You eat in complete silence, as does Joel.

Part of you wonders if it’s because you’re sitting in between him and your father, the only person that he’s most comfortable conversing with. Assuming this is the case, you’re just about to ask him if he’d like to trade places when he turns to you and says, “Your dad told me you went to school in Chicago.”

He’s just being friendly, you remind yourself when your heart starts to flutter wildly at the notion that he wants to talk to you. He’s friendly. That’s all. It doesn’t mean anything.

“Yeah. I did.” You pick up your glass of wine, taking a sip hoping it’ll ease the nerves. “I graduated over the summer and took a teaching job out there.”

“You became a teacher?”

“Yeah. I teach kindergarten.” You smile proudly.

“Can you believe that, Joel?” Your father lets out a scoff and shakes his head. “I spent thousands and thousands of dollars to send her to school. All that money and for what? For her to learn how to teach little ankle biters how to color inside the lines?” He rolls his eyes and gestures to your two brothers on the opposite side of the table. “Now my boys, they are smart. Chose good careers to pursue. Brandon starts applying to medical school in the spring. Oh and Matthew? He got early acceptance to Yale. He plans on studying law.” He shifts his attention over to you once more and shrugs. “Not too sure where I went wrong with this one.”

You stare at him in complete and utter disbelief.

“Dad.”

Chortling, he waves a dismissive hand. “Oh, come on, honey. I’m just kidding around. You know that I don’t mean it.” He then reaches out, pinching your cheek roughly. “Don’t be so sensitive,” he tells you before turning his attention back to his plate.

But he does mean it.

His comments hurt, and you hate that they hurt.

Joel nudges your arm with his. “Y’know somethin’, it takes someone real special to become a teacher, ‘specially to kids that age,” he states in a matter of fact tone. “Someone who’s real sweet and patient, someone real smart too. Someone just like you.”

Warmth radiates through your entire body. It’s not just his words, but it’s the sincerity behind them.

You shoot him a small, grateful smile.

The two of you wind up talking to one another.

Joel’s moving his contracting business, bringing it back to Austin from Phoenix to run it with Tommy, his younger brother who you vaguely remembered meeting a time or two in the past. He mentions his daughter here and there, but doesn’t bring Connie up once—perhaps it’s too painful for him? It’s hard to tell. He seems to be in good spirits and truth be told, it doesn’t appear he’s mourning his marriage; but it’s difficult to believe he’s not missing her, the woman he’d spent three decades of his life with. It shouldn’t even matter to you whether he’s missing his ex-wife or not, if there are residual feelings still lingering around. But it does matter and you don’t know why. Or maybe you do know why, but you’re too ashamed to admit it.

“Do you like Chicago?” Joel questions, curiously.

Shrugging, you respond, “Yeah. It’s a cool city.”

“You plan on stayin’ out there permanently?”

“I’m not too sure,” you admit. “It’s too expensive. I don’t want to live with a roommate forever. Unless teachers start getting paid more, I don’t think that I’ll ever be able to afford to live alone in Chicago.”

Joel seems hesitant about his next query. “Do you ever think ‘bout comin’ back to Austin at all?”

Suddenly, you’re not too sure about that either.

You’ve been itching to go back and get as far from Austin, Texas as possible, but now, it means being far from Joel Miller. There’s a deep, sinking feeling inside of your chest at the thought.

Realizing he’s still waiting for a response, you have no choice but to tell him the truth. “I don’t think I’ll ever come back here, to be honest. Not to stay.”

“Oh. I see.” He sounds disappointed. “Are you—do you plan on visitin’ home again for Christmas?”

“I do. I’ll be here for Christmas and New Year’s.”

He’s being friendly. He’s being friendly. He’s—

“It’d be real nice to see you again then.” Flushing a deep shade of red, subtle regret flashes across his features, as if he’d said it without thinking. Picking up his glass, he drains the rest of his wine and you can swear he’s nervous. About what he’d just said, and about whether or not your parents, who are in such close proximity, had overheard him. Because what business did he have in telling their daughter it would be nice to see her again?

They’re both much too preoccupied. Your father is attempting to be slick checking his text messages underneath the table and you can tell by the smirk on his face that it’s one of his secretaries. He’s got a penchant for perky blondes in tight pencil skirts. Your mother is well aware of this. She is also aware he’s on his phone, but she turns a blind eye just as she always does and distracts herself by being the perfect hostess.

Feeling foolishly courageous, you turn back to him and nod, heart pounding against your sternum. “It would. It’d be very nice, actually.”

Relieved, he nods and murmurs quietly, “We’ll talk ‘bout it later, then. That okay, darlin’?”

Not wanting to seem too eager, you nod again and turn away from him, teeth sinking into your lip in a futile attempt to hide the giddiness in your smile—but the soft chuckle Joel elicits under his breath is a clear indication that it’s useless.

He knows how he’s making you feel. He likes it.

Your mother returns from the kitchen carrying two baskets of fresh crescent rolls, one for each end of the table. She sets one of them down right in front of you and you reach out to take one when a voice, one that sounds as awful as nails scraping down a chalkboard, remarks loudly, “Should you be eating so much bread, dear?” Ines, who’s sitting a couple chairs down, next to your grandmother, looks over at you and raises an eyebrow. There’s a smug little smile on her face, almost as if she were daring you to run your mouth like you’d done last year.

For as much as it pains you, you make your choice and decide not to take the bait. You pull your hand out of the basket of rolls and pick up your glass of wine instead, chugging it down like it’s water.

Frowning, Joel picks up the basket and takes a roll that you assume is for himself, but it’s not. Putting it on your plate, he shoots her a frigid glare. “Don’t you listen to her.” He says it loud enough for her to hear him. “You just enjoy yourself, alright?”

Your aunt bats her eyes, innocently. “Well, I’m just saying. If my skirt was that tight on me, I would be thinking twice about what goes into my mouth.”

Hushed laughter sweeps across the entire table.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” You slam your empty glass down so hard onto the table that the entire dining room goes completely silent. The little ones at the children’s table stare with big and wide eyes, mouths full of food hung open because a grown up had just used a naughty word.

Your mother says your name warningly. “Don’t you start,” she hisses, shaking her head. “Be quiet.”

Angrily, you round on her. “Seriously? You’re going to let her say that to me? You don’t care that she’s making comments about my weight?” You almost laugh. Of course doesn’t care, she has never cared and she never will. “I’m your daughter! Would it kill you to defend me for once in your fucking life?”

“Shut your mouth!” Your father stands up, shoving a threatening finger into your face, so close the tip of it almost touches the tip of your nose. He hasn’t put his hands on you since you were nine, but he’s as drunk as he is angry, and you find yourself back in the shoes of the little girl who would curl up into a ball in the corner of her room as she begged and pleaded for him not to hurt her. “You hear me?”

Joel stands and walks around your chair. Placing a hand on your father’s chest, he mutters, “Hey now let’s take a step back from her, alright?” He guides him back down into his chair. “Ain’t gotta be in her face like that, Will.”

“I’m sick and tired of her ruining everything—can’t get through one dinner without her screwing it up! Always has to run that fucking mouth of hers! She still acts like a goddamn fucking child—”

You can’t bear to sit there and hear another insult.

Fighting back the hot tears that are threatening to spill over, you quickly stand up and rush out of the dining room. You make a beeline for the front door and step outside onto the porch. It’s about sixty or so degrees in Austin and the cold nips at your bare legs, but that’s the least of your worries. Without a place to go, you descend the porch steps and find yourself walking towards the swing that’s hanging from the old bur oak tree in the front yard. You had asked your father for a swing when you were three years old—it wasn’t until your brothers asked for a swing a couple years later that he’d hung one up.

You sit down, hands curling around the rope that’s so old and weathered it’s beginning to fray slightly but not so much so that you’re concerned about it snapping. You’re so busy trying to keep it together that you don’t notice the sound of crisp, autumnal leaves crunching under a pair of boots behind you. A hand gingerly touches your shoulder. You let out a startled gasp and glance over to see it’s Joel.

“Hey there, darlin’,” he says, gently.

You stare at him in surprise.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Needed to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” you grit the lie through your teeth.

Joel’s expression softens. “You ain’t gotta pretend with me, sweetheart.”

His concern is genuine. It’s real.

You don’t quite know how to handle it. Accept it.

“It got real ugly in there, ‘specially with your dad.”

Tears prickle at your eyes all over again. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Joel. I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry?” Baffled, Joel walks around the swing and a minor labored grunt escapes him as he squats in front of you. “There’s a few people who need to be apologizin’ for what happened, but darlin’ you sure as fuckin’ hell ain’t one of them.”

It’s odd. Feels foreign, even.

You’re not used to someone being on your side—it prompts more tears to spring forward and despite your best efforts to fight them off, it’s useless. You manage to whisper his name. It’s a feeble warning, one that’s telling him to go back inside before he’s caught in the torrential downpour of emotions you are mere seconds away from unleashing on him.

But he doesn’t budge. He waits. Joel knows you’re about to break and he’s ready to catch the pieces.

Finally, a tear slips and rolls down your cheek, only to be followed by another and then another. You’re holding onto the swing for dear life now, emotions that you’ve been holding in for your whole life now coming to the surface. The rope digs painfully into the palms of your hands. He reaches out and curls his fingers lightly around your wrists.

“S’okay to let go,” Joel encourages you and you’re certain he’s not just referring to the swing. “Listen to me, darlin’ girl. I ain’t gonna let you fall, alright? I’m right here to catch you. You can let go. I’ve got you, okay?”

You allow Joel to take your hands off the rope and he guides them around his shoulders as you begin to crumble. Leaning forward slightly off the swing, you wrap you arms around him and bury your face into his neck. “Joel,” you choke out his name as he wraps his own arms around your waist, pulling you closer into him.

He feels like stability.

He feels like security.

He feels like safety.

Your entire body shudders as you cry, cry, cry.

“S’alright, sweet girl. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

He repeats his reassurance over and over again.

He wants you to believe it.

And you do believe it.

Joel’s as patient as can be. It’s growing colder and his knees are begging for a change of positon, but couldn’t care less about the discomfort. He rubs a soothing circle into your back and waits until there is nothing left except little hiccups and sniffles.

“Shit,” you mumble when you pull back and notice you’d left behind a wet spot on his shirt along with light traces of mascara. You wipe at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater. “I ruined your shirt.”

“S’okay. Nothin’ the dry cleaners can’t take care of for me.” Joel chuckles and lets go of you. “You feel a little better now, darlin’?”

“I do.” You glance over your shoulder at the house, then exhale a sigh and turn back to him, admitting quietly, “I don’t want to go back in there, though.”

He rises to his feet and pulls out a set of keys from the pocket of his black jeans. “Well, y’dont have to go back in there,” he states. “Is there somewhere I can take you? Friend’s house, maybe?”

“My best friend Megan went to Puerto Vallarta for Thanksgiving. Most of my other friends left Austin like I did,” you explain, sighing again. “Anyone who didn’t leave is spending their time with their family tonight and I don’t want to bother them.”

Joel hums, mulling it over in his mind. “Well, don’t know how comfortable you’ll be with the idea, but my place ain’t all too far from here. Ten minutes or so. Less if there’s no one out on the roads.”

“Joel, that’s so nice of you to offer, but I’ve already ruined your dinner tonight. The last thing I want to do is put you out even more,” you say, sheepishly.

“Sweetheart, you didn’t ruin a fuckin’ thing for me tonight. And you wouldn’t be puttin’ me out at all,” he promises. “S’gettin’ late and truth be told, I just wanna get you somewhere warm.” Holding out his free hand, he adds, “And comfortable.”

“But Joel—”

“I can be real stubborn too, y’know,” he teases you with a playful grin. “We’ll be out here all night long freezin’ our fuckin’ asses off.”

He isn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Okay,” you relent, accepting the offer.

You place your hand in his and he helps you off the swing. He doesn’t let it go as he leads the way to a sleek, black Dodge Ram that’s parked behind your grandfather’s silver Mercedes. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze before dropping it. “Sorry, sweet girl. It’s a bit of a trip up into the seat,” he remarks, chuckling as he opens the passenger side door for you. He gives you a boost into the truck; the scent of new leather is mixed with that of his cologne. It is all man and couldn’t be sexier. “Good up there?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Joel closes the door and hurriedly walks around to the driver’s side of the pickup, climbing up into his seat with ease. “Seatbelt,” he tells you as he sticks the key into the ignition. The first thing he does as soon as the engine roars to life is turn on your seat warmer. He switches on the heater as well, waiting a minute before asking, “You warm enough?”

“I am. Thank you, Joel.”

“‘Course.” He nods and pulls away from the curb.

As Joel’s driving you further and further from your parents’ house, all you feel is sweet relief.

“M’sorry the place is such a mess.”

Joel leads you into his living room and touches his hand to the back of his neck, embarrassed.

Amused, you raise an eyebrow at him and say, “I’d hardly call cardboard boxes stacked neatly over on one side of the room a mess, Joel.” You take a look around his townhouse—most of his furniture’s still wrapped up in plastic, except for the black leather couch and the rustic, acacia wood coffee table. He has a flat screen mounted over the brick fireplace; he’s been sleeping on the couch, or at least, that’s what the pillow and Texas Longhorns fleece throw tells you. You turn to him. “If you want to see a real mess, you should see my apartment in Chicago.”

You watch him as he takes off his glasses and puts them down on the coffee table.

“S’it pretty bad?”

“My roommate’s a kindergarten teacher too. You’d be surprised at how many popsicle sticks two girls in their twenties can end up bringing home. Not to mention all the glitter.”

“If you’re tryin’ to make me feel better, it’s workin’ like a charm.” Joel picks up his blanket and drapes it over the armchair adjacent to the couch. “Go on and make yourself comfortable, darlin’. You thirsty at all? I’ve got water or I can make coffee. Also got a pack of beer in the fridge,” he adds, jokingly.

“What kind of beer?” you ask curiously as you sink down onto the couch.

He seems pleasantly surprised by your interest.

“Lone Star.”

“I’ll have one. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“‘Course it’s not too much trouble. Not at all.”

It’s hard not to stare as he walks away towards the kitchen. Your thighs clench together—his back, his shoulders, those unkempt salt and pepper curls of his that tuft at the nape of his neck right above his collar—this man is the epitome of utter perfection. Your mind wanders and you can’t help imagine the way your legs would look thrown over those broad shoulders. How his large hands would feel on your plush skin as they wrap around your thighs to hold them in place against his chest while he fucks y—

“Here you go, darlin’.”

Joel’s deep voice shatters your train of thought.

He’s standing beside you, holding out the bottle of beer, which he’d uncapped along with his own.

Blood rushes to your cheeks. “Thank you,” you say as you accept the beer from him, trying not to lose the sliver of composure that you’re holding onto—it wavers when your fingers accidentally brush his.

“S’it too cold in here for you?” he asks. “I normally keep the thermostat pretty low.”

“It’s a little cold,” you admit. “But it’s not a prob—”

It’s too late. Joel walks over to the fireplace and he manages to strike a match and light it with just his free hand. After tossing in a couple logs, he makes his way back over to the couch and he takes a seat beside you. “That a bit better, sweetheart?”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugs. “You said it was cold.”

He takes a long, generous swig of the golden lager before setting the bottle down on one of the green ceramic coasters on the coffee table. He sits back; an arm stretches out over the back of the couch in a casual manner and his legs spread open causing your thighs to clench together once more.

“You feelin’ alright?”

“Huh?” You then realize he is referring to what had happened at dinner. “Oh. Um. Yeah, I’m alright.”

Joel peers at you, his concern evident, clear in the depths of his dark brown eyes. “You sure?”

“No. Not really,” you confess, tracing the mouth of your bottle with your index finger. “But I’ll get over it. I don’t have a choice but to get over it.” Another lump starts forming in the back of your throat and you swallow it, quickly chasing it down with a gulp of beer.

“M’guessin’ your family’s got somethin’ to do with why you decided to leave Austin?”

“Bingo,” you deadpan. “I was so sick and tired of it all. How I was talked to, how I was treated. Like I’m such a fucking disappointment.”

He frowns. “You’re not a disappointment, though.”

“My parents think I’m a disappointment. My dad’s never told me he’s proud of me, Joel. Nothing I do, nothing I have ever done is good enough for either of them, but especially not for him.” There is a dull ache that settles in your heart and all you can do is silently will yourself not to breakdown again, not in front of him, at least. You sigh. “Do you know what it’s like, not feeling good enough for someone that is supposed to love you no matter what? Someone who’s supposed to love you unconditionally?”

Joel knows it’s a rhetorical question, he knows it’s not something you’re expecting him to answer.

But he does answer, because he does know.

“I do, actually. I know all too well what it feels like.”

He looks down at his left hand, which is resting on his thigh and you do too. Your eyes flicker over the fading tanline on his finger—where he once wore a wedding band. You don’t even think twice about it and reach over, sweeping your own finger over the patch of pale skin. Without missing a beat, you tell him, “You’re good enough, Joel.”

He can’t help but laugh a little. “She’d disagree.”

“She’s wrong.”

“You don’t know what happened.”

“I don’t have to know what happened.”

“That ain’t how it works, sweetheart.”

Stubbornly, you lift your chin. “I don’t care.”

Joel laughs. “Y’think you know me, darlin’? Y’think you know what kinda man I am? Hm?”

“I do know.” You place your hand on top of his and his jaw clenches. “You’re a good man, Joel Miller. I know that you’re a good man.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong ‘bout that.” There’s a brief pause and he hesitates before confessing, “A good man wouldn’t be sittin’ here just fuckin’ dyin’ to kiss his best friend’s daughter.”

You freeze and grip your bottle so tight, you would not be the slightest bit surprised if it shatters right in your hand. “You—you want to kiss me?”

“Since the moment you opened up that front door and said hello to me.” Joel shakes his head. “S’not right.” He’s riddled with guilt, with shame. He pulls his hand out from under yours. “I ain’t a good man at all. You’re half my fuckin’ age and I shouldn’t—”

You cut him off, softly uttering his name. “Joel?”

“Yeah?” His voice sounds hoarse. Strained.

“Can you—will you kiss me? Please?”

You need more than just his kiss, so much more.

You need him to unravel you in every way possible, but beggars can’t be choosers and if one kiss was all you’ll get tonight, then you’ll fucking take it.

Joel swallows dryly. “That really what you want?”

His eyes flicker down to your lips and then back to meet your sweet, innocent gaze.

“Yes,” you breathe in reply. “Please. Kiss me.”

He leans in, and there’s brief hesitation on his part and he stops mere centimeters from your face, his nose lightly brushing against yours. “We shouldn’t be doin’ this.” His warm breath fans over your lips; they’re parted, eager to meet his own. “I shouldn’t let this happen. I—I should take you back home to your family before I do somethin’ real stupid.”

Your heart sinks. “That really what you want?” you parrot his own question back to him and hold your breath, knowing there’s a chance his answer could be the answer that you don’t want to hear, the one that could end up crushing you.

Joel lifts his hand, cupping the side of your face in his palm. “‘Course it’s not what I want.” His thumb strokes your cheek, his dark eyes taking in each of your features. He’s studying, memorizing them, as if he’ll never get another chance to be this close to you again. With the line he’s about to cross, you’re both about to cross, that just might be the case.

The tension seeps through your skin and into your bones.

You exhale shakily. “Then just kiss me already.”

He moves his hand and gently curls it around your chin, holding you steady as he leans further in and closes the gap of space in between you. He moves slowly and he’s gentle—too gentle. You want to tell him you’re not made of porcelain, but you’re much too preoccupied with how Joel’s mouth feels, how perfectly it molds against yours. He delicately nips your bottom lip with his teeth. It’s a silent request.

He wants more, more, more. Your lips part for him, granting him the access he’s seeking. Joel doesn’t waste a single moment and he explores every inch of your mouth with his tongue, eliciting a whimper from you. Without breaking contact, he takes your beer and somehow he manages to lean over to set it down on the coffee table without dropping it. He then pushes you back into the couch and the next thing you know, you’re lying on your back and he’s settled in between your legs, using one of his arms to keep himself propped up, while the other wraps itself in your hair. Your own hands clutch at fistfuls of his shirt, fingers gripping the fabric so tight, the skin over your knuckles stretches painfully thin.

You whimper out again, the noise prompting a low growl to rumble through his chest—suddenly, he’s not being so gentle. He isn’t being rough. But he is hungry, he’s possessive, and he’s letting it show in the way he’s swelling your lips with his kisses, how his fingers are gripping the hair at the base of your neck as he firmly tilts your head backwards to give himself better access to your mouth.

Your mind is racing, and yet, you can’t think at all.

It’s not until his hips buck into you and you feel his bulge through his jeans against you that you break away from him. “Joel,” you gasp his out name. You grip his shirt even harder, chest heaving as you try to catch a much needed breath of air. You can feel the arousal pooling between your legs. The flames burning in the fireplace are nothing in comparison to the ones that are burning deep in your belly.

“Fuck,” he curses, pulling back. “M’sorry—”

The last thing you want is for him to be sorry.

“No! Please don’t be sorry,” you rasp, gazing up at him. Your eyes are glazed over with a lust you have never felt for another man before. “I want this, you know I want this—don’t you?”

Joel sighs, brushing a soft kiss to your temple. You wish he could take a peek into your mind, see how badly you want to be wrapped up in his arms—you want to get lost in his embrace, feel him all around you, inside you. You want him to write his name on your bare skin with his tongue, whisper his secrets into the spot where you’re aching for him most.

He sighs again and lightly shakes his head.

“Baby, y’need to think real hard ‘bout this—”

“I want this,” you repeat yourself. “I want you.”

Relaxing the death grip you have on his shirt, your hands release the fabric and move to the buttons. Your fingers tremble slightly as you undo each one of them; after an embarrassing fumble or two, you manage to get them all and push Joel’s shirt off of his shoulders. He sucks in a quick, sharp breath as your greedy hands begin roaming, exploring every inch of smooth, tan skin on his upper body.

Your touch erases all the uncertainty he’s feeling.

“Wanna feel you too, baby.” Joel takes the hem of your sweater and gestures for you to sit up slightly so he can pull it over your head. Carelessly tossing it somewhere behind him, he glances down, blood rushing to his cock as he takes in the sight of your supple curves clad in sweet, delicate white lace. “Christ, you look so fuckin’ soft.”

He doesn’t even realize he’s saying it out loud, not until he catches the flirtatious little grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. You sit up slightly once again and reach behind you to unhook the lingerie and take it off, adding it to the ever growing pile of clothes on the hardwood floor. Licking his lips, he meets your gaze for just a moment before dipping his head down, wrapping them around one of your hardened nipples. “Joel,” you mewl his name as he flicks the pebbled flesh with his tongue.

Joel releases it with a lewd, wet pop and he tosses you a smirk before he moves to the other to give it the same attention. He’s a biter, you find out as he takes it between his teeth, nipping over and over.

Your throbbing center clenches around nothing.

“Joel, please. I need you—I fucking need you.”

He tears away from your nipple. “Where, baby?”

You open your mouth to answer him, but your own gasp cuts you off as he starts trailing his lips down the length of your body until he comes to a stop at the waistband of your skirt. One of his hands finds the zipper on the side and he looks up at you, as if asking for permission. Desperate, you nod. Pulling the zipper down, he slides the skirt, along with the pair of lace white panties you’re wearing off of you and discards them, leaving you completely naked.

Your insecurities begin to trickle in, but Joel’s able to halt them right in their tracks.

“You’re too fuckin’ beautiful, sweetheart,” he says, his reassurance calming your nerves instantly. “So beautiful. So beautiful and so fuckin’ perfect.”

You watch as he makes himself comfortable—well as comfortable as he can—in between your legs. He shoots you a sheepish look.

“Knew I should’a put the damn bed together. But I been puttin’ it off and puttin’ it off all week long.”

You giggle breathlessly. “Who needs a bed?”

Chuckling, Joel feathers a kiss on your inner thigh.

Your smile is all but slapped right off of your face.

“Joel.”

Any traces of humor vanish. You’re both reminded of the next wall that’s about to be broken, the next line that’s about to be crossed.

He looks down and groans. “Such a pretty, perfect little pussy,” he remarks, his voice low, husky. “Bet she’s nice and wet for me, ain’t she baby?” He lifts his hand and drags the tip of his finger up your slit slowly, your slick coating his digit. He smirks up at you. “Oh, she’s fuckin’ soakin’, sweet girl. S’this all for me?”

Foreplay wasn’t in the vocabulary of guys your age and while part of you wishes Joel would hurry, you also find yourself enjoying the fact that he’s taking his time, teasing you—making you really want it to the point where you’re willing to fucking plead him for it. Joel Miller’s the only man you’d ever beg for.

He skims your other thigh with his nose and kisses it just like he’d done with the other. “Tell me darlin’ s’this where you need me? Right here?”

Frantically, you nod your head.

“Words, honey. Gotta use your words for me.”

“Yes!” you choke out. “That’s where I need you. So bad. Need you so fucking bad. Please Daddy—”

You freeze and momentarily, he does too. Truth be told, you wouldn’t really blame him if he just stood up, gathered your clothes and tossed them at you, demanding you put them back on and leave.

Joel raises an eyebrow. “Daddy, huh?”

Your face is on fire. “I—it slipped,” you stammer. “I didn’t mean to call you—I’m so sorry, Joel. I’m not even sure where that came from. I’ve never—”

You’re on the verge of panicking, then notice there is a certain glimmer in his eyes and realize he liked it when you’d called him that. You’re taken aback.

He fucking likes being called Daddy.

“Sweetheart, there ain’t nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout. I promise. You can call me that. But on a condition.”

You stare at him, no idea what the condition could possibly be.

“Ain’t allowed to call anyone else that. Ever.” There is a possessiveness in his tone and it nearly makes you come on the spot. “That understood?”

You nod obediently. “Yes.”

“Yes what?” he prompts.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good. That’s a real good girl, honey.”

For a split second, you can’t breathe.

This man will surely be the death of you.

Joel plants one final kiss, this one on your mound.

“Please,” you whimper, the heat in your lower belly growing and fizzling out to the rest of your body at the feeling of his breath over your aching core.

“Please what?” he murmurs into the sensitive skin as his arms curl around your legs. “Tell Daddy—tell Daddy what you need baby, so he can take care of you.”

“Your mouth,” you beg him, desperation mounting with each passing second. Your hips buck upward; his biceps flex as he tightens his arms around your thighs, pinning you down in place. “Your mouth—I need your mouth. Please.”

Joel moves his head to the junction of your thighs, his mouth hovering right over where you needed it the most. He looks up at you with hunger, like he’s a ravenous, starved man who hasn’t had a thing to eat in days. “What a good girl,” he praises, dipping his head even lower. His mouth waters at the sight of your glistening folds. “Bet you taste as delicious as you fuckin’ look, don’t you, pretty girl?”

He flattens his tongue and glides it up your slit, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he gets his first taste. You gasp out when it grazes your swollen, aroused clit and your head falls back onto the couch. “Oh fuck,” you whine, reaching for his hair. You weave your hands through his graying locks and pull his face closer. Another swipe of his tongue causes your back to arch up off the leather and the edges of your vision to blur.

He pulls an arm from around your legs and drags a finger down your drenched entrance, lips securing themselves around your clit. His gaze stays locked on you as he pushes his long, thick digit into you—you feel him smirk as he curls it upwards, pressing the pad of his finger firmly against the soft spongy spot inside you, making you see stars. Joel slips in a second finger and curls it along with the other to double the pleasure. He begins thrusting his digits in and out of your warm cunt, eliciting what had to be the sweetest sounds that he’d ever heard in his entire life from you. He combines it with with slow, firm, and precise stokes of his tongue on your clit.

“Fuck, yes, just like that,” you encourage him, your loud, breathy moans bouncing off the bare, freshly painted walls of his house. “Yes Daddy, fuck—feels so fucking good, please don’t fucking stop—”

It’s not like you have to tell him what to do.

Joel knows exactly what he’s doing, and he knows it too. He listens to every single one of your moans and feels every single buck of your hips. He is sure to pay extra attention to when your hands pull and tug at his curls; he remembers what combinations of licking, sucking, and fucking make you squeeze your plush thighs tighter around his head; reminds himself of which technique brings your body off of the couch, what makes your toes curl. Joel’s quick to learn your body’s cues, each and every last one. He already knows when to give you more, when to give you less—when he needs speed up, when it is time to slow it all down.

You sing his name over and over again, pressure of an orgasm already building between your hips. His tongue swirls around your sensitive little bundle of nerves as his fingers pump in and out of your cunt and you glance down. You almost choke when you catch a tiny glimpse of the muscles in his forearm, the way they flex underneath his skin with each of his movements as he’s fucking you. Your gaze flits to his face. His own eyes are fixed intently on you.

You’re milliseconds away from release.

“Joel, I’m so fucking close. I’m gonna come—”

His arm squeezes your thigh in encouragement.

One last, broad stroke of Joel’s tongue on your clit sends an overwhelming wave of pleasure crashing over you. Strangled cries tear themselves from the back of your throat as your velvet walls flutter and convulse, squeezing his fingers. Joel, who’s face is still half buried in your pussy, takes it upon himself to help you ride through the high. He peppers soft, delicate kisses onto your swollen clit as his fingers continue to slide in and out of you slowly. He waits patiently until your loud cries dissolve into nothing but breathless little whimpers before he crawls up, positioning himself on top of you, a hand on either side of your head. His beard and mustache glisten with a mixture of saliva and slick—and somehow it it ignites another fire and you’re ready for more, so much more.

“Sweet girl,” Joel murmurs. Leaning down, his lips meet yours and you taste yourself on his tongue

You place a hand on his chest, right over his heart, which beats strong and steady against your palm.

You start dragging your hand down his chest, your fingernails raking over his skin. It travels lower and lower, gliding over the softness of his stomach. He tenses when you brush the waistband of his jeans.

Tearing away from you, he grits out, “Baby. No.”

You immediately snatch your hand away from him.

“You changed your mind?” you question, stomach sinking at the thought of it being over already.

You’re just so fucking greedy for this man.

He offers reassurance—and an explanation.

“No, that ain’t it at all. S’just—” Joel pauses briefly and flushes a shade of red. “S’just that, well, I ain’t got condoms on me, darlin’.”

Relieved, you assure him, “It’s okay. I’m clean.”

“Me too. But that ain’t what I’m worried about,” he admits, his face going from red to maroon.

You smile, finding his embarrassment endearing.

“I’m on birth control.”

Joel clenches his hands into fists. His cock strains against his zipper at the thought of it—taking your cunt bare. “Y’sure you want this?” He rasps out. “I need you to be a hundred percent sure ‘bout it.”

“I’m a thousand percent sure, Joel. I fucking need it. More than anything I’ve ever needed in my life.”

That’s all he needed to hear.

Joel stands up, his gaze never leaving your own as he kicks off his black leather boots. You sit up, and it takes every ounce of strength you have in you to remain composed as he unbuckles his belt, unzips his jeans and pushes them down his legs. You bite down on your bottom lip and try not to stare at his bulge like it’s your first time ever seeing a dick, but if he’s as big as he looks in his boxer briefs, maybe this would end up being a lot more than what your body could handle.

He hooks his thumbs underneath the elastic of his boxer briefs and slides them off, allowing his thick, hard cock to spring free from its confinement.

You swallow harshly. He’s fucking massive.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” Joel chuckles at the expression on your face as he kicks aside all of his clothes. His length rests on his lower abdomen and precome smears the skin there. Wrapping one of his hands around it, he gives it a couple strokes, just a hint of relief until you come into play. “Hm?”

Licking your lips, you nod and stand up. You take a couple of wobbling step towards him—Joel’s cock hasn’t been anywhere near you and you’re already fucking walking side to side. “Come here,” you say to him, taking both his hands in your own. You pull him back to the couch and gently guide him down into a sitting position. Swinging your leg over both of his, you straddle his lap. You gingerly place your hands on his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh softly when you feel him brush against your pussy; the contact makes you both moan in unsion. “This okay?” you ask him, breathily. You can’t be sure as to why you’re suddenly feeling a bit shy, like you’re not planning to ride his fucking soul out of him.

“More than okay.” Joel brushes your hair over your shoulder and then drags his hand down the length of your body, committing to his memory every one of your curves. “Gonna be a real good girl and ride my cock, baby?”

You gift him with a cheeky grin. “Yes, Daddy.”

The shyness begins to dissipate and you dive your hand between your bodies, wrapping it around his cock, causing his breath to catch in his throat. You lift yourself slightly off his lap, teasingly gliding the head of his cock down your drenched slit, then up, letting it graze over your clit, which is still senstive to the touch thanks to his lips and tongue.

Joel’s hands find their way around you, running up the curve of your spine. “Wasn’t aware that my girl was such a little fuckin’ tease,” he remarks in a low tone. He slides his hands back down and his large, warm palms cup your ass, fingers kneading flesh.

“Your girl?” you repeat, your heart skipping a beat, stomach fluttering at the idea of being his. “Is that what I am to you, Joel? Your girl?”

“S’that what you want, honey?” Joel whispers, his eyes finding your own, two hopeful gazes meeting in the deepest, most intimate moment that you’ve shared all evening. “Y’wanna be my girl?”

Leaning forward, your reply is preceded by kiss, so soft and so sweet his heart swells inside his chest.

“I do,” you mumble against his lips. “I really do.”

Still gripping your ass, Joel eases you up and lines himself up at your entrance. He bucks his hips and slides the head of his cock past your folds and into your heat. “Breathe, baby,” he whispers, his hands moving to your hips, thumbs grazing your skin. He slowly guides you further down his shaft, grunting as you sink down, taking him inch by inch. “Christ, you’re so goddamn fuckin’ tight—”

The initial stretch is almost too much for you. Your nails sink deeper into his shoulders as he pulls you down further down onto him. “Joel,” you whimper, biting back a loud cry. You’re fully seated, his cock completely sheathed inside you, his head pressing against your cervix. You’re so full of him.

One of his hands abandons your hip and slips over your lower belly.

“This where you’re feelin’ me, pretty girl?” he coos gently. “This where you feel Daddy’s cock? In your belly?”

“Yes,” you sigh out contentedly. “Feels so good.”

You lift yourself off of him, then slide back down in a slow, languid motion.

Joel’s head falls back onto the couch. “Christ.” He mutters the word, his chest heaving. Staring up at the ceiling, he takes a moment to catch his breath and silently wills himself not to explode. Once he’s managed to somewhat compose himself, he looks at you again, pupils blown so wide you can’t find a single trace of brown. “Go on, then,” he rasps. “Go on, sweetheart.”

The living room fills with the sounds of low moans and panting breaths as you move, alternating your maneuvers between rocking and bouncing on him in a frenzied, fast paced rhythm. The friction of his pelvis each time you grind into it winds up the coil between your hips and suddenly you’re desperate, so pathetically desperate for another release.

“Yeah, that’s it baby,” Joel encourages, feeling the beginning of his own climax building quick—much too quick for his liking. “Jus’ like that, honey. What a good girl you are for me, so fuckin’ good for me. Just like I fuckin’ knew you would be.”

“Fuck,” you whine. “You feel so good, Daddy. Feel so fucking good inside me—”

Leaning back, you firmly plant both your hands on his thighs and arch your body, head falling back as you pick up the pace. The burning fire casts a soft, orange glow around you and his jaw falls slack. His eyes drink in every single fucking thing about you, watch you with an adoration that, for the first time in your whole life, makes you feel wanted. Actually wanted.

“Joel,” you whisper his name over and over. You’re both beginning to lose track of where you end and he begins. You can hardly hear the praises that are spilling from his plush lips over the squelching wet sounds of your cunt sliding up and down his cock. There’s no chance to warn him—your mouth parts in a silent scream as you come undone on him.

“M’so fuckin’ close,” Joel grunts. He feels his cock twitch as your pussy grips him like a vice. “Where? Where do you want it, pretty girl?”

“Inside me. Please, I need you to come inside me,” you plead him, the innocent tone of your voice the last thing to push him over the edge he’s teetering on. “Fill me up, Daddy—please, want every drop of you inside me—”

Joel reaches for your arms and yanks you forward, into him. Throwing them around his neck, his own arms wrap around you and roughly slam you down onto him, holding you firmly in place. He bucks his hips upwards, balls tightening, his cock pulsing as he comes. Strings of hissed curse words and deep gutteral groans muffle when he drops his face into your collarbone. Still holding you in place, he spills his load into you, his seed filling you to the brim.

He sags back against the couch and pulls you with him. Wrapping his arms tighter around you, he lets himself stay buried inside of you, the primal in him relishing the heavenly feeling of his come dripping messily out of your pussy and all over his thighs.

“You alright, sweetheart?” he asks after a minute.

“M’perfect,” you mumble against his chest. You’re not sure if it’s because you’re coming down from a high or if it’s because he’s tracing patterns on your shoulder blade with his finger, but you shiver in his arms.

“Let me get the blanket—”

Joel starts to move to get up, but you stop him.

“No, please don’t,” you say, pushing him back. You put all of your weight onto him, as if he can’t move you off to the side if he really wanted to. “I—I want you inside me for a little while longer. Please.”

“But baby, you’re cold—”

You don’t bother explaining to him that you’re not.

“Just hold me. Please.”

And that’s exactly what he does.

Snuggling into him, you close your eyes and Joel’s hand strokes at your hair. Between that, the thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek and the sound of the fireplace crackling behind you, you’re nearly soothed into sleep.

“Joel?”

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“I hate Thanksgiving,” you admit, smiling tiredly to yourself when you feel a laugh rumble in his chest.

“Do you, now?”

You nod. “I do. But I’m really thankful for you.”

Giving you a gentle squeeze, Joel kisses the top of your head and murmurs, “Well, m’thankful for you too, sweet girl.” He pauses momentarily. “I ain’t all too sure how I’m s’pposed to just let you go home. I know I have to but—”

Lifting your head off of his chest, you take the side of his face and cradle it in your palm. You meet his gaze, heart sinking when you see the sadness that has replaced the lust from earlier.

He doesn’t mean home to your parents’ house. He means Chicago.

You graze his beard with your thumb. “I’m coming back in a few weeks,” you remind him, gently. “I’ve only planned to spend a week out here just for the holidays, but I can visit sooner. As soon as the kids go on winter break, I can come back to Austin.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course I would, Joel. I’m not sure how it would work what with my parents and all, though. I don’t want them catching onto us.”

“C’mere.” Joel brushes your lips with his before he makes his promise. “I’ll figure it out, baby. Leave it all to me and I’ll figure it out.”

divider credit to @saradika-graphics 🤎

#asdfghjkl BYE #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x reader #dbf!joel #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller x y/n #joel miller au #dbf joel miller #dbf joel x reader #fic: someone to be thankful for

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normiewizard · 1 year

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ibuprofen you are my best friend you are everything to me. promise me youbwill never wear off </3

#so i have an extremely low tolerance for nsaids for some reason #so i always only take the child dosage which is usually 1 pill #and even if it isnt quite enough i just push through it bc i never wanna lose that advantage idk #but today... today is day 4 of the worst sore throat in the whole world. i would be SURE it was strep except that it is only in one tonsil #and thats like not how strep works. so i am on day 4 of pain and suffering and day 3 of taking one pill every 6 hours round the clock #and either it is getting worse or my tolerance is finally failing me bc i just simply couldnt handle it today... and i took 2 #and then went downstairs to feel bad for myself and watch camp rock #and guys... i just realized my throat doesnt hurt right now. it is the best feeling in the world #i started seallowing excessively just to marvel at it and that has actually irritated it again but like STILL #i feel like the sun is shining on my i feel like i found god #im sure this whole rant is super triggering to someone but i cant for the life of me think of what to tag it #personal #vent #oh no of fuck im so sorry to everyone in the c@mprock tag but i am not retyping that im so sorry really sorry

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ssolarcalendarr · 2 years

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its 10 and im losing my braincells and becoming overly curious how do you figure out ficliterals/irls sorry if this question is weird I'm also not in the right mindset rn imso tired and just. yeah.......

(dont take this to heart, especially the tags, I'm just rambling at this point im tired I'm young i need sleep i need to do soemthing for ym project ogjifdh dont mind me honestly)

#im? i forgot what i was gonna sya #but also i want answers lmfdosao #bc i have. what is it.#hunches? guesses? idk hunches #maybe #girl idk i get attached on everything some moreso than others and I'm starting to like. get #grosses out or sick whenever i see this certain ship with this one character on it idk with another and its tagged as the ship #idk maybes its a trigger but i also want to see if its like idk an irl #or soemthing im so confused #like i have no problem with both characters being tofwther its just that when they're shiooed together i start having pr9blms #shipped togther #it makes me have probelms #like. i love both o them im attached to both of them #but i see them like strictly good friends best friend even #but romantically ad if it happens im gonancry bc it make sme so uncomfortable for no reaosn #like. im okay briefly seeing it im like aw people an ship what they want but idk if i see it for ntoo long its like #its wrong ?? for me?? girl idk I'm tired i nee to go to sleep #but i have hunches?? guesses or whatever #dofjigehfjhf #and its weird actually bc i love seeing art of one of them i cant stop looking through their fanart or whatever #and its like i deeply care abt them in a familial sense ??#its like. hes my friend. hes like right here next to me sometimes and I'm just like. wow. u deserve all the love in the world my friend #you deserve so much afetr wahat youve been through #and then he straight up leaves #like i go into another room and hes gone #idk if its like. hes part of me ??? or i see him desperately in me ?? or something ????#gofjsoihfw #and then the character hes shipped with. i absolutely adore her #bestest friend material ever #would love to have her in my life

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lomlhwa · 2 months

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roadtrip (c.s)

pairing: bf!san x gf!reader

preview: idk it's a long roadtrip and san needs to let out some pent up energy

tags/warnings: fem reader, oral (m.receiving), kinda subby san idk there's not a lot of dialogue, road head can i get a wahoo, head while driving (don't do that), he's wearing grey sweatpants (yes that's a tag), you take your seatbelt off to give him head (WEAR YOUR SEATBELT), dacryphilia, pet names (baby, pretty girl), cum eating

trigger warnings: n/a

wc: 833

song recs for this fic: let's! by hoppipola

a/n: dedicated to one of the biggest san stans i know (you know who you are)

you look up to check the clock on the car display and groan. 4:00pm. you’ve been on the road for at least 4 hours now. you know your destination is far but there’s only so much gazing out the window that one person can do.

at least you have the best view on the planet sitting next to you. your boyfriend, san, always looks so much more attractive while he’s driving. one hand on the wheel and one hand gripping the plush skin of your thigh. his eyes are stuck on the road, his head swaying from side to side to the beat of the music filling the otherwise silent car.

you rest your head on the window, debating dozing off. that is, until you hear the sound of san’s clothes shuffling around on his seat. you turn your head to find that he’s adjusting his hips in his seat, seeming uncomfortable.

“you okay, sannie?” you ask, feeling concerned. could he have a stomach ache? was a pit stop imminent? he nods, catching his bottom lip between his teeth. you can tell from his facial expression that it’s an empty motion.

“just tell me what’s wrong. if you need to stop we can-” you cut yourself off once your eyes finally travel down to his lap. you finally spot his…. problem. it’s clear to you now why he was shifting around in his seat.

“oh, that’s what’s wrong,” you cross your ankles together, debating how to go about it. you’re about to suggest pulling over but when you look at him, you think you might explode if you don’t do something immediately. he looks at you with wide, teary eyes that beg you to touch him.

“aww sannie, do you want my help?” you lean towards him and you can tell he’s really struggling to keep his eyes on the road. “please, baby. it hurts,” he takes his hand off your thigh to pull at his grey sweatpants. you can’t help but lick your lips in anticipation.

“eyes on the road or i’ll stop,” you instruct as you help him shimmy his pants and underwear halfway down his thighs. he’s harder than you think you’ve ever seen him in your entire relationship. what could have even had him like this?

you unlock your seatbelt to lay your torso over the center console. not the most comfortable position but you could not care less right now. you keep your arms free so you can wrap your hands around his cock. you pump him a few times, using his pre-cum as lube.

you shoot one glance up at him to make sure he’s looking at the road. his cute face is scrunched, trying to keep from looking down at his pretty girlfriend. you can see tears slowly streaming down his face out of desperation.

you finally wrap your lips around his tip, swirling your tongue around it. a small squeak comes from your boyfriend at finally getting what he wanted. san grips the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turn white. you bob your head up and down, doing your best to not accidentally knock into his arm.

his hips buck up slightly, his tip jabbing the back of your throat. you gag, saliva pouring out of your mouth. he takes one hand off the wheel and tangles his fingers in your hair. his other hand still holds a death grip on the steering wheel.

“pretty girl,” san says, his hips continuing to rock up. he sniffles before adding to his sentence. “let me use your mouth, i need it,” he pleads, his voice cracking. you can’t help but feel like his crying is only spurring you on.

you pull your mouth off him only to respond. “go ahead, just make sure you keep driving,” you assure him before taking him back into your mouth. he strengthens his grip on your hair before guiding your head manually.

you place your hand on his thigh, digging your nails into it to try and ignore your gag reflex. you can’t help but gag though, considering the sheer size. shoving the whole thing down your throat is guaranteed to trigger your reflexes.

“oh my pretty girl, i’m gonna cum,” he announces, shoving your head all the way down and holding you there. all your muscles tense as you hold your breath, waiting for him to fill your throat. in only a mere few seconds, your throat is full of his cum.

he finally lets go of your hair and lets you come up for air. some of his release slips out of your mouth and your fingers scramble to shove it back in. you swallow it all to the best of your abilities.

you wipe the tears off his face and look at him lovingly. “feel better, sannie?” you ask and he nods. you can tell he means it this time. “i do, but i’m pulling the fuck over because i can’t leave you high and dry.”

#lomlhwa #ateez #atz #san #choi san #ateez smut #atz smut #san smut #choi san smut

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beom-pyu · 1 year

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brighter ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ choi soobin

choi soobin x fem!reader , tags; nsfw , established relationship , pushing my sweet bf soobin agenda just hear me out okay

warnings: smut (minors dni!!!) , face sitting , cunninglus (fem!receiving) , insecure!reader + slight and brief mentions of weight (pls don't read if this can be triggering for you!!! always take care of yourself first <3) , manhandling (?) idk soobin is strong , making out

a/n: requested here !!! tbh i feel like this is kinda sucky but i'm so obsessed with this soobin so this is the best my mushy smooth brain can produce at the moment HELP

also a big thank you for 250+ followers!!! i appreciate all of the love and support for my works <3 you all are absolutely amazing

wc: 1.2k+

“i want you to sit on my face.”

you freeze at the words that tumble out of soobin’s mouth as he marks up your neck from where you sit in his lap. your hand stills in his hair, your heart pounding in your ears.

“what?” you breathe out, quiet and restrained. soobin’s lips stop their attack on your neck, pulling back to look up into your eyes. his pupils are blown out wide, lips puffy and swollen from your makeout session. he looks completely fucked out—your stomach flips at the sight.

“i want you to sit on my face, baby,” he mumbles before his lips are kissing up your jaw, his big hands gripping your waist firmly. you sigh softly at the feeling of his teeth grazing your skin, your hands continuing their movement in his hair.

“what if i suffocate you or something?” you reply and you feel soobin chuckle at your words, his laugh leaving butterfly tingles on your skin. his nose nudges the junction between your neck and your shoulder, taking in every inch of you.

“what if i want you to?” he finally replies and you can already feel yourself growing dizzy. his hands reach down to massage your thighs before they make their way up your dress to rest on your bare waist, thumbs pressing into your skin as he rolls his hips up into your throbbing core.

you can’t do anything but moan as he captures your lips, his tongue swiping over your bottom lip. you gasp in his mouth, his tongue running across your teeth. it’s intoxicating, addicting, and you already feel yourself losing whatever ounce of self-control in your body. he pulls away for a second, still so close that his breath fans over your wet lips, his forehead pressed against yours.

“please, baby. wanna make you feel good,” he pants, one of his hands coming down to play with the waistband of your panties, reaching around to trail his fingers down your spine. your back arches into his touch and he smiles that beautiful dimpled smile, his eyes so innocent and sparkling—a complete opposite from the way his fingers sinfully dance against your skin.

“don’t wanna hurt you,” you mumble, your arms coming to wrap around his shoulders, leaning in to kiss his lips once again—you just can’t get enough of him. he smells so good, his body so strong and sturdy. a moan leaves your lips as his hand dips into your panties to rub your clit before trailing down your soaking slit, drinking up the noises leaving your mouth.

“just let me taste you, gorgeous. you won’t hurt me, i promise,” he speaks against your lips, and you finally give in, nodding a bit in his hold. he smiles brightly as you raise up off of his lap so he can scoot down the bed, laying flat against the sheets.

he looks too good under you, eyes gleaming and eager, chest rising and falling quickly as his hands keep a strong grip on your hips. his shiny hair is splayed out against the duvet, all messed up and wild from your hands.

you lean down to press a small kiss to his lips, your noses bumping softly from the action. you feel one of soobin’s hands tug at your dress, ordering a quiet “take this off for me” and you quickly oblige, pulling the fabric off of your body hastily.

his eyes ogle at your figure, darting from your perfect boobs to your cute belly button, his hands roaming over any piece of you he can reach. you try not to shy away from his gaze—how could you when he stares at you with the biggest hearts in his eyes, simply out of breath by your presence?

“come here, baby.”

his fingers tap your thighs and you move to climb up his body until you’re hovering right above his perfect face. his fingers are gentle as they pull your panties to the side, his eyes flicking up to yours for a brief moment. you shiver at his warm breath against your sensitive folds, feeling his hands find home on your waist. you slightly lower yourself towards his lips, still too anxious to put all of your body weight on him.

soobin kisses your clit lovingly before licking a long stripe up your pussy, moaning against your core at your taste. you whimper at the warmth, loving the way his tongue flicks against your pussy like he has been starved for years. your eyes flutter shut at the way his skillful lips eat you alive, his tongue burying itself in your sopping hole, thumbs rubbing small circles into your skin.

he lips are slow as they make out with your cunt, sucking at your clit, soaking up the little noises that leave your lips. your legs begin to tremble from holding yourself up and soobin notices—he wraps his arms around your torso before pulling you fully down on his face, holding you still as he ravages your pussy, licking up your juices as his nose nudges at your clit. your hand shoots up to cover your mouth as your moans grow in volume, completely wrecked from soobin’s mouth alone.

your muffling doesn’t last long though—soobin reaches up to grab your hand away from your mouth, holding your hand down by his head as your back arches, pushing yourself further down on his lips.

soobin lets out a deep groan when your hips begin moving back and forth, chasing your impending high. his tongue fucks in and out of you, swirling around your sensitive bud, sucking your folds. your juices run down his chin, spit and slick covering his cheeks and nose as you practically ride his face.

“soob—feels so good, fuck,” you babble out, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes from the intensity of it all. you can feel the blood rushing through your veins, your heartbeat pounding in your ears. your entire body shakes in his stronghold, getting lost in the way he grunts and moans with your weight on top of him.

“gonna—fuck—-gonna cum.” soobin’s tongue simply speeds up at your words, flicking over your overwhelmed clit as your cunt gushes into his mouth. it’s nasty, it’s lewd, and it’s everything and more. your eyes are tightly screwed shut as pulses of pleasure run through your body before your hips stutter, white exploding from behind your eyes.

and soobin doesn’t stop, his lips kissing your spent pussy as you come down, keeping you in place against his face as if he’s your personal chair. you wouldn’t mind that at all.

you eventually move off of his face, sitting on his hard chest as you gaze down at his ruined state, feeling heat rush to your core again at the mere sight. his eyes are glazed over, a dazed smile on his glistening lips, his chin literally dripping with your cum and his spit. his hands come to rest on your thighs, drawing soft shapes into your skin as he gazes up at you. his dark eyes are filled with so much love and affection, your chest burns at the passion of it all, your body heating up at his stare.

“see? you didn’t kill me.”

reblogs are highly cherished!

masterlist

©️BEOM-PYU

#txt #txt imagines #txt smut #soobin #soobin imagine #soobin imagines #soobin smut #soobin x reader #soobin x y/n #soobin x you #txt soobin #soobin scenarios #txt x reader #txt x y/n #txt x you #beom-pyu

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veampa · 2 months

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L Lawliet nsfw alphabet

L is so babygirl.

@the-coldest-goodbye creds for the template!!!

G/n reader

Character(s)- L

sorry that this is lazyyyyy

Trigger warnings in tags!!!

(Lil extra but the Matt somnophillia smut is in my drafts, not finished yet :< sorry for making y'all wait)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)- Very gentle yet not too affectionate, I just can't see him being all kissy and touchy after sex, a few kisses here and there maybe some cuddles too.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)- He doesn't have a favourite body part on him buttttttt he loves your nipples (i feel like he's a nipple guy LMAO) plus he can place whip cream on 'em.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)- Likes using cum as lube.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)- Is into anal.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)- He gives me virgin vibes :p, not that experienced when he met you, sure he knew what to do but you were his first.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)- missionary :3.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)- Mostly serious but still funny with the way he says shit.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)- Doesnt do much to groom down there, just a small trim.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)- Not that cuddly, a few kisses here and there mixed in with some body worshipping.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)- Jerks off like once a week, doesn't do it that much, mostly too busy working on the Kira case.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)- food, asphyxiation (i feel like he'd be into it, idk why), body worship.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)- Anywhere private.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)- Lingerie, it looks SO good on your body like DAMN.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)- this ties in with asphyxiation, wouldn't choke you to the point where you pass our.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)- giving, doesn't mind receiving, but he prefers giving cause he can lick off raspberry sauce:3.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)- Mix but he prefers more slow, he's not into quickies. if he's fucking you he's gonna do it properly.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)- Like just said, he doesn't like quickes, much prefers longer sessions.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)- Nope.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)- My guy can stay awake for days, so you best believe he can last a few rounds.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)- Doesn't own any other than a vibrator thats used on you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)- 95%. It's amusing to see you whine and squirm:3.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)- A little vocal, just depends where yous are.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)- Has you sit on his cock for hours when he's working (in the most awkward posture)

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)- 6 and a half inches. not too girthy but still got some thickness, slightly curved to the left, uncircumcised.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)- Not that high tbh, focuses more on his work.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)- He doesn't, bro just sits and stares at you.

#death note #death note smut #l lawliet #L lawliet smut #L smut #tw asphyxiation #tw food kink #tw #tw smut #l lawliet x reader

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ghostxrose · 2 months

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Love's the Death of Peace of Mind | Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

Summary ~ For three years your life was great, then Katsuki said nine little words. Nine simple words. One singular sentence. And everything that happened after those nine fucking words were spoken? Absolute Hell.

Tags/Warnings ~ MDNI, some non-descript NSFW content, Fem!Reader, some fluff, on a scale we're lookin at mostly hurt accompanied by a little bit of comfort, heavy angst, angst w/a happy ending tho, potentionally triggering situations, mild description of injuries, !alternate ending- read note for info please!, idk what else to tag just comment if there's anything else <3

Note ~ Hey Lovelies, soo this fic is going to be long and it's going to be angstyyy. The word count is 16,667 words without the alternate ending, so buckle in, Lovelies! And just remember, I swear to you that this idea started out a lot smaller and a lot fluffier in my head. The plot just took over and churned out this monstrosity.

Now, onto addressing the alternate ending.. I think it's technically more of an extended ending that will crush your soul if you choose to read it. Do with that what you will, just know that I warned you. I put it below the second image divider, under the A/N..

Happy reading, My Lovelies! <3

Maybe it was meant to be or maybe it wasn’t. You knew the parameters of his job, his still-budding career, his dream. You knew why your relationship was kept a secret from everyone. You had both agreed to keep it hidden and you were even happy about it. You enjoyed the privacy of it all.. No one butting in with opinions or teasing comments. No risks of having your daily life plastered all over various media. No threats upon your life from vengeful villains. It was just you and Katsuki living your best lives together, until..

“I’m goin’ on a mission out of the country.”

Those had been the first words out of Katsuki’s mouth when he had finally decided to break the brooding silence that he had been exercising since he stepped foot into your shared apartment.

He had gotten home from work, taken his shoes off, and went straight to your guys’ bedroom without uttering a single word to you. It had been mostly uncharacteristic of him, but you had just brushed it off as him having had a rough day and let it be. When he had finally chosen to speak, you were both halfway through the dinner you had made.

Your chopsticks had clattered to the table as something paralyzing and numbing had taken over your body. You had looked over at him, your eyes glassy and your hands shaking. Shock, fear, anger, and sadness had slammed into you like a brick wall and made everything heart-breakingly surreal. He was staring down at his plate, refusing to look at you, but his jaw was clenched and his hand had tightened around his chopsticks.

“Look, ya know that this-” he had begun to argue, begun to try to defend himself and his job, but you had cut him off.

“When do you leave?” You had asked in a voice that was far more calm and controlled than you had ever thought was possible in a moment like that.

It was then that his eyes had widened slightly and he met your gaze, his features softening a bit when he had noticed the barely contained tears that had built up on your lash lines.

“Two days.” He had stated in a quiet tone and a bit of guilt in his eyes.

“F-for ho-how long?” You had stuttered out as your poorly held together composure crumbled.

He was quiet for a moment, eyes roaming your face and taking you in, before he spoke again, “A year. Could be shorter, could be longer.”

You could tell that he was a bit surprised that neither of you were yelling or fighting about it, yet. But he also knew that you had always been someone who never let things get to that point, nor had you ever aided in his fuse blowing. You had always been his calm, his quiet, his serenity.

You had quietly nodded your head as you took in the information and attempted to process. You were mentally going over everything you both would have to do to prepare for his departure when he had spoken up, yet again.

“I,” he had started, albeit abnormally hesitantly, before continuing, “I don’t want you to wait for me.”

Your entire world had shattered, caught fire, fucking exploded, in that moment and you snapped.

“What the actual fuck are you talking about, Katsuki?” You questioned, your voice raised and harsh.

Katsuki had visibly winced before hardening his expression and body language. In the three years that you and him had been together you had never raised your voice at him let alone ever said his name like that. His face had shifted into a heated glare, something that he was very much familiar with.

“You fuckin’ heard me, Y/N! I don’t need you mopin’ around this place just fuckin’ waitin’ to see if I’ll message you or even return home! I- I’m cuttin’ you free! Free to do whatever the fuck you want! Free to party! Free to go out with whoever you want! Free to fuck whoever you want!” He had viciously spat out, his voice raised to a shout by the end of his explanation.

Your brain had stopped working as horrified shock had taken over your features and tears had flowed down your face. You were only knocked back into reality when Katsuki had slammed his fist down on the table as curses flew from his mouth.

“Do.. how.. You truly think so low of me?” You had asked, your voice quieted by immense hurt and disbelief. “You truly believe that I wouldn’t be able to handle you being away? That I would let myself just sit here in our apartment and rot?! You truly believe that I would want to be with or fuck anyone else?! Jesus fucking Christ, Katsuki! Do the last three fucking years not exist?! Do you not fucking know me at all?!” You had shouted back at him, your voice cracking and raw.

You had shattered completely after shouting, your face in your hands as gut-wrenching sobs tore from your mouth. A metallic tang on your tongue with every harsh exhale had told you just how much your vocal cords had suffered. It had felt like you were choking as you sat there trying to wrap your head around what the hell was going on.

“Kirishima and Mina will be here tomorrow to help get my stuff. They’re going to store it for me until I get back. I’ve already taken my name off of the lease, but paid for the next six months’ rent. I..” Katsuki had paused for a moment, his disconnected tone wavering ever-so-slightly before he cleared his throat. “This is what needs to happen, Y/N.” He had said with emotionless finality.

That had broken you even more, something you had thought impossible at the time, and overwhelming nausea had slammed into you. You had bolted from the table and barely made it to the bathroom before what little you had eaten at dinner made its reappearance. You had locked yourself in that bathroom for the rest of the night. Katsuki hadn’t knocked, hadn’t called out to you to see if you were okay. You had caught the few times he had lingered outside of the door, but he had just walked away silently each time.

That was four months ago.

Now, you do anything you can to not be in that godforsaken apartment that he had left you in.

Every time you’re there, memories of the day he left shred you into nothing. Flashbacks of numbly sitting on the couch watching him gather the small amount of items he had left in the apartment and placing them by the door. Flashbacks of watching him make his coffee and eat in silence. Flashbacks of shivering from the devastating cold that had settled into your bones, no matter the amount of layers you had thrown on. Flashbacks of him not looking at you once as he put his shoes on, picked up his bags, and left without uttering a single fucking word.

The click of the door shutting is an echo that haunts and breaks you every single time you step foot in that place.

So now you spend your nights at friends’ houses or in hotels. You throw yourself into working or meaningless tasks. You fill all of your freetime with hobby after hobby. You do absolutely anything and everything you can because if you stop for one fucking second, then all of your thoughts go back to him.

Is this what he wanted for you?

You know about and pointedly ignore worries thrown your way. You dismiss the questions from friends and family about your sudden change in pace and mental state.

“Are you alright, Y/N?”

“Why are you working yourself so hard?”

“What are you constantly rushing around for?”

“Are you sleeping okay? Those dark circles are a bit concerning..”

“Has something happened?”

“Y/N, are you doing okay?”

Are you doing okay?

You force your happy facade back into place as you look at your reflection in the doors of the elevator. Ignoring all of the physical signs of you not being okay, you paint a smile on your face when you hear the ding alerting you of your arrival to the requested floor. Freshly baked goodies in hand, you step out of the elevator, your eyes searching for the door number you want. Finally seeing and getting up to the aforementioned door, you take a deep breath and knock. It takes a moment or two, but eventually the door opens.

“Hey, Izuku! I had some time and thought I’d drop by to give you these!” You greet cheerfully, holding up the bags of baked goods. “There’s, uhm, there’s.. Shit, what did I make, again..” You fumble and look down into the bags to remember what all you had baked.

Your memory comes back to you and with a triumphant grin, you look back up at Izuku, “Right! There’s some mochi, chocolate chunk cookies, uhm, red bean-”

“Y/N,” Izuku says your name softly, but in a way that feels offending-ly like pity and your words come to a dead-stop.

“Please don’t speak to me like that.” You quietly grit out, your hands gripping the handles of the bags tightly as your eyes fall to the floor, your stare boring holes into Izuku’s socked feet.

A sigh is exhaled through Izuku’s nose before he reaches out and gently grabs your shoulder, bringing you into his apartment. You let him guide you inside, your facade cracking a bit and letting your heavier emotions through to slump your body language. The door clicks shut behind you and you unintentionally flinch at the soft noise. Scarred hands come into your vision and gently take the bags from your still clenched ones.

Izuku is one of the only people who knows about your.. situation, other than Kirishima and Mina. You hate that anyone knows, but you especially hate that Izuku knows. You hate it because the only reason he knows is due to the letter that Katsuki had delivered to him the day he left. The letter that Izuku refuses to let you read. The letter that your green-haired friend refuses to even talk about with you any more than it stated to look after you.

The day Katsuki had left, Izuku had shown up not long after the blonde had closed the door. Izuku had let himself in using the key, Katsuki’s key, that had been in the envelope with the letter. You hadn’t moved from your spot on the couch. The green-haired hero had found you just sitting there staring at the wall with tears dripping from your face.

It was Izuku who had cleaned up Katsuki’s mess. It was Izuku who had quietly found a washcloth and dampened it, then used it to gently wipe your face. It was Izuku who had forced you to eat buttered toast and drink some water. It was Izuku who had sat there in the blaring silence with you until you ultimately passed out from the exhaustion of it all.

“Y/N,” Izuku calls your name softly, once again, bringing you back to the present. You look up to see him holding the bags you have yet to let go of with a small, albeit sad, smile.

“You can let go of these now, thank you.” He says gently as he slowly pulls the bags further toward himself. With a small nod, you finally relinquish your grasp on the bags. A slightly stuttered breath leaves your lungs before you straighten up and paint a smile on your face.

“My bad, sorry about that!” You say with a huff of forced laughter.

“Have you eaten today?” Izuku asks with a knowing tone as he makes his way to his kitchen. Your jaw clenches out of irritation and it’s only made worse when a sharp pang from your stomach hits.

“I have.” You lie, kicking off your shoes and moving to follow him, ignoring the way your body trembles slightly and how the room spins a bit when you move too fast.

“Well, I was just about to make dinner. How about you join me?” Izuku says, his question coming out as more of a statement even with the cheery lilt of his voice.

“I would love to but I’ve got, ya know, some stuff to do still, so-” You ramble out as you back-track toward your shoes and the door. You cut yourself off when you feel a warm static wrapping around your wrist and you stop walking. Looking down, you see a tendril of Blackwhip gently pulling you back toward the kitchen and you let out an irritated huff.

“Sit down for a bit, Y/N. How does katsudon sound?” Izuku’s annoyingly kind voice asks as another tendril of Blackwhip pulls out a chair for you.

With a tired sigh, you plop yourself down into the chair and grumble out, “Sounds good.”

~~~

Izuku listens closely for a few moments, standing at his cracked bedroom door. When he doesn’t hear anything more than the electrical humming of the apartment, he closes the door as quietly as he can. He makes his way to his bed and grabs his phone off of the nightstand, turning it on and navigating through apps.

After going through the extensive security process of the HPSC Communications app, he pulls up Katsuki’s file. Getting to the call function, Izuku presses it with almost no hesitation, then brings the phone up to his ear.

“The fuck are ya risking a call for, Nerd?” Katsuki’s agitated tone demands when the call connects after a few rings.

“Hello to you too, Kacchan.” Izuku says quietly while rolling his eyes.

“Cut the fuckin’ pleasantries, Izuku. You already know these damn calls can’t be long. Also, why the fuck are you whispering?” Katsuki, once again, demands. Though, he sounds more tired now than anything else.

“Y/N came by today, ended up crashing here for the night. Hopefully, she’s sleeping but I don’t want to risk her hearing me talking to you..” Izuku quietly explains, wincing slightly at how bluntly it all came out. Silence fills the call at the mention of you and Izuku tries to suppress his frustrations with his childhood friend.

“She’s.. she’s not doing well, Kacchan. If her physical state is anything to go off of, she’s losing it. She’s lost more weight, the bags under her eyes could pass as bruises, her mental stability is practically nonexistent-” Izuku says, diving into his reason for calling when he’s cut off.

“Goddammit, Izuku! The fuck do you want me to do?! I can’t come home! Not that I think that it would help any! Every fucking ‘update’ you give me does nothing! I know what I did was shitty! I know that! But I can’t do anything to change or fix things right now, so what the hell do you want from me?!” Katsuki shouts from his end of the call making Izuku wince and hold the phone away from his ear.

Sighing heavily at Katsuki’s angered breathing coming through the speaker, Izuku defeatedly replies, “You told me to give you updates, Kacchan, and I’m doing that. I don’t know what you should do with the information I give you and I know how you feel about what you did. I.. I’m just worried about her.”

Izuku runs a hand through his hair, letting out another sigh before continuing, “If she keeps going like this.. she’s going to-”

“Don’t.” Katsuki speaks up, his voice quiet and shaking slightly. “Don’t finish that fucking sentence, please Izuku. I can’t.. If she.. Just, don’t.”

“I’m sorry, Kacchan.. Obviously, I’m going to keep doing my best to keep an eye on her, but.. I can only do so much.” Izuku says quietly, defeat and helplessness churning his mind.

“I know, Nerd.. thanks.” Katsuki grumbles out, but his gratitude is still felt by Izuku.

“So, how’s the mission going?” Izuku asks awkwardly, changing the subject.

~~~

You wake up the next morning, taking a few moments to gaze around the room you’re in and remember where you are. Rolling onto your back, you yawn as you take in the familiarity of the guest room of Izuku’s apartment. You’ve spent more than a few nights (and days) in this room within the last four months, so much so that some of your clothes take up space in the closet. You hate feeling like you’re imposing on Izuku every time you spend the night, but you are eternally grateful for his friendship.

Letting out a sigh, you stare blankly up at the ceiling as a cold, numbing feeling sinks into your body. You don’t want to move. You don’t want to exhaust yourself anymore by pretending to be okay. You just want to lay in bed and rot. But you can’t because that’s what Katsuki expected you to do and you can’t let him be right.

Ignoring the beginning ache of a headache from crying multiple times throughout the night, you heave your body out of the bed. Slowly, you shuffle your way to the bathroom and try, very desperately, to find the energy to put together your facade of happiness. The smell of food cooking floats through the air and a small, appreciative smile pulls at your lips.

Finishing up your business in the bathroom, you make your way to the kitchen. You find Izuku humming quietly as he scoops rice into two separate bowls. Also spotting two steaming bowls of miso soup, you feel your stomach rumble a bit.

“Good morning, Izuku!” You greet happily as you walk up next to him.

“Oh, good morning, Y/N! I was actually about to come see if you were awake yet! You have good timing!” Izuku says with a warm smile as he hands you a bowl of rice and a bowl of soup.

“Woke up a few minutes ago,” you lie, not wanting to talk about the thirty minutes you spent mentally rotting. “Thanks for breakfast!” You say with a smile as you seat yourself at the island.

“Of course!” Izuku says with his signature smile as he sits next to you. “Any plans for the day?” He asks after a few bites of food.

You internally sigh, trying to conjure up a list of to-do’s to keep your day off from work as busy as it can be, “Uhm, I have to stop by the grocery store since I used up a lot of ingredients making a bunch of baked goods.. Akari is in for quite a surprise when they open their fridge if they haven’t already..” You say with a bit of nervous laughter.

“Ah, you’ve been staying with them, lately? How are they doing?” Izuku asks politely, though underneath, he’s still concerned that you refuse to stay in your own apartment.

“They’re doing well.. but, I think that they’re getting a bit, uhm, overwhelmed by my various hobbies, haha..” You say with a tinge of guilt as you nervously stir your soup.

Izuku sends you a reassuring smile, “I’m sure they would let you know if they were feeling overwhelmed. You know.. You still have your own apartment-”

“Izuku. You know that I just can’t-”

“Just hear me out, Y/N. I know that it still causes you pain being back there, but maybe it’ll help heal you if you go back and take the place back as your own.” Izuku advises, his tone calm yet slightly pleading. “Buy yourself some plants, rearrange the furniture, paint the walls, do something to make it different than when Katsuki was there. I don’t mean to sound harsh, but you’ve barely been there over the last few months. Realistically, you either need to start living there again or break the lease before you have to start paying rent again.” He finishes with a look of worry on his face.

You go deathly quiet, just staring intensely down at your food as your hand grips your spoon. You know that he’s right and that he would never try to hurt you by bringing up Katsuki.. But that doesn’t keep the pain in your chest from spreading. You let out a shaky sigh, your appetite completely disappearing, and you stand to clear your place.

“I should really change and head out, but thank you, Izuku. I’ll message you later.” You say stoically as you rinse your dishes, then leave the kitchen.

Getting back to the guest room you change quickly and gather your stuff. You fix up the guest room, taking the time to bring the bedding to the laundry room and put it in the washing machine. Finally, you head for the door to put your shoes on and Izuku hovers near you, guilt written all over his face.

“You can stop acting like a kicked puppy, Izuku,” you sigh out as you straighten up from tying your shoes. “I know you meant well earlier and I.. I’ll think about what you said, okay? I appreciate you caring about me at all in the first place.” You finish softly and step forward to hug him.

Izuku lets out a relieved breath and wraps his arms around you, “I’m still sorry for being so.. blunt earlier. I just worry about you, that’s all. I don’t have any siblings but after getting to know you over the last four months, you’re like a sister to me. I’m here for you whenever you need, okay?” He says softly, then kisses the top of your head.

You nod against him, emotion clogging your throat, and give him one last squeeze before you both release each other. You shoot him a wobbly smile before you open the door and step out into the hall, making your way to the elevator.

A few hours later, you’ve restocked your friend’s fridge and pantry with all of the items you used up while manically baking. They told you that you didn’t have to, but there was no way you weren’t going to replace it all when they’ve been letting you live at their house for the last week and a half. Eventually, they ask if you’ll be staying again tonight but you shake your head and thank them for being so amazing to you. With that, you gather up all of your stuff and pack it into your car before getting into the driver’s seat.

‘Izuku was right. I need to do this. I need to do it tonight before I have the chance to overthink myself out of it.’ You state to yourself as you start your car. You drive in silence the whole way to your apartment, your grip on the steering wheel white-knuckled.

Once you get to your apartment complex, your white-knuckled grip transfers from your steering wheel to your bags as you grab them from the trunk of your car. Your body trembles and your mind goes distant as you ride the elevator up to your apartment. Your stomach sinks and your heart begins to race as the elevator ascends. Finally, it stops and the doors open to the floor that you are so painfully familiar with. Your keys nearly fall from your sweaty hand as your trembles increase with each step toward your door.

The sound of them hitting the floor doesn’t register in your brain as you walk up to your cracked-open apartment door. Your bags join your keys on the floor as you, admittedly stupidly, push open the door. Reality slams back into your blank mind when your eyes meet those of some stranger who's standing in your living room. Fear pours over you like a bucket of ice water and you just fucking freeze.

Suddenly, pain explodes from the back of your head, your thoughts of what you should fucking do disappearing before any sort of move could be made, and everything fades to black.

~~~

Izuku checks his phone for what feels like the millionth time today and frowns at the lack of notifications from you. With a frustrated and concerned huff, he stuffs his phone back into his pocket.

“You’ve been checking your phone all patrol, bro. Everything okay?” Kirishima asks from beside Izuku.

Izuku wasn’t supposed to work today, but a hero never truly has a day off and he was called in to cover Mina’s patrol slot with Kirishima.

Izuku runs a hand through his hair, “I haven’t heard from Y/N all day. She crashed at my place last night and left this morning after I had basically told her to go back home to her apartment and try moving on with her life. I had apologized before she left and she didn’t seem mad, but even if she was she would have messaged me by now. On top of all of that, I have this weird pit in my stomach and danger sense won’t leave me alone and I don’t know what to make of it-”

“Woah, bro, okay calm down. Tell you what, let’s finish up our patrol, then I’ll come with you to check up on her. Where’s she staying this time?” Kirishima calmly, and a bit concernedly, plans out after cutting off Izuku’s panicked ramble.

“She mentioned this morning that she’s been staying with Akari, lately. Hopefully, she’s still at their place.” Izuku mumbles out distractedly as he checks his phone, yet again.

“Okay, we’ll go straight to their apartment once we finish up at the agency.” Kirishima says with a pit of worry starting to churn in his own stomach.

The pair rush through their end-of-shift tasks once they get back to the agency and soon they are seated in Kirishima’s car heading for Akari’s apartment. While giving directions from the passenger seat, Izuku texts and calls your phone, getting met with no answers each time. His stress and worry levels only increase with each missed call and he can only pray that you’re sleeping.

They pull into the parking lot of your friend’s apartment complex, Kirishima barely locking his car before Izuku is rushing off. The pair of heroes get up to the door of Akari’s apartment, Izuku knocking as politely as he can in his increasing panic. When the door finally opens, it’s only a confused Akari standing there wondering where the hell the fire is.

Akari tells the two heroes that you had packed up all of your stuff and left hours ago. Izuku’s stomach drops at this new piece of information and his mind jumps to worst case scenarios. His biggest fear is that you returned to your apartment, decided that it was all too much, and did something to yourself. A rational fear given your severe mental instability the last few months, but still an overly terrifying thought. As Izuku and Kirishima get back into the red-heads car, Izuku mentally berates himself for not accompanying, or at the very least getting ahold of you, earlier.

Kirishima speeds through traffic, his grip on the steering wheel near crushing. He feels extremely guilty for not keeping up with you as much as he should have since Katsuki left. He just figured that you wouldn’t want to talk to him because of his part in the whole situation with him holding onto Katsuki’s things. He’s mostly been getting updates on your well-being from Izuku, an admittedly cowardly move from the man who loves to preach about “manliness.”

Kirishima shoves down his guilt and worry driven nausea as he weaves his car through traffic. He’s just as worried as Izuku over the thought that you’ve done something to yourself. He isn’t sure how he’d ever be able to look Izuku, or Katsuki, in the eye again if they find you injured or dead in that apartment. He would never be able to forgive himself for playing a part in your pain.

“Eijiro! Are you coming or not?!” Izuku’s frustrated voice breaks Kirishima from his clouded mind, the red-head just now registering that they’ve arrived at your apartment complex. The two rush through the lobby of the complex and anxiously wait for the elevator to bring them to the floor your apartment is on.

The doors open and they barrel out of the elevator, practically running for your door. Izuku gets to it first and stops dead in his tracks when he finds your door wide open. Barely stepping through the doorway the green-haired hero spots the small pool of blood on the floor and his emotions surge through him.

“Damn it!” He shouts in frustrated anguish as he steps over it to search the rest of the apartment.

Kirishima follows behind him, stomach acid burning at the back of his throat. Neither of them find any other trace of you beside your bags haphazardly tossed aside on the floor. It’s Kirishima that notices first that there is stuff missing from the apartment. He grabs Izuku by the shoulders and shakes him a bit to get him focused, Izuku growling and about to go off when he sees the look in Kirishima’s eyes.

“Don’t touch anything else.” Kirishima states ominously. “Izuku.. This.. this is a crime scene.” The red-head finishes with a sad look in his eyes and Izuku’s entire being goes numb.

~~~

When consciousness comes back to you it’s slow and everything is blurry. Your head aches badly, your body feels heavy in its forced sitting position, and there’s something in your mouth. Your vision clears for the most part, aside from the slight spinning of the room if you shift your eyes too fast, and what you see makes your panic spike up painfully.

Firstly, you’re tied to a chair in the middle of a dimly lit room, possibly in some sort of abandoned building. There’s a man off to your left sitting at what seems to be an old desk and another man, a bit further to the right of the room, at the doorway. The man at the desk is clicking through files of a laptop, seemingly searching for something. It’s only when the man briefly goes to the main desktop screen that you realize it’s your laptop, the background being a photo of you and Katsuki together. Your stomach lurches and your heart sinks as a whimper escapes you, muffled by the gag in your mouth.

Your whimper catches the attention of both men and both of them look at you with smiles filled with malicious intent. Tears of fear prick at your eyes as the one at the desk tells the other to “go get Boss” and takes a tablet from his hands. A tablet that you realize is also yours judging by the customized Dynamight themed case.

The throbbing coming from the back of your skull gets worse as your breaths increase and you cry harder. You aren’t sure what they could be looking for on your laptop and tablet, you’ve always been extremely careful in burying any information that pertains to Katsuki’s job. Files tucked away within the depths of technology, locked up with passwords you’ve long forgotten and encrypted.

“So the princess woke up, huh?” A taunting voice startles you out of your thoughts and you watch a tall man enter the room with the man who was guarding the door following behind him. You mask your fear by glaring at the man as he casually strides up to you with a smirk on his face.

“Come now, princess, don’t be like that. Such an ugly look on such a pretty face.” The man coos out, condescending and sickeningly sweet.

You curse him out but your voice is once again muffled by the gag in your mouth. The man simply laughs at you as he pulls up a chair, its metal legs scraping harshly against the old laminate flooring. You cringe at the noise but manage to maintain your glare as the man sits down in front of you. His elbows rest on his knees, his hands clasping together around a phone and he leans forward to rest his chin on the top edge of it. His eyes look over your form as a twisted smile sits on his face.

“So you’re the great Dynamight’s secret little bitch.” The man states, not questions, but states. Your heart rate picks up and your glare falters slightly, making the man’s smile widen.

“I can see why he kept you so well hidden! You’re a real looker, ain'tcha? Smile so sweet it’s nearly tooth-rotting,” he continues, but now he’s opened the phone and is scrolling through picture after picture of you and Katsuki. Your glare crumbles completely as tears begin flowing from your eyes from both fear and pain over your past. Your eyes fall to your lap and your jaw clenches against the thick fabric in your mouth as you cry.

“God, where are my manners? Here I am telling a lady about how pretty she is and I haven’t even introduced myself! I’m terribly sorry, Y/N! My name is Isamu, but you may know me as Shadow Step.” Isamu- Shadow Step says with a sinister smirk and your body goes shock-still. Memories hit your pounding brain and bile rises in the back of your throat.

Shadow Step was a notorious human trafficker that would get his victims by getting them alone then using his Quirk to take them away. Once he was captured, it was discovered that his Quirk was teleporting through shadows, which was why he only struck at night. Katsuki was the leader of the team that finally took down Shadow Step and his operation. That was only a year ago, so how the hell is he back out on the streets?

“You know, you really played your part well in making all of this come full circle, princess. We were already planning on hunting you down after what we discovered at your apartment, but then you just showed up! Served yourself up to us on a golden platter! It’s honestly laughable how well things played out!” Shadow Step says with maniacal cheer, a slightly deranged laugh falling from his lips.

“Anyway, princess, you’re gunna help us with a little project. Nothing too crazy, just a little video to help bring your favorite little hero out of the shadows. Keishi, Reiji, get the princess dolled up for her role while I get the camera set up.” Shadow Step says more seriously as he stands up before ordering his two lackeys around.

One of them pulls Shadow Step’s chair away as the other roughly tugs down the gag from your mouth. Your body begins trembling and you hate how useless your Quirk is at this moment. It’s a low-level, and admittedly weak, nature-type Quirk; Vine Manipulation. You can only use it if there are vine-type plants near you and even then you can’t do anything substantial with the vines.

The two men, Keishi and Reiji, stand in front of you wearing twin sinister and sick smiles. Looking up at their faces, you’ve never felt fear like this before. Never felt such an overwhelming sense of impending doom and dread.

“Ready for your makeover, bitch?” One of them asks right before slapping you, hard. You cry out in pain, the side of your face tingling and on fire, echoes of the slap and your cry ringing out in the room.

The two take turns delivering blow after blow, ignoring your pleas to stop and your depserate cries for help. By the time Shadow Step tells them to stop your cheek has swelled up as well as one of your eyes. Blood drips from your lips while more runs down your face from the split skin above one of your eyebrows. You’re pretty sure they broke at least a couple of your ribs if the sharp pains every time you breathe are anything to go by. Tears still spill from your eyes, mixing with your blood and creating pinks rivulets that trail down your cheeks, chin, and neck.

You’re on the verge of passing out from all of the pain when Shadow Step bends down and makes himself face level with you, “I gotta say, princess, you look a lot prettier like this. You ready for your time on the big screen?”

You let out a pained and pathetic whimper that he merely chuckles at, “Your job is to just sit here and be quiet. You fail to do that and you really won’t like what happens. Got it, princess?” He says, his tone threatening and deadly. You nod weakly, whimpering when he pats your cheek a bit harder than necessary.

Shadow Step turns toward the camera, stepping up to it so that his body blocks yours out in the viewfinder screen of the camera. He motions for one of his goons to hit record and his little show begins.

“This is a message for the Heroes of our society,” Shadow Step begins in a calm, even tone with an easy smile on his face.

“I am looking for Pro Hero Dynamight, he and I have a little score to settle. I’ve come to understand that he is on a mission out of the country right now, so I need the rest of you little Heroes to help get this message to him. If he isn’t back by the end of the week, then I’ll kill the little number sitting behind me.” He states as he steps back to reveal your tied up and beaten form in the viewfinder.

“Who knew Dynamight had himself a girlfriend, I’m sure none of you did! Poor thing has been so scared since I brought her here, but as you can see I’ve been treatin’ her real well! Anyway, enough theatrics,” Shadow Step says, his face turning serious and his tone dropping low and threatening.

He pulls a gun out from behind his back and points it at you while his face is turned to the camera, “If you don’t think I’m being serious about this, then you’re dead wrong. You have four days, Dynamight.” He states in a deadly tone before pulling the trigger.

A scream tears from your throat before you could stop it as white-hot flames of pain flood your body. Your left shoulder jerks as the bullet pierces through it and your vision nearly blackens out. You dry heave and choke on cries of immense pain as the camera zooms in on your form, unbeknownst to you. You barely hear the dark laughter falling from the mouths of the three men over the ringing of your ears and your consciousness, along with your body, gives out plunging you into cold darkness.

~~~

The video ends, the final frame being a zoomed-in image of you slumped over unconscious in the chair you’re tied to, blood already soaking the fabric of your shirt. The silence in the room is suffocating and Izuku has to consciously fight to rein in his rage. The fleeting thought of just how to tell Katsuki about this crosses his mind before his attention is brought back to the meeting.

“As was stated earlier, the video was posted a couple of hours ago. We don’t have any leads yet on where the location of filming was nor just how exactly Shadow Step managed to escape imprisonment. It has also not been confirmed as to whether or not the girl has any connection to Dynamight-” A HPSC representative explains before being cut off.

“Her name is Y/N L/N. She is Kacch- Dynamight’s girlfriend. They kept their relationship a secret because they feared something like this happening. Even if she was just a civilian without a connection to Kacch- Dynamight, she would still be just as much a priority rescue.” Izuku grits out, the rage-filled look on his face daring the HPSC rep to say anything countering his statement.

Instead, the rep just swallows nervously and nods their head, “Y-yes, of course. Thank you, Deku. A-alright, with that confirmation the HPSC will notify Dynamight of the event. The Directors will decide if they want to take him off of his mission or not-”

“Are you serious?!” Izuku’s head whips over to Kirishima at the red-head’s outburst. “You heard that psycho! If Bakugo doesn’t come home, then that bastard is going to kill her!” Kirishima rages, one of his clenched fists slamming down on the table.

“R-Red Riot, I-I assure you that the Directors already have a plan in the works. It’s why you all have been brought into this meeting. I’ve been told to tell you that you five have been tasked with capturing Shadow Step.” The rep anxiously explains.

Izuku doesn’t miss the way they said what the mission was, though. Of course all the Commission cares about is having the Heroes find and put a stop to Shadow Step. To the Commission, it would be easy enough to explain it away or cover it up if you were to die before being rescued. To the Commission, saving a singular civilian such as yourself doesn’t take priority over capturing an escaped villain. To the Commission, you are nothing but collateral damage.

Izuku seethes where he is seated, his mind already working on the details of your rescue and cursing the Commission that he works for. He shares looks with the other four Heroes seated at the meeting table; Kirishima, Shinso, Jiro, and Tokage. The four reflect the determined expression Izuku sends them even though Shinso, Jiro, and Tokage all still seem to be in shock by the situation. Nobody had even an inkling that Katsuki Bakugo had anyone precious in his life other than his parents, and now the entire country knows.

The HPSC rep finishes up the meeting, letting Izuku and the other four Heroes know that the Commission would contact them with anything they find. A heavy silence follows the sound of the meeting room door closing, Izuku’s guilt laden thoughts waging war within his mind with the part of him that knows he couldn’t have predicted this.

“Do you really think that the Commission wouldn’t let Bakugo come home for this? Would.. would he even want to come home?” Kirishima meekly asks, sending Izuku a saddened and worried look.

“Hold on, why wouldn’t he want to come home? His girlfriend was kidnapped.” Jiro asks with a look of confusion.

“I’m not sure if they would let him come home, but if I know anything about Kacchan, it’s that he would find a way to get back here.” Izuku says with a heavy sigh, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table and his hands coming up to rub over his face.

“As for their current relationship status.. Kacchan broke up with her before he left for his mission. At the time, he thought that it would be better for her to be single rather than sitting around waiting for him to come back. His thought process was wrong but his heart was in the right place, and he regrets what he did. I can confirm that he very much still cares.. still loves her.” Izuku explains, cringing slightly at the harshly judgemental expressions on Shinso’s and Jiro’s faces.

“I’m just surprised that asshole could find anybody who wants to be with him, but that’s besides the point. So, what’s the plan here? Considering the injuries she had in the video on top of the gunshot wound, she may not have four days.” Shinso says stoically, his words like a bucket of ice water down Izuku’s back.

“They could be holding her anywhere. The room in the video looked like some sort of abandoned office space, but do you know how many abandoned business buildings there are in Japan? Not to mention, they could have moved locations since putting out the video.” Tokage says with solemn exasperation, rubbing a hand on her forehead.

Izuku pinches his bottom lip in thought for a moment before straightening up and tapping the table’s surface, awakening the technology beneath the glass. He pulls up a map of Japan, locates your apartment building, and highlights the point.

“Okay, so this is where her apartment is located. Let’s have Shinso, Jiro, and Tokage check the abandoned buildings within a five mile radius. You three have better stealth skills than Kirishima and I. While you three search buildings, I’ll further analyze the video for any possible clues.” Izuku says, taking charge of the situation. Shinso, Jiro, and Tokage simultaneously nod and send him looks of determination.

“Kirishima, I need you to look back through your files and give us as much information on Shadow Step as you can. You were the only one out of the five of us that was part of the team that took him down the first time. We’ll all keep in contact via our own closed Comms frequency.” Izuku directs, a look of agreement on everyone’s faces.

“One thing we all know for sure is that Shadow Step acts at night, so everybody should go rest up if you can because we’ll be officially starting this mission at sunset.” Izuku finishes with hardened determination coloring his tone and face.

~~~

You’re not sure how much time has passed with your consciousness phasing in and out. Everything hurts; your head, your face, your shoulder, your ribs. You feel weak in every sense of the word but more so physically, barely being able to keep yourself sitting up. You’re still tied up, your muscles stiff and your neck seemingly stuck in its hung down position.

When you’re awake the voices of Shadow Step and his lackeys blearily echo in your ears. Whether they’re talking to you or to each other you're not sure. They’ve done the bare minimum to keep you breathing; wrapping a cloth around your shoulder to stem the bleeding and sticking an IV in your arm to keep you hydrated.

The spinning room is far too dizzying when you’re awake and the feeling of hopelessness drapes over your mind. It’s easier being asleep, easier letting your mind fall into the loss of consciousness that your body yearns for. So you let go of the fear and escape to the depths of your mind, your dreams offering a reprieve from the suffering you’re enduring.

Katsuki fakes a gag as the characters on TV kiss, cliche romantic melodies playing in the background as their kiss becomes more heated.

“This shit is so fucking cheesy I might actually die from cringing so hard.” Katsuki annoyedly rasps out.

You’re cuddled up to each other on the couch two movies into your weekly “Saturday Night Movie Marathon” and your chosen movie playing on the TV screen.

“I won’t deny that it’s cringe-worthy, but it’s all so cute, too! They’re so in looooovvvve!!” You gush with a giggle over Katsuki’s disgusted face when you look at him.

“Can’t believe you make me watch this shit. They’re all the same story, I don’t understand the appeal of it all. The main characters go back and forth for fuckin’ ever until they finally admit they love each other, then it’s end credits. It’s so damn dumb.” He grumbles out, then lets out an irritated sigh as he leans his head back onto the couch cushion.

With a roll of your eyes and your own sigh you look back at the TV with a small pout on your lips, “If you really hate these kinds of movies so much, you can just tell me to pick something different. I like genres other than ‘sappy-mushy-lovey-dovey-crap’, you know.”

Katsuki lightly pinches your side, huffing a laugh at the yelp you let out and the glare you send him, “Don’t be like that, Sweetheart. Ya know that I’m just messin’ with ya.” He murmurs into your neck as he trails light kisses along the column of your throat.

“Such a bully,” you mumble out as you tilt your head to give him better access.

“Mhm, but you love it, dontcha Sweetheart?” He says into your skin as his kisses get a bit more passionate.

Feelings stirring up within you begin clouding your mind as your breaths become airy and panted. A soft moan slips from your mouth when he kisses and lightly sucks on a particularly sensitive spot of your neck. His arms circle around your body, his hands slipping under your shirt and coming up to play with your breasts.

He pinches your hardened nipples and the airy words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them, “Ah, yes, love you, Katsuki.”

Katsuki’s ministrations come to a dead halt and your mind sobers up as shock fills you. Did you really just say that?! It’s not that you don't mean it, but more so that you two have only been together for a few months! You’re not sure if this is something Katsuki is ready for! What did you just do?! What the hell did you just d-

“I love you, too.” Katsuki whispers, his face buried in the crook of your neck and his hands clammy against your skin.

Tears well up in your eyes and everything feels so surreal, “You.. you don’t have to say it back if you’re not ready..” You whisper out as your heart races. Lifting his head from his hiding place, he gently urges you to turn around to face him. Your eyes scan over his flushed features and you take in the soft look he’s giving you.

“I love you too, Y/N.” He repeats himself with more surety in his tone and gentle determination on his face as he manages to maintain eye contact with you.

A few tears of happiness drip down your face and you surge forward, connecting your lips with his. Your arms wrap around his shoulders and you readjust your position to straddle him. The kiss turns into a heated makeout session with teeth nipping at bottom lips and tongues fighting for dominance.

The movie is forgotten as the heated passion rises between you both and soon enough there’s a pile of clothes on the floor. Pants, groans, and moans fill the air as your connected bodies move against each other. This was love-making in its truest form and you were lost in the ecstasy of it all. Both of you lost in showering one another with as much physical affection as you could show as you both worked each other toward the edge.

Laying on the couch wrapped up in each other in the afterglow of sex, you couldn’t imagine a lifetime where you didn’t love this man.

You snap to consciousness when sharp, white-hot pain shoots through your body from your shoulder. You send a weak glare to Reiji as he just looks down at you with a sick smile on his face. His hand squeezes your injured shoulder harder, his fingers digging into the hole in your flesh. Fresh blood saturates the cloth wrapped around your shoulder and you weakly cry out, pleading for him to stop. Fresh tears stream down your face and wish so desperately to go back to the times when you were in the safety of Katsuki’s arms.

~~~

Izuku can't get himself to relax, let alone get some rest. Flashes of your beaten form burn behind his eyelids and your pain-filled scream echoes around his mind. Guilt tears up his stomach and fear has bile sitting at the back of his throat. Sitting on his couch with the TV's low volume droning on in the background of his racing thoughts, he's suddenly brought back to the present when his phone starts ringing. Pulling it from his pocket his stomach drops when he sees the caller ID.. It's Katsuki.

Taking in a shaky breath, Izuku accepts the call and brings the phone up to his ear, “Kacchan.. I-I’m s-so sorry.. I.. I sh-should have d-” Izuku softly begins, stuttering as emotions clog his throat, but his apology is cut short.

“Izuku,” Katsuki whispers out and Izuku doesn’t recognize the hollow despondent tone his childhood friend has taken on.

“Kacchan?” Izuku’s voice cracks as he speaks, the sting of tears making him blink rapidly.

“The Commission sent me the video.. Wanted me to confirm that it was actually Shadow Step and not some imposter.. Like I’d actually know that somehow without fucking being there..” Katsuki pauses, a couple of labored breaths then a sniffle filling the silence before he speaks again.

“Th-they.. They didn’t even say anything about, Y/N.. I-I told them that I wanted to come home, that I need to come home, but they won’t take me off of this mission, Izuku.. They won’t let me COME HOME! Wha-what am I gunna do?! What sh-should I do?! I-I c-can’t let her- Wh-what if she- This can’t be- I-” Katsuki’s words descend into a muddled mess as his breathing picks up and even if they hadn't been friends for so long, Izuku could recognize a panic attack anywhere.

“K-Kacchan, you need to calm down. Slow your breathing, okay. Deep breaths, just copy me.” Izuku calmly coaches through the choked sobs wracking his chest.

“I.. can’t.. calm.. down..” Katsuki wheezes out, his anger and fear evident despite his inability to breathe properly.

It takes a while, but Izuku eventually gets Katsuki to even out his breaths, both of them left panting in the aftermath.

“She’s gunna die, Izuku, and it’s my fucking fault!” Katsuki openly sobs out, his voice breaking and full of anguish.

“We’re not going to let that happen, Kacchan. Listen to me! I will not let her die at the hands of that bastard! Just focus on getting back here, forget what the Commision wants.” Izuku says with steely, firm resolve.

“I won’t make it back in time, Izuku! It took me four fucking days to get out here! What if you guys can’t find her in time, huh?! The last fucking thing I ever said to her was that breaking up was best for both of us! She’ll die thinking I don’t fucking love her!” Katsuki shouts over the phone, his voice raw and breaking further as he crumbles down to nothing.

“I promise you that we will find her alive, Kacchan! Just get your ass back home as soon as you can, okay?” Izuku says firmly, trying desperately to reassure Katsuki.

An hour later, Izuku hangs up his phone with a long, exhausted sigh. It had taken him longer than expected to bring Katsuki back to more rational thinking. Coupled with the task of trying to get Katsuki to trust that Izuku and his team will find you, it’s safe to say that Izuku is beyond tired. But there isn’t any more time to rest because it’s time for Izuku to meet back up with the other four Heroes on his team.

Izuku arrives back at the meeting room from earlier in the day just after Kirishima. The two of them only have to wait a few minutes before the other three Heroes on their team walk in and Izuku is quick to get into the details of their tasks.

“This map has been linked with the ones on your phones. Pinpoints of all of the abandoned buildings within a five mile radius of Y/N’s apartment have already been marked. Just let us know over the Comms every time you clear a building and we’ll mark it off of the list.” Izuku says in a serious tone, his mind focussed on the tasks at hand.

“I’ve already called in the best stealth-based sidekicks I could find. Each of you will have two accompanying you to help clear buildings faster. Report any piece of potential evidence you find, anything and everything could be imperative to the mission. Alright, pick your zones and head out. Your sidekicks will be waiting for you in the lobby.” Izuku further explains before essentially dismissing Shinso, Jiro, and Tokage.

Given the extreme importance of the mission and the time constraints, the three choose their zones and quickly head out leaving Kirishima and Izuku alone in the room.

“You look rougher than you did earlier man.. Did you get any rest?” Kirishima gently asks as he takes in Izuku’s worn-out appearance.

“I’m fine. I couldn’t manage to sleep, then.. Kacchan called. He’s a mess, Kirishima.. I’ve never heard him so broken before even during all of the crap we all went through at UA.” Izuku quietly says as he watches through the video, his eyes searching the background for anything.

Izuku hears Kirishima swallow thickly as the red-head shuffles through the files he brought. “I really hope that we find her in time..” Kirishima whispers, seemingly more to himself, and Izuku’s fists clench.

“We will,” Izuku grits out as he replays the video, this time at a slower speed.

After what feels like years of replaying the video and looking over the information Kirishima dug up on Shadow Step, Izuku’s exhaustion catches up with him and he snaps a bit. “Fuck!” He exclaims frustratedly as he sits back in his chair and rubs his hands over his face.

“Nothing at this building either, Deku, it’s clear.” Jiro’s voice comes through Izuku’s earpiece. The green-haired Hero growls out an “okay” and marks the building off of the map in front of him.

“Listen, man, if you wanna take a brief break, then I can handle the Comms for a bit..” Kirishima tries to offer, face full of concern as he looks at his friend and fellow Hero.

“I don’t have time to take a break. We have to find her before time runs out. I don’t know what else to do, there’s nothing in the video that would point us any closer to finding her. All of the buildings that the stealth team have checked so far have brought up nothing. What else could we possibly che-” Izuku cuts himself off from his exasperation-filled rant as an idea hits his brain.

“God, why didn’t any of us think of this sooner? Damn it!” He growls out as he brings up another hologram screen from the table.

“Think of what, man?” Kirishima asks confusedly as he scoots closer to Izuku.

“Security cameras,” Izuku mutters as he pulls up mini screen after mini screen of camera footage.

“Fuck.. okay, tell me where you want me to pull camera footage from. We can divide up the search between us both.” Kirishima says as he moves to a different part of the table and pulls up a hologram screen.

Izuku tells him where to start, then the two are nearly silent as their eyes search through hours worth of traffic and security cam footage. Occasional muttering from both of them fills the room, as well as Izuku’s responses to the stealth team. None of the five Heroes come up with anything until Shinso’s shaken voice comes through the Comms.

“Mid- Deku.. I found the room the video was filmed in,” Shinso informs Izuku, and the rest of the team, gravely. Izuku’s whole body freezes up and his eyes whip to the map to see where Shinso’s location is pinged. The map shows Shinso in a building about two and half miles South from your apartment complex.

“Deku, there’s a lot of blood on the floor here..” Shinso says, his tone disheartened, and Izuku’s nausea comes back at full-force.

“Shinso, stay there and wait for the police to arrive. Jiro and Tokage, take your sidekicks and all of you start searching the abandoned buildings around Shinso’s pinned location. From what we’ve gathered on Shadow Step’s Quirk he can’t teleport very far and his teleportation may be made more difficult if he’s transporting Y/N around.” Izuku orders while trying his best to keep in his Hero mindset and not let his emotions take over.

Izuku looks over at Kirishima, about to tell him to start searching the camera footage from around Shinso’s location when he pauses, “Kirishima, do you need a moment to step out?” Izuku asks as he looks over Kirishima’s stock-still frame and pale face.

Kirishima’s eyes snap to him and he shakes his head, “N-no. I’m fine. What do you need me to do?”

~~~

You’re brought into a hazy and slightly delirious-feeling consciousness by the feeling of someone changing your IV. You don’t have the energy anymore to make anything other than a small, barely heard, and weak whimper. You’re not sure how long it’s been since the day the video was made, since the day you were fucking shot. With the state that your body is in and Shadow Step constantly transporting you through shadows to different abandoned buildings, everything is blurring together.

Being awake is becoming more and more unpleasant and surreal. Your entire body hurts. You feel sick; feverish but freezing, weak, trembling so much that your teeth chatter. The thought that your gunshot wound may be infected has crossed your dazed mind, but you can’t do anything about it. All they’ve done for it is change the wrapping a couple times only because the three of them keep agitating the wound, making it bleed more.

You don’t even know how you’re still alive, honestly. Between the blood loss and the possible infection, you really feel like you should be dead. Hell, you almost wish Shadow Step would kill you before his self-set timeline ends just so that you don’t have to endure this any longer. At the same time, you pray that Katsuki is out there trying his best to find you.. Because even if he doesn’t love you anymore he used to and that has to count for something, right?

But you also know Katsuki.. You know that he never half-asses anything. If the mission he’s on isn’t finished, if they still need him out there, then he’s not going to abandon it to save an ex.

Whatever ends up happening, whether he comes home or not, you know that you won’t resent or hate him. Even with being in the most emotional and mental pain in your life during the last four months, you’ve never once hated him. Sure, you were pissed as fuck in the beginning, but your love for him hasn’t faded. There’s always been that voice in the back of your mind telling you that he hadn’t meant it. That he hadn’t meant to hurt you. That his heart was in the right place despite his fucked up execution of the situation.

As your blurred sense of reality fades out and you slip back into memory-filled unconsciousness, you grasp tightly onto the hope that all of this ends soon one way or another, and a small smile weakly tugs at your lips at the memory your mind begins playing..

You’ve looked over your entire outfit five times in the mirror by now, making yourself run borderline late. It’s been a while since you’ve been on a first date, so the world can kiss your ass for stressing over every detail. With one more touch up of your already perfect makeup, you breathe out a shaky sigh, then grab your purse.

The drive to the restaurant goes fairly smoothly and you pull into the parking lot 5 minutes before you’re supposed to be there. A soft gasp of shock and awe leaves you when you turn your car off and finally take a good look at the place. It looks ridiculously fancy and much too expensive for you to even be parked in the parking lot. You re-read the message Bakugo had sent you a couple of days ago detailing how to enter the building and ask about the reservation while exercising as much privacy as possible.

Admittedly, you were a bit apprehensive about going on a date with him at all. The man is freaking Pro Hero Dynamight and you had always told yourself that you didn’t want to be with someone like him. Someone who not only puts his life on the line every day, but who also has eyes on his every move at any given point. But a few casual conversations with Bakugo at your part time job at a local (but somewhat fancy) coffee and tea shop later, he somehow managed to charm you into going on a date with him.

In the days leading up to this date Bakugo had assured you plenty of times that he would do everything he could to keep things relatively private and just between the two of you. You had learned that while he is a Limelight Pro, he very much values keeping his private life just that; private. So you decided to trust his word, ignore the thoughts begging to know why he would want to even go on a date with a random-nobody-part-time-barista, and now you’re here.

Here.

At a fancy ass restaurant.

Feeling severely out of your league and still wondering how you ever caught his eye.

With a racing heart and shaky hands you grab your purse and get out of your car. Making your way up to the front doors of the restaurant, one hand fidgets with your necklace as the other grips the strap of your purse just a little too tightly. Walking through the door your eyes immediately search the sea of faces for the server Bakugo had mentioned in the message. A small sigh of relief leaves your mouth when you spot them and you politely wave them down.

“Welcome, ma’am! Is there something I can help you with?” They politely ask with a warm smile and it makes you feel a bit more comfortable already.

“Yes, uhm, I’m the other party for the reservation under K. B.” You tell them with a nervous smile.

“Ah, I see! Let me just check something..” They say as they look down at the tablet in their hands for a moment.

Your eyes glance down at the tablet and you watch them pull up a photo of you. You recognize the selfie as the one you took the day prior and had sent to Bakugo when he had asked for it. You had found it a bit weird when he initially asked, but he had explained the purpose shortly after receiving the photo.

“Perfect! If you’ll just follow me this way, please! Also, if I may say, you are just as gorgeous in person!” The server says, their smile kind and still just as warm, and your cheeks flush.

“Thank you,” you say shyly as you step forward to follow them. The blush deepens a bit when you think back to yesterday when Bakugo had commented on the photo and called you beautiful, even though it was just a simple selfie.

The server and yourself weave through tables and groups of people until you both reach a door with a gold plate that reads “VIP Seating” on it. The server slides a keycard through the handle and it beeps, signifying that it’s unlocked. They push it open, holding the door so that you can walk through, then they let it swing shut and wait a moment for it to lock again before proceeding to lead you to your table.

Looking around as you walk you notice that there are significantly less tables in this section of the restaurant and it doesn’t take you long to spot Bakugo. Your breath catches in your throat when you see him seated at the table leisurely sipping on what you think is whiskey on the rocks. He’s wearing a deep green button up with a black tie and a black vest, black slacks, and expensive-looking, glossy dress shoes. He looks stunning and you feel underdressed despite wearing your most expensive dress and a pair of pricey, name brand stilettos Akari let you borrow.

As you get lead closer to the table, Bakugo’s eyes stray from the window he was looking out of to scan the room. His gaze immediately catches on you and you watch his eyes widen a bit as they look your form up and down. You feel self-conscious but stifle a giggle as you watch him tug his collar a bit before he quickly moves to stand.

“Your table, ma’am! I’ll give you both some time to look over the menu but in the meantime, would you like something to drink?” The server says and you give them your drink order, then they’re off.

“Hi,” you say shyly as you look at Bakugo, your blush returning a bit.

“Hey,” he gently rasps out, his eyes still slowly roaming over your body causing your feelings of self-consciousness to return in full.

You look down at your dress and begin to nervously ramble, “I-I hope I dressed up enough.. you said this place was fancy, but I didn’t know it was this fan-”

“You look amazing,” Bakugo rushes out, effectively cutting you off, and your face practically catches fire. “Ah, uhm, let me get your chair for you.” He says in what you interpret as shyness, which you find adorable. As he walks around you to your chair your eyes catch on the pink tips of his ears, also freaking adorable, and you stifle yet another giggle.

He pulls out your chair and you thank him as you sit, scooching the chair toward the table with his assistance. ‘The brash Pro Hero Dynamight is actually such a gentleman, who knew?’ You playfully think to yourself as you watch him make his way back to his chair.

“You look pretty amazing yourself,” you say as a random bout of confidence hits your system. Your confidence and comfort only rises as you watch his cheeks begin to pinken. He sputters a bit before grumbling out a “thank you” and you let your giggle slip out this time around. He sends you what’s supposed to be a glare but the corners of his mouth tick up and there’s a playfulness in his eyes. The night rolls on with easy getting-to-know-each-other conversation, amazing food, and a comfortable atmosphere.

Everything is going so well, flowing so easily and feeling so right, but you’re still unsure if this is something you want to pursue further. It’s only when you get back to your car with Bak- Katsuki’s suit jacket over your shoulders, Katsuki wearing a mask and beanie that don’t match the rest of his attire at all, and he lowers the mask on his face to kiss you goodbye that your heart seems to stop as your brain comes to a startling realization..

You’re starting to fall, really hard, for this man.

~~~

To say that Izuku is emotionally, mentally, and physically wrung out would be an understatement. He and the rest of the team have spent day and night the last three days trying to find you with minimal success. Every building checked has turned up with nothing except more blood along with bloody bandage wraps, empty IV bags, and increased frustration. Not to mention the very few camera sightings of Shadow Step and his two accomplices, the sightings only being slivers of the man in the corners of the frames or glimpses of him slipping into shadows.

It doesn’t help that Izuku’s phone has been getting inundated with notifications from Katsuki, his childhood friend messaging or calling him every chance he gets between flights. Izuku has stopped answering Katsuki’s calls, though, simply because that every call is full of frustration-fueled screaming matches that end with gritted out apologies. The green-haired Hero feels for his friend, he really does, but he can only take so much of his yelling and berating. They’re not in school anymore and they’re actually friends now.

“This building is clear, Deku. No sign of them passing through here.” Kirishima reports as he walks up to Izuku, his face and tone heavy with tired frustration and sadness.

Izuku can feel his hold on One For All slip and green lightning radiates from his body as he struggles to keep from punching a wall, “Fuck!” He yells, his voice echoing throughout the room he was searching.

Kirishima lets out a heavy sigh and turns to leave, “C’mon man, lets go check out the next on-”

“I found them.” Tokage’s hushed voice crackles through the Comms, but it feels as though she shouted it into Izuku’s ear as her words ring through his brain. He just stands there shocked for a moment, briefly thinking that his overly exhausted mind is playing a cruel trick on him, before he dashes into action.

“Copy that. Pulling up your location now. Keep them in your sights, but keep hidden. All other Heroes and sidekicks start heading for Lizardy’s location.” Izuku commands as he moves as fast as he can out of the building, Kirishima just barely keeping up behind him.

On their way to Tokage’s location, Izuku had told Shinso and Jiro to wait for himself and Kirishima near a building about a block away from the target building. Izuku had also taken to using Blackwhip and Float in order to move faster, unfortunately having to use one of his Blackwhip tendrils to carry Kirishima. The red-haired Hero didn’t seem to mind this form of travel except for maybe the slight look of fear when he was initially lifted off of the ground.

The two get to the established meeting spot just after Shinso and his sidekicks, and they don’t have to wait but a minute longer for Jiro and her sidekicks to arrive. Izuku immediately hashes out a plan of attack, making it a priority for someone to get you first if they can.

“Everyone ready?” Izuku asks with eager determination and receives nods of confirmation filled with just as much determination. “Lizardy, do you copy?”

“Yes, I copy.” Tokage answers quietly.

“We’re set to get into position. Are they all still there?” Izuku asks as he nods at those around him, a silent command to get moving.

“Yes. Shadow Step is on his phone and his two lackeys are sleeping.” Tokage quietly reports.

“What about Y/N?” Izuku asks as his fear tries to override his Hero Mode.

“She’s tied up and on the floor in the West corner of the room. She appears to be sleeping as well, but Deku.. I don’t think she’s doing very well..” Tokage informs and her voice takes on a somber tone.

It takes incredible effort for Iuzku to shove down his emotions as he tries to keep himself together to complete the mission, but he manages to do it, “We’re all here, she’ll be fine. Lizardy, once everybody has confirmed their positions, I want you to send your hands into the room with a pair of Quirk canceling cuffs. Try to get them onto either Shadow Step’s wrists or ankles, then report if you managed to do so or not.” Izuku tells her as he reaches his position.

“Everyone else, if Lizardy succeeds, rush in immediately. If she isn’t successful, hold your positions and be ready for a chase.” Izuku quietly directs the others, receiving confirmations from the whole group.

“Alright, sending the cuffs in now.” Tokage whispers, her concentration on the task heard in her voice.

Izuku feels like he waits against the wall of his position forever, the Comms quiet and his heart racing a millions miles a minute. He notes just how dim it has gotten out and for the first time in his life he curses a sunset. His biggest fear right now is missing this opportunity because he knows that once the sun has set, Shadow Step will move you to another building. If he and the team lets that happen, then it’s back to square one and the possibility of getting you back alive practically diminishes.

There wouldn’t be enough time to hunt down Shadow Step, not with it already taking the team three whole days to find him now. Add that to the fact that Katsuki is only about halfway through his second to last flight back to Japan. Even if more Heroes were brought onto the case there just wouldn’t be enough fucking time.

The seconds tick by agonizingly slowly and Izuku has to fight the panic trying to grasp at his lungs. They have to save you. He has to save you. He doesn’t think Katsuki would be able to move past it if you died. Izuku isn’t even sure if he would be able to get past it if you died and he’s only friends with you. Katsuki, though, Katsuki was your boyfriend. He was and still is very serious about you as Izuku has come to find out. So serious that a month before Katsuki had found out that he was being sent on a mission he had bought a ring. A ring that you never had any idea about. A ring that Izuku only knows about because Katsuki drunkenly told him everything about your guys’ secret relationship a few nights before he shattered your heart. A ring that sits securely tucked away in a safe with the letter Katsuki had given Izuku the day he left for the mission.

So yeah, it’s safe to say that Izuku is feeling every ounce of pressure of making sure this massive opportunity is not fucking wast-

“The cuffs are on, everybody move in now!” Tokage shouts into the Comms and Izuku doesn’t hesitate for even a second rushing up the final flight of stairs that lead toward the room you’re being held in.

It’s pure chaos when Izuku bursts into the room, Shinso and Jiro right behind him with Kirishima trailing not too far behind them. Izuku bypasses Shadow Step’s lackeys as they rush the door, their adrenaline seemingly knocking away their sleep. Shinso and Jiro quickly garner their attention, fighting them to keep their attention away from helping their boss or getting to you.

Izuku finds Shadow Step lying on the ground with his ankles cuffed together. He almost counts it as a victory until he watches one of Shadow Step’s arms reach behind him, mostly likely trying to grab his gun. But he doesn’t get the chance to even touch the weapon because Izuku quickly restrains him with expertly controlled tendrils of Blackwhip. He manuvers Shadow Step so that he can cuff his wrists and secure the bastard’s gun.

“Who’s available to come take this bastard outside to wait for the police?” Izuku calls out, his eyes focused on your slumped and still form in the corner of the room.

“I got him, man. Go see if she’s okay.” Kirishima says after he’s finished helping Jiro cuff one of the lackeys.

Izuku waits until Shadow Step is firmly within Kirishima’s grip before rushing over to you. His stomach churns just looking at the state you’re in and stomach acid burns at the back of his throat when he gently puts his hands on your heated and shivering body.

“Y/N? Y/N, can you hear me? Come on, Y/N, wake up.” Izuku gently urges as he pushes the hair away from your face.

You let out a weak whimper, a string of whispered pleas to stop and to not hurt you anymore leaving your dry, cracked lips. Izuku’s heart breaks and he gently hushes you, telling you that it’s okay and that you’re being rescued.

“K-Kats? Y-you fou-found m-me?” You stutter out weakly, your breaths labored and your eyes still closed as Izuku holds your head up for you.

“It’s Izuku, Y/N.. Kacchan isn’t back yet, but he’s on his way, I promise. He’s trying to get back as fast as possible.” Izuku quietly tells you through his tears as he cuts the ropes off of you.

You don’t register Iuzku’s words, your infection-induced delirium and barely conscious state not letting you grasp his words, “I-I st-ill love y-you, Kats.. Do yo-you..” You don’t get to finish your question before you pass out, but Izuku can guess what you were going to ask.

A strangled sob leaves his mouth before he reigns himself back in and gently wraps his arms around you, “He does, Y/N. He does still love you.” He whispers out as he carefully stands with your limp form in his arms.

~~~

It takes a few days of being in the hospital’s ICU being pumped full of meds before you wake up with any sort of clarity. You couldn’t have any visitors because of the risk of an exposure to anything that would worsen your condition. It’s not like you would have remembered anyone visiting you if they could have, you were unconscious practically the whole time between the meds and your body being so weak.

But today you wake up of your own volition and it’s the best you’ve felt in what feels like years. The world doesn’t have a delirious haze over it, the pain in your shoulder and head have reduced down to dull aches, and your appetite has returned if the pang in your stomach is anything to go off of. You slowly reach your good arm out to press the call nurse button when the door suddenly bursts open causing you to flinch back and pain radiates through your body.

Katsuki’s angry tone slams rather than floats into the room with the opening of the door, “I’m done fuckin’ waitin’! Doc said she would probably wake up feeling better today since her healin’ has been on track, so I’m fuckin’ seein’ my girlfrie- Holy shit, you’re already awake?” He asks in disbelief when he finally looks at you.

“Just woke up,” You say quietly, your voice hoarse from lack of use and you cough a bit. Apparently the nurse that had been trying to keep Katsuki out of your room is just as shocked that you’re awake and lucid because it takes Katsuki demanding that she go get some water to knock her from her trance. She glares at Katsuki for a moment before telling you that she’s going to go get you some water and tell the doctor that you’re awake.

The door closes and the room fills with heavy silence, the only sounds interrupting the silence being your heart monitor and breathing. Katsuki just stares at you and when you can’t stand meeting his gaze any longer you look down at your lap. The hand of your good arm fidgets with the thin hospital blanket pooled at your waist as too many emotions whirlwind around your brain and heart.

“Can I, uh, is it okay if I sit?” Katsuki asks hesitantly and you almost want to say no, but you’ve never been good at saying no to him.

“Sure,” you say quietly and nearly regret it because with every step he takes toward the chair next to your bed, you feel the dam you didn’t know you had up within you crack. Your hand grips the blanket tightly when he sits and your eyes start stinging. You can feel the heavy weight of Katsuki’s gaze on you but you know that if you meet it the dam will completely crumble and you’re already trying so hard not to cry.

The silence that has settled back over the two of you is broken when the nurse comes into the room with a cup and a pitcher of water, “Alright, hon, here’s some water. Sip slowly, okay? Also, the doctor should be by within the next hour to see if you’re ready to transfer out of the ICU.” She says sweetly as she sets the water and the cup down on the bedside table.

She looks between you and Katsuki for a moment before asking, “You sure you want him in here right now, hon?” Concern coloring her features when she sees the shine of tears in your eyes, both of you ignoring the irritated sigh that leaves Katsuki.

“Yes, I’m sure, thank you. I’ll hit the button if I need anything.” You say with a small smile and take a couple sips of water.

“Okay, hon. Remember, small sips.” She says before she’s out of the room, the door slowly shutting once more.

“Y/N, I..” Katsuki starts and your hand tightens around the cup at his soft, saddened tone. “I don’t know where to start.. I’m so fuckin’ sorry-”

“You weren’t there,” You whisper out before you can stop yourself, tears finally tipping over the edges of your lash lines.

“I-I know, Baby-” He tries to butt in, his voice already wrecked and guilt-ridden, but you cut him off again.

“N-no, you weren’t there, Katsuki. You left for that mission and you weren’t in the apartment anymore. Not you, not your stuff. You weren’t there.” You continue, crying as you speak. “S-so I couldn’t be there either. For four months I slept on Akari’s couch, or in Izuku’s guest room, or in a hotel room. I-I even fell asleep at my desk at work a few times. You weren’t home, so I wasn’t either. For four months that apartment sat empty, void of people, un-until I-I decided t-to-” Your sentence hangs in the air incomplete as your breathing picks up at the bits of memories of what had happened that day flash across your mind.

“Fuck.. Y/N, Sweetheart? Breathe, Sweetheart. C’mon, take some deep breaths for me Baby, please.” Katsuki tries verbally coaching you through your panic attack but, much to his overwhelming concern, it isn’t working.

“Dammit, c-can I touch you? Is that okay, Sweetheart?” He desperately asks and all you can do is nod your head. Katsuki is quick to rise from his chair to carefully slide himself onto the bed. Being hyper aware of your healing injuries, he gathers you up into his arms and takes your hand into his, gently squeezing it.

“Okay, Baby, remember how we used to do this? Listen for my breaths and focus your attention on our hands.” He rasps softly, then begins taking slow and even deep breaths as his hand gently squeezes yours to the rhythm.

A few long-feeling minutes go by before your breaths even out and you’re left crying into his chest. He stays quiet, soothingly rubbing your back and lightly resting his head against yours, as he waits for your crying to subside. An additional five minutes later, your cries are little more than quiet sniffles and stray tears rolling down your face.

There’s a long moment of not-quite-silence before you speak again, “Izuku had convinced me that I should go back-”

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to talk about it if you’re not rea-”

Cutting each other’s sentences off seemed to be the theme of today and while you would normally just let someone speak, you needed Katsuki to hear this. You needed to tell him what had happened the day you were taken and..

“But I don’t blame him for what happened. He hadn’t told me to go back that same day, he just said that I should do it soon. Suggested that I go back to the apartment and do whatever I wanted to reclaim the space as my own so that I would stop thinking of it as ours. I know that he didn’t have any ill-intent behind the suggestion. I wasn’t doing very well, Kats, and I know that he was worried. He was just trying to help me bounce back.” You say quietly and pause for a brief moment to just listen to the sound of Katsuki’s heartbeat.

Katsuki remained quiet, surprisingly enough, so you continued on, “So when I left his place that day, I went back to Akari’s and gathered my stuff, then drove home. I know that I should have messaged him. I know that I should have at least brought Akari with me, though I’m glad that I didn’t.. Wh-when I got there, Kats, the door was cracked open and..” You trail off as you mentally berate yourself for being so stupid.

“Sweethe-”

“..and I pushed it open because I’m that fucking stupid! I just walked inside like finding your apartment door broken open is fucking normal and that’s when I saw one of Sh-Shadow S-Step’s guys in the living room.. Do you know what I did next, Katsuki? I just fucking stood there! I didn’t scream, I didn’t run, I just stood there like a fucking moron! That’s when, either the other guy or Shadow Step himself, hit me in the back of my head and I blacked out.” You push on with your retelling of the events, Katsuki’s hold on you growing a bit tighter.

“Baby, just-”

Tears begin rapidly falling down your face again and a sob leaves your mouth, “I-I’m s-so s-sorry, Kats! I-I’m so f-fucking sorry! I-I-I di-dn’t mean t-to wor-ry eve-everyone! I-I j-just-”

“Y/N, stop.” Katsuki says firmly, his face pained as he gently forces you to look at him. “You are absolutely fucking not going to blame yourself for getting fucking taken by that guy, do you hear me?” His voice cracks as he speaks and you notice the glisten of tears in his eyes.

“If you want to pin blame on somebody, then pin it on that bastard, Shadow Step. Pin it on the dumbfucks who let him escape prison. Pin it on me.. Fucking pin it on me for leaving you the way that I did because maybe if I hadn’t.. Maybe you wouldn’t have ended up nearly dying! I’m the one who should be fucking sorry, Y/N, and I am! I am so fucking sorry and whatever I could possibly do to make it up to you, just tell me and I’ll do it! Please, Baby, I love you so much, I’m sorry.”

You’re both crying by the time Katsuki finishes, holding onto each other tightly as tidal waves of emotions slam into you both. Your heart breaks as you listen to the man you love sob into your shoulder and you pray to the universe that you never hear it again as you cling to him.

“I haven’t and I never will blame you for this, Katsuki. You couldn’t see it coming as much as I couldn’t.. But I’m okay now. I’m alive and safe and I love you too, Kats, so much.” You tearfully stutter over sobs, and Katsuki lifts his head to look at you.

He cradles your face in his hands, his thumbs wiping away your tears as best he can, “I know we’re both kind of gross from crying-” he softly starts and you can’t help the huff of wet laughter that leaves your lips.

He attempts to glare at you but his face is too soft, too loving, for it to pack any sort of heat, “-but, would it be okay if I kissed you?” He finishes, pink dusting his cheeks a bit and a small, wobbly smile on his lips.

“Have I ever made you ask for permission before?” You weakly tease as you lean in toward him. He meets you halfway, slotting his lips against yours without adding in any sassy comeback beforehand.

In that moment, it’s like you come alive again, like you’re home. It may have only been four months without him, but with everything else that happened stacked on top of those four months, you could have been convinced that it was a lifetime. Sure, you have some things that you’re going to have to work through, both with Katsuki and yourself. There’s definitely going to have to be some work put in by both of you to rebuild trust and you’re most definitely going to have to get some therapy to help work through the shit you went through getting kidnapped.

But for right now, you let yourself sink into the feelings of home, safety, and Katsuki’s love.

~~~

{A few months later}

“Izuku, I’m telling you right now that if I trip over something one more time because of this whole ‘put on this blind fold and I’ll guide you’ bullshit, I’m going to lose it and you will be the victim of that wrath.” You grit out half-jokingly when you stumble for the fifth time since this endeavor started.

Izuku laughs, obviously not taking your threat as seriously as he should, and helps to steady you, “I promise you that we’re almost there! Also, do you really think that I would let you get hurt? Kacchan would kill me- awff!”

Izuku lets out a weird noise as your elbow meets his stomach and now it’s your turn to laugh, “What the hell even was that? Oh my god, that was funny! Okay, back to business, we’re almost where, exactly?” You question in hopes that he’ll actually tell you this time.

“Nope. Elbows to the stomach aren’t as effective as you may think, but nice try! All you need to know is that we’re almost there!” Izuku answers all too cheerfully for your taste and a pout forms on your lips.

After an indeterminate amount of time continuing on this lovely nature walk, you’re assuming it’s lovely since you can’t freaking see, Izuku finally lets you know that it’s coming to an end, “Alrighty, just around the bend here.. And look at that, there’s Kacchan!” He excitedly exclaims and you fight the urge to elbow him again.

“Izuku, I can’t see anything, I’m fucking blindfolded.” You state in the most unamused tone you can muster. You hear two huffs from two different directions, each depicting two different emotions. One of them is the little pouty huff Izuku does when someone gets snarky with him and the other is the huff of laughter you know so well to be Katsuki’s.

“Kats, Izuku made me put on this blindfold and then he tried to kill me multiple times on the way here.. Wherever ‘here’ is.” You whine at your boyfriend, your lips forming back into a pout to hide the playful smirk tugging at them.

“He wouldn’t let anything happen to you, Sweetheart. His whole career is based on keeping people from getting hurt, plus he knows that I would kill him.” Katsuki says matter of factly and you can hear the mirth in his voice.

Behind you, Izuku makes a triumphant noise like he won something, “See! I told you- awff! Dammit, stop doing that!” Izuku makes the hilariously weird noise again after you elbow him in the stomach, again, and you can’t help the evil little giggle that leaves your mouth.

“Alright Sweetheart, stop abusing the nerd,” Katsuki says after he’s done laughing. “And do me a favor, yeah? Step forward about six steps, and before you say anything, no you aren’t going to trip on anything.”

Taking a brief moment to flip Katsuki the bird for his teasing, you hesitantly begin to step forward. You count the steps in your head since Katsuki was weirdly specific about it, then stop when you’ve taken the sixth step. You are beyond confused about what the hell is going on here, but you trust Katsuki so don’t question anything aloud.

“Hmm.. actually, take one more step forward.” Katsuki says in a quieted and calculating tone, he sounds closer to you now and that supplies more questions in your mind. Regardless, you take one more step, then just stand in place, your hands fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

“Now, turn around.” Katsuki says and you can hear a bit of nervousness enter his voice.

“Kats, what’s going on? Are you oka-” You ask concernedly and your hands come up to peel off the blindfold.

“Don’t! Ah, j-just, don’t take that off yet.. please.. And, could you just turn around? Please?” He asks and you can hear his nerves turning into slight irritation, so you mumble out a ‘sorry’ then turn around.

You hear a bit of shuffling behind you and you begin to feel genuine concern and anxiety about what situation you three could possibly be in. After about a minute of shuffling noises and small grunts from behind you, Izuku’s voice pipes up from a bit of a distance in front of you.

“Okay, Y/N, you can take off the blindfold now.” He calls out and you breathe a sigh of relief as you pull the cloth off of your face.

You blink a bit against the bright rays of sunlight and when your vision adjusts you see Izuku making a “turn around” motion with one of his hands. His other hand is holding up what looks to be Katsuki’s phone, the front pointed at you as if he’s taking a video. You send him a look of utter confusion as his hand motion gets more urgent and his smile grows wider.

Hesitantly, you turn around and what you see has you gasping with tears immediately spring to your eyes.

Katsuki is down on one knee with a maroon colored velvet box clasped in his hands looking nervous as hell but wearing a handsome, genuinely happy smile on his face. Behind him, just past the ledge you both are near, is a breathtaking view of a canyon full of lush greenery and a river running right down the middle of it. Bringing both of your hands up to your mouth, you try to wrap your head around what’s happening.

“Y/N L/N, you have been the most consistent thing on my mind since the very first time I saw you. The day we met in that little cafe there was something about you that wouldn’t shake itself from my thoughts. I don’t know if it was your smile, your cheesy charm, or the way you treated me like I was just a normal customer, but you’ve had me hooked since then.” He pauses for a moment when a tearful giggle leaves your lips from his teasing little dig and you melt at the adoration in his eyes.

“I tried my damndest not to fall for you, especially when you had mentioned you didn’t think you could handle a lifestyle like mine, but with every conversation we had, you had me wrapped around your small ass finger more and more. I know that I’m difficult and I’ve fucked up, but you keep loving me. It’s probably one of the most terrifying things I’ve ever encountered in my life, but it’s also the most incredible.” Katsuki’s emotional staring is so intense and you almost want to shy away. You're a blubbering mess by now, absolutely drowning in his affectionate speech, and he keeps going.

“What we have is something that I’m never going to try to get rid of.. again..” Guilt flashes across his features when he says this even though you both have worked through it you know that he still beats himself up over it. But his happiness comes back in the blink of an eye and he continues, “So this is me tying ya down, Sweetheart. I love you, Y/N, more than I ever thought possible for someone like myself.”

He pauses one more time, his eyes darting down to the box in his hands as he opens it and presents it to you, his loving gaze meeting yours, and what he says next is the most “Katsuki” thing you think he could say in a moment like this..

“Y/N L/N, my Sweetheart, will ya fuckin’ marry me or what?”

Your laughter mixes with your happy crying as you fall to your knees, every form of “yes” you can think of at this moment spilling from your lips as he slips the ring onto your finger. Cheering is heard from Izuku as you pull Katsuki in for a passionate kiss, your heart so incredibly full that it feels like it’ll burst.

Katsuki is the first one to pull away from the kiss and he faces toward Izuku, raising your left hand into the air triumphantly, “We’re gettin’ fuckin’ married!!” He shouts and it echoes down the canyon along with the cheers from Izuku and yourself. Joyous warmth fills your chest and all you can think about is how Y/N Bakugo has such a delicious ring to it.

Note ~ Lovelies.. this fic definitely made me have.. feelings. Nothing even close to how emotional I was when I wrote One Life After Another, Forvermore but still, feeelliinngggsss lol. I really do hope that you enjoyed the read, though! And if there are any typos or errors please point them out because I finished and posted this fic to here on literally zero hours of sleep. I really do be just running off of nicotine and sheer fucking will lmao. Anyway, if you read past this note you will be entering "extended ending" territory, so just beware because it's sad. Big sad. I also may be overdramatizing it, but y'all can let me know. I love and appreciate you, Lovelies! <3

Alternate/Extended Ending

The image of you, Katsuki and Izuku fades out until the emptiness that surrounded you when you first ended up here comes back. You’re on your knees as gut-wrenching sobs rip themselves from your chest. If there is a god, just how cruel of a being is he if he’s willing to show you how your life would have played out if you didn’t die? Does he get some kind of sick joy out of making you watch a movie of everything you ever could have dreamed of obtaining if you had just survived.

If you would have lived, would have kept breathing for maybe five minutes longer, the day they found where Shadow Step was hiding you then you could have had all of that. But you didn’t live. You didn’t survive. You died slumped against that wall mere minutes before Izuku came bursting through that damn doorway. Your body had just given up, so fucking pathetically too.

You had stood near your body watching Izuku sob as he performed CPR and you had screamed for him to bring you back. You watched him nearly kill the paramedic as they tried to, respectfully, pull your lifeless body away from Izuku to put it into a bodybag. You watched as the “ever-smiling” Hero Deku held your cold, dead hand the entire way to the morgue with nothing more than a disconnected look on his face.

Later that night, you watched the love of your life stand next to your body with tears streaming down his face as he ran a finger down your cheek. You watched as his face contorted into horrified disbelief and he stumbled over to a trash can in the corner of the room just barely making it there before he threw up whatever was in his stomach. You watched as the man you loved with your entire being cursed, screamed, cried, and destroyed the room until he was on his knees beside where your body laid. You watched as Katsuki screamed at your body that he was sorry, that he loves you, and that he wishes that it was him that was dead. You watched as your Katsuki hoarsely begged you to come back to him even though within his ever-logical brain, he knew that it wasn’t possible for you to come back.

You had never known what happened after someone died.

And now that you do know?

You wouldn’t wish this upon your worst enemy.

Not even on the man that sent you here in the first place.

Tag List ~ @bri-mercado-00 @queenpiranhadon @feral-ratatattat-king

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fandomobbsessedb · 3 months

Text

Alastor x F!Overlord!Reader

AN: this is the result of the first poll I posted, Alastor won so here we are!

I’ve kinda broken this into two bits in this one shot, there’s a warning farther down if you want to keep within the ideas of “headcannon” but farther below I have the start of a story, I got a bit carried away and am too far gone to delete it.

⚠️Warnings: mentions of blood, death, weapons, smoking, maybe 1 instance of cannibalism ( but its more in the sense of revenge rather than a canabalistic reader) (idk man it’s hell if your triggered don’t read 😭) this is really long already so I might just break it up or continue it to make a part 2. I have a LOOOOOOT of references in here to so many things, if you guys can pick up on them leave a comment and I’ll tag list you in my next fic if you want! Or don’t I honestly couldn’t care less it’s just for fun :p

Reader is referred to with afab terms.

Pt2-

================================

• In your life you tried to stay on “the right” path. Your parents raised you right, you tried your hardest to be nice, and where always on your best behavior, but after getting the short end of the stick for too long you kinda… loose it.

• You ended up in hell after a night out partying with some of your most valued clients, when you went to drive yourself home the heel of your stiletto got stuck under the gas pedal, as you tried to pull it out you took your eyes off the road and 💥 BAM 💥 you where hit by a large grocer truck.

•Opening your eyes to a red wasteland, the bright flash of lights and the smell of brimstone flood your senses. Looking down to try and gather your bearings you notice your whole body wasn’t (skn/tn) anymore… it was marble grey?

“Where… where am I?” I mumbled under my breath, trying to gather my surroundings, a bright flashing catches my eyes, a gigantic neon sign in the sky gives me my anwser…

“Welcome to Hell!!!”

“Hell…. I’M DEAD?!!!!” I groaned out through barred teeth and stood to my feet, looking around I saw definite signs, this was Hell alright. A blood red sky, fires everywhere, little sinners running around stabbing and shooting one another.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME, ALL MY WORK, MY SHOPPING EMPIRE, MY CLOSET, MY AWARDS, MY EVERYTHING, RAAAAAAHHH!!!” In my anger I grabbed the nearest sinner and threw them to the ground, putting my foot between their shoulder blades and grabbing their arms.

“You’re gonna tell me right now, what the hell is going on, WHY AM I DEAD AND HERE-” I shouted in their ear, seeing blood come out… oh shit I probably burst their ear drum… oh well, I’ve done that plenty of times to my assistants.

“D-d-do you mean, like in hell, or or just this area?” They questioned nervously. To be fair they were a scrawny little thing…

“What in the-“ I paused to look around, then referred back to this little shit “actually HELL are you talking about?”

“W-w-well, you must, *gulp* you must be new here, huh?” It asked with a weary smile and a weak little laugh, probably trying to ease the tension. “Well, down… down here, we uh, we have overlords who- who rule certain areas, we’re in Ms.Leefolt’s t-t-t-territory right now, I mean, our king Lucifer, Lucifer and Lilith Morningstar rule all of hell…”

“Well, that certainly is… intresting.” I smirk and stand up, releasing his arms but not letting my foot off his back. “So these, overlords… are they appointed by your king, or born into or something?” I question with a sharp red nail in between my teeth, thinking…

“No, no ma’am just, just anyone who’s ballsy enough to, to, take over enough territory and have enough demons- sell them their souls in exchange for something. Umm- if it’s not too much of a bother, could you let me go… I- I can feel my ribs crushing under me…” it started wheezing out and trying to get a hand under its chest to place a barrier between their chest and the ground.

“Hm, well if that’s all true, I can’t let some little thing like you going around gossiping about me.” I growled looking down at this freak… pressing my heel into his spine harder.

“No! No please, I won’t say a thing I promise!! Just let me go, please… pleas-“

SPLAT-

“Whoops, my bad, I slipped.” I reasoned, pulling my now bloody leg out of his torso.

“Ohh, eeeeeew eweweweweweweeew, I’ve got bits of his, ugh, lung on my heels.” Flicking away the bits of organ from my shoes, I take a breath and another look around but this time in a planning sense. Overlords huh, well, I’ll just have to see how much this ‘miss leefolt’ likes the taste of arsenic, I wonder when the last time she had a homemade pie was….

• So of course to establish some dominance in my new living arrangement, I gutted that bitch from the inside out. I took her territory, her power, her souls, even her manor. When I went to her office to kill her I found the deed to her house and all the contracts of sinners who gave her their souls in a pretty shittily hidden safe.

• I mean, I had to work so hard to build my life up just for a stupid grocer to end it all, so this is fine… right?

• The years go by and the world changes, you became one of the most powerful and influential overlords in hell, re-establishing your power once held on earth to a business in hell. Rosie and Velvet quickly becoming your closest friends, Velvet in a more business sense and Rosie being your go to gossip gal. Both of you having elegant and refined tastes. You and Husk became friends over talking shit in a casino one night, and remained friends after his downfall. He talks to you about this, radio demon, from time to time but you haven’t heard much of him

Little do you know he knows almost everything about you~

• Your walking around Cannibal Town one day waiting for Rosie to finish a meeting, watching children run around and little carts selling all kinds of body related snacks.

I lost a bit of my sense of surrounding and almost tripped on a kid running around with his friend throwing a head back and fourth.

"Jerermy! Stop playing with your lunch and apologize to that nice lady you almost ran into."

"Sorry miss, I didn't mean too." He said looking down at the head ashamedly, then offering me a piece of the cheek. "Would you like some of this face? It's really good." He looked up at me with an excited look. "Oh thank you, but I'm waiting for lunch with my friend, I'll go to the butcher and get some though, it looks really good." I smiled my pointy teeth at him, patted his head and motioned him back to his mother, she waved to me and I nodded my head back, thinking it was time for Rosie to be done by now.

"My my, with your reputation of anger issues I would assume you would tear that poor child into bits upon realization." A staticky voice spoke behind me, tilting my head back but not my body as I don't know who it is. I look him up and down, his outfit and cane/staff thingy give off quite the powerful impression. "My, mhm, reputation?" I pester raising my eyebrow.

"Ah-hahahaha, My name's Alastor, its quite a pleasure to finally meet you in person." He introduced reaching for the back of my hand to place a kiss. Him saying his name reminded me, I too finally recognized the name. "Oh, Rosie has told me much about you." The radio demon, his names been brought up many times around cannibal town since he frequented their shops and small town locals.

"Oh yes, Rosie is one of my dearest friends" He replied linking our elbows and started walking towards the shop. "Mine as well, she is quite the darling, so let me ask you now, where you just standing there when I got to the park, or where you going to follow me in silence since I left the emporium~" He didn't stutter in his step but my revelation made the air feel a bit more, weary on his side. Reaching into my hand purse I grabbed my lipstick and hand mirror and paused my walk to apply a touch more. Looking just past my lips in the reflection I saw his eyes in the back corner snap to my down, then back up to my eyes with a tight smile. "Well, are you coming? I know Rosie hates to be kept waiting." I snapped it shut and outreached my elbow waiting for him to link his so that we could start the traverse back to Rosie's.

• After our little group luncheon with Rosie, Alastor and you didn't verbally indicate that you were closer in any sense. But physically you swayed like two tree's. Brushing branches back and fourth with the breeze, restless and apart yet labeled as "together"

• You started doing weekly business deals, him acquiring land and souls for you, and all he asked in returns is he uses that land and those souls as he pleases. Which honestly isn't a lot. When he pulls people or their shadows to come help at the hotel- their mostly your people but he always sends them back to whence they came.

• He likes to pretend he doesn't necessarily care for being around you, however he's always looking for time you two can be together, or even thinking of each other. On his radio show he'll mention new shopping, eating, entertainment locations on your turf. He knows you listen when your able to. Sometimes he uses his power to let his station be the only one playing where ever you are. In the car, in a shopping store, you could be sitting in the bathroom and it would get to the point where you can hear it from the vents. Making you roll your eyes and finish your business so you could get to your office to listen to the radio.

• Truth be told... you where falling to his whims as well. Alastor didn't necessarily have "territory" but many places in one area he had influence in and quite often frequented. When you had rips or damage to your very expensive very delicacy clothing you would walk with him to the seamstress, and afterwards you would often get tea or lunch together. Maybe he knows a good diner or two and ya’ll will sit there and eat, then get a milkshake (mostly bc you wanted one, he just indulges to make you happy though he doesn’t care for the cold sweet taste) and drink it through two straws, awwwwwwwwwwwwe!!

• When either of you knew of prestigious events happening around you invite the other to be your plus one. You go shop together to find outfits for the occasion. You started attending overlord meetings together, with yourself sat on the opposite side of Rosie, sending each other glances and touches under the table whenever Rosie wasn't looking or walked away for a brief moment. At the events you stay close together and often stand away from the crowd, whispering and gossiping together, allowing yourself a to drink silly, little do you know how well he can hold his liquor and often will be the one making sure YOU get home. Sometimes you wake up still dressed, like the gentleman he is, and sometimes you’ll wake up in some red pajama set…. Like the gentleman he is, he’s not gonna let you sleep in an uncomfortable outfit. But he’s respectful about it.

• He often send subliminal messages through your radio to help you fall asleep, to push you to coming to see him, to maybe just stay in your town if he knew something really bad was going on outside. His favorite to do is when your falling asleep he’ll play the calmest songs from his time to comfort you as you drift off.

• When he officially asked to court you he compared you to the beautiful crimson of the sky, saying your cheeks where more bright and delightful to gaze at then the morning sky, when it was particularly bright. All kinds of poetic gestures, sending crows to your windows, sending your gifts of bodies with knives in them, and the knives had small notes left for you on some quote from a book you like. Now how he knows those are your favorite books are beyond you…. you don’t talk about your books much but, maybe he’s seen you reading it at some random point in time? Who knows, not you.

• He’s all in all not a bad partner, of course when you want to go out he usually goes along with what you want to do but if there’s something he refuses to do, his claws are sinking into your arms to keep you from dragging him to do it.

• His smile is genuine around you and you adore when he lets you pet his ears~ he’s not that intimate early on in the relationship but when your just sitting on a couch or watching the sun set from somewhere and you just reach over and pet his ears, he is putty in your hands, physically he keeps his compose fairly well but inside he’s willing to do anything to keep you touching his ears, telling himself he would sell YOU his soul if it meant you wouldn’t stop, petting his ears and helping him groom his antlers, don’t even get me started on the tail… oh wait he’s already got something going on with that… well darn… hopefully you will keep accepting his caring actions rather than push them away.

——-STOP reading here if you don’t want to get into the more “story line” of this idea, if you want more of a story KEEP READING——-

• One night some sinner had gotten into your liquor stash and drank himself ditzy, you chased him into an ally way, looking to end his fucking life. Most of those where gifts from clients that most likely had aphrodisiacs and at the time where trying to get down your pants, but he drank from one of the few special bottles Alastor had gifted you and you went ballistic. You ended up catching him and killing him, and taking a tip from Rosie and ripped some of his limbs off, letting yourself indulge in the taste of warm, liquor filled blood. When you came too you realized you didn't know where you had chased him. Now covered in blood, liquor, rain, mud and whatever mess you stepped in on your way over. Seeing the iluminating lights of the sign for the Hazbin Hotel, your only thought was to try and get to Alastor.

*knock knock knock*

*creeeeeeeeeeeeeeek*

"Oh! Oh my gosh, hi! Come in Come in. " An ecstatic girl ushered you inside, making a towel appear seemingly out of nowhere and helping you dry off. "I'm Charlie, whats your name?"

"Oh, how rude of me" I respond trying to shake off my chills, my nose starts to get a bit runny. "Uhm I'm Y/N, I don't mean to sound intrusive- uh is Alastor here?" I ask hesitantly, not wanting to just barge in but after the night I've had I wasn't in too much of a mood for pleasantries.

"Oh yes! Here, why don't you sit at the bar, have some tea or water or something and I'll run up to his radio tower." She sat me down at a bar stool and walked away. The bartender was turned around already whipping me up something.

"So he's got you wrapped up here huh?" I inquired with a smirk, resting my hands under my chin and trying to keep a little composure. His wings ruffled a little bit before he reached for my favorite hell made brand of brandy, my cotten candy brandy, I'm not one for sweets but I love the zing it gives you. The kind where you loose your vision for a good 7 seconds.

"You haven't usually been one to be a stranger, what gives?" Husk asked turning around handing me my drink and a bowl of pretzels.

"Well when I saw you weren't at your usual gambling tables I didn't think to question it, thought you where maybe getting more chips... ooooor hooking up in the chip room.... ooooor selling even MORE of your soul, if that's even possible, maybe like your wings or your feathers or, like your body as a human shield in the next extermination, never thought you'd be here slinging drinks." I shrugged swirling my drinks around the glass before taking a sip.

Before he could respond he took a bit of a step back and growled really low and deep in his throat.

"Ah yes well he owed me a favor and since I took an investment in this hotel I needed a little work on it done." Alastor came up behind me with a warm towel wrapping it around my shoulders as the one Charlie gave me was wrapped around my waist keeping my legs warm... unfortunatly the sinner got caught at a bad time, I was in the middle of 'me time' before bed and was in my good silk nighty. Glad I walked to my office with my fuzzy robe and ballet slippers. I feel really warm and fuzzy, my heads all….. comfy now… is that static coming from Alast-

"Oh deerest your all wet, would you like to come up and I can help you clean up." He asked you shaking the towel on your shoulders helping you sit up. "Oh yes please" you responded looking at him with sad tired eyes.

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-

I took a sip of the warm tea Alastor had made me and laid back in the bath, taking it all in. I WAS just planning a quiet evening in at home, maybe snack on some treats I got in the Gluttony ring, watch some hells soap operas. Now I’m here, in my beau’s bathroom, relaxing… maybe I can convince him to let me up to his radio tower to listen to his late night show live, oh that would be fun. I wonder what it looks like up there? I’ve only ever seen his actual town house… a little ways away from town-

*CRASH *

“What the fuck?!” I sat up so fast I almost slipped, sitting on my butt… in the tub…. Shit did he spike my tea?

“Alastor? Is everything okay?” I asked loudly. Standing up carefully keeping three points of contact with the tub and the floor. I reached for a different robe he had given me, a soft red fluffy one, with (what I hope is faux ) fur along the collar and wrists.

Walking towards the bathroom door very carefully I cautiously reached for the shiny silver handle. Telling myself it’s okay but feeling a sense of dread in the pit of my stomach, and the handle was the top of the pit…

“Alastor?” I called out again, once more not getting an answer, bringing my hands to my mouth when I heard a large thump out there, trying to keeping my composure… oh what the hell they know I’m here already. I went to turn the handle what the door got pushed in, had I been able to see what happened I would’ve seen Alastor in his demonic form and it probably would’ve scared the actual shit outta me… but NOPE

I went to open the door when it got pushed open and a bright blue flash covered all of my vision and made me feel… kinda tried… but I’m awake, almost like I’m not in my body… it’s… really hard……. To keep my….. keep my eyes …………………………….………open…….

• You collapsed to the floor slowly breathing, in a trance, feeling some sharper claws pick you up bridal style, if you weren’t so dazed out you would see Alastor frozen in time… like a paused TV… unable to get to you, or subdue your captor. You still had enough conscience to hear a muffled voice talking to a phone~

“Yeah we got her… foil chains worke—“

“Get her ba-“

“…. Longer you take the quicker……….. flasher wears-“

• Last thing you could remember hearing before completing falling out was a radio scramble in your brain, the sound going from a hollow scraggly to a tight scraggle- like turning the tv in between stations………

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AN: WELLLLL WHAT DID YA THINK???? Did you skip to down here or did you read the WHOLE thing. I really hope ya’ll like this, I’m so excited to make part 2, and maybe 3 or 4 depending on how far this goes.

Thank you to anyone who reads this and interacts in any way shape or form!!! Even if it’s just reading :) HOPE YOU HAVE A GOOD DAY AND REMEMBER

REALITY IS AN ILLUSION, THE UNIVERSE IS A HOLOGRAM BUY GOLD BYYYYYYEEEEEE

#headcannons #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel rosie #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel angst #hazbin hotel oneshots #short story #part 2?

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