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jjongslutz · 10 months ago

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이희승 HEESEUNG 💋 YOU'RE STILL A VIRGIN? [ MDNI. ]

IN WHICH you realize you never completed your most important new year's resolution: losing your virginity. luckily, your roommate is willing to help you out with that

WARNINGS ⨯ smut, porn with a smidge of plot for context, not proofread cuz who needs that, fingering, orgasm denial (briefly), missionary, very vanilla sex, heeseung's kinda awkward #pathetic_men

WORD COUNT ⨯ 3.1k

AUTHOR'S NOTE . . . first work of the year!! sorry for taking an impromptu break so suddenly, but my works will still be coming out slowly as of now, so thank you for your patience 🫶

# TAGLIST ! @wonkifangirl @chlorinecake @sunjaywoning @jaeyunthejakesim @deobitifull @notevenheretbh1 @jvngw0nlvr @jongszn @ineedsomezzz @haelahoops @seongslutt @fakeuwus @leeheeheeseung @aheewonenthusiast @lprww @wonsbaer @heeseungssidechick @smisworld @rayofsunshineeee @starrypen @heerated @snwosgf @nycapartmentsworld @sooyeonvida @dear-hoon @nikiiitties

“We never finished sharing our new year’s resolutions.”

You stop mid-bite into your pancakes. You and Heeseung had spent all morning making them, finally testing out the new oven you got after the last one broke down during another pancake morning. It survived, luckily. There’s only the taste-test left, but Heeseung’s comment catches you so off guard, you put the fork back down.

“New year’s resolutions?” you repeat. “You mean the ones from basically last year?”

He nods, shoving his first bite in. He hums at the taste. Success. “Yeah, we made those lists and started sharing but then—” Heeseung tilts and quirks his brow in thought. “—I can’t even remember. We probably got distracted, but either way, we never made sure we both completed our lists.”

Chuckling awkwardly, you keep your eyes on the plate. “I don’t even know if I still have mine—”

“I do,” Heeseung interrupts. “We put them in that box, remember? I found it this morning, that’s why I thought to bring them up, ha.”

“You didn’t, er, read them, did you?”

Heeseung shakes his head, chewing through another bite. “I thought it’d be fun to go through them and see what we’ve done or not.” He lightly taps his fork around his plate. “We’ve got a few days before the new year starts, no plans, I don’t know…”

“No, no, yeah, I get it,” you assure, nodding quickly. “I just, um, they were stupid. I was stupid. This year changed me, you know?”

Your roommate looks at you with a teasing glint in his eye. “Oh yeah?” He watches you nod again. “All the more reason to get them.” And before you know it, he’s rushing to his room to, you assume, get the box he’d mentioned earlier.

It’s not long before he’s practically skipping back into the kitchen-dining area bringing the box. Tossing his plate aside, he sets the box in between you two and sits back down. You’re anxious at how he unfolds the lid and pulls out two sheets of crumpled paper.

“Yours was the one with the rip at the top,” you say, reading the questions in his mind. Your face flushes as you realize that’ll only prompt him to take it out the other first.

He smiles at you before hiding his face behind the paper. He begins to read it out loud. “Resolution one: Learn how to make (good) pancakes—” Grabbing his fork, he clinks it twice against the porcelain. “Check. Number two: Make weekly savings—Check, right?”

You hum, your leg shaking beneath the table.

“Alright, and then—” He lowers the paper. Your eyes widen. “Lose my virginity?”

“Okay!” you say overenthusiastically. “See! I was being stupid, such a dumb thing to write on a new year’s resolution list, right? Haha, so funny, let’s just throw these out—”

“Wait, but we can cross this off, though, right? You had that boyfriend?”

“He wasn’t my boyfriend,” you clarify. “He was… gross. I never really liked him like that, so it just never happened. It’s whatever, I’m a virgin, okay, let’s move on. Isn’t the next thing I put down like eat more salads—”

“You’re still a virgin?”

You look at him bewildered. What was up with the intonation? Was it really shocking? Why does he even care? You suppose he’s always been the nosy type, just never assumed it would translate to this, as well.

He seems to realize the second meaning to his words and fumbles to take them back. “Okay, not like—I didn't mean it in a weird way, I’m just surprised that you’re... you know?”

“It’s… whatever,” you clarify. “It’s fine. It’ll happen at the right moment, right? That’s what they all say.” You'd shovel another bite into your mouth and you can’t help but taste the bitterness from your words with the sweetness of the syrup. “I’ll get over it when it’s done and gone.”

Heeseung clears his throat, paper discarded to the side, his eyes fixed on your plate in deep thought. “Do you…”

You raise a brow.

“Do you want my help?”

In your defense, you really hate being a virgin. Not that it’s embarrassing or shameful to be one, but the fact that you swore to yourself that you wouldn't be a virgin anymore since last year makes you want to crumble up inside.

You just don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of your past self. Imagine her laughing at you? That’s a new low.

Which leads to this moment right now. Laying in Heeseung’s bed, in Heeseung’s room, waiting for Heeseung to come back into said room with the “supplies” he was rushing out to get.

The door slowly swings open as Heeseung pushes it with his back, his hands full. He makes eye contact with you and a pout makes its way across his lips. “You’re still wearing your clothes?”

Your eyes snap open wider. “Yes?!”

“We’re gonna have sex, Y/N, your clothes aren’t supposed to be on.” He smiles at you as he sets down lube and condoms.

A wave of relief washes over you when you realize he’s just teasing. Heeseung’s a gentleman, but it’s not like you've gotten the chance to know the side of him you two swore to never let you meet. He could’ve been a weirdo creep for all you knew, as long as he was paying his half of the rent it never mattered until right now.

“Do you want me to turn around when you take them off?” Yep, just the same old awkwardly sweet Heeseung you’ve always known.

You smile, albeit nervously. “You’ll see me naked anyway, might as well put on a strip performance to get you in the mood.”

He laughs at your sarcasm, then points to the lights. “We could turn those off if you want.”

For a moment, you consider it. If not for the hopes of Heeseung seeing the least possible, but for the ambiance. Do people leave the lights on or off during sex? Not like you know. Ultimately, you shake your head, getting off from the bed and sticking your hands under the hem of your shirt. “Ready?” you ask him, though the question is more internalized.

His hum is muffled by his hands reaching at the collar of his shirt.

At once, you two pull your shirts off together.

Standing bare chest to bare chest - with bra - you eye him carefully. “You take your shirt off from the top?”

“What?”

You mirrored his previous action. “You took your collar and pulled your head through the neck hole first—” your words muffle as you reenact it sloppily. “Normal people take their arms out first.”

Heeseung stiffles a laugh behind his hand. “Aren’t you supposed to try to seduce me?”

“Is this not sexy?”

“Oh, please, go on, you’re making me hard.”

The two of you laugh and you realize you’re not so nervous anymore. The anxious jitters left your hands and you can feel your muscles relaxing. It’s just Heeseung. Just Heeseung.

As he recovers from a fit of laughter, you look at him in a way you haven’t taken the chance to ever since you met almost two years ago. His arms that flex when he wraps them around himself. His smile which switches to a sly smirk when he’s resisting the urge to laugh louder. His hair that falls neatly into place, over his eyes that glint to the point you can’t take your gaze away from them.

Heat rushes to your cheeks.

He’s attractive. Yeah, that’s been obvious.

Your type? Maybe…

But this is different. And, oh god, he’s going to have sex with you.

Heeseung clears his throat, snapping you out of your daze.

“Pants?” he asks cautiously. His eyes are brimmed with concern, probably sensing your confused thoughts, clearly not understanding what you’re telling yourself.

You respond by tugging at your sweatpant laces, letting them drop down dramatically. Heeseung keeps his eyes glued to your movement, eyes widening at the sight of your bare legs and white panties. He quickly reaches for his belt.

To your surprise, you can see that he’s, at the very least, getting hard. Maybe it’s nerves. You try not to think too much about the possible influence the sight of your almost-bare body has on him.

Still, to test the waters and ease or completely disrupt your mind, you ask, “Can you help me with my bra?”

He fumbles an answer, you’re pretty sure you hear a ‘yes’ through his blabs, as he kicks out of his pants fully and stumbles to your side of the bed. You turn your back to him, giving him the cue by raising your hair away from the clasp.

Shivers run down your spine at his gentle, warm touch on your skin. You never knew you were sensitive, but with every simple movement, every brush against your back has you feeling goosebumps running up your arms.

Heeseung’s breath is hollow behind you.

When the clasp is finally undone, you pull your arms out of the straps, letting the material drop to the floor with your other discarded clothes.

You turn to face Heeseung, his eyes saying more than any words could mean. Stunned, he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you whisper in return, eyes drifting down to his mouth.

He doesn't hesitate to lean in. His arms naturally slide around your waist, pulling you flush against his body as his lips hungrily crash into yours. You gasp through the initial shock of ferocity, relaxing into his hold with your hands coming up to the nape of his neck.

His fingers squeeze your skin pulling a sound from your mouth, muffled by his lips. You don’t even notice the way his knees push you back until you’re laying on the bed, lips still attached to Heeseung’s, but even those pull away eventually. You almost get up onto your elbows to chase after his touch, but stop yourself at the sight of his intense gaze.

Your gazes lock with each other for a moment, before he finally breaks contact to rush to the bedside cabinet where the lube bottle sits. He pours a generous amount on his fingers, rubbing the gel slowly. He eyes the way it reflects the light and this one reaction makes you think he’s never seen it before, but you doubt it �� you’ve heard his sexual escapades thanks to your graciously thin walls.

“I’m going to finger you first,” Heeseung interrupts your thoughts.

You simply hum in return, letting your legs fall apart for him to get back into place, between them.

Heeseung has one hand on your thigh, the other levitates over your skin with nearly-dripping lube, but his eyes are on yours, waiting for another nod before he can continue.

Giving him the signal, you aren’t prepared for the chill that runs down your spine at the cold sensation of the lube on your sensitive skin. Soon enough, though, your gasps turn to gentle hums as Heeseung draws little circles on your bare pussy.

“This okay?”

You nod needily.

One finger finally intrudes, swimming through your walls and curls to find that certain spot. Your hips roll into it—you never thought it'd be this different from your own fingers.

“More,” you whimper.

“Already?” Heeseung teases, but you can hear partial genuinity in his tone.

Wordlessly, your hand reaches down to his, pulling at it to get another finger inside of you.

Heeseung chuckles in disbelief, but doesn't disobey your request.

Two fingers in and you’re letting soft gasps escape your lips, eyes already threatening to roll back at the rhythmic pattern Heeseung’s keeping up. He pushes in, pulls out, pushes back in and curls into you. You match his pace with your hips, hoping to deepen his touch. He’s so close, so close to where you need him.

Meanwhile, his thumb rolls gently over your clit to ease the tension of the stretch. It helps, making your head spin and forcing you to focus entirely on the pleasure you feel, rather than the pain.

Heeseung doesn't warn you when he slips in a third, but you’re busy throwing your head back, moaning to tell him off for it.

“Fuck,” you whisper to the ceiling. “‘Is so good.”

Your back arches as Heeseung’s fingers reach your G-spot, curling and tickling the bundle of nerves, ripping out more muffled moans, your hand thrown to your mouth not to disturb the neighbours.

“Right there!” you moan. “Right—shit, yes—Right there!” When he keeps at it, you can't hold on much longer. “Fuck, I’m so close—”

And then it’s gone.

All the pleasure is ripped away from you as Heeseung pulls out of you coldly, barely looking your way as he turns to the bedside cabinet.

“Hey,” you whine, albeit childishly.

It’s as if something clicks and he turns back to you. “Sorry,” he singsongs out. “I didn’t want you to come so soon, I still have to actually fuck you, right?”

You pout, but ultimately he’s right. That’s what you're here for. “Fine.”

He fumbles with the condom packet, eventually giving up at going at it with his lubed-fingers and rips the package with his teeth.

“I could’ve helped,” you tell him, smiling teasingly.

“I got it. I got it.” He waves his hand at you before he uses that same hand to roll down the condom and—Holy. Shit. He’s packing.

You never took the time to think about his size, though you probably would've determined it was a decent size from the outline of it when he's chilling on the couch with sweats on.

But now that it's out, hard and flush against his toned abs? You take a deep breath and try not to think too much about how it must taste, how it’d feel to have him down your throat—as if you even know how to give a proper blowjob. Maybe he could guide you, holding your head from the back and pushing it back and forth rhythmically up and down his cock and—

“Y/N?”

“Huh?”

“I asked if you’re sure about this?”

He’s pumping his cock as he asks. You resist the urge to lick your lips.

“Yes,” you say. “I’m ready.” And there’s no lie in your words.

Heeseung crawls back onto the bed once more, staying on his knees when his body is lined up with yours. He nods to himself and you before lining up his dick with your entrance, one hand falling to the side of your head, the other resting on your lower stomach as he pushes in slowly.

The intrusion is unfamiliar. The stretch hurts more than expected. Yet, your mouth is agape in frozen pleasure — Heeseung let his hand fall lower and is now drawing circles on your clit to ease the tension.

He keeps his thumb on your pussy while slowing his movement to a stop. “Tell me when I can move.”

Instead of relaxing into the stretch, preparing yourself for more friction, you focus entirely on Heeseung’s movements on your clit. Rolling the bud of pleasure between his two fingers, your eyes flutter shut in pleasure.

You test the waters by flexing your core muscles, squeezing your walls against Heeseung’s cock.

“Fuck,” he groans, snapping his hips forward at once, but he quickly stops himself. Heeseung looks up at you with cutely worried wide eyes. “Shit, sorry—Are you okay?”

You giggle. “Go!” you say between laughs, rolling your hips down to get him going.

He doesn't need to be told twice. He quickly resumes his previous thrust, your legs are naturally pushed apart to give him more access—moans spill from your lips at the newfound depth he reaches.

Heeseung’s head dips, his hair falling over his face, but does nothing to hide his expressions. You watch him for a moment, reveling in how good your pussy is making him feel. You clench around him again and his mouth falls open. He lets out the most harmonious sound you never expected from him but want to hear again and again.

So, you roll your hips into his, until your lower stomachs are threatening to brush against each other, until Heeseung lowers from his hands to elbows, and your bodies are flushed against each other. Your skins are sticky with sweat, but you can’t be bothered. Not with his rhythmic thrusts reaching so deep inside of you. Not with his fingers still playing with your clit, torturing the bud with nonstop pleasure. Not with his lips so close to your mouth, and your head pulling itself upward to capture them in another kiss.

Your hands snake to the back of his head, curling into his messy hair and pulling gently to bring him closer to you. His free hand finds its way into your hair, too, pushing the flyaways back into the rest of the mess, away from your face, before it rests gently on your neck, guiding you in the kiss.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers into your mouth as your walls clench around him again.

Your head spins at his low tone, pleasure bubbling in your stomach in a way it never has before. “I’m—Shit—I’m so close!”

Heeseung takes this as a signal to speed up his fingers on your clit, and slows down his thrusts, deepening them with each push in.

“Come on, come for me.”

And you do.

So much, like never before.

Your back arches into him, head thrown back, letting out a sinful string of moans. You’d curse from the pleasure, but your thoughts aren't coherent enough to form words.

You’re frozen in place, legs shaking as Heeseung pulls out to finish himself off. He jerks off into the condom on top of your wasted body, coming undone as soon as your dazed eyes meet his hungry gaze.

He doubles over, landing on his hand, face mere inches away from yours. “Fuck,” he says.

“Fuck,” you repeat, a giggle in your tone.

“Congratulations,” he says, rolling onto his back to be laying beside you. “You’re no longer a virgin.”

Your weak arms raise in a small celebration. “Yay.”

“How was it?”

You can’t even respond, hands coming up to cover your flushed face. You can feel Heeseung’s smirk behind them.

“I’ll take that as good.” Then, after a beat. “Does that mean you'd want to do it again?”

Your hands fall flat to your sides in one quick movement. “What?”

“There’s so much more I can teach you.”

“No,” you say while shaking your head. He looks defeated, you almost want to reach up and pet him like a dog. “Not until you buy me dinner.”

3K notes · View notes

rayghosts · 1 year ago

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tim drake is a rare case where every wild, out-of-context thing you hear about him gets even wilder with context

made up a fake uncle to avoid getting adopted? first he had to steal his dead dad's will and change it to include the name of his fake uncle, then he forged an entire legal paper trail to fool even batman, and finally hired an out-of-luck actor to play the uncle and had brainstorm sessions with him about his character backstory. judging from his surprised reaction when bruce offered to adopt him, he probably did this to avoid being put into foster care and didnt even consider that bruce might want to adopt him (even though he already adopted three orphans before him) (and then bruce learned about this and gave him more freedom and crimefighting gear so tim could like him)

snuck into gotham during no man's land? he did this twice, first by himself to meet his girlfriend in the hospital while she was giving birth (he snuck into the ER as a nurse), then with his young justice friends who thought he was having daddy issues with batman and wanted to help (this was before he was adopted by bruce) (they also picked up an atlantean tourist on the way who wanted to sightsee gotham)

blew up several of the league of assassins' secret bases? before that he spent days working with them as a member to gain their trust (this was when he robbed that art museum) and all the while they were holding his dad's coworker's daughter who came to search for tim and learned about his secret life as an assassin before she learned he was robin (and then somehow fell in love with him)

becomes evil batman who kills in the future? not only that, he also convinces his friends to be evil with him and then takes control of half the country right after he kills every rogue in gotham and also his aunt. tim fought this version of himself at least three times, and each time swore that he would never become gun batman (he still becomes gun batman)

used his own legal last name as a hero name? he didnt even come up with the idea for that, he met an alternate earth version of himself (also evil) who was using that name and thought "oh that's a good name" and stole it for himself. he didnt bother to check if other drake's identity was public before he started using it. then he got pulled aside and told off personally by batman for using such a dumb name and that's why he's not called drake anymore

insulted jason to his face while he was trying to kill him? did this multiple times and even kicked jason in the nuts once (not while they were fighting, just as payback) (he's jason's favorite brother now)

and then anything that happened with young justice doesnt need any context because it's exactly as weird as it sounds. yes, he did save the fate of a planet by playing baseball with his friends. yes, they did invade an entire sovereign nation to rescue their one friend's parents who had turned into babies. yes, they did see santa claus die in a fiery explosion

#dc #batfam #robin #red robin #tim drake #young justice #young just us #batman #dc comics #mine #1k

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xxanaduwrites · 4 months ago

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ a residue series installment ୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

m’no good

✎ elementary-teacher!reader (miss.honey) x biker!benny 🏍️

summary: in which honey gets the call from johnny that benny’s in the hospital :( cal takes her to him. :’)

warnings: talks of being beaten, descriptions of injury, cursing, lying, crying, being judgy again. it’s an emotional one to say the least, but there’s some sweet moments & a happy ending :)

author’s note: this is NOT in order with the last two parts posted. instead, it’s a future installment in “bein’ married.” you can find the timeline in da main hive masterlist. this is heavily based on the events of the bikeriders movie of benny getting beat up & hospitalized. of course this is my own made-up spin on the situation at hand. idk this idea struck me at 3am & i wrote it in less than a day, so i figured i’d just release it now. you can find a mention of this scenario in session 1 of from the hive 🎙️🐝 this can be read alone if you like, but the interview context could help for sure! x

+ also if you were wondering, i personally picture honey as brittany murphy’s character in uptown girl’s molly gunn! i’ve been obsessing over her style in it & that’s what inspired honey’s style in my writing — especially with the embroidered overalls. you can picture her however you please, & i hope you continue to do as yourself ofc <3

word count: 4.7k (2x longer than the other parts, yay!)

💌 requests are open, send ‘em honey 💋

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

You were in the midst of Sunday dinner with your parents when you got the news. News that would leave you scrambling out of the house in an instant with no thoughts behind your honeydew drop eyes besides him — besides Benny.

Your Pa was comfortable at the head of the table, a cigarette between his lips as he scanned the paper under reading glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. Your Ma had just taken her seat at the table, a forkful stabbing into her salad. So when the phone rang your Pa didn’t even flinch. A result of him being too engrossed in his paper. On the other hand, your Ma sighed in a way that made you know she was evidently too tired to be on her feet again. This led you to announce that you’d get the phone. And you did, pulling it off the reciever and twisting your little finger around the warm yellow chord.

“Hi, you’ve reached The BeeHive. Honey speaking!” You chirped into the phone in your usual honey coated tone. Between your family business that consisted of beekeeping and honey jarring, answering the phone in such a way became rather customary and oddly normal. So much so that no one seemed to bat an eye besides your cousins who laughed every time they called. Absolute menaces indeed.

“Honey?” It was Johnny’s drawl on the line, rough and edgy with a twinge of something you couldn’t catch.

“Oh hi Joh— Mr. Davis!” You cleared your throat and corrected yourself. Trying to remain formal. Trying to remain respectable. Sure, you and Johnny were far from past that. Calling him Johnny instead of Mr. Davis was an entirely different respect that only you, Benny, the wives, and the rest of the guys would ever understand. So your parents? Well, they wouldn’t get that, and besides his kids were still your students after all. “How’s it goin’? Y’need to speak to my Pa? He’s right ‘ere.” You asked, your father’s demeanor easily shifting at the mention, his paper going flat against the table. It wasn’t unusual for Johnny to call your house. No — Johnny was a consistent buyer of your family’s honey. He incorporated it into the Club, handing the guys out honey beers during picnics and meetings. He learned of it from those community events you frequented with your parents, always having some sort of incorporation when catering was involved.

“Nah — nah.” He brushed that idea away rather quickly and your brows furrowed in confusion. “Gotta speak to yuh. Look I — I needa tell y’something, but if your Pa’s overhearin’ I need yuh to pretend we’re talking about the girls, alright?”

“I —“ you began but stopped short trying to compartmentalize what he was saying without reacting. “Oh, right I remember we were gonna talk about the girls' grades, yeah?” You rambled out, your words feeling far too thick coming out of your mouth, it almost didn’t sound like you. You feared your parents would catch on instantly, but instead their interest deflated as soon as nothing you said resembled anything to do with their business. It only took a second for your father to go back to his paper and beer and your mother to her salad.

“That’a good, Honey. Very good.” Johnny praised as you motioned with your hand that you were gonna step out of a sec, which really meant you were gonna pull the chord as far as you could into the other room. The distance — well it wasn’t much. The open archway from your parent’s kitchen to the living room wasn’t sound proof, so they could still technically hear every word you said, but your volume would be at lower frequency for sure, and your reactions practically undefinable.

“They’re doing real good, Mr. Davis. Bright girls you got there.” You muttered out so Johnny would know you were still there. You could feel your heart going a mile a minute as you paced the short distance available you could in restraint of the phone.

“I know. I know. They love ya, Honey, and they’re just fine. No need to worry ‘ere.” He reassured you, and a sigh of relief escaped your lips. The last thing you needed to hear was something bad about those babies. It would absolutely break your heart. But what you weren’t expecting to hear was something that would shatter it into a million little pieces. “It’s uh — it’s Benny.” Johnny said, and every fiber of your being went on fire, burning to ash. “He’s — he’s banged up, Honey. Got ‘im in the hospital and everything. ‘parently some jackasses got ‘im real good at some pub not too far from us. Beat him the fuck up, and broke his foot. Could’a lost the damn thing over his colors.”

A gasp left your lips in an instant, and you almost choked as you swallowed down a whimper to conceal the sudden volcano of tears bound to erupt. Now you understood why Johnny wanted — no needed this conversation to be under wraps. Your parents were already nervous about your ridin’ and to hear about some guys jumping your husband for bein’ part of the Club 'would have your parents in a frenzy. “I’m — I’m so sorry t—to hear that, J — Mr. Davis.” You continued the facade, a facade that pained you even more now as you tied back your emotions so forcfully wanting to rip from the seams. “Is your l-little girl okay?”

“He’s fine. They’re takin’ good care of him last I heard from Cockroach. He’s up and talkin’. Took ‘im to the hospital on the West End.” Johnny explained and little by little, piece by piece the fragments of your heart were starting to come back together, but you knew for certain, they wouldn’t be mended until you saw him. Until you got to touch him. Inspect him. Coddle him. Got to know who the fuck messed with him. “Go ‘n see ‘im. He needs his wife, alright?”

“I will.” You assured him, stepping back to peek through the archway at your parents who were still eating. Thankfully nothing seemed amiss. “I’ll be over soon with the homework she’s gonna miss for the week. Does she need anything else from me? Need a friend to bring her books home tomorrow?” You added in code. Code for ‘Who the fuck did this to him, and how could you help make sure those fuckers never got as close as a mile away from Benny again?’

“Nah. Don’t you be worryin’ now, Honey. The guys and I are on it. We’ll take care of ‘em. You take care of ‘im.” He settled on the plan. “Capisce?”

A wave of relief washed over you then. A relief that could only come from Johnny’s word alone. Cause you knew he’d take care of it. He always did. “Capisce.” You sniffled, not caring anymore if your parents caught on.

“Cal’s already on the way to pick ya up at your Ma’s.” He informed you. “Told ‘em to park around the corner so there’s no suspicion. You can tell ‘em you're stoppin’ by the house.” You never thought a time like this would leave you feeling extra grateful that Johnny and his family only lived a block away from your parents. But here you were, feeling just that.

You wanted to thank him then. The words were resting against your tongue heavily, so you made do with what you could. “Thank you, Mr. Davis. I’ll tell ‘em you said ‘ello. Please send my parents regards to your wife and the girls. I’ll be there soon.”

“Anything for ya n’ Benny. Y’know that. Yuh take care of y’self now, o—kay?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, itching to run out of your house and into Benny’s arms already. If you could. God, you sure hoped he wasn’t too banged up for a cuddle or two. Makin’ him feel a whole lot better was your main concern. “Bye Mr. Davis. See ya soon,” you spoke into the line before stepping heavily across the threshold and accidently putting the phone back on the hook with a little more aggression than you anticipated.

“Sorry,” you tensed and broke out in an innocent smile, “I gotta go to Mr. Davis’s. His girl is sick real bad with the Flu. Doctors says she’ll be out of school for a week and of course there’s all this important testin’ going on. Gotta keep ‘er on track, y’know? Such a good cookie. Get in a fit if she misses one lick of school.” You rambled on, adding more and more to lie you rather not tell, but knew it was for their own good. For your own good. For Benny’s. Your marriage. Your future. What you’d hope would become a bundle of joy or two with his pretty blue eyes and freckled face to match.

“‘Course she does. She’s a Davis after all.” Your father added, a fond smile stretching across his face.

“Oh that’s too bad,” your mother frowned, and then stood unexpectedly, her chair scraping against the kitchen flooring. “Here, I’ll pack ya some honey buns to take to ‘er.” Before you could protest your Ma was already piling some of her homemade buns into a metal cookie container and passing them to you.

“Real sweet, Mama.” You could feel your eyes startin’ to tear up again, that familiar wave of remembrance coming back to remind you what you were really leaving for. A wave of impatience that made your anxieties spike higher and higher at the prospect of more minutes ticking away without you being next to Benny. “M’sure it’ll make ‘er feel so much better in no time.” You kissed your Ma on the cheek in appreciaton and turned to head out.

“Wait,” your Ma said right when you were about to exit the front door with your backpack in tow. Thankfully she didn’t see you mouth a curse into the air with your back towards her. “Y’didn’t even get to touch your dinner. Will ya be back to finish it or should I wrap it up?”

“Nah. That’s ‘ight.” You declined. “I still got leftovers in the fridge for me and Benny from Rosie’s. Heat it up when I get home, but thanks Mama. Save it for yuh and Pa.”

“‘ight. Get’ome safe, Honey.” She called out. Safe. Safe. Benny didn’t get home safe, but he was safe now. Safe in the hospital that is, but was he really safe?

Your fingers gripped the doorhand, knuckles burning white as you took a breath to calm yourself. “I will, Mama. Love ya. Bye!” And then you were out the door, trying to keep your composure as long as you could, until you were out of eyeshot of your Ma and Pa’s. Your ballet flat feet banged against the pavement as you went on running down the rest, a sharp turn at the corner showing Cal by his bike, waiting and ready for you. A fresh cigarette between his lips, just ‘bout to be lit, long forgotten once his eyes landed on you.

It only took one look at him. One frown on those deep set features of his for you to be barrelling at him, strong arms encircling you in a hug.

“Oh Cal!” You cried into his tattered shirt, the dame of tears breaking out of you uncontrollably. Too uncontrollably. But you didn’t care. Couldn’t care. It was Cal after all. The brother you never had. The brother you should have had. The family you now had because of Benny. Because of Johnny. And it wasn’t that you didn’t love your parents — you loved and appreciated them of course, but you never felt fully accepted by them. So being in Cal’s arms was far more comforting than being in the arms of your parents because you could be yourself with Cal, without judgment.

“M’so sorry, Honey. So sorry.” He mumbled into your sun kissed up-do, smelling of fresh vanilla and honey scented soap.

You were crying so hard. Too hard. You’d become a total mess of hiccups and hard breathes. Of course, Cal accessed you accordingly, pulling you from his chest to take a good look at ya. And boy did your rosey cheeks and red rimmed glossy coated eyes destroy him. They really did. He hated seein’ you like this. All the guys did. They loved you far too much.

Cal’s warm calloused fingers circled the apples of your cheeks, brushing away the tear tracks that resided. “It’s gonna be ‘ight. ‘erything gonna be okay.” He cooed, trying to calm you down. “Gotta stay strong for ‘im so he can get betta. Can’t take ya like this. It’ll break ‘im, Honey.”

“I — I know. I know.” You squeezed your eyes shut, wet lashes bowing down. You took a breath. Then another. And another until you felt somewhat better. More calm that is.

“Ready t’go?” Cal asked carefully when he noticed your breaths evening out.

“Mhm,” you hummed, nodding your head.

Cal helped you onto his bike and you clung onto him as you rode. The weight of his jacket felt oddly comforting in your hold. Even though the circumstances of such colors were alarming in such a time, it didn’t leave you on edge by any means. Before you knew it, you were pulling up in the West End. Cal parked his bike, leading you to the front desk and of course the receptionist looked at the two of you kind-of funny.

“Family only.” She said to Cal, immediately putting two-and-two together who he was here for before turning to you, a big smile gracing her features. “How can I help ya, Miss?”

Your emotions were all over the place. Anger bubbling up inside you in an instant, ready to burst at the assumption of such a thing. Sure, it was a common mistake. To be misplaced next to one of the guys in your floral knitted cardigan and patterned jeans to match. But now — now, of all times. It was your last straw.

“That’s ‘is wife. Uh — Honey Cross.” Cal motioned to you, explaining who you were before your rage could ensue.

“Hm — I don’t see a Honey here,” the receptionist said, amusement crossing her features. Clearly pleased by shooting Cal’s advances in an instant. “I’m going to need to see some ID.” She pushed, and you were already ripping off your backpack before she could even finish the sentence.

Cal’s hands materialized around the straps without a second thought, helping you out of the thing but also holding it up for you while you fished for your bedazzled wallet. It was in the deep depths of the thing, mushed around with all your work sheets and lesson plans for the week. You were always equipped and extra prepared, making your supposed trip to the Davis’s for his little girl not amiss one bit. Your cutesy keychain clipped to the end flung about as you finally uncovered it, whipping out your ID with ease. This wasn’t your first rodeo in such a situation, learning from the last time Benny was tossed in a jail cell to get your ID updated with your new last name as soon as humanly possible.

The receptionist looked between you, Benny’s paperwork, and your ID for longer than necessary. “Hmmm, okay. Second floor room twelve, Mrs. Cross.” She finally gave in. “But you’ll have to stay here, Mister.” She told Cal.

He raised his hands up in the air like he was bound to be incarcerated, and the sight almost got a laugh out of you. Almost. “Fine. I’ll be out front when y’ready, Honey.” He informed you, and you nodded.

He helped you put your things back together, and when he caught wind of your name etched into your ID, his eyes widened. “Huh? So that’s y’real name then.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, wedging the thing back into your wallet, snapping it close. And if you thought the receptionist was suspicious earlier, she was far more suspicious now.

His features scrunched up in an innocent way, that long earring of his shaking as he shook his head. “S’cute, but I can’t see ya as anything else but Honey. Be weird if I called y’anything else.”

“I get it,” the edge of your clip curled up in a faint smile then. Your first smile in what felt like ages. You couldn’t help it with Cal. It was hard not to smile around him. “Feels weird calling you Calvin, Caleb, or Calum or whatever. Which is it anyways?” You asked, brows furrowed in confusion at the thought as you zipped your bag closed.

“Don’t matter now.” He patted your shoulders once your backpack was shelled around you. “Time to go see y’man, anyways.”

Turning on your heel, you nodded when you faced him, thanking him profusely and giving him a sweet kiss on the cheek as you gave him a tight hug. Once you let him go, you were off. Darting across the halls and climbing up the stairs, you weaved around the patients in their hospital beds being pushed by nurses and doctors in their lab coats until you made it to room twelve. For a moment, you stopped in your tracks, attempting a warm honey smile to grace your hubby with. To distract him from the evident pain he was having and the deep rooted distraught you felt inside.

But once you turned the corner, oh — you were a goner. There was Benny with a blue blooming zygoma, a swollen and bandaged eye, and his right foot propped up in a form fitted cast. Your heart shattered all over again without your control. Your hubby looked like a beat up puppy dog, and you couldn’t help but frown at the sight.

His blues — well his good one that is — caught your eye immediately. It was hard not to when you came waltzing in like that, all dolled up in a swarming buzz of color and sweet honey perfume. It wafted across the room and the smell touched his nose, warming him up for the first time since he’s been placed in this cold sterile room.

“Honey?” He blinked. Once. Twice. Wondering if your sweet face was an apparition. He told Cockroach not to tell you. Didn’t want you to see ‘im like this. Not until he was out and the brusin’ subsided at least, but he guessed Roach forgot to relay the message to Johnny and the rest of the guys when he told ‘em.

“Oh — my poor baby!” You cooed, racing across the room as soon as his gravelly voice hit your ears. You dotted on him in an instant. Fitting your form on the small empty space at the edge of the bed near his hip, you didn’t even bother pulling over the chair adjacent to his bed. And Benny didn’t mind no.

Even though he wasn’t too happy to see you here, he was happy to feel you here.

Your hand brushed through his hair and caressed the good side of his face, sweet and delicate. Benny couldn’t help but lean his cheek into your comforting touch. For the very first time you watched as a hot warm tear trickled down his cheek and landed on your hand.

“Please don’t let’em take my foot,” he begged, his large warm hands circling around both of yours and dropping them in his lap. “If — If they take my foot then I can’t ride again, and — and then how will I-I take y’to school?”

His sweep of emotions took you by surprise. You’d never seen him cry. Not when he was beaten and bruised in a bar fight. Not when a shard of glass wedged itself into his skin after punching through a car window. Not when you were applying alcohol to his cuts or when he was gettin’ stitches. No Benny never cried. And here he was now. Crying in front of you. In front of his wife. God, of course that just wrecked you.

Sure, maybe someone else would have made a stink. Would have told him that there were bigger things to worry about then his riding. But you wouldn’t do that — no. Besides you, ridin’ was Benny’s biggest passion. And both showed in the way he was most concerned about you. Concerned about taking care of you. How’d he do that if they took his foot and couldn’t take you to work every day. You couldn’t drive. Didn’t know how. It’s not that you didn’t want to, you just never had the time to go get your driver’s license. Not between working at the local diner while you were studying and getting your degree. And now that you had it and Benny well — you had all that you really needed.

“I won’t let ‘em, baby. I promise. I promise.” You assured, pulling his strong hands up with yours and kissing each and every rough rimmed knuckle of his. “As for takin’ me to school. Don’t you worry about that. Took the bus before I met y’anyways. Doesn’t make a difference. I’ll do it until you’re better again, alright?”

But it did make a difference. It did to him. He adored those mornings and afternoons when he had you on the back of his bike, taking you to and from school. He especially loved it when you were still living with your Ma and Pa. It was the little things like that that not only got him through his day, but also made him feel like he was doing something good. Doing something good by you. Makin’ himself seem responsible enough to your parents for being on time and prompt, to marry you. And it worked after a while. He had you now as his wife. In the apartment you shared. In his home. In his bed. While that was all good and great, he couldn’t help but wonder if something like this would set them off.

He grimaced, the thoughts gnawing at him and makin’ him ask you, “do y’parents know?”

“No, no. They don’t. Think I’m at Johnny’s dropping off homework for his sick little girl. Think you’re at work. ‘Member I told ‘em you were working today so you didn’t have to come?” You reminded him.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to throw a little white lie around here and there to your parents about Benny. Sure, he was on good terms with them now thanks to Johnny. Thanks to the fact that their little girl had him as her husband, and they didn’t have too much of a choice. But, that didn’t mean things were perfect. Benny wasn’t much of a fan at the way they treated you from time to time. Especially when they made comments about your decisions. About the way you dressed. He thought you were perfect as is, and it boiled his blood whenever he heard them goin’ on and on about it, especially at Sunday dinners. So sometimes he just didn’t come. Sometimes you didn’t go either. But of course you did today cause you felt bad you hadn’t been in awhile and felt like you needed to see ‘em. They were your parents after all. Now you were regretting not going with him instead. Maybe none of this would have happened if you had never gone to your parents in the first place.

“Hm, right,” he sighed, squeezing your hand in appreciation. “How was it anyways? Did they give ya a hard time?”

“No. Not today,” you replied. “Didn’t have time to. Didn’t even get t’sit down. I should’ve been with y’anyways.”

“No y’shouldn’t of.” He shook his head in disagreement, and then revealed, “m’no good for ya, baby.”

“What?!” You gasped, absolutely baffled by what he was sayin’. “What you goin’ on about?” He hadn’t just really said that? Had he? He did! “S’not true. Not true at all.” Your cute little bee earrings shook as you moved your head back and forth in earnest. “You’re too good t’me —“ He bowed his head down in a silent no. “Far too good,” you repeated, trying to search his eye so he could see you. Really see that you meant every word you were sayin’. “Y’loyal to Johnny and the guys. To me.” You reminded him, but his gaze was still downwards, trained on your conjoined hands in his lap. You brushed your thumb back and forth against his skin. “Lemme ask you somethin’..” you began, “What did y’do when those guys came up to ya, huh?”

“Told ‘em they’d have to kill me to get my jacket off,” he revealed, his response making your lips curl up soundly. That was your Benny right there, your loyal Benny.

“And why’s that?” You asked, pushing on. Trying to get him to the root of his decision.

“Cause…” he shrugged, taking a moment to think about it. “It represents my family….represents you. Hell, I got your patches on it!” His voice was slowly rising in defense, in bits of anger. “Got your name sewed over my heart bigger than a goddamn weddin’ ring will ever be and those fuckers laughed about it!”

A full, bright toothed smile had your dimples peaked like two pretty mountains, and when Benny’s eyes finally found your sweet honey speckled ones — well his anger dissipated. “Ah, c’mere.”

“I don’t wanna crush y—“ you began, worrying about hurting him, but he cut you off immediately.

“C’mere,” he cooed, scooting over just a tad so you could lay next to ‘em. Of course you couldn’t say no to him. Could never ever. Not when he wanted y’so bad. “Need my girl.”

“Alright, alright,” you hummed, rolling your eyes playfully as you curled yourself next to ‘em. A comfortable silence landed over the two of you, one that you were thankful for after everything. After all the fuss of the day. You just wished you could be just like this with him at home in your own bed. His strong arm wrapped around your back, hand cupping your shoulder and you tilted your head onto his own. His lips found your forehead quickly, feeling more pillowy than usual from the impact on his face and your eyes fluttered at the contact. “Oh that reminds me. Did ya eat?”

“Huh?” He hummed confused.

“Did they feed y’here yet?” You tried again.

“Nah,” he replied.

“Fuckin’ hell. Got y’propped up, but can’t feed ya…” you shook your head in disappointment, and your concern for him over something so miniscule within the swarm of everything warmed his heart tenfold.

You moved to get up, but he stopped you short with his hand that was once on your shoulder now materializing on your waist. “Where y’going?” He pouted.

“Nowhere, baby.” You assured him, fingers curling under the good side of his chin so you could leave a soft kiss on his lips which he relaxed in as soon as it came. “Just grabbin’ my bag from the floor. Got some grub — well…” you trailed off, a laugh escaping you as you unzipped your bag and took out the tin your mother gave you. “I know it ain’t dinner, but I say dessert won’t hurt. Doctor’s orders, y’know?” You opened the tin to reveal the fresh honey buns your Mama made then, and God did Benny wanna just eat you up instead. “Y’want?”

He nodded, so you didn’t hesitate in passing one over to him. Both of you enjoyed the sweet treat. So much so, that when a crumb or two fell on your chest, Benny dived right in to access it — and well who were you to protest when his soft lips met your warm skin? When his lips continued their assault around your fingers, cleaning off the sugary residue that remained. And you were happy. So happy and giddy because you were with your Benny. You knew no matter what happened. No matter what came next, the two of you would be alright. Cause that was what marriage was all about, signing up for the good, the bad, and the ugly, being there for each other in sickness and in health.

And in that short hour or so that remained in visiting hours, before the nurse flagged you down to kick you out, you laughed and giggled more than you had in days, and even when you scolded him, warning that a nurse may catch him licking down your chest or sucking your fingers, a smile graced your sweet features the entire time and Benny ate up every single second soundly.

“I fuckin’ love ya, y’know that Mrs. Cross?” He said to you at some point, in the midst of everything.

“I fuckin’ love ya too, Mr. Cross. Always and forever.”

And always and forever it was.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

additional author’s note: AH I COULDN’T HELP MYSELF. PWETTY PLZ DON’T BE MAD AT ME FOR JUMPING OUT OF ORDER. (with a cherry on top 🍒)

my requests are open for any miss honey x benny cross works + any convos about these two in general. don’t be shy honey, i’m all for yapping in the asks.

+ don’t forget to comment if you’d like be added to “da bee hive” (my version of da tag list)

smoochies. all da love xanadu 💋

da bee hive 🐝

@nervousnerdwitch

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@thegabbyh

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#miss honey x benny cross #from the hive 🎙️🐝#benny cross x reader #johnny davis #cal the bikeriders #the bikeriders fanfiction #austin butler fanfiction #tom hardy #benny cross fanfiction #a residue installment #residue da series #the bikeriders x reader

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justagalwhowrites · 3 months ago

Text

Halcyon - Ch. 15: Right Now, You’re Still My Baby

You and Joel take care of Ellie and each other. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 14, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: SMUT! Unprotected P in V sex. Childcare struggles. Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 5.5k

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Ellie’s sharp little cry woke you up.

You’d slept soundly, more soundly than you had in weeks, your nose buried in Joel’s naked chest, his come slick on your thighs.

Your eyes shot open at that realization, something that had been so overwhelming it had knocked you out before sending your heart racing now.

You’d slept with Joel. Your best friend Joel. The same man who had said it would have been better to sleep with anyone but you, the same man who needed space after you made each other come at the hotel in Dallas, the same man who had called just fucking kissing you a mistake. You’d slept with him, when your life was in complete shambles and you were desperate for what help you could find, you’d slept with Joel.

“S’OK,” he said, his voice groggy, his large hands spreading wide on the bare skin of your back. He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Stay here, I got ‘er. You need to rest.”

He pulled himself from the tangle your limbs had made together, bed squeaking a little, and you heard him pause for a moment before padding out of the room.

You rolled onto your back and stared up at Joel’s ceiling, a familiar sight in so many other contexts but not ones where you’d just fucked your best friend, right when you couldn’t afford to lose him. You couldn’t have him regret you, not now.

It was still dark outside and you listened as Ellie fussed and then quieted, Joel already so much better with her than you had been. That was an incredibly low bar, you realized, but still. You wished you could be like that, have that natural instinct, be something that this child needed. He soothed her and you heard him leave her room on the monitor, leaving his room almost eerily silent.

You sat up, clutching the sheet to your naked chest and looking around to try and find something to put on in the dark. There was a discolored pile of fabric on the floor and you grabbed it, keeping the sheet tight to your skin as you reached for it even though there was no one there to look at your bare body, anyway. It was one of Joel’s oversized t-shirts and you pulled it on, feeling a little better now that you had something covering you up.

What the fuck were you going to do now? You pulled your legs - still covered by the sheet - into your chest and gnawed on your lower lip. You couldn’t lose Joel right now, you couldn’t afford to lose Joel right now. You weren’t sure you’d ever be capable of losing him again - you’d barely survived it the first time, falling into bed with the first man who showed you a scrap of kindness and interest and look where that had landed you - but you really couldn’t do it now.

It’s not that you’d blame him for regretting things with you. You knew there were things about yourself that were difficult and lord knew he’d dated plenty of better looking women. But fuck, if he could just regret it without pushing you away and saying how much he wished it hadn’t happened, at least for long enough for you to be able to figure out something for Ellie, then you could get through it. As long as it wasn’t permanent, it would be OK.

“Alright sweet girl,” you heard Joel through the baby monitor, apparently back in the nursery he’d set up for your niece. “We’re gonna put you down and you’re gonna stay nice and quiet for me, alright? Think you’ve put your auntie through her paces plenty…”

You heard him humming to her then and it took you a moment to place it as Sweet Child of Mine. The soft sound of him soothing her made you choke up. He was so good at this, built for it, it seemed, in ways you just weren’t.

You heard the door close softly on the baby monitor and then the quiet click of his bedroom as he let himself back in. He tiptoed at first and then froze when he noticed you sitting up, watching him in the dark.

“You should be sleeping,” he said quietly before crawling up the bed beside you.

“Joel…”

“You’re exhausted,” he said, draping his arm over your chest and gently nudging you onto your back. “I got her, she’s back down and it’s only about three, you need another four hours at least…”

“But Ellie…”

“She’s OK,” he said, lying down next to you, his arm still over you, just enough pressure to keep you from getting up. “She’s out. You need to sleep.”

You looked at him. He was on his side, his face so close to yours, close enough that your noses almost touched. You realized that he was still shirtless, his skin warm next to your own.

“Joel,” you whispered again, like saying his name was going to somehow untangle this tension that had fallen between the two of you. His hand left your shoulder, tracing his fingers over his shirt that you’d put on, trailing up your neck before smoothing your hair back and cupping your cheek.

“It can wait ’til the morning,” he said softly. You opened your mouth to argue but he moved closer, his forehead against yours and you could feel the cotton of his pajama pants against your bare legs. “It’s OK baby. I’ve got you.”

Your eyes dropped to his lips before you could really help it, remembering how he tasted, how soft his mouth was on yours.

“It’s OK baby,” he said again and you rolled onto your side so you were facing him, keenly aware that you were still naked from the waist down. His hand skimmed over your body, his palm shaping to your breast, arching over your curves before stopping at the bare skin of your hip.

He waited for just a moment before kissed you, giving you a chance to pull away. You didn’t take it. Instead, you kissed him back. It was gentle at first, hesitant, like you were both afraid of what the other was going to do. It was Joel who broke the kiss, pulling away ever so slightly but still close enough that your bodies were aligned, that you were breathing the same air.

“This OK?” He asked, a tremble in his voice. You just nodded quickly, breaths shaky, not sure you’d be able to string words together if you tried.

“Good,” he said, his hand running down your thigh, around the back of your knee to hitch it up over his hip, pulling your bare center against him as you gasped. He was hard, you could feel the thick of him through his pants and your heart beat faster. He tugged his pants down just enough to free his cock, the silken softness of his skin against your most tender place making you moan. “‘Cause I need to be inside you one more time.”

He pressed into you, his passage eased by the slick of your come and his from just hours earlier and you moaned at the stinging stretch as he buried himself to the root in you. Joel pressed his hand into the small of your back, holding you right where he seemed to want you as he ground his cock deep into you. The head of him tight to the most sensitive parts of your body made you pant and keen and he kissed you, so firm it was almost harsh, his beard scratching your skin as he fucked into you.

Things were so much more intense with Joel than you were used to them being. It’s not as though you’d had many lovers in your life - you’d only ever slept with Joel and Gale - but you didn’t think sex could be that different between people. You’d always kind of assumed you’d gotten things mixed up in the memory of your first time with Joel. You’d never had sex before, after all, so of course things would have seemed intense. It had been your first time in a foreign land, the terrain eventually becoming familiar territory as you started sleeping with Gale. It was a memory, you thought, that needed to be taken with a healthy dose of skepticism because of its very nature. It couldn’t have been that way. But you knew now that you were wrong. It was that different with Joel, it had been that intense, it had felt that good, something about feeling him inside of you touching a part of your very being that had been dormant since that night when you were just a clumsy teenager.

It shocked you now, how suddenly desperate you became. He wasn’t nearly close enough, wasn’t fucking you nearly hard enough, there just wasn’t enough and you needed more.

You clutched at him, needy and aching, rolling your hips into him, tongue delving into his mouth. He moaned into you and it made your cunt clench around him. His thrusts stuttered when it did and he pulled his mouth from yours, panting, his eyes ranging over your face. You pushed him onto his back, leg tight over his hip to keep him buried inside and you were straddling him, settling on top of him as your body adjusted to the way his filled it.

“Oh fuck,” he breathed, his hands going to your thighs, his thick fingers splaying wide over you. You froze for a moment, breathless, looking down at him spread out below you. Your heart stuttered, terrified that he’d changed his mind. “Christ, love seein’ you in my fuckin’ clothes…”

You groaned, starting to ride him. You moved slow at first, getting a feel for him. You hadn’t been on top in a long time - Gale preferred being in charge - and Joel’s cock was so thick and so long that you could feel so clearly just how deep he reached inside of you. It took you a moment to find your rhythm, to figure out just how to move on him so that he was filling you and not overwhelming you.

“That’s it,” he whispered, his hands sliding up your legs, below where the shirt was pooling around your hips to your waist. You groaned at his touch, trying to push away the gnawing fear of Joel feeling you there and finding something he didn’t want as his fingers sank into the soft parts of you. You angled your hips so your clit was tight to the base of his stomach, grinding against his warm, soft skin, building your orgasm higher. “Feel so good baby, so fucking good…”

You just moaned and closed your eyes as you rode him harder, faster. Feeling this good and being this aware that it was because of Joel felt dangerous. Some part of you, even now, in this moment, knew that it would be temporary. Or, at the very least, the feelings behind it one sided. Looking at his face - looking him in the eye - while you made yourself come on his cock might just be the end of you. You weren’t sure you’d be able to handle losing this with him after that.

That didn’t keep you from moaning his name as your body drew tighter around him. He thrust up into you, meeting your every movement, his hands clinging to you the way your channel was clinging to him, too.

“I’m gonna come,” you panted, barely even aware of what you were saying. “I’m gonna come, Joel, I’m gonna come, I…”

“Good,” he sounded desperate, fucked out. “Want you to come, please come for me, need to feel you come…”

Your hips stuttered and you bit your lip and buried your face in your shoulder as best you could to muffle your strangled cry as your pussy rippled and fluttered around his cock and he groaned with it, pressing his cock into you while pulling down on your waist.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he panted as you came. One of his hands flew to your clit, rubbing you in tight little circles. “Christ, can feel you throbbing on me, so goddamn good baby.”

“Why…” you panted for a moment, trying to get ahold of your thoughts again as your climax eased. “Why are you calling me that? I’m… fuck… I’m not your baby.”

“Ain’t you?” He asked, still sounding breathless. The hand that had been working your clit went back to hold your waist. “At least for tonight?”

You opened your eyes and looked down at him. Even in the dim haze from the streetlight outside his window he looked desperate, his eyes wide as he watched you closely. Your heart pounded in the cage of your chest.

“OK,” you nodded, panting. “At least for tonight.”

He swallowed hard enough that you could watch his throat move with it before he nodded and started guiding your hips over him again. Your second orgasm was already starting to build - so much faster than it ever had with Gale - when his hands left your skin to take hold of the hem of the shirt. You stilled for a moment, frowning down at him.

“Lemme see you,” he said. “Want to look at my baby…” Your pussy tightened at his words and he groaned, closing his eyes for a moment. “Holy… fuck, please baby. Lemme see you.”

You just nodded before helping him take the shirt off and he moaned, sitting up below you, making your hand fly to his shoulder as his arms went around your waist. He buried his face in your chest, kissing over your breast bone up to your throat, running his teeth over your skin to your chin and you moaned, arching your back into him. The feeling of his skin tight on yours, his mouth on your throat was making the heat inside you pool low and full. There was so much need inside you, so much aching pleasure it seemed almost too big for your body. Like if it built any more, it would burst out of your skin and you’d be lost to it.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he groaned, his lips at the hollow of your throat as you rode him. Your arms went around him, clutching his head against you and his hold on you tightened. “Want you to come with me, baby. Can feel it, you got one more right there, want you to give it to me. Gimme everything, baby, know you want to…”

“Joel,” you whispered, riding him so hard the movements were getting sloppy. You could feel the wet of his come and yours dripping out of you, making a slick mess of your thighs and his stomach.

“S’OK,” he said, pressing you tighter. “Just me, baby. S’OK. Give it all to me, just give in to it, want to feel you.”

You couldn’t help but obey then, your orgasm this time even stronger than before, seeming to seize your whole being as you came undone around him. Joel thrust up into you twice more before holding himself deep and moaning into your chest and you could feel the heavy throb of his cock as he pumped you full of his come.

When the aftershocks of your orgasm finally seemed to fade, you pulled back from him, just enough that you could look down and see his face, your stomachs still tight together, his cock still buried deep inside you.

Your eyes searched his for a moment, as though there was some answer for you there. How did we end up here? What do we do now? Where do we go next? You didn’t think he knew any better than you did.

Instead of answering your unspoken questions, he leaned forward - just enough that you could feel his cock move within you - and pressed his lips to your throat before pulling back again.

“In the morning,” he said softly. “We can talk in the morning. Right now, you’re still my baby. Lemme take care of you.”

You just nodded and let him carefully guide you onto the bed beside him, groaning a little as his cock left your body. He adjusted his pajama pants so his slick cock was covered and he went to the bathroom, coming back with a warm washcloth. He gently cleaned between your legs, panting a little as he did, before he grabbed the shirt you’d picked up off his floor. You put it back on while he found your panties and he helped you put those on, guiding each foot through a leg hole before guiding them up your calves, your thighs. He nudged you onto your back and you lifted your hips as he redressed you. You turned your head to watch him lay beside you, his eyes on you the way yours were on him.

“I’ll get up with her next time she cries,” he said quietly. “Try to sleep if you can.”

“But…” you frowned, but he cut you off.

“I got it,” he said. “Told you. Lemme take care of you.”

You swallowed, trying not to choke, and nodded he gently moved beside you, nudging you onto your side before pressing against the back of you, his legs curving against yours, his arm finding the perfect place to rest between your ribs and your hips. His breath was warm on your neck and he trailed his nose over your skin before pressing a kiss into your shoulder.

“Get some rest, Goldie girl,” he said quietly in your ear. “I’ll take care of you.”

“Thank you,” you whispered back.

He squeezed you a little tighter.

“Any time, baby.”

***

Fuck.

That was all Joel could really think as he slowly bounced Ellie in his kitchen as the sun rose, the sky all pink and orange, your infant niece a warm bundle in his arms. She was eating well, at least, making those tiny, fragile little baby sounds Joel had loved so much when Sarah was a newborn as she drank her bottle.

He was fairly certain he’d managed to grab Ellie before she woke you up. He hadn’t really fallen back asleep after fucking you a second time - Jesus, what had he been fucking thinking? - he had more drifted in and out of consciousness as he held you in the dark. He had his arms around you, he could feel you breathing, he could smell your skin and you were warm and safe and close. It’s not like he wasn’t tired - he was - but his mind was so hung up on soaking up your presence he couldn’t seem to quiet it enough to sleep.

So when Ellie started to fuss quietly in her crib about 6:30, he was awake to hear it. You were passed out, your whole body soft and relaxed, and he delicately, reluctantly pulled himself away from you to go take care of her, not bothering with a shirt in the hopes of getting to her before she started really wailing. He turned the baby monitor off when he got in the room before he changed her diaper and he hoped her crying jag as he cleaned her up was far enough away that you slept through it. He was so worried about her waking you that he scooped her into his chest before he put her onesie back on her and she calmed quickly, her skin on his.

“Oh you like that, huh, baby girl?” He asked quietly, shifting his weight from foot to foot as she curled her little legs into her stomach against him. She cooed but didn’t fuss, settling into his chest. He smiled a little. Sarah had been big on the skin on skin thing at this age, too. “Alright, we can wait a bit. I don’t need a shirt too bad, do I?”

He swayed with her for a little while, until it seemed like some change in the motion wouldn’t set her off and then he took her to the kitchen, making her a bottle and watching her as she ate, her big eyes watching him with an almost burning curiosity.

“I know,” he said quietly to her. “I’m still the weird one, ain’t I? S’OK though. Your auntie is here, she’s got you, too. And I’m sure your mama will be back soon. She loves you so much baby girl, I know she does. We all do.”

As Ellie finished the bottle, Joel grabbed a dish towel from the handle of the oven and threw it over his shoulder before tucking the baby against his shoulder. He bounced her gently and patted her back, waiting for the inevitable spit up and hoping this would settle her little stomach enough that she would sleep and so would you.

“What am I gonna do, huh?” He asked her quietly, pacing the kitchen. It’s not like he was actually expecting an answer but he was still a little let down when none came. “Wish I was better at figuring this shit out. She deserves better than however I’m about to fuck up.”

And he had royally fucked up this time, he was sure of that. He wasn’t sure how he kept ending up in bed with you - maybe you just needed a physical outlet but were too gun shy of casual sex to get it the way he usually did, maybe you just got swept up in things when he was an asshole who tried to make your relationship something you clearly didn’t want it to be - but he couldn’t keep doing this. It wasn’t fair to you.

“Dad?” Sarah yawned, frowning, as she came into the kitchen before her eyes went wide and she squealed. “Is that Ellie?”

He shushed her, glancing back toward his bedroom.

“Goldie’s still sleepin’,” he said quietly. “And this one is dozing off, gotta keep it down baby girl.”

“Sorry,” she whispered, still looking excited. “Can I see her? She’s so little!”

“Yeah, OK,” Joel said. “But you gotta do me a favor. In the room we set up for her is one of those bouncers… looks almost like a car seat but without so much plastic at the bottom. Can you bring me that? I’ll put her in that and you can look at her all you want while I make us breakfast, alright?”

“Yeah!” She darted off, Joel hearing her feet pound on the first few steps of the stairs before she paused and then moved slowly, quietly, the rest of the way up. He shook his head a little, still swaying with the baby. He wondered how long it would be before Sarah started asking him for a baby sister again, something he was in no position to give her. It’s not like he was in a relationship and he was in no shape to go looking for one, especially not as hung up on you as he was.

Sarah came back and put the bouncer in the middle of the kitchen table, sitting eagerly next to it, watching as Joel kept settling the baby. He had his back to her, working his way toward the opposite end of the kitchen, when she spoke.

“Aunt Goldie!” She said, sounding about as happy to see you as she’d been to see Ellie. Joel turned around so fast that he almost tripped over his own feet, finding you standing in the entry to his kitchen in his shirt and his pajama pants, the legs too long on you. Your eyes were wide and on him and one of your arms was crossed protectively over the front of you as you watched him. Sarah didn’t seem to notice. “When did you get here! Why do you have Ellie? How are you? What’s…”

“Alright, kiddo,” Joel cut her off, still watching you. “Let’s not give her a pop quiz first thing in the morning…”

“It’s alright,” you said, finally tearing your eyes away from Joel to look at his daughter. “I came over pretty late last night. I’m giving Anna a break for a little while but babies are a lot of work and your dad was nice enough to offer to help with Ellie.”

Sarah just nodded, not questioning any of it.

“Can I help with her, too?” She asked. “I can hold her and feed her and I can learn how to change a diaper even though that sounds kind of gross but that’s OK and…”

“Sure,” you laughed a little. “You can help. I think you’ll be really good at it, Ellie really likes you.”

“She does?” Sarah’s face lit up.

“Mhmm,” you said, sitting across from her at the table. “Remember when you held her at the hospital and she was all calm and relaxed? She likes you.”

She beamed.

“Cool.”

“Alright,” Joel said, satisfied with how quiet Ellie seemed to be. “Think I can set her down, she’s been fed but the rest of us still need food. Scrambled eggs? Yeah?”

“Yup,” Sarah nodded, settling further into the chair.

He looked to you, brows raised.

“Um,” you said, watching him. “Yeah, sure, that sounds good.”

He nodded and put Ellie in the bouncer. Her little face scrunched in her sleep and he waited for a moment, ready to scoop her back up again, but she settled and he strapped her in, taking the spit up covered towel off his shoulder as he did.

“Baby girl, do me a favor, go toss this in the laundry room and grab me a t-shirt,” he said, passing the towel to Sarah.

“Anything to get you to put clothes on,” she teased good naturedly, taking the towel and scampering off.

You watched her go as Joel went to the fridge to get out the eggs and the bacon and the hashbrowns.

“Joel,” you whispered as he set the carton of eggs on the counter. He looked over to you, your eyes wide, hair in disarray. “What are we…”

“Sarah’s got a birthday party in a few hours,” he said, just as quietly. “Friend’s picking her up. We can talk then.”

The deadline sat like a rock in his stomach the rest of the morning, his fate with you looming over his head as he made the three of you breakfast and did Sarah’s hair and showed you the angle he’d been holding Ellie at to take her bottle. When Sarah’s friend came to the door and she ran outside, Joel stood on his front stoop and waved goodbye as she got into the car for far longer than he needed to, afraid of what going back inside could mean.

But, eventually, he couldn’t put it off any longer and he found you there, Ellie starting to fuss in your arms as you paced with her around the kitchen.

“It’s OK,” you said, your voice thick as you tried to soothe her. “I know, it’s hard, but you’re OK and…”

“Here,” Joel said, tugging his shirt up and over his head and draping it over the back of a chair. Your eyes went wide and he realized how he must look. “No, not… she likes the skin on skin stuff, guess it’s a thing with babies sometimes. Calms them down, here.”

He held his hands out and you hesitated before passing her to him. He pulled her into his bare chest and she let out one little cry and then relaxed into him, her little, huffing breaths calming. He swayed with her, bouncing her rhythmically and you watched, arms crossed over your chest, an almost pained look on your face.

“What’s goin’ on?” Joel asked quietly.

“Why can’t I do that for her?” You asked, your eyes meeting his. “Why can’t I be that safe place for her when she needs it? I want to be, I’d do anything for her but…”

“Take off your shirt,” he said. You opened your mouth to protest but he cut you off before you could. “The skin is helping her right now and… well, it’s not like I haven’t seen you, so…”

“Right,” you said, wincing a little. But you obeyed all the same, taking your shirt off and putting it next to Joel’s on the back of the chair. He gently pulled Ellie away from his chest and held her out to you. You took her reverently and brought her to your chest as she started to squirm and fuss. She seemed confused for a moment when she touched your skin and your face fell but then she settled, cooing contentedly against you. You smiled in that way you had, slow and hesitant and then all at once as you watched her there, swaying with your niece as she took comfort in you.

“See?” Joel said. Watching you with a baby like this making him ache for you. He wanted to do this with you for a baby that looked like you and him together, wanted to make a family with you even though he knew that wanting that would only lead to heartache. “You can do it.”

“Yeah,” you laughed quietly, looking at him with misty eyes. “That’s the first time I’ve done that, she’s never calmed like that for me so fast, it’s always been because she wore herself out and never because…”

You trailed off, looking back down to Ellie, pressing a kiss into the soft tufts of hair on the crown of her head. Joel just watched you for a moment, humming to her, knowing just how soft your bare skin would be if he reached out and touched you in that moment.

Instead, he ducked quickly into the living room and grabbed the throw blanket from the back of the couch.

“Here,” he said, and you looked up as he held the blanket toward you. “Want me to…”

You frowned a little but looked back down at Ellie before you nodded.

“Yeah,” you said, a twinge in your voice. “Thanks.”

He draped the blanket carefully around you so he couldn’t see the parts of you he’d spent so much time touching the night before - parts he’d kill to touch again - as you soothed the baby in your arms until she calmed enough that she could be set down again.

“Let’s put her back in the crib,” he said gently. “Then we won’t need to keep an eye on her and we can… we can talk.”

You nodded and Joel led the way to the room he’d set up for Ellie. You slowly, carefully, lowered her into the crib and he turned the baby monitor on before the two of you backed out of the room as silently as you could.

Joel led the way to his bedroom and you hovered by the door as he got the receiver to the baby monitor, the blanket tight around your body. He went to leave, to have this conversation somewhere else but you stayed where you were, your gaze locked on the bed that was still a mess from everything you’d done the night before.

“What are we doing, Joel?” You asked quietly.

“Taking care of Ellie,” he said, even though he knew that wasn’t what you were talking about.

“No,” you shook your head. “I mean what are we doing? You and me together, what are we doing? What did we do?”

“Goldie…”

“I’ve been seeing someone,” you said it like you were trying not to cry. “I have Ellie to take care of, I have to find Anna, I have a book I need to finish, I can’t… I can’t handle you disappearing on me right now, Joel, I can’t lose you, I can’t do it, please, I…”

“Hey,” he said when your voice started to quiver, going to you and taking your face in his hand, making you look at him. “It’s OK, I’m not going anywhere and you’re not either, alright? We don’t… it… we…”

He closed his eyes for a moment. He couldn’t look at you and find the words he knew he needed to say. He took a deep breath and pressed on.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he said again, opening his eyes and looking at you. “I… I know how you feel and… it’s alright, I’m OK with that, it doesn’t have to be weird. This can… it can just be something that happened and we move on, it can be something we do again and we just deal with it… it’s OK is what I’m saying. Nothing else has to change. You’re my best friend, I don’t want to lose you again. It doesn’t have to be like it was then, we can just… it’s different now. We can figure it out.”

You looked at him for a moment, his heart thudding heavy in his chest as your eyes searched his. He wasn’t sure what answer you were looking for there but then, it didn’t really matter. He’d tell you whatever you wanted if it kept you close.

“You and me, Goldie,” he said quietly. “We can figure it out.”

Your eyes dropped to his lips for a moment, so fast he thought he might have imagined it, and then you nodded.

“OK,” you said. “We can figure it out.”

Next Chapter

A/N: So they kind of talked 😌

Look. I promise I have something in mind for these two that I think makes sense for the characters and their story, I swear I'm not dragging this out to be mean! I appreciate you sticking with the story, even as these two kind of tap dance around their feelings for a little while longer. Nearly two decades is just a long time to have stuff buried to just bring up and work through!

It is coming, though. Promise!

Thank you for reading! As always, feel free to yell at me in the comments or in my ask box. Love you!!

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #halcyon #joel miller smut

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simplyvyn · 4 months ago

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"THIS IS MY DEAR LOVER."

Hii!! I hope ur doing great! I'm that reader who loves ur kaiser fic last week hehe :] it's been over a week, so I wonder if reqs are open rn but I'd love to suggest a Kaiser x (german) fem reader who's really close to her father and wants to bring Kaiser to meet him 🥺 gn reader should be fine too!! Thank u♡ -req !

M. Kaiser x reader | wc: 1.8k

Warnings: ooc kaiser like very, implied fem! reader, fluff, crack or maybe not, german typings w/translation!, german! Reader

"Mikka!!" You shouted as you went into the living room where your lovely but not lovely boyfriend is there.

"You don't need to shout my name, Mein Liebling." He looks at you from the side and went back to his book that he was reading. He raised his reading glasses to fix it till you sat next to him making his focus on to you. You took the opportunity to speak.

"Meine liebe, look!! Wait no, don't look. I'll be the one to tell you." You cleared your throat and sat up straight while Kaiser closed his book and continued resting his head on his hand.

"My sehr geliebter Eltern, wants to meet you, mein lieber Liebhaber." You squealed as you held your hands as if you were truly excited.

"Well for context, i have been talking about you to my father, and if your gonna ask, its part gute dinge part part schlechte dinge. But they liked you!"

Thats what you thought. And here your boyfriend was kind of overthinking. Your parents liked him? As if! What if when they actually meet, your father will beat him up? Part schlechte dinge? Did your parents judge him for it? What if your father is like his? All his thoughts were completely opposite of yours.

Unlike his, your thoughts were more.. What should we do first? Where should they meet? Where should they eat? You were quite excited. But that completely changed your mind when you saw Kaiser, he was surprised. You can't tell if its good or bad, he didn't look angry nor happy. More like fear?

"I know what I'm assuming is so out of character for you but.." Your two hands sneaked up to hold his. "He really does like you. I'm 200% sure he won't assume anything negative at all."

"That is, if you're busy or have a match or practice. When are you available." You asked and he snapped out of his thoughts. "I guess tomorrow. Any time is fine."

"Eeeekk! Ich liebe dich so sehr!" You wrap your arms around his neck as you hug him. "Its gonna be very fun, i promise." You said as you sat down and laid your head on his shoulder while you text your parents. He thought he never saw you as much happy as you are now. You seem to be quite fond to your father. He was quite selfish yet even he was shocked. He was happy that your happy with your father.

That was fast. That tomorrow was already is today. He let you choose his clothes honestly. You just said for him to pick on his own and say that any is fine. Just not too formal. And he understood the assignment by the way.

He drove you guys to your old house or province. Your house wasn't too big. It was just perfect for a family. Kaiser took a notice to that. He parked your car and then went out to rush to your side of the car and opened it.

"Thanks, schatz." As you come out. Only theb you realized he was quite more.. quiet than his usual smug personality is.

Pinch.

"Stop being so nervous. 'Ts just my dad! You'll br fine." You pinched his cheeks."

"I didn't say anything!"

You knocked on the door awaiting for your dad and to your surprise, he's the one to open the door with your mom peeking from the kitchen.

FULL GERMAN TYPINGS START HERE!

"Hallo, Kleiner!" (Hello, little one!) Your dad spoke.

"Hallo, lieber vater! Das ist mein Geliebter, Michael." (Hello, dear father! This is my lover, Michael.) You spoke, introducing your partner to your father.

"Haha! Ich hätte nicht erwartet, dass er schöner aussieht, als Sie sagten. Sie übertreffen meine Erwartungen." (Haha! I didn't expect him to look more handsome than you said, you exceeded my expectations, young man.) You nudge your father with your elbow.

Haha, du brauchst einen gutaussehenden Mann für eine schöne Frau, weißt du? (Haha, you need a handsome man for a beautiful daughter you know?) Kaiser shook hands with your father and then you hit Kaiser with your elbow. He still had his ego.

Eventually, you two sat down at the dining table to talk with your dad while your mom cooks up food.

"Ich habe tatsächlich etwas von Deutschlands Nationalgericht, Sauerbraten, gekauft." (I actually bought some of Germany's national dish, sauerbraten.)

Honestly you were shock when he took out the food. You didn't even know he had brought some. How? Did he already prepare it? Or did he order it? Wait, is he trying to make a first good impression? That's funny.

Your mom squealed from the kitchen. "Sauerbraten? das ist eines meiner Lieblingsgerichte!" (Sauerbraten? this is one of my favorite dishes!)

Your father and your mother thanked him for the food and your dad decided to talk about your lover for a while.

FULL GERMAN TYPINGS ENDS HERE!

You have to admit, even you were slightly nervous. Its the first time in a while that your dad had slight tension.

"So, Michael. Do you have a job currently?" Your dad asked.

"Dad, i already tol-"

"I'm not sure if you're familiar with me but, I'm a famous soccer player in german right now. I have a match coming up next week, you should watch me." Then he brought out two front row seat tickets, one for your mom, one for your dad.

"None tickets for my daughter?" That definitely gave you more tension.

"She already has three front row seat tickets to my next three match. Including to the tickets i gave you, sir." SIR? KAISER WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?

"Wait, may i ask, what's your last name?" My dad asked.

"Oh, Kaiser. Michael Kaiser." He answered politely.

"Oohh! Now i remember you, i remember seeing that tattoo on your neck somewhere. You're from Bastard München. Correct?"

Kaiser chuckled and answered, "Yes, sir. Its my pleasure to meet you." Then Kaiser shook hands with him again. You hope your dad don't see that as provoking him.

Your dad laughed.

"I like you, young man! You better marry my daughter soon, okay?"

"Dad!"

Then your mom asked from the kitchen, "Speaking of, how long have you two been together?"

Cough, cough

"A year.. and a half." You both answered at the same time.

"WHAT! and you didnt plan to tell us?!" Your mom answered. Then your father spoke.

"Only you, dear. Half of the year, your daughter has been chatting me about her boyfriend."

"Dad !" You called your dad, while Kaiser just laughed from it.

Wait. Laugh? Thats not much in Kaisers vocabulary. Wow, and he seemed much cuter when he has a genuine one. What a pretty boy. Maybe you are lucky.

"I'm expecting more from you, soccer prodigy of germany! I'm glad you have chosen my daughter." Your dad chuckled and even Kaiser laughed.

"Is that supposes to be an insult, dad?.." you answered with a sigh.

"I am glad too. Very glad."

Little did you know, his hand was sneaking up to yours under the table, holding it firmly but with gentleness.

"Food's done! Lass uns essen!" (Let's eat!) Your mom spoke from the kitchen as she walked to the dining room, putting down the food as she sat down next to you father.

"Now, i'll be the one asking questions to Michael." Your mom said with a grin to your father.

"Say, Michael, i expect that you and my daughter didn't do anything wrong, right? I don't want a police coming to my house.."

"Mom! I would never even!"

"Mrs. L/N, I assure you, those are not in my vocabulary. Other than being the best in soccer, and winning, taking care of and protecting your daughter might already be my top priority."

Your mom squealed. "Such words! I expect good from you Sir Michael, i'm also telling this to you, Y/N." Your mom then glared at you glare back.

"Oh please, wanna know my vocabulary? Its having patience with him." And your parents just laugh it of, while your looking at a blushing mess Kaiser.

He didn't expect he'd even be in a table like this with parents. And you. This is quite relaxing. Maybe he should have more of these. Kaiser thought.

Mein liebling - My darling

Der Schatz - dear

Mein liebe - my love

sehr geliebter Eltern - my beloved parents

mein lieber Liebhaber - my dear lover

Ich liebe dich so sehr - i love you so much!

A/N: chat im sorry if this is short☹️☹️ reqs r always open! Sorry if this took long too, requester..😓 I ALSOXWANT TO APOLOGIZE IF MY GRAMMAR IS SUPER BAD HERE... german, nor english is my first language😥

#bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock #bllk x you #blue lock x reader #bluelock x reader #michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser #bllk kaiser #blue lock kaiser #kaiser x reader #fluff #vynwrites

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youryurigoddess · 13 days ago

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Aziraphale, Raphael, and other angelic names you should probably know

Yes, I’m digging out my oldest piece of Good Omens meta. If you’re one of the very few people who might remember it from my main blog or had followed me on Twitter before it was shared there last year, you should already get the gist of what’s going to come next. For the rest of you, this might serve as a nice warning of how true brainrot begins.

We will start at the very beginning: the name-giving. Since God has created the world with one word, in the Bible and related Jewish tradition names of things are considered of great importance. As the life-givers, they imbue meaning and power to those who bear them, and often lead them towards a certain predetermined path. The concept of true names in general is a global phenomenon, with traces of this belief to be found everywhere from Plato's Theory of Forms through Grimm’s fairytales and beyond, not only in religious, but also philosophical and anthropological context. Considering the vast number of options to choose from, coining a new name instead of just repeating someone else’s is certainly a choice.

Unsurprisingly, the one who came up with the name Aziraphale was Terry Pratchett, and according to an interview it was originally pronounced Aziraphael:

“It should be Azz-ear-raf-AE-el, but we got into the habit of pronouncing it Azz-ear-raf-ail, so I guess that’s the right way now.”

Don’t worry, we’ll get there in a moment. The second thing you need to remember from this interview is Terry’s answer to the question about the name’s origin:

“It was made up but… er… from real ingredients. [The name] Aziraphale could be shoved in a list of ‘real’ angels and would fit right in…”

Conveniently, I’ve already explained who he was and why he was so important in Judaism in one meta discussion on Tumblr, so I’ll be lazy and copy-paste my thoughts and expand them to add some details from other Abrahamic religions.

Before the Beginning, or the Angel of Love

Long story short, Libbiel was one of the archangels working with God on the creation of humans. The idea was opposed by some of them, especially the Angel of Truth, who was promptly cast down from Heaven to Earth (but promised to spring back out of the Earth eventually, don’t worry).

Unlike Michael and Gabriel, Libbiel (“God is my heart”) warned his angelic troops to accept the Ineffable Plan in advance and saved them from the Fall, which granted him God’s recognition and a new name, Raphael, the Rescuer, appointing him as the Angel of Healing (“God has healed”).

This seems to check out within the Good Omens universe: Aziraphale was involved in the Earth creation project before the rollout and had enough access to the human plans to see them with his own eyes and share this knowledge with the angel that eventually became Crowley.

He also appeared extremely anxious at the very mention of Crowley’s obligation to dissent and wanted to save him from any negative consequences even at the cost of interrupting the conversation he’s been enjoying so much.

We’ve noticed some peculiar reactions of Aziraphale to any mentions or acts of love, right? They usually involve reaching out to Crowley and might either suggest his feelings toward him or how physically overwhelmed he is with the very concept of love (or both, actually).

Interestingly, one of the official titles of archangel Raphael is Angel of Love. In Christianity he is considered a patron saint of happy meetings, matchmaking and marriage, and his healing powers involve especially eyes and… heart, in the context of both mental health and human love.

Raphael also has a canonical (at least in Catholicism) episode of playing a human matchmaker on God’s behalf in the Book of Tobit, in which he appears on Earth under the disguise of a man named Azariah. Aziraphale seems now like an obvious portmanteau for Azariah, Raphael’s alias used while disguising himself as a human, and Raphael, the name given to him by God as a commendation. An archangel embracing some humanity of his own volition.

Raphael’s color is sometimes mentioned as light blue, exactly like the light Aziraphale emits in the S2 opening sequence, and his symbol is a serpent (the ancient Caduceus, but I feel like at this point we can call him Crowley).

The angelic couple, or Zophiel and Barachiel

Remember that bit of Terry’s interview about real ingredients? Raphael’s backstory already seems complicated enough, but what if Aziraphale had not one, but two angelic prototypes? I happen to know one more angel — a cherub said to possess great feminine energy — whose story rings some alarm bells.

This is Jophiel (“The Beauty of God”) or Zophiel (“My Rock is God”, “Widom of God”, “God’s Rage”), believed to be a companion to the angel Metatron, regent of the Principalities and leader of the Cherubim, a heavenly protector — one of the child amulet angels.

In Jewish tradition Zophiel takes on the role of the guardian of the Torah as well as other books and knowledge itself, based on the fact that he was the one to guard the Tree of Knowledge and, armed with a flaming sword, drive Adam and Eve out of Eden. He also watched over Noah and his family during the Flood and was serving as an assistant to King Solomon when he spoke on Wisdom and wrote the books of Proverbs, Wisdom, and Ecclesiastes. In the Anglican tradition he is recognized as an archangel and typically depicted with a fiery sword in hand. The color belonging to Zophiel is yellow.

Lynn Fischer in “Angels of Love and Light: The Great Archangels & Their Divine Complements, the Archeiai” (November 1996) describes Zophiel as one who

“stirs the feelings through radiation of illumination and into aspiration … help in absorbing information and studying for and passing tests; dissolution of ignorance, pride, and narrow-mindedness; and exposure of wrongdoing in governments and corporations. Jophiel helps in fighting pollution, cleaning up our planet, and brings to [hu]mankind the gift of beauty. He also provides inspiration for artistic and intellectual thought providing help with artistic projects and to see the beautiful things around us.”

While this angel is mentioned in other works of fiction, Zophiel makes his most notable appearance in John Milton’s epic poem, Paradise Lost, as the warrior “cherubim with the swiftest wings” in the battle of Heaven, where he was believed to assist Michael as the standard bearer. He’s presented as a spy returning from a reconnaissance mission to the rebel camp, much in the way Aziraphale had infiltrated Hell and fooled its demons in the wake of Armageddon’t.

As Zaapiel derived from Za’ap (Hebrew) meaning rage, anger or storm, he is also recognised as the angel of storms and, under the variant Zafiel, the angel of rain. This might be the reason why Zophiel is traditionally associated with the archangel of lightning and thunder, Barachiel (“God’s Blessings” or “Lightning of God”, especially when transcribed as Barakiel or Baraqiel) — to the point of being mentioned as his partner or consort.

Barachiel is the angel of lightning, but also — as the name suggests — blessings. In Catholic iconography he is usually depicted with a staff, a basket of bread, or a rose, each petal of which is representing a blessing from God, tossed out as the angel pleases to bless people. He is the chief of guardian angels, but in particular watches over young children, and sometimes takes on the task of delivering the blessing of offspring to prospective parents.

Like Zophiel is believed to have taught humans languages and wisdom found in books, Barachiel is commonly revered as the angel who taught them astrology, the wisdom of the stars.

Nothing lasts forever

Raphaelic legends aren’t all fun and games, but also mention the less marketed aspect of being an archangel: signaling the Day of Judgment. In Christianity, this is usually assigned as another one of Gabriel’s jobs, but he’s on the run right now, isn’t he? Well, good news! In Islam, Raphael is called Israfil or Israfel and believed to be the angel who blows the trumpet to signal Qiyamah, a counterpart of the Christian Second Coming, instead. The fact that Aziraphale has taken over Gabriel’s position in Heaven might be much less coincidental than some think.

And it’s important to remember that this power is not only destructive — while the first blow will kill all creatures and creations, the second one will revive them and prepare for the Last Judgment (yes, the very same one that in Christian belief will be administered by Jesus with the help of Book of Life). Very much in line of what Adam, the Antichrist, has done with the help of a certain shoulder angel and shoulder demon.

This is exactly the sentiment found in the poem “Israfel” by Edgar Allen Poe. In a material world nothing is meant to last forever, which is a curse and a blessing. A curse because it means death and destruction; miracles may sustain a certain bookshop in its current form through millennia, but as a tombstone to the life they led instead of a home it once used to be. A blessing, because it also means change and a new beginning — as long as there’s enough life force to replace whatever is lost in the process.

Nothing on Earth lasts forever, but we should use it for inspiration, savor momentary bliss, and hold it in our hearts. Only Heaven and the passions of its angels (fallen or not) are truly eternal.

And we can expect at least two of them to keep loving each other beyond the human concept of time, perhaps in a nice cottage on the South Downs.

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a-dauntless-daffodil · 5 months ago

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Charlie: "Dad. Did you post this."

Lucifer: "Oh my 'selfie' with your dear lovely Maggie?? Why yes I DID! Do you like it!?"

Charlie: "Dad."

Lucifer: "Since she's your loving girlfriend, who you love, I thought gosh! I should really have on my social media page! Make a change from all the ducks, ha ha!"

Charlie: "Dad did you write the- the caption on it?"

Lucifer: "The c- oh yes! Well I wanted everyone to know how much I ADORE my daughter's girlfriend!!"

Charlie: "You wrote-"

Lucifer: "See, the 'bad' here means 'good'! I checked! Bad and bitch are bad on their own, but when you put them together it's like a, er, a double negative making a positive, haha! Maggie's a bad bitch- she's AWESOME- which ahaha I'm sure YOU know since you're dating her-and now all of Hell knows I think so too!!!! ISN'T THAT SWELL!"

Charlie: "But the actual whole caption says-"

Lucifer: "'ME AND THE BAD BITCH I PULLED BY BEING CHARLIE'S DAD'!"

Lucifer: "Aww and the picture turned out so great! Look!"

Lucifer: ".... you don't look super thrilled about it, Char-char."

Charlie: "Pulled, dad... Do you know what 'pulled' can mean exactly, specifically, in THIS context..?"

Lucifer: "... pulled.... into a... hug? Like in the selfie...?"

Charlie: "Dad."

Charlie: (deep breath) "I can't believe I'm saying this..."

Charlie: "You made it sound like you SLEPT WITH my girlfriend."

Lucifer: "......."

Lucifer: "Oh. HA! That's..."

Lucifer: (deflating balloon noises as he literally shrivels up into a crumpled pile of clothes mostly hidden by his hat)

Charlie: "We're not angry!"

Lucifer: ".... i m s o r r y..."

Charlie: "It's okay!!! IT'S FINE. A little mentally scarring and socially mortifying not to mention something our friends won't EVER let us live down, but- well- Just... Just-"

Charlie: "No more social media meme posting without running them past me or Vaggie first, alright!?"

Lucifer: "If I delete the post maybe no one else will see it...."

Charlie: "Everyone in Hell has already seen it, dad."

Lucifer: "..i could delete myself instead"

Charlie: "And HOW would that help?"

Lucifer: "...it would make me feel better..."

Vaggie: "Honestly sir, the most embarrassing part is how you look young enough to be my teenage son."

Charlie: "Thanks, Vaggie."

Vaggie: "Check out my stress wrinkles and scars next his baby smooth face. It's like I picked him up from a cradle somewhere."

Charlie: "Please don't joke about cradle robbing my actual father."

Vaggie: "Sorry babe."

Charlie: "I mean I'll NEVER be able to look at ANY of my parents' family portraits the same way ever AGAIN, but thank you for being SO understanding about the rumor you're dating my DAD!"

Vaggie: "Sir, what kinda skin routine are you even doing?"

Lucifer: "room full of rubber ducks and despair"

Charlie: "VAGGIE PLEASE."

Vaggie: "Sweetie, I'm ruffling his hair in the pic. It's hilarious."

Charlie: "I DON'T NEED THE REMINDER!"

Vaggie: "Feels like I'm about to call the king of hell 'kiddo' or something."

Lucifer: (a puddle on the floor) "i thought it was funny too"

Charlie: "Okay.... okay."

Charlie: "You two NEED to find a bonding activity that doesn't TRAUMATIZE me."

Vaggie: "Hmm."

Lucifer: "OH WE COULD-"

Charlie: "Or each other!"

Lucifer: "Oh well then I have nothing!"

Vaggie: "We'll always have that time you fake dated me online, sir someday dad-in-law."

Lucifer: "Our beautifully shared new horrifying past..."

Charlie: "Ha ha HA! Keep this up and either the dad part or the someday in-law part is gonna stop being accurate REAL quick!"

Vaggie: "It will?"

Charlie: "No but I'm trying to threaten you two right now so SHUSH."

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #lucifer morningstar #chaggie #vaggie #incorrect quotes #charlie starting to wish her dad to try less actually #less trying to be supportive might be good right about now

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taradactyls · 5 months ago

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More Bennet Family finances discussion - Ch26 end note of Trying to Tread Water

For those of you interested in the financial elements of Austen’s books, that statement of Mr Bennet’s about how much it would have taken to give their daughters £10,000 apiece is accurate. That’s more than they would be expected to have, as the general rule about ample dowries appeared to be about 3x the father’s yearly income, a number which certainly seems supported in the case of the Darcys and Bingleys (keeping in mind the late Mr Bingley must have had £140,000, if the daughters each had £20,000 and Mr Bingley has about £100,000).

SO, if we go by that rule and aim for each of the Bennets to have £6,000 (as Mr Bennet’s estate is £2,000/y) invested in the 4% like their mother’s settlement is, how much WOULD Mr and Mrs Bennet have had to be saving?

We can assume by the end of the book they have been married at least 23 years (and they should have been saving from the very beginning, regardless of their hope to end the entail), which means that if they’d reinvested the interest of Mrs Bennet’s £5,000 and added £450 a year, they would have £28,802 about when Jane, Elizabeth, and Lydia got married. Even if they were given a dowry immediately upon their marriages (meaning £18,000 is subtracted) it would only take two more years for the account to be over £12,000 again, ensuring all five daughters would have at least £6,000 after their parents were dead. (If it were invested in the 5% bonds, these savings go up to £34,001 after 23 years, and to get £29,858 after 23 years they would only need to be depositing £350).

But say that level of saving isn’t desired, as Mrs Bennet doesn’t want to live off £1,550/y. They could live off the £2,000/y estate and save only the interest of her £5,000 settlement (the £4,000 dowry plus additional £1,000 from Mr Bennet) and, in 23 years, have grown those savings to £12,324 (£15,358 in the 5%s). Which means that if Mr Bennet were to die tomorrow the family would still feel they were in genteel poverty, but would be more than twice as rich as they are in canon which is a DRASTIC difference. For context, in Sense and Sensibility, Mrs Dashwood and her daughters are living off the interest of about £10,000 and it seems Mrs and Miss Bates in Emma have interest from about £2,000-£2,500.

If they had saved even only £100/y on top of that interest the number shoots up to £15,985 (£19,501 at 5%), £200 saved becomes £19,647 (or £23,644), etc. It really wouldn’t have been hard for Mr and Mrs Bennet to save enough money so their daughters (and Mrs Bennet, if she’s the survivor) needn’t fear genteel poverty when the estate passes to Mr Collins. Catherine Moreland (of Northanger Abbey) is one of ten children whose father is almost certainly not as rich as Mr Bennet, but she has a dowry of £3,000, so there’s no reason to think Mr and Mrs Bennet couldn’t have achieved that. When Mr Darcy and the Bingley sisters are mocking the Miss Bennets’ wealth at the start of the book it’s not just the number they’re judging, but what it reveals about the priorities and fiscal savviness of their parents. Imagine if you knew a 1%er family who were constantly flirting with bankruptcy and 2/5 of their children were barely educated – you wouldn’t be wrong for assuming there were some drastic faults within that family. Mr Darcy and the Bingley sisters were horrible snobs about it, but it actually was a massive lapse of Mr and Mrs Bennet’s duty and they’re rich enough that there’s no excuse for it. After all, Mr Darcy is about five times richer (Mr Bingley is two or two-point-five times richer) than Mr Bennet, yet Georgiana is THIRTY times (and Caroline and Lousia twenty times) richer than the Miss Bennets. I know it’s easier for someone with Darcy levels of money to save, but wow is the failure drastic when you compare it directly.

#doubling down on posting these money based end notes so I have them easier to find #fic:t3w #pride and prejudice #jane austen

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sugarlywhispers · 2 years ago

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b.katsuki + doctor!wife saves his life

☆— fem reader, ANGST, fluff, swearing, descriptions of blood and medical procedures.

☆— a/n; i wrote this a while ago, and i apologize beforehand for any mistakes. i'm not a doctor.🙃

☆—context; reader and bakugou have an arranged marriage. reader is quirkless, but her parents aren't. a business made by his parents and hers made them end up married. bakugou and reader have hated each other since they met; however, lately they had improved their relationship a lot by this moment.

☆—context2; let's pretend for the sake of this fic that morphine and nitroglycerin don't work well together, and it's deadly when combined. you'll understand why in a bit. *wink wink*

"Miss Y/L/N, you are needed in the ER urgently. Please, direct yourself here. I repeat, Miss Y/L/N…"

You looked up from the wound you were checking on one of your patients in the ICU to the speakers of the hospital. The voice even sounded urgent, which was kind of unsettling and strange; however your movements didn't hurry. You realized the severity of the call when one of your colleagues entered the room and urged you to hurry and go while she would take your place in caring for the patient you were currently with.

And it felt like a bucket of cold water when you saw Uraraka standing at the door of that room, looking all beaten and tears streaming down her face.

Oh, no.

The only reason she would be here looking like that was because of a fight that ended badly with some villain, like any other hero would likely be there, at the hospital for. However, the fact that she was there, looking for you specifically…

It only meant one thing.

Bakugou.

The next thing you knew is that you're running. The voice of your boss in the very back of your mind nagging at you, "do not run in the hospital!"; but you couldn't care less. Especially not now. You could also hear Uraraka running behind you too with some difficulty; and you felt a bit bad about that. She was also hurt and you should have attended to her wounds, yet he was the only thing you had a mind to care for at the moment.

When you entered the ER, it was chaos. Pro heroes, injured all around the place; even Izuku was sitting on a gurney, a nurse stitching a new open wound in his right arm, face bloody and bruised, dirt all over him. Kaminari was laying on the one next to him, also bruised and passed out.

As your eyes traveled throughout the whole place, you realized every Pro Hero you knew was there, everyone who had belonged to Class A especially. But you couldn't find Bakugou.

All the air in the room felt scarce when you saw Kirishima move around and discuss something with a doctor in one of the private rooms.

Oh, fucking no…

Everything seemed to move in slow motion as you directed yourself there, the beatings of your heart deafening you almost completely, your attention solely in that room where you knew for sure Bakugou was in.

When Kirishima saw you entering the room, he immediately stood close to you, his face also bruised and bloody and dirty, eyes full of tears that fell through his cheeks. He grabbed you by your shoulders and begged you to do something. But your eyes didn't leave the man, your man, laying there, unconscious, blood that slided from his head towards his face; one of his eyes was bloody and swollen and his left shoulder was dislocated. You could hear the bone going back to its place when another specialist put it back.

But your attention was on the monitor, where it showed his vitals getting lower and lower. Another doctor was doing CPR on him, which meant his heart was giving up.

"Y/N, please…"

Kiri's voice sounded very far away, when you could still feel him right in front of you, his hands starting to shake your whole body.

"Please, Y/N, do something!"

The movement of a doctor that suddenly held a syringe close to Bakugou and Kirishima's yell brought you back to your senses.

"DO NOT FUCKING MOVE!" You exclaimed, realizing what all of that scenario was about.

They were about to put Bakugou in a medical coma; and Kirishima and you knew what that meant. Morphine. They were about to inject morphine on a body that mostly had nitroglycerin inside. They were about to kill Pro Hero Dynamight, a.k.a. Bakugou Katsuki, a.k.a. your husband.

Kirishima sighed deeply, relief kicking inside his body as he cried, while everyone froze looking at you surprised. You immediately moved next to Bakugou as you checked on his vitals, your doctor skills possessing your body as you tended to him fast and meticulously and scolded at the same time at the other doctors for not realizing sooner their mistake that almost took your husband's life.

"But, if we can't put morphine on him, how do we take care of him?" You want to swear from there to hell at that doctor. He was obviously new, but he was asking what probably everyone was wondering. And you couldn't blame him for that.

Your mind started to run at two hundred miles per hour, trying, begging for it to find a solution.

Nothing.

"Y/N…" Kirishima called, still crying.

Nothing.

Your eyes filled with tears, so you closed them.

"Y/N," he called you again.

Nothing.

The air that went inside your lungs started to burn, and the exhale hurt your chest heavily.

"Y/N!"

"Shut up!" You yelled back.

All the blood in your body rushed to your chest and head, a pounding pain annoying your process of thinking. You hated-...

You opened your eyes suddenly.

The blood.

"Blood," you whispered. "He needs a blood transfusion, NOW!"

"Y/N, we don't have his blood type available…"

"What?!" It's both yours and Kirishima's yell, at the same time.

"Fuck," you finally cursed.

And then it enlightened you.

"Connect me," you said as you moved, putting tubes and cables around you and Katsuki. Another doctor asked what you are talking about, "I have the same blood type. Connect me to him, that way his blood renews constantly as you heal him. It will help him stay."

Your relationship with Bakugou was complicated; hell, complicated didn't even hold the entirety of what it was. Having had an arranged marriage, hating each other's guts since the very first day you met, really didn't help you two get along well.

But he kept his promise to protect you, to provide for you. To be there for you, always.

Every day, he woke up first and always left you breakfast ready for when you finally got up, sometimes lunch too; he would always send a text message during the day reminding you to eat, to take a break here and there–in his own way, of course, full of swears and contemptuously.

You never backed away though, you always answered something annoying back that surely started another fight, another discussion between you too.

However, it didn't matter the fight, or what was said in that fight, Bakugou would always stay.

He would always lay in bed next to you at night; if the fight heated up too much, he would go on a run to cool himself down, but he would always come back home.

He would always stay next to you.

Kirishima was asked to leave the room as everyone started moving around you and his best friend, he saw as a cable connected directly your blood with his. He didn't really know what that meant, but he knew something. No matter how much you two fought, or how different you two were…

You loved him.

And he knew Katsuki loved you.

Even when none of you had admitted it yet.

But everything was confirmed to him when he heard you whisper at Bakugou, "Stay, please stay."

Bakugou Katsuki felt as if a brick wall fell onto him. And that was a new experience. He had been thrown at walls and through walls, but never one fell over him.

And it fucking sucked.

The white hospital lights hurt his eyes when he tried to open them, and there came all the other feelings. His left shoulder burned and felt tight–it didn't take him much to understand that it probably had been dislocated and the tightness probably came from bands that held it so any kind of movement wouldn't interrupt the process of healing. His legs felt like gum, like even if he tried to move them, the heaviness wouldn't allow it; but they were there, he could feel them, so that was good. His chest though…

It felt so heavy, probably if he paid enough attention he would be able to see the beatings of his heart through the scarred skin. He wanted to grunt annoyed at everything.

He then realized that among all the cables and tubes that were connected to him, there was one that made him feel a bit tingly, because he could feel whatever was that they were injecting him.

He fought against his eyelids until he could open them, and he wasn't expecting what his eyes found–well, one of them, because the other one was so swollen he could barely open it.

You were resting on a big reclining chair next to his bed with a hospital duvet over your body as you slept, a frown in your eyebrows showing how stressed you actually were. He had seen that frown before, sometimes at night when you went to sleep, when you both were laying on your sides but in front of each other, in the bed you shared. He would never fucking admit it out loud, but he sometimes would massage lightly in between your eyebrows until the muscles finally relaxed while you slept. Your face was laying uncomfortably to a side that made Bakugou think that position would probably make your neck hurt once you woke up.

And then he saw it.

The duvet was covering all your body, in exception to one arm that was over it, showing a small tube that clearly connected your blood with his. That's where the tingly came from.

Oh, fuck.

"Oh, you're awake, man," Kirishima's voice distracted him for a moment. He turned his head towards his best friend, who looked as shitty as himself.

Kirishima smiled at him, a whole bunch of emotion written all over his face.

"Fuck," was Bakugou's first word, with a raspy voice that didn't sound like his own, "Was it that bad?"

"You almost died," his best friend's voice cracked a bit, trying to hold back his emotion. "If it hadn't been for Y/N's quick thinking, you would have died. Doctors were about to put morphine on you…"

"Shit," Bakugou let his head fall back, realizing how badly everything could have gone.

"You had internal bleeding, a lung filled with liquid, and several broken bones, you were even bleeding from your head," Kirishima started as Bakugou kept swearing out loud, "When they said they needed to put morphine, I tried to warn them, but they kept dismissing me. Damn, I'm no doctor, but I know stuff!" The red head protested, which made Bakugou smile a bit. "I tried to gain some time as Uraraka ran for Y/N. When she came, obviously they did pay attention to her. She's… really good at this."

They both looked at you as you slept. Your eyebrows were still frowning, but Bakugou could listen to your deep breathing even in that distance. That eased him a bit.

Then his eyes went to the tube again and the anger started to fill his body.

"Why is she connected to me?" He asked, trying to make his raspy voice sound firm.

Kirishima sighed. "There was no other way. They needed to operate, and they didn't have your blood type available at the moment," Bakugou scoffed, hating everything and all you had to do for him. Kirishima laid closer to his face, ready to scold him for his stubbornness, "Your heart was slowing down, you fucking idiot."

That did surprise Bakugou; Kirishima never cursed at anyone. And when the blond found his friend's eyes, they were filled with tears.

"I-I'm fine…" Bakugou reassured him, clearly not knowing what else to do or say at his best friend's deep emotion.

Fuck, he had nearly fucking died.

"Yeah, and that's thanks to her," Kirishima pointed at you, "So be nice," he warned before backing away and taking a deep breath.

Bakugou looked back at you. This couldn't be real. You had to know, right?

"Does she know?"

"Know what?" Kirishima asked as he stretched his big and long arms over his head.

Bakugou looked back at him, "What this fucking means, Eijirou."

Kirishima frowned, now a bit worried, "I don't know, she didn't mention anything. Is it something bad?"

The blond closed his eyes, his right hand closing in a fist, jaw tight. When he was about to answer, a sweet and delicate voice coming out of a sleep state made him open his eyes and look directly in your direction.

"It simply means we are sharing blood," you said, stirring a bit in your chair, opening your eyes and finding deep red ones almost killing you with their gaze.

"Simply?" Bakugou mocked, shaking his head.

"That's what you said," Kiri looked suspicious at you, arms crossing over his chest.

"And I'm not lying or doing anything illegal," you defended yourself as two Pro Heroes looked at you with their Pro Hero scolding eyes.

"We know, but you're hiding information, I can see it clearly now," Kirishima protested, his voice still as gentle as always.

Your fingers started fidgeting with each other, obviously nervous. For some reason, Kiri's gentle tone was more effective than Bakugou's murdering glare.

Your husband suddenly realized something and snorted, "You didn't tell anyone?"

"There's nothing to tell."

"Yes, there fucking is!"

"No, there isn't!"

"Y/N! For fucks sake-..."

"Shut up, Bakugou!"

"I won't fucking shut up! You are telling them now-..."

"There's nothing to tell, Katsuki!"

"OKAY, ENOUGH!" Eijirou's scream startled both of you. "You both clear this up and tell me right now what you are talking about."

"Eijirou, we are sharing blood!" Bakugou looked like he was about to tear the hair out of his head.

The red head looked at his friends for a moment, back and forth, trying to connect what that meant. And then it clicked.

You two were sharing blood. You were receiving Bakugou's blood as much as he was receiving yours. Which meant…

Your body was currently receiving high doses of pure nitroglycerin through the blood.

"Oh, shit, Y/N!" Kirishima was instantly by your side, "You have to take that off, now!"

"No!" You said pushing him away as he tried to move the tube.

"Fucking yes, you are!" Bakugou protested, trying to sit a bit straighter.

"No, don't move, Bakugou! And stop touching me, Eijirou!" Everyone stopped when you stood up and they looked at your small but firm form standing with authority, "I have been doing this for the past three days you were unconscious, and I'll do it until the doctor says it is enough." You said, tone firm and final as you looked at Bakugou.

"Y/N, you don't fucking have a Quirk," he spat, yet you could see a tiny bit of light in his eyes that begged you to stop doing it.

"And I don't fucking need one to know when enough is enough."

"That's why you have been taking breaks," Kirishima suddenly realized.

"Yes," you admitted, eyes still locked in a fight with Bakugou's. "I take breaks of thirty minutes in between two and three hours," your tone, Kirishima could only describe it as trying to reassure Bakugou that you were fine. But his friend was stubborn.

"It's not enough, and you fucking know it, Y/N!" He protested again.

"I can do this, I'm not weak, Katsuki!"

Kirishima took several steps back as he saw his friend's eye twitch when you called him by his name. It was a clear intimate discussion between a husband and a wife now. He really tried to avoid smiling, but he couldn't, so he simply left the room, leaving this complicated couple to resolve this on their own.

"You. Do. Not. Have. A. Quirk." He repeated, his hand grabbing your wrist, gently, despite the heated discussion you were having.

"And I don't need one for this!" If he was stubborn, you doubled it.

"Y/N! You are not feeling it now, but you will later! And I can't-..."

"You can't what, Bakugou?!"

"LOOK AT ME! I can barely move, and I won't be able to take care of you when the nitroglycerin kicks in!"

"I don't need you to take care of me! I am taking care of you! Besides, a bit of vomiting didn't kill anyone…"

"FUCK, Y/N! You know shit! You don't know how badly this fucking Quirk hurt when I was a kid!" He admitted in a yell, his only eye open now clearly begging you, as the thumb of the hand that was holding your wrist caressed the back of your hand. He always did that, even though his voice and words were rough, his touch was always gentle, careful.

"Katsuki," your hand went to his cheek, holding it with all the gentleness you had. He couldn't avoid the sigh, the relief he felt when your touch finally made any contact with him. He didn't know how desperate he actually was for you to touch him. You saw it, as clear as day, how scared he actually was, so you gently laid your forehead against his without putting any kind of pressure, "I can do this. Please, please, let me help you…" Your throat suddenly felt tight as your eyes filled with tears, "You almost died…"

Your whisper made his insides curl, as his gaze went down to your connected arms, which was the same he was holding your wrist.

You could feel the hold he had on your wrist tighten a little bit by your words, and you sniffed, trying to hold back your emotions.

And that simple action crumbled evey wall Katsuki could have put in between you two.

He was taking deep intakes of breath, your breath that was so close to his face and it felt like it was already healing him.

"You'll take breaks each hour."

"No, that's barely enough time to help it travel your whole body, and you know it."

Bakugou huffed, "Fine, two hours."

You pulled away and rolled your eyes, a traitorous tear rolling down on your cheek, "That's what I've been doing."

"Fucking brat…" He muttered, trying to hide a smirk, and you smiled in satisfaction.

"A simple thank you would be enough," you winked at him, which made him roll his eye.

You saw the little flutter of the other eye that was barely open at its movement, so you immediately went doctor mode and prepared everything to clean his eye, again.

Bakugou simply looked at you and let you work. And as he watched you, he couldn't avoid thinking how good all of you felt close to him, how stupid he was for all this time had you at arms length just because he thought you weren't strong enough, when in reality he was afraid of you getting involved in his world. For having treated you all this time like feather easy to break, when here you were, being the strongest person in the room while taking care of him and his wounds and also sharing blood with him to keep him alive like it was nothing.

He had underestimated you, and now he felt like a jerk.

A jerk that was completely in love with you.

"Thank you," he whispered back.

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