#they either make me uncomfortable or I just… Don’t Like Them

[ficsilike-reblogged]

Shelter - 2

Summary: You save Soap's life. Yours continues to go off the rails. Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley/F!Reader Warnings For This Chapter: Canon typical violence, panic attack, my continued attempt to write Soap and Ghost's accents, military inaccuracies, more canon divergence, Soft!Simon. MINORS DNI A/N: I truly cannot believe how sweet you guys were about the first chapter. Thank you so much for being so kind! I apologize for the wait. I was almost done with this chapter when I decided I hated it and scrapped all of it and started over. I also finished another draft of my novel! Busy times. This is definitely more of a slow burn romance and I'm thinking it'll be around 10 or so chapters.

Well, at least you were out of the hospital room. It wasn’t far from the hospital room, but the horrendously beige room down the hall had a television and a few chairs you could sink into and a small kitchen that always seemed to be stocked with snacks in neat boxes on the counter. Were they good snacks? Not really. But you weren’t about to complain when it was a break from the nutrient dense and flavorless food they’d been shoveling down your throat the last handful of days.

Coronation Street was playing on the television as you soaked a plain biscuit in your tea. This was probably a breakroom of some sort, cleared out of anything that you could have possibly used to communicate with the outside world and you were pretty sure the blinking light in the corner was a camera to make sure you weren’t going to do anything ridiculous. Like climb out a window.

No.

You just wanted out of that stupid room with its uncomfortable bed and terrible pillow and beeping machines.

The biscuit crumbled in half when you tried to remove it and you stared at your tea for a stretched moment as the soap opera continued to drone on. Dammit. You shoved the rest of the biscuit into your mouth and then sipped on the tea for a moment before digging out the remnants of the biscuit with your spoon. Not your proudest moment.

You were pulled from your sad cup of tea and entertainment by the door opening and Soap walking in, arm still in his matching sling.

“Why am I hearing about ye not taking yer pain killers?” He asked instead of a greeting. You found that Soap did that. He barged right into things. No slow starts for him. It would be endearing if this were any other situation.

And just like you not saying anything to Ghost about your sister and why she wouldn’t be found in any intel about you, you wouldn’t give Soap a straight answer either. You were not going to take any of those pain killers if you didn’t feel like you needed them. You knew… Well, that didn’t matter right now. “Are they telling you my medical history? I don’t think that’s legal on either side of the pond.”

He frowned. The big Scot frowned and you almost laughed with how it made him look like a puppy. “Don’t ye need it? Ye were shot.”

“I’m aware of that. Trust me.” You turned and grabbed at the sleeve of biscuits, knowing it was a blatant change of topic. “These are awful, by the way.”

Soap snatched them out of your hand and scowled at them. “These are shite. Why’d ye do that to yerself?” He then pivoted and rummaged through the cabinets you weren’t brave enough to open and then set down a pack of shortbreads in a fancy looking tin which he popped open with one hand (you tried not to be jealous about that particular skill). “That’ll be the only thing going near yer tea.”

The shortbread was delicious and you wordlessly made another cup of tea for yourself and a cup of coffee for Soap. You were prouder than you wanted to admit to hear you guessed correctly when you said he looked like he preferred coffee and prouder still when you dug some out of the cabinet and made it just the way he said he liked it as he settled on the lumpy couch beside you to watch the rest of the episode. He knew what was going on better than you and regaled you with the storylines long since finished and convoluted family ties of the characters. It was nice. Soap was…nice.

He had finished his coffee by the time the episode ended and scooped up your mug on his way toward the breakroom’s tiny kitchenette and set them both in the sink. He turned back toward you, bright blue eyes scanning your face for something. He had a casual set to his shoulders, even with the sling, but you knew the look of a smart man trying to pick his words carefully. Soap honestly reminded you, just a little bit, of a guy you went to highschool with, who looked the part of loveable idiot but eventually went to an ivy league school on a football scholarship. He was currently a doctor, knee deep in cancer research, if those annoying alumni emails had any truth to them.

“Just say what you need to say. I’m sure I can handle it.”

The corner of Soap’s mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile. “I wanted to let ye know that yer intel was good.”

You just nodded. That would explain why you hadn’t seen the other three lately. They had been sent to Kastovia. “That mean I can go home?”

Soap sighed and your heart shriveled a bit more. “No, lass. I’m sorry.”

Someone had left a calendar in the breakroom. You had tried to keep track of the days that had slipped by, but you just wanted to be sure. You counted on your fingers how many days you thought had passed, but the pain killers the first few days after the tunnel had made everything hazy. You worried your bottom lip with the blunt edge of your teeth as you flipped through the next month and dragged your finger down to the day you knew Kirby was due.

Just a few short weeks. That’s all you had. You needed to be there. You needed to be back in time. You’d promised Kirby you would be. You’d never broken a promise to your younger sister and you didn’t want to start now. Those stupid, useless tears stung at your eyes again and blurred the calendar dates. “Fuck.” You wiped at your eyes, trying to keep them from falling before anyone saw, before you felt more useless and trapped than you already did.

Another episode of Coronation Street was playing, a hum at the back of your mind, but it started to mutate and grow until it was a screech. You needed to get to Kirby. They had what they needed from you. You would sign anything they wanted, change your name, dye your hair, live off the grid. But you needed to see Kirby.

You promised.

The door opened easily and you strode out into the hallway. Did you know where you were going? Not really but you just needed to leave. You could figure out the rest later. After all, Kirby always said you landed on your feet. It was time you proved her right. You turned down another hall and yelped when a meaty hand clapped on your uninjured shoulder. You turned, tamping down the urge to throw an elbow and snarled as you realized it was only Soap and his ridiculous blue eyes.

“What’re ye doing?”

“I’m leaving. I have to go.” Your heart thudded painfully as you turned, slipping out from his grip. The edges of your vision started to blur and you hated that you knew what this meant. It had been years since you felt like this—but this situation hadn’t exactly been great for your mental health.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Each beat of your heart hurt.

“Ye cannae do that, lass. Ye know that.”

“I’m leaving.” You turned again to leave and grunted when he pulled at the back of your shirt. “Let go of me.”

“Lass-”

You turned and tugged your shirt free, letting the snarl curl your mouth as your vision continued to tunnel.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

“I’m leaving!”

What happened next was not your finest moment but you’d also been through worse. Soap reached for you again and after you pulled out of his grip once more, he lowered his shoulder and ran at you, hauling you up and over. His arm anchored you down, a weight across your back as his shoulder dug into your stomach. You didn’t even freeze as he turned, presumably to bring you back to the breakroom. Your arm pushed out of its sling and you wrapped your hands around one of his thighs and let his next step help pull you from his grip. Heat lanced across your shoulder as you wiggled against the grip until you yanked your legs free and kicked them above his head and over your own until your heels hit the ground. And then you were throwing yourself forward and dashing down the hallway. Out. You needed to get out. You needed to leave. Every breath burned a little more and-

The tile was cool against your cheek but Soap’s arms were a heavy firebrand as they banded around your waist. “Calm down. Calm down fer me.”

You thrashed against his hold as he stood but he didn’t seem to care and it wasn’t like you were a match to those dumb, hulking muscles. But still, your memory was hazy as he dragged you back to the breakroom and shoved a shortbread into your hand.

“Now, I’ll talk to someone. But ye cannae do that. Ye understand?”

By the time Simon arrived back on home soil, they’d moved her and Soap to a different part of the base. A hall of barracks that had been recently constructed but not yet assigned to a different squadron had been a good place to hide away their injured sergeant and American informant. Laswell had informed Price of the move and then sent along a video in lieu of an explanation.

Simon wasn’t entirely sure how many times he watched her claw and wiggle her way out of Johnny’s grip but Price did eventually take the phone away from him. (But not before Simon sent himself a copy.) She was wily. Strong. Stubborn.

Even when she had tears smeared across her face.

It was easy for Simon to claim one of the rooms as his own—it had always been better for Simon to be on base anyway. His flat in Manchester never felt like home. Just an expensive place to rest his head when he was ordered to take his mandated leave. Knowing the others were down the hall was more comfortable than any sort of high priced pillow anyway.

The mission had been successful. And a shitshow. The second, and larger, cache of gas in Kastovia had been exactly where her intel had said it would be in a barren steel plant. But the handful of missiles had been an unexpected find. As had the small militia that awaited them. While they had been easily dealt with, one of them managed to set off what Simon could only describe as a failsafe to take out the entire plant and the surrounding area. The gas dissipated quickly but not before it had caused extensive damage. Makarov wanted them dead. And he wanted her dead, too, if the picture one of his men had pinned up beside a map of different caches and routes to take over borders was any indication. It was upside down and some artist had taken it upon themselves to scratch out her eyes and draw an obvious axe buried in her neck. Charming. There were a few smaller pictures beside it but he didn’t get a clear look at them.

The explosion meant they didn’t have more than the one picture Gaz took of the map and Simon’s lungs burned a bit every time he took a breath. Nik had been quick in the exfil but still cut it close. Too close. And it grated on his every nerve that Makarov hadn’t been there. Still in the wind.

Simon had been told to visit the medbay before going to bed—Laswell was supposed to be arriving tomorrow for a debrief—but he thought that was more of a suggestion than an order. He’d dropped his bag on the floor and rinsed off before lumbering into the small bed, letting the standard-issue sheets scratch at his skin. It felt like coming home. And he watched the video again, feeling a strange smile push at his mouth.

He could bother Johnny about her ability to get away from him in the morning.

The doctor whose name you couldn’t be bothered to remember told you to start physical therapy. And, just your luck, Soap had been told to do the same. If he was wary of you because of your outburst, he didn’t show it at all. He would smile at you, eyes crinkling, over his coffee whenever you opened your door at the crack of dawn. A tea would be in his other hands and ready for you. It was a nice routine as more days continued to slip by.

You’d stretch and grumble about the slowly fading pain in your shoulder and Soap would do the same. At least you didn’t need to use the sling anymore. But this was, pathetically, probably the closest you’d had to a friend. He’d talk and talk and talk. About his mom and sisters up in a small town outside Glasgow. About the dog he had as a kid���“Boots was the best dog a boy could have, lass, lemme tell ye.” About anything that seemed to pop into his head as the sun would intermittently peek out from behind the low hanging clouds to splash warmth across the dead grass beneath your sneakers. You counted it as a win that they let you outside. It was behind a fence with razor wire at the top, but a win is a win. Mostly. Maybe they were seeing if they could actually trust you outside those beige walls.

You’d swallow nails if it meant you could be at Kirby’s side when she needed you.

One of the more ridiculous exercises the doctor had you and Soap do was passing a yoga ball between one another—of course, you had to move your arms a certain way to get the right stretch or whatever, but it all felt a little silly, even with the twinge growing more pronounced with each pass. Hands on top and on bottom, twist so they’re on the side, hand to Soap. He’d repeat.

“This feels very stupid.”

“Aye. But they’re watchin’ so we’d best play nice.”

The yoga ball nearly slipped from your suddenly-slick fingers. “What do you mean?” You’d heard a bit of thudding from the empty room next to yours last night but thought it was a faulty air unit. Was there someone else here?

“They got back last night. Give ‘em a chance to settle before they say hello, aye?” Soap’s blue eyes sparked with mirth and you might have shoved the ball back at him a little harder than necessary. He just laughed at you.

You chanced a glance at the rectangular windows cut into the metal building, close to the sharp edge of the roof. He was probably just being funny, but now you couldn’t fight the feeling of someone watching you. And why did your mind conjure Ghost’s ridiculous mask?

He hadn’t said much after you had told him you weren’t going to pour your heart out to him. But he’d continued to stare until he and the others left for Kastovia without a word. One guy who’d found you “mysterious” while you were in undergrad thought that he could figure you out and stared, too. Thought that his attempt at a psychology degree would unravel all…well, all of you. He gave up after a couple of months. Ghost didn’t seem the type to give up. But that still didn’t mean that you were going to tell him anything.

You threw another glance toward the window and the yoga ball hit you in the face.

Simon stared down at the inhaler. This was stupid. The doc had hurriedly explained that being exposed to the gas during the explosion had done a number on Simon’s lungs. At least he wasn’t Price who’d hit his head on his way out and was told he’d had a concussion and also needed the inhaler. Gaz had been the only one who’d managed to get out mostly unscathed aside from needing a butterfly bandage for a cut over his eye.

His next breath burned and Simon finally shook the damn scrap of plastic and took a puff just as he heard the back door open. He stood and watched Johnny and the woman trudge out into the dead grass, carrying a few bits of equipment, including a yoga ball, craning his head just enough to see them through the high window. And well, if he stood on the small desk chair to watch, who would know?

He couldn’t hear them but he watched her throw a few glances toward the window. And then Johnny hit her in the face with the yoga ball. She promptly slingshotted one of the resistance bands at his head in retaliation.

“Heh.”

The debrief later that morning with Laswell had gone as expected: More intel was good. Makarov not being spotted was bad. They needed time to heal. Farah and Alex would investigate possible gas caches just within Urzikstan’s borders.

The picture Gaz managed to grab was helpful and did verify a majority of the intel they had already. But it did mean that Makarov’s network was larger than they had ever thought. One of Laswell’s contacts had enhanced the slightly blurry picture and Simon recognized each of the 141’s faces, pinned to the board, too. They were targets just as much as she was. Small bits of paper stemmed from Price, Soap, and Kyle’s pictures and Simon knew what they represented even without the fancy tech trying to make it clearer. They were hunting for weak spots. Family. Friends.

They needed to leave. Keep low. Hide. Simon hated it. He hated that the others had families on the line and he could do nothing but take a few puffs of his stupid inhaler and wait. These were men who’d become his brothers-in-arms and their families were at risk. He knew what it was like to lose.

Price’s hacking cough basically ended the debrief and Laswell said she needed to make some calls, disappearing to another part of the base and Price griped as Kyle urged him to go back to medical. Johnny said he was going to start packing.

Simon walked away as Price continued to grumble and walked down the small hallway toward the bunk rooms and–

BANG.

Simon paused just for a moment, straining his ears as he pushed further down the hallway. With how the mission had gone, he couldn’t rule out that someone had attempted to get onto base and finish the job the gas couldn’t. There were security gates and checkpoints, of course. The high fences. And this part of the base was underdeveloped for now. But having a traitor in the midst wasn’t something Simon could write off.

“Fuck,” came an annoyed voice.

The tension slipped from his shoulders as he pushed open the nearest door.

Sitting in a chair in front of the mirror atop the tiny dresser, she was picking at her stitches with a pair of needle nose pliers. A small pile of the twists sat atop the dresser—apparently she’d been at this for a while. Simon walked in, watching as she leaned closer to the mirror, trying to see the stitches across her shoulder better as she plucked at them. She’d jammed her tongue between her teeth and the strap of her thin top had been tugged down. A book, probably pilfered from the breakroom, was open beside her.

(Simon stared. Just for a little.)

The pliers fell from her hands and bounced off the dresser before hitting the floor. That had been the sound he’d heard.

“Need a ‘and?”

She let out what he could only describe as a squeak as she turned toward him, hurling the book at his head as the pliers slipped from her other hand. He caught it without letting loose the laugh he felt growing.

“Jesus Christ! How long have you been standing there? Don’t you knock?”

“Heard something. Thought something bad ‘appened.” Not a lie. He tossed the book onto the bed. He watched her mouth curl at the edges and Simon wasn’t sure if she was going to yell at him or laugh.

“Right.” She stared at him for a little longer before bending down to grab the pliers again. She settled in front of the mirror again and stared at the remaining stitches. At least the ones she could see. Simon had a clear view of the mess of stitches on her back. She’d never reach those.

She stared back at him in the mirror. The grip she had on the pliers was tight and grew tighter when he stepped closer. But he still easily pulled the tool from her hand and then reached down to turn her chair around to face him.

“What’re you doing?” She asked as he started to untwist the next stitch.

“Helping.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“Doin’ it anyway.”

Well, fuck.

You could do very little except stare at Ghost as he undid each of the stitches. You weren’t stupid enough to tell him to fuck off. What he was doing was nice. You couldn’t deny that but why the hell was he doing it? He was even bigger from this angle as he loomed over you. But he was being gentle with you, so gentle. And silent. Maybe it would be better if he talked to you through it all or said anything at all, but he was…quiet.

And so were you.

Until the door opened again and Gaz came in, gun drawn. You had pivoted back toward the door, only for a moment before Ghost let out a short, sharp breath from behind his mask and nudged you back into position. You still managed to see Gaz holster his weapon with a smile on his face, perfect teeth glinting in the low light. “All good here, LT?”

He grunted but didn’t turn to look at his teammate. You chanced a look up at Simon to see him still singularly focused on your stitches. His dark eyes didn’t stray from them even though you were sure he could feel you looking at him.

By the time he reached down to turn your chair again, letting him start on your back, you found yourself liking how quiet he was. Small talk had never been your forte and you surmised that it wasn’t high on Ghost’s list of skills either.

When his thumb pressed into your spine, covered by the harsh fabric of his gloves, you tried not to shiver as you let him move you so he could see the stitches better. And he removed those, too.

It was when his finger trailed against the new scar on your back, barely a whisper of a touch, that you couldn’t stop it. God, you really were pathetic. When he moved the strap of your shirt back up your shoulder, you managed to bite the next one back. “Thanks,” you said, the word uneven and warbled. “You going to help Soap take out his, too?” You weren’t sure if you were being sarcastic or not.

The way Ghost tilted his head made you think he wasn’t sure, either. “Cap did ‘is already. Looks like shit.”

And you laughed.

The nondescript SUV rocked slightly side to side as it tore down the road. Gaz seemed hellbent on getting wherever you were headed quickly. There had been some good-natured ribbing about not letting Ghost drive. They seemed to like each other, a good camaraderie between them that seemed as easy as breathing. But you guessed that would probably happen in their line of work. Defying death together usually did that. Price, however, did seem at least a little put out about not being the driver.

And you were stuck at the back of the SUV, listening to them talk amongst each other. To his credit, Soap and Gaz both tried to involve you in the conversation. They would ask what you had been doing in London, if you’d ever been outside the city, if your shoulder was giving you trouble. It was nice.

They were still nice.

You didn’t really understand why they were trying so hard but you weren’t about to ask. Especially not now when you had a black bag over your head. They didn’t really trust you but it had been a weird kindness when you’d felt Ghost buckle you in and place a light blanket over your lap before you’d departed. It was probably a silent order to go the fuck to sleep seeing as you hadn’t been sleeping well since you’d hastily weened yourself off the most intense pain killers. It didn’t help that you’d been shuffled outside right after midnight and told to get in the back of the vehicle without much fanfare. And you knew better than to argue.

You had a bag over your head and were heading to an unknown destination. The power dynamics didn’t exactly scream trustworthy. They kept you alive, that was true. But they didn’t trust you. Funny.

You leaned your head back against the seat and sighed, the fabric rustled against your mouth. It was a strange feeling. Weirdly comforting, like when you’d push your face into the pillow and scream when you were a child, desperate for an outlet.

“I can see why you like the mask,” you muttered.

“Whot?”

Hm. You said that out loud. Well, too late to take it back now. “I said I see why you like the mask.”

“She’s bloody insane,” Gaz whispered. But you liked to think he was smiling while he said it.

“Maybe Ghost’ll lend ye one of his? Ye two could match.”

There was an answering smack and “och, what was that for, LT?” before the blanket was adjusted over your lap.

“Go to sleep.”

You smiled beneath the bag. And, knowing you had nothing better to do…you went to sleep with Ghost’s low rumbling echoing in your ears.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think!

[kathaelipwse]

If Only You Could See Yourself | Bang chan

Synopsis: You’ve never seen yourself the way Chan does—where he sees beauty, you see flaws. Every time he calls you beautiful, you dismiss it, unable to believe. But one night, as your doubts consume you, Chan refuses to let you fade into them. With gentle words and unwavering patience, he holds you together, determined to make you see what he’s always seen. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll start to believe him.

Warnings: self-hate, honestly just angst, comfort

Word Count: 1.1k

Author's Note: This might trigger a few readers. I am going through a turmoil and honestly chan is my comfort person so yeah..

It was a day off, you and chan have been dating since 4 years now, though he was busy he never really failed to make time for you and compliment you every now and then.

The first time Chan called you beautiful, you laughed. Not out of joy, but because the word felt foreign—misplaced, even. You thought he was joking. Maybe being playful, the way he always was. But when you turned to see the sincerity in his eyes, something inside you twisted. Uncomfortable. Unfamiliar. You brushed it off.

The second time, you just shook your head. A soft, almost involuntary reaction, like swatting away a fly. You didn’t want to argue, didn’t want to make it a thing. But Chan noticed. He always did. He let it go that time, but the way his brows furrowed told you he was thinking about it.

The third time, you flinched.

That was when Chan really started paying attention.

Tonight, the weight in your chest is heavier than usual. You don’t know why—maybe you do, but it’s easier to pretend you don’t. It’s just another night, another round of existing in a body that doesn’t feel like yours, in a mind that never stops whispering cruel things.

Chan sits on the couch beside you, his arm draped lazily over the backrest. The room is warm, cozy, filled with the soft hum of background noise from the TV. You should feel safe here. But that voice in your head is louder than the comfort of his presence.

“You okay?” Chan’s voice is soft, careful.

You nod automatically. “Yeah. Just tired.”

It’s not a lie, but it’s not the truth either. You don’t look at him when you say it. Instead, you focus on the way your fingers pick at the hem of your sleeves.

Chan shifts, turning to face you more fully. “You sure? You’ve been quiet all night.”

You shrug. “Just one of those days.”

His gaze lingers on you, searching. You know he wants to press, but he doesn’t. Instead, he offers you a small smile and says, “You’re still beautiful, you know.”

You freeze. The air in the room changes. The words hang between you, heavy and unbearable.

Your stomach twists violently. Your throat tightens. Something inside you snaps, raw and unfiltered. Before you can stop yourself, the words spill out.

“I don’t get it,” you whisper.

Chan blinks. “What?”

You shake your head, frustration bubbling beneath your skin. “Why do you keep saying things like that?”

He tilts his head, brows knitting together. “Because they’re true.”

You laugh, but it’s hollow. “No, they’re not. You just—” You take a shaky breath. “You see me through rose-colored glasses, Chan. You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”

Chan stares at you, something unreadable flashing in his expression. “You think I’m lying?”

You swallow hard, unable to meet his gaze. “I think… I think you’re wrong.”

His voice is quieter now, more careful. “Wrong about what?”

“About me,” you say, finally looking at him. “About everything you think I am.”

Chan’s jaw tightens. He shifts forward, closing the distance between you. His hands reach out, hesitating for only a moment before cupping your face, thumbs grazing your cheekbones. His touch is warm, grounding.

“Look at me,” he murmurs.

You do. And it’s a mistake, because the way he’s looking at you—like you’re the most precious thing in the world—makes your chest ache.

“I don’t see you through rose-colored glasses,” he says, voice steady but thick with emotion. “I see you exactly as you are.”

Your lip trembles. “Then you must be looking at the wrong person.”

Chan exhales sharply, shaking his head. “No,” he says firmly. “No, I see you. The real you. I see the way you care about people more than yourself. I see the way you laugh when you think no one’s listening. I see the way you light up when you talk about the things you love. I see every little thing that makes you you—and you have no idea how fucking beautiful that is.”

Tears blur your vision. “Stop.”

“I won’t,” he says, voice cracking. “Because I wish—God, I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.”

Your breath catches. The words hit something deep, something you didn’t know was still soft inside you. A sob escapes before you can swallow it down, and then the dam breaks.

Chan pulls you into his arms before you can collapse. His embrace is strong, unshakable, as if he’s trying to hold together all the pieces of you that are falling apart. He strokes your hair, whispering soothing things you can’t make out over the sound of your own broken cries.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs. “I’m right here. I’ve always been right here.”

You clutch onto him, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt like he’s the only thing tethering you to this world.

For the first time, you let yourself believe him.

Later, when your breathing evens out and the tears have dried, you’re still curled against him. He hasn’t let go, hasn’t loosened his grip even once.

Chan presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “You don’t have to believe me yet,” he says quietly. “But let me prove it to you. Let me remind you every day until you do.”

You close your eyes, exhaling shakily. “Okay.”

And for now, that’s enough.

That night, Chan doesn’t let you sleep alone. When you hesitate, standing by your bedroom door as he prepares to leave, he simply tilts his head. “Do you want me to stay?”

You don’t answer right away, but the way you tug at your sleeves gives you away.

Chan sighs softly, stepping forward. “I’ll stay as long as you need.”

So he does.

You lie in bed, facing away from him at first, trying to keep space between you. But the storm in your head doesn’t quiet, even with him near. After a while, your body moves on its own, shifting closer, until your back is pressed lightly against his chest.

Chan doesn’t say anything. He just wraps an arm around you, securing you in place like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re safe,” he whispers into your hair. “You’re enough. Always.”

You don’t know if you believe him yet, but you let his warmth chase away the cold. Just for tonight.

The next morning, you wake up to soft sunlight filtering through your curtains. Chan is still there, one arm draped protectively over your waist. His slow, even breaths brush against the back of your neck.

You shift slightly, and he stirs. “Morning,” he murmurs sleepily.

You swallow thickly. “Morning.”

Chan tightens his hold just a little. “How are you feeling?”

You don’t have an answer. Not yet. But for the first time in a long time, the weight in your chest feels a little lighter.

So you settle for the truth.

“I think… I think I’m okay.”

Chan smiles against your skin, kissing your forehead and says. “Good.”

---

[lightlycareless]

the jealous y/n i promised. one of them, anyways :)

warnings: naoya used to like someone before you. the thought of it makes you... uncomfortable, by some reason. highschool au. minimal proofreading but sometimes you just gotta let things go...

It all started because someone decided they just had to mess with you on your first trip to Kyoto, during your first school exchange event.

As yearly intended, the game would be hosted on the winning school; not that someone managed to defeat Gojo and Geto, but to shake things a bit the higher ups decided to break the rules and give the opposing school a chance—maybe fighting in their hometowns would help against them.

Coincidentally, this would mark your first time participating, and what better way to do so than by going to a city you’ve never been to?

We’re you excited?

Undoubtedly. How could you not consider these past details?

However, that wasn’t the only (not the most important) notion that had you feeling such way; what actually got you all giddy was the fact that you’d be going with your boyfriend! Which secretly turned this school trip into a small holiday of sorts, a promise of a good time once he offered to take you to the city and show you all kinds of enthralling experiences you wouldn’t be able to find anywhere else.

It was bound to become a memorable visit, one that you wouldn’t be able to forget, worthy enough to share with your eventual children!

And it was… but not for the reasons you expected.

“Ooooh, you know what this trip actually means, right Y/N?” Gojo would begin to stir, as usual. You do your best to ignore him. “You can ignore me all you want, but I’m just warning you, it’s going to be awkward.”

“Awkward?” You blink, taking his bait. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t say it, Satoru…” Geto warns, going against his very nature, which is to rile him further, and instead, showing genuine caution that you’d come to lament later on. “You’re just being cruel.”

“What is? Tell me!” You cry, fallen victim to your curiosity.

“Probably not as cruel as Naoya taking his girlfriend to see his crush. Or past crush, I guess.”

“Crush…?” You blink, your heart dropping to your stomach at the thought of his affections once belonging to someone else. It shouldn’t be that way, of course. Whatever happened before you met him should be beyond your concern.

And yet, you couldn’t stop yourself from torturing yourself with the thought, needlessly wondering who was the lucky girl to previously obtain his attention.

Was she nice? Was she pretty? Did anything manage to happen between the two…?

…

…

Does she look like you?

You ought to know better than to ask questions you do not want answered.

“Naoya hasn’t told you?” Satoru worried. “He used to have this huge crush on Utahime, like you don’t imagine how big it was; he’d stalk her everywhere she went, turn all red whenever she was near—“

“Satoru!” Suguru condemned, but it was too late.

It’s safe to say you no longer looked forward to your trip to Kyoto.

“She was going to learn so anyways, might as well get it over with!”

“And?? That doesn’t give you permission to be an idiot about it!”

“I’m just preparing Y/N! It’s not my fault that Naoya hasn’t told her about it… which is quite suspicious if you ask me, more so since he’s been in contact with her quite recently! Did you know he asked me for her number? I think he might not be over—“

“Do you ever shut up, Satoru?” You coldly interject, retreating soon after before the tears forming in your eyes could further humiliate you.

Suguru was right, there was no need for him to be as imprudent when it came to the relationship you were clearly very happy with; but you should’ve not let his behavior affect you either, that’s just how he is—everyone knew that—since he was a little kid.

Satoru just had this need to make everyone miserable simply because he could; but now that your insecurities were stirred, all you could do was revisit Naoya’s enthusiasm for your visit… and tie it with Utahime.

Overanalyze every interaction you had with him and wonder if he ever imagined it was her instead of you.

Like when he complimented you for appearance, called you cute when decorating your hair with a bow, which after Satoru’s bold accusations, you come to find it might’ve been because of nostalgia, longing. Not because Naoya actually meant it.

Utahime’s beautiful, there's no denying that.

She's also taller than you, brighter, determined; with no patience for nonsense yet kind enough to help others when asked. You should know, on the few occasions you’ve had the opportunity to interact with her, she was nothing but gentle when explaining one of the assignments you were struggling with—even offering to tutor you if you continued to have questions.

Undoubtedly, a perfect match for Naoya; both politically and personally. A conclusion that makes your poor heart ache the longer you keep comparing yourself to her.

No one looks at her and thinks “she's too childish” or “she's unsuited for the life of sorcery”. In fact, she’s the type of person one would go to when in trouble, the one to look for when in need of comfort.

While you… well, you’re funny. And apparently, a bit childish too. But definitely not the hope for the next generation of sorcerers.

When weighing all these alleged facts, and after placing Utahime on a pedestal while desecrating your own worth, you question…

Did Naoya settle on you because he couldn't end up with her?

Or were you simply a steppingstone, a diversion while they reunite in the future?

…

…

…

Are you fated to never be good enough by yourself? Everyone’s second choice when their initial plan doesn’t work?

It's not something you'd discern at a simple glance, but when Naoya begins to act more and more secretive the closer the date of your trip got, the more you're inclined to believe so; his distance had been so glaringly obvious that the only time you’ve managed to spend with him was when accidentally bumping into each other in the hallways when going to your next class.

Still, your stubborn heart gave him one last chance. One more opportunity to deny all the ridiculous claims plaguing your mind and realize that the sole reason he’s glued to his phone is because of his family, tending his responsibilities as heir…

And not because he’s seeking another woman.

“Ah, Y/N… I'm a little behind with some of my projects right now so I don't think I'll be able to join you for lunch… but don’t let that stop you, go ahead, eat something. I wouldn't want my princess to starve because of me”

That’s when everything made sense.

Because Naoya, though he may hate paperwork, essays, and all that deviated from exorcizing curses, he was still an excellent student and always delivered on time. Might’ve coerced someone to do his work from time to time when not in the mood, but it still brought you back to the same conclusion.

A realization that sparked your anger, bitterness—jealousy.

But most importantly, sadness.

Which you could no longer hide the fateful day of your trip.

“Wait, Y/N—! Why are you in such a rush? We’re still on time for the train!” Naoya would say after catching up to you. The two had previously agreed to meet up just outside your dorm and go to the train station together from there; but alas, you were nowhere to be seen when he eventually arrived, and this caused him to be very surprised.

After all, you were virtually inseparable from him; you would’ve spent the night with him if only it wasn’t prohibited. So… why the sudden indifference?

One could only try to be compassionate when remembering this was his first, serious relationship, so there were many things he had yet to learn about having a girlfriend and how to treat her.

It’s just a misfortune he’d come to learn that lesson harshly so.

“I'm fine, thank you.” you frown, ignoring Naoya as you continue to pull your suitcase towards the exit. The faculty gave students two options, either take the provided transportation and ride with the rest of your classmates to the train station or go by yourself.

Solitude was only appetizing with the silent turmoil you carried.

Your boyfriend doesn't say much after that, though he does note the striking difference of your usually bubbly personality with this… muted version of his girlfriend.

When you once harbored excitement to travel to a completely new city, you now… well, it looked as if you'd rather get sick than do this. And it didn’t seem to be caused by anxiety either, he’d seen you nervous and this was not the way you behaved when such.

Not exactly the disposition he hoped for today's happening, and yet, he’s still light years away from figuring why!

Was it better to simply… leave you alone?

“Y/N, let me help you.” he decides otherwise, at least your stubbornness is something he’s familiar with and thus, not easily swayed to back off when you ignore him again. “Princess—”

“Don’t touch me!” You exclaim, pulling your hand away from his. “I said I'm fine, now leave me alone!”

Naoya blinks, at first startled by your sudden outburst, before growing irritated, never one to enjoy being lashed out on—less if it came from someone as important as you.

“What the hell has gotten into you?!’ Naoya scorns, trying to get a hold of your hand only for you to dismiss him again. “I'm just trying to help you!”

“Yeah, right. Just to get there quicker, huh?” you frown.

“I mean, is that not ideal?”

“You're unbelievable.”

“Huh??? Will you at least care to explain why you’re so moody out of the sudden??”

His choice of dismissing words stabs your heart in a sharp, painful way that only serves to ignite your anger even more. Naoya really had no idea, did he?

Or did he believe you were as naïve as he desperately intended to portray you?

“Oh, it’s nothing. Nothing at all! In fact, how about I just step aside so you can do everything you want in Kyoto? Go see who you want to see while I stay behind, quiet, so you won't have to worry about me?!”

“But—what?? Did you forget were supposed to spend time together over there?? Show you the city?!” Naoya exclaims. “What happens to that??”

“I don't know, you tell me!” You cry back. “No, you know what, don't tell me. I don't feel like hearing—”

“Oh, no you're not.” Naoya says, take ahold of your arm and forcing you to see him face to face—getting a good look of your red, swollen eyes from undoubtedly spending the whole night crying, that only made his determination to find out what ailed you even stronger.

And deal with whomever was responsible for this dreadful act.

Even if it was yourself, or unwittingly himself too.

“We're going to spend two hours on a bullet train which I don't intend to have by you ignoring me through the entirety of it.” He goes on.

“Naoya—”

“Who did this to you? Tell me who hurt you and I'll make sure they—”

“Just stop it already! You don't have to set up all these… theatrics just so you can feel less guilty about seeing her!”

“Her?” He breathes, of all things you could’ve sputtered, this is the least, most shocking one he could’ve received. Where did you even get this idea?? “Pray tell, who am I seeing?”

“I don't—I don't want to talk anymore.”

“Y/N!” Naoya exclaims, you flinch—a reaction that has him immediately regretting his act, softening his voice. “I can't help but feel there's a sort of misunderstanding here, just tell me what's going on… Please.”

“...I just want to know if you— if you still harbor feelings for that person before me?”

“Huh?” Naoya frowns. “Talk clearly, mochi. I don't understand a word you're saying—”

“I'm asking if you still like the girl you liked before me!” You cry. “Or perhaps never stopped liking…”

“Who did I like?” He asks back, genuinely confused.

“Are you going to make me say it?!”

“I mean, if we're to get anywhere.”

“Fine! I’m referring to Utahime! You like her, don't you?!”

“Uta—what?? Where did you get that idea?!”

“Don't—don’t act like you don't know what I'm talking about!” You insist. “Satoru told me…”

“Ah, and he's nothing but a reliable source, isn't he?”

“Suguru confirmed it too! Or at least his reaction did…”

Naoya pinches the bridge of his noise, exasperated.

“When are you going to stop believing the stupidities they spew at you?”

“Well, Satoru had no reason to lie about that!”

Naoya can think of many, thousands in fact, and they always boil down to malice…

It's hard to believe how he once used to admire him, even thought of himself as very similar to him. But now that he keeps needlessly tormenting his love, that sentiment is far gone—he’ll deal with that matter soon enough, right after reassuring you he doesn’t have feelings for his past classmate.

Not anymore, that is.

“... Just tell me if you still like her, so I can stay out of your way—”

“I don't like her, Y/N.” Naoya declares. “Honestly, I don't think I ever did.”

“Then why did he say that?”

All must’ve started back when he was still a first-year student, having just transferred from Kyoto after demanding to be close to one of his admirations.

Satoru, always the obnoxious one since the beginning of time, had the tradition of pestering all newcomers in hopes of finding a victim to let out all his frustrations on for the following years; however, his sights were specifically the Zen'in heir whom he was previously acquainted with and was quite surprised to see “interacting with the mortals”, since their families often preferred to homeschool their talents.

Of course, now that he was within reach, he just couldn't miss the opportunity of mocking him in any conceivable shape and form, beginning with questions intended to get a rise out of him.

“Are you trying to tell me you don’t like any of the girls here?” Satoru would begin, for the nth time that day. “Or perhaps left a darling back at home?”

“No, I do not” No matter the insistences, Naoya remained strong in his beliefs, much to Satoru’s disappointment. But if anything, this made it into a far more gratifying challenge.

“Oh, really? Do you expect me to believe the great Zen’in heir has trouble getting with girls?” He continues to tease. “Hm, should’ve known—the only way anyone could tolerate you people is by coercing—"

“Fine! Alright! I like Utahime!” Naoya promptly declared, making Satoru’s expectations… well, shatter. Whatever he had in mind was nothing compared with the seeming reality!

“No way, you like her???!!”

Obviously, for someone as aggravating, set to get the worst of people, he could never truly find enjoyment in Utahime that wasn’t from tormenting her.

But to Naoya… well, he’d soon find out there was more to his answer than just selecting the one he found attractive at the moment.

Just as it was stated, he found Utahime to be quite… alluring. She was fairly good looking, and conservative enough in certain aspects, at least the ones he considered his clan would care of.

Perhaps the only thing he didn’t enjoy was that explosive temperament of hers, how she always fell victim to Satoru’s provocations instead of ignoring him, as a proper lady would’ve.

But he still gave her a chance, tried approaching her, get to know what she thought of him, how much he knew of the Zen’in clan, and most importantly, if she enjoyed being a miko—because such lifestyle could prove detrimental if they got together, and the last thing he needed was more personal struggles to deal with.

Yet, as much as he insisted…as much as Utahime tried to ignore his preceding reputation and give him the benefit of the doubt, nothing would come out from someone that didn’t have the patience to see past of his rough exterior and understand why Naoya was the way he was.

Who he could truly be.

Such things were meant for soulmates, after all.

And all that could’ve been was effectively terminated the moment he decided to transfer to Tokyo.

But for the only other person who saw everything unfold, Satoru, there was still much, much more to exploit.

“...Satoru said you’d always get all flustered whenever she was around” you quietly continue. “So, if you really didn’t like her, why would he say that?”

“Because he'd follow me everywhere to tease me, it was becoming quite… irritating.” He answered honestly, but still not enough to ease your poor heart of its selfish, hurtful assumptions.

“It still doesn't explain why you were talking with her these past few days” you go on, as much as a part of you desired not to.  You just wish that whatever you found out, it wouldn't shatter you. “You’d even hide your phone from me…”

Naoya, understanding how bad this looked, sighs. Nonetheless, if he wishes to preserve your affection he cannot hold back on the truth.

“I… I didn't want to tell you, it was meant to be a surprise, really…  but, well, I managed to figure out where the exchange event is to happen, which is coincidentally, an area to which Utahime is native to. And since I promised to show you around, take you to the best places…. I thought it might've been productive to ask for her input.

I know I pride myself on being from Kyoto, quite arrogantly so, but the truth is… I barely know anything outside what my family has shown me. I wasn't much of a friendly person so I didn't have anywhere to hang out.

And I didn't want to disappoint you, I couldn't let you down, especially after instantly listening to your excitement. The thought alone of ruining your first trip to the city is enough to drive me mad, so… I believed that doing all this was the right path to take.

… But had I known this would be the outcome, I would rather face your disappointment that to never have you by my side again.”

At his explanation, conformed of genuine words and concerns, all you could do is cry.

Weep at the incredulity of your assumptions, ashamed of your distrustful behavior towards him for once again, believing the past that once plagued Naoya.

How long would it take for your insecurities to finally free you? To stop listening what others whisper at your ear, of how he was the wrong person for you?

Until he decides he’s had enough of your childish antics and leaves for good?

Naoya’s far from perfect, undoubtedly so, but he's trying his hardest and he's changing because of it: when he once cared for nothing but his needs, all he could think of now is your happiness.

Were you willing to disappoint him? Rupture this relationship and lose him forever?

You'd never forgive yourself, which is why you wept, and wept, and wept.

Because you had, right before you, the only thing you ever wanted in life— a man that loved you just as you are—and almost ruined it.

But Naoya, whom perhaps regretted this situation the most, didn’t see the reason behind your tears and instead, believed them to be caused by his own failure, the lack of oversight to realize the gravity of his acts and subsequently poorly attempting to bridge his misjudgment.

A part of him doesn’t worry about your solitude, because he knows you’ll always have your friends and family to support you.

But him… without you, he’s truly alone. And he can’t—couldn’t let you go.

 “Tell me, Y/N. What do I need to do for you to believe me? For you to trust me again?” he quickly begins to beg, spew just about anything that might earn him your compassion and forgiveness—one last chance.

Though a simple remedy was all that he needed.

“A—A—hug…!” You sob, and Naoya doesn’t need to be told twice to quickly wrap his arms around you and pull you close into his chest, hoping that by his warmth you’d be reassured into ceasing the one thing that always shattered his heart. “I’m—I’m sorry, I should’ve never distrusted you, it’s just that I—”

“You don’t have to say anything, princess. It was just a mistake.” He says, pressing his face against the top of your head.

“But I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did!” you retort. “I shouldn’t have accused you of something that I wasn’t certain of! Of something you would’ve never done, now I know…”

“Why did you believe that I’d have eyes for another woman in the first place…? Have I not shown you what you mean to me?”

“Ye—yes, but…”

“But?”

You sniffle, before swallowing.

“I guess a part of me always felt undeserving of you.” You confess. “Skeptical to believe I found someone that truly loved me, that’d be willing to do all you’ve done for me.”

Naoya at first remains quiet, starting at you in complete disbelief before letting out a warm chuckle, making you frown.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing, I just… learned we’re not so different, after all.”

You look up to him. “What do you mean?”

“I too, at times, feel underserving of you.” He confesses. “You don’t know how many times I’ve feared the possibility of you simply… deciding you were no longer happy with me; that you might realize there is someone infinitely better than me and leave.”

A certain friend of yours made sure to revive such sentiment within him whenever nearby.

But just as him, you never had eyes for anyone else that wasn’t the love of your life.

“…I guess that’s another way to know we’re meant for each other.” You quietly discern, resting your face back into his chest while Naoya laughs once more. “Does that mean you’re not… upset with me anymore?”

“Upset? If anything, I was quite delighted to see you jealous; you’re quite cute when you are, you know?” He teases, gently pinching your cheek.

“I wasn’t jealous!” You cry, he raises an eyebrow. “I mean… not without reason.”

“Have I not told you already that you are the most beautiful, adorable, gentlest woman in the whole world?” Naoya continues, you turn bright red.

“Now you’re just embarrassing me!” you gasp, pushing your face deeper into his chest.

“The list is honestly endless, but we do have a train to catch.” He reminds you, making your eyes widen and gasp.

“Oh, my god you’re right! We have to hurry!” you say, ready to fetch your suitcase, before bashfully looking back to him. “…Are you still sitting with me?”

“Unless you’re saving it for a random person.” He raises an eyebrow.

“Nope, and I do not want to run the risk of being paired with a weirdo!”  you exclaim. “You have a lot to catch up with me, anyways.”

“I know.” Naoya responds. “Though I doubt talking about preparations and schoolwork will be any exciting.”

“I was thinking something a bit more… personal. Like kisses.” You murmur, and he smirks before leaning down to peck your lips, heart fluttering in return.

“Is that a good way to start?”

You smile, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him back.

“Perfect.”

Your trip to Kyoto proves to be just as exciting as you expected, if not more thanks to all his precedent planning, that you simply couldn’t wait for the day you’d come again.

Thankfully, you’d have plenty of time to do so once convincing Naoya to take you to visit the Zen’in… much to his chagrin. But anything to make you happy, he supposes.

yes i love setting up more stories should I be blamed? NO. ahahaha

anyways, I hoped you enjoyed it 🙈 I couldn't (nor wouldn't) write anything that might be interpreted as slander against utahime cause i don't feel that way about her (though I feel incredibly disappointed that we didn't get to see more of her 😒😒😒😒) but also I couldn't write her in such way that would make one ask "well, if she was so good for naoya then why is he with y/n? lol"

yet I hope I was able to show how immature/selfish he was with her 🤣 asking questions like "I wonder if she's heard of my clan" instead of trying to genuinely get to know her and such. it's the power of love y'all.......................................

aaaah what i mean to say is, I hope you enjoyed this :') i think it's the first time I ever write Naoya taking interest in someone else, even though it was in the past 🤔 still...

take care and hope to see y'all soon!!

p.s. what do y'all think utahime's reaction was to naoya dating y/n? I have a few ideas but have yet to choose one lol.

[serenityluvz]

𝗘𝗻𝗵𝘆𝗽𝗲𝗻 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻: 𝗔𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗠𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝗗𝗼𝗲𝘀𝗻’𝘁 𝗟𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗬𝗼𝘂

⋆𐙚₊˚ˢᵉʳᵉⁿⁱᵗʸᴸᵘᵛᶻ

Heeseung – "If they can’t respect you, they don’t respect me."

Heeseung doesn’t take drama lightly. If another member is being cold toward you, he notices immediately. He won’t cause a scene, but he will absolutely have a private conversation about it. You try to brush it off, pretending you don’t notice the way one of the members keeps giving you the cold shoulder. But Heeseung notices. He watches quietly, jaw clenching every time they dismiss you or make side comments. That night, after everyone leaves, he leans in, brushing his fingers against your cheek. "Tell me the truth," he murmurs. "Are they making you uncomfortable?" If you admit that it bothers you, he won’t let it slide. Heeseung will pull the member aside and make it clear—they don’t have to like you, but they will respect you.

Jay – "I don’t care what they think—I care about you."

Jay is mature about it. If another member doesn’t like you, he’s not going to fight over it—but that doesn’t mean he’ll tolerate any disrespect. "Jay, it’s fine," you mumble, avoiding his gaze. "Not everyone has to like me." His hand tightens around yours. "No, but they do have to respect you." Jay doesn’t let it fester. He pulls the member aside and talks it out, making it clear that he won’t stand for anyone making you feel unwelcome. And if the problem continues? He distances himself from them—because you come first.

Jake – "I just want everyone to get along…"

Jake hates conflict. He doesn’t understand why another member wouldn’t like you, and he spends way too much time trying to fix things. "Maybe if you guys just spent more time together, you’d get along!" he says optimistically. You sigh, shaking your head. "Jake, not everything can be fixed that easily." His smile falters, and for once, he looks serious. "Okay," he says softly. "Then if they can’t respect you, I’ll just keep my distance from them." Jake wants peace, but if he has to choose between them and you? You win, every time.

Sunghoon – "That’s their problem, not yours."

Sunghoon acts like he doesn’t care, but deep down? He’s fuming. He won’t start a fight, but he will start being colder toward the member who disrespects you. "Sunghoon, I don’t want to cause problems between you guys," you whisper. He scoffs, pulling you onto his lap. "They’re the ones causing problems, not you," he mutters, pressing a kiss to your temple. "If they don’t like you, that’s their loss." From that moment on, Sunghoon makes it very clear whose side he’s on. If that member is around, he keeps his arm around you, always making subtle digs to remind them exactly who you belong to.

Sunoo – "Do they think I care?"

Sunoo is petty. If a member doesn’t like you, he doesn’t like them either. He won’t even hide it—he’ll throw shade, make sarcastic comments, and be extra affectionate with you just to piss them off. You hesitate before telling Sunoo about the tension, not wanting to start drama. But the moment you do? He laughs. "Oh, they don’t like you?" he says, smirking. "Guess what? I don’t like them." From then on, Sunoo is extra clingy in front of them, making sure they know exactly where he stands. And if they dare make a rude comment? Oh, he’s firing back, no hesitation.

Jungwon – "I’ll handle it."

Jungwon is mature about it, but intimidating when necessary. He won’t let it turn into drama, but if a member is making you uncomfortable? He will deal with it. He listens carefully as you explain the situation, his expression unreadable. "I’ll talk to them," he says simply. And he does. The next time they see each other, Jungwon takes them aside and speaks in a low, firm voice. You don’t know what he says, but after that? The member suddenly starts treating you with a lot more respect.

Ni-ki – "Tch. Like I care."

Ni-ki is young, but he’s also incredibly loyal. If another member doesn’t like you, he immediately dislikes them. "They don’t like you?" he scoffs, pulling you closer. "Whatever. I don’t need their approval." Ni-ki won’t go out of his way to start problems, but he will go out of his way to ignore them completely. If they try to talk to him, he just stares. If they joke around, he doesn’t laugh. And if they ever try to disrespect you again? Oh, they’re done.

[aventurineswife]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do Blade with a reader who can't drive? Like they either don't have a license or are just a horrible drive so Blade drives them around a lot and maybe tries to teach them a bit? Sorry if that's too vague. Hope you're have a nice morning/day/night 🩷

“Hands on the Wheel, Eyes on the Road”

Summary: When Blade insists on teaching you how to drive, you're reluctant but agree. Despite your lack of skill and previous failures, Blade remains patient and surprisingly encouraging as he offers lessons. Throughout the process, you begin to realize that there’s more to Blade than his cold exterior, and his quiet care starts to break through your own walls.

Tags: Blade x Reader, Learning to Drive, Fluff, Lighthearted, Slow Burn, Angst (?), Patient Blade, Caregiver Blade.

A/N: this is giving that one Firefly and Blade scene 😭🙏

You sighed, clutching the seatbelt that was a little too tight against your chest. “I don’t think this is necessary,” you muttered, glancing at Blade, who sat in the driver’s seat with the calm authority of someone who had no time for your excuses.

“You don’t think being able to drive is necessary?” Blade’s voice was dry, his piercing eyes glinting as he glanced at you briefly before focusing back on the road. His hands gripped the steering wheel, elegant and steady, the glove on his right hand contrasting sharply with the pale skin of the left.

“I can walk,” you offered weakly, knowing full well that this argument was a lost cause.

“And if you need to escape?” His tone was soft but unyielding, cutting through any attempt you could make to downplay the situation.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. Blade wasn’t wrong. The Stellaron Hunters didn’t exactly live peaceful lives, and relying on others for transportation in a pinch was impractical at best, dangerous at worst. But still—

“I’m just not good at it,” you admitted, your voice dropping as you stared out the window. The city lights blurred into streaks of gold and silver as the car moved smoothly along the highway. “And besides, the last time I tried, Kafka said I was ‘endangering the galaxy’ or something.”

That earned a quiet huff of amusement from Blade. “Kafka exaggerates.”

“She doesn’t exaggerate when it’s about me,” you grumbled.

Blade didn’t respond immediately, but you could feel his attention shift toward you even as he kept his eyes on the road. After a moment, he spoke. “You’ll learn.”

You blinked at him. “From you?”

“Who else?”

The way he said it—so matter-of-fact, like there was no question that he’d take on the responsibility—made your chest feel oddly tight. Blade wasn’t exactly known for his warm demeanor, but moments like these reminded you of the quiet care he sometimes showed, tucked beneath his stoic exterior.

The next morning, you found yourself in the driver’s seat of the car. The sword Blade usually kept at his side was propped up in the backseat, as though it, too, were judging your every move.

“Start the engine,” Blade instructed, standing outside the car with his arms crossed. His long coat swayed in the light breeze, the embroidered gold catching the sunlight.

“I know how to do that,” you mumbled, turning the key and hearing the hum of the engine spring to life. A small victory.

Blade opened the passenger door and slid in with an effortless grace that you could never hope to replicate. “Now, put it in drive.”

“Got it.”

“And remember—gently.”

“Right, gently,” you echoed, carefully shifting the gear. The car lurched forward, nearly throwing both of you into the dashboard.

Blade let out a sharp exhale, bracing himself against the armrest. “That wasn’t gentle.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have such a sensitive car,” you shot back, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“It’s not the car.” His voice was flat, but you could see the faintest flicker of a smirk tugging at his lips.

You groaned, gripping the steering wheel like your life depended on it. “I told you I’m terrible at this.”

“And I told you you’ll learn,” Blade replied, his tone calm despite the chaos of your driving. “Now, ease onto the gas. Slowly.”

Taking a deep breath, you followed his instructions. The car moved forward at a crawl, but at least it was smooth this time.

“Good,” Blade said, nodding slightly. “Now, keep your hands steady.”

Minutes passed as you navigated the empty parking lot, with Blade offering quiet corrections and encouragement. Despite the initial nerves, you found yourself relaxing under his patient guidance.

“You’re doing better,” he said after a while, and the rare note of praise in his voice made your heart skip.

“Thanks,” you murmured, glancing at him briefly. He looked surprisingly relaxed, one arm resting on the edge of the window, his piercing gaze softer than usual.

“Don’t get distracted,” he warned, and you snapped your eyes back to the road.

By the end of the lesson, your confidence had grown, even if your skills still left much to be desired. As you parked the car—crookedly, but parked nonetheless—you turned to Blade with a grin.

“See? No galactic disasters this time.”

Blade raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. “You’ll get there,” he said simply, undoing his seatbelt.

As he stepped out of the car, you called after him. “Does this mean I’m your official chauffeur now?”

He paused, glancing back at you with a faint smirk. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

You laughed, climbing out to join him. Despite the teasing, you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of pride. Maybe, with Blade’s help, you really would learn to drive.

And if not, well, you were perfectly fine with him driving you around for a little while longer.

[rikiflowers]

the moon is beautiful, isn't it?

Steven Grant is full of surprises and you can't wait to discover them all.

chapter 1

words: 4,889

Steven Grant/Marc Spector/Jake Lockley x female!reader (Marc and Jake appear later)

warnings: p18+ smut (oral female and male receiving), fingering, use of alcohol, virgin!Steven

You fall for him relentlessly. His smile as he guides visitors through the museum's corridors, making full use of his knowledge; his crooked smile when he has the opportunity to talk and answers all the questions from the little ones.  You've worked in many museums and met all kinds of people, but never someone who made your heart flutter like that. Hell, even you think about havings kids, when you see your coworker handling them with the outmost care. The looks you give him when he isn't looking are so uncomfortable even for you in retrospect and you spend many hours in the shower questioning your behavior. But you can't stop there. The man had you completely in his hands and he didn't even know it.

He flirted with you unknowingly, always throwing you a cheeky smile as he walked past you with his group of visitors. Every time your heart seems to stop. You haven't been here long and you feel like everyone knows about your feelings except the person they're directed at. Maybe if you just ignore it well enough they will eventually disappear. After all, you have to concentrate on a job and not indulge in any crushes. And the fact you don’t know if he’s returning the feelings to begin with. A new exhibition doesn't plan itself. Donna has also been pushing for new ideas that you still have to give her. You would get to it straight away tomorrow evening. But today your energies are in the basement. Your sleep schedule is non-existent and this is clearly evident in the deep circles under your eyes that you tried unsuccessfully to cover up with concealer. The fourth coffee today was definitely one too many as you get ready for the end of the day. You're just putting your things out of your compartment when you hear your name - from Steven's lips. You lift your head, your hair falling over your face. He's standing in the doorway and again your heart was pounding too fast for your liking. “Steven?”

He seems restless and struggles with his words. He said something that you couldn't quite understand. "I'm sorry, what?", you push out, words coming out of your mouth to sharp, but it wasn’t intended. You’rejust too nervous around him. 

He clears his throat and runs his hand through his brown curls, which you also wanted to have between your fingertips. Many deaydreams are spent about the softness of brown curls. “Excuse me, I was asking you if you had any plans after work… Maybe you would like a coffee or wine?” 

“Everything but coffee right now,” you reply fastily with a  nervous grin, showing him your shaking hand. Steven's eyes widen as he sees the trembles. Without thinking about it, he holds your hand in his and you froze at the unusual but definitely not bad contact. A tingling sensation runs through your body. Apparently he hadn't thought either and let his body act on its own. You see his ears peeking out a deep red through his beautiful curls. He lets go of your hand far too quickly. “No coffee for you in the near future,” he replied. “I can’t promise that,” you giggle, because the brown drink is your elixir of life. 

“At least for today, if you want…of course,” he assured himself, looking at you expectantly. You give him a smile. “Yes, I want to” He lets out a sigh of relief when you agree. He was really clueless about your feelings. He really thought you would refuse. At the beginning of the day you wouldn’t even have to think about this happening,m

“Let’s go, then,” he grins as he holds out his arm to you and you laugh and wrap your arm around him. The dark-haired man offers you, 

…

You fucked up. Steven looks at you like you've lost your mind. “I can’t believe it…”

“Are you now mistaken about me?” 

The brown-haired man grabbed his chest theatrically. “I have never been so disappointed as I was at that moment. How can anyone prefer the Greek gods to the Egyptian ones?”

“Guilty” Your lips go back to the third glass of wine, feeling the red juice warming you up (or it’s Steven’s presence causing it). “How can you sit here with me after I betrayed you like that?” 

“Your smile makes your betrayal a little better” 

That damn heart pounding again. “And how can I make it completely fine again?” Your leg accidentally brushes against his. You can clearly see the effect in his facial features. The corners of your mouth turn up a little further as you look at him meaningfully. He returns your gaze, but far too intensely. You're literally falling apart under him. 

“Steven?” 

Only when you speak to him does he seem to awaken from his torpor. He clears his throat, embarrassed. “Sorry…I think I had one drink too many, but I was so fascinated by the sight of you, your smile…my first thought when I get up and get ready for work is that smile.” 

You stare at him. Heat rises to your cheeks. 

He misinterprets your reaction. “I said too much again…sorry,” he tried to apologize hastily, running his hand through his brown curls. 

"I could kiss you here now, Steven." 

“I know, I just can’t keep my mouth shut- What?”

You grin again. “You already understood me” 

“Bloody hell…” His eyes keep moving back and forth between your lips and eyes. Everything inside you tingles as you think about kissing him raw, hogging his lips, running your fingers through his hair and pressing yourself against him, hearing your name fall from his lips as you-

“A penny for your thought?” 

“X-rated, my dear,” you reply breathlessly as you take the next sip. “I want to kiss you too, Steven...and have for a long time” You admire your courage and your heart flutters as Steven grins from ear to ear. God, this man was wonderful.

“Thank God we’ve already eaten”

“and the restaurant is closing soon too…” you reply conspiratorially, resting your head on your palm and batting your eyelashes inconspicuously. He sucked in a sharp breath as he leaned back slightly. “We don’t want to exhaust the staff…”

"Exactly…" 

At that moment, Steven's hand shot into the air, signaling to the waiter that you wanted the check. Of course the black-haired man insisted on paying for the meal. You let it go, but you playfully threatened him that you would pay the bill next time. 

He helped you put your coat on, his hands touching your bare skin, sending shivers down your spine and you looked over your shoulder, noticing how close he was to you. His breath brushed your cheek. His eyes became a shade darker as they traveled to your lips. You interrupt the moment, even though you would have liked to pounce on him straight away. You walk out of the restaurant together, your heart pounding in your throat and almost bursting out of your chest. 

The cool evening air hit your face. The city lights illuminated the path. People are making their way along and you realize you're in the way. You take a step back and turn to your companion, who was already looking at you. At that moment you act quickly. Your hands cup his face and your lips press against his. You immediately feel the fireworks in your stomach as Steven immediately returns the pressure of your lips, placing his hand on your neck. As if your lips were a complete puzzle; they fit each other perfectly. You sigh into the kiss. All the tension falls away as you finally got to do what you could only hope for in dreams. Steven became more urgent, running his tongue along your bottom lip and you parted your lips immediately. Your tongue meets his as the tingling in your groin grew stronger. Everything about this man captivated you. His smell, his touch. How will you ever live without it? Your thoughts were already circling around him. 

You break apart breathlessly. Steven leaned his forehead against yours as he looked at you. “Wow…” You giggled in response. Your lips curl into a smile as your hands rest on his shoulders. “Finally...” you replied, quickly kissing the tip of his nose, which made him grin. 

He sighed. “Where have you been all my life?” 

“I could ask you the same thing…” He caressed your cheek lovingly. You didn't want the night to end yet...Everything inside you was tingling and not just from the alcohol. You continued to look into each other's eyes and couldn't keep your eyes off each other. 

“Do you want to come to me for coffee or tea?” 

Without thinking twice, he nodded and gave you a gentle kiss on the lips. “You’re welcome…tea sounds good” Your lips curled into a warm smile. You call a taxi because you didn't feel like taking the train for so long. Steven carefully linked your hands together. While you waited, the handsome man stroked the back of your hand with his thumb. You can't wait to get home and wrap this man in your arms. The thought creeps up on you that maybe it happened too quickly. Maybe you caught him off guard and didn't do it because he wanted to. But then there was the gentle squeeze of his hand. “The taxi is here…” he said, snapping you out of your circling thoughts.  He helps you into the back seat before walking around the car to sit right next to you. You greet the driver and you tell the driver your address. There was some space between you and Steven, but that didn't stop the black-haired man from carefully reaching for your hand and holding it in his. His hands were warm and lay like a blanket over your cold skin. The soft light from the driver gently enveloped you as he looked at you, giving you a small smile before answering the driver. You tune out the conversation a bit, looking out the window as you stroke his hand.

…

The journey seemed to have dragged on forever when you were finally able to get out of the vehicle. You suddenly felt ice cold and Steven seemed to notice that too. He grabbed your waist and pressed you lightly against him. “Do you want my jacket?” 

You just shake your head. “We’re almost there, I can handle it…” you waved him off, chattering your teeth, which made him laugh darkly. You lead him to your apartment complex, nervousness taking over your body. You missed the lock a few times, which made you laugh nervously. His proximity didn't help you much either. The walk to the third floor to your apartment was also stressful because you had to be careful not to fall over your own feet. Why was it all so exciting? Otherwise it wasn't so bad to take someone home with you. You reached the top much too quickly and this time you will catch up more quickly. The cozy warmth of your apartment immediately welcomes you as you lead him inside. 

“Feel at home,” you say over your shoulder as you finally kick off your shoes, which are a little too tight. Steven next to you takes off his jacket, his shoes neatly next to your pumps that have been carelessly thrown into the corner. 

“Wow…that’s a lot of books,” you hear Steven next to you. You grin. Your living room acts more like a kind of library that you've worked hard to build over the years. “May I?” You nod, watching the curly-haired man euphorically examining your bookshelves. You seem to have completely forgotten the intention behind why you are in your apartment. The wetness between your legs is very present and only gets worse as you watch him nuzzle. “You really have to explain to me the background of all these little anime characters!”  You're down bad for him. It's not funny anymore. You go into the open kitchen, rummage through the bottom drawer for the good wine you've been saving for really bad times. 

“A court of thorns and roses? Sounds interesting,” you hear Steven say and you bump into the kitchen counter. You're suddenly next to him at the speed of light and, your head red, you snatch the book out of his hand. “I don’t think that’s your taste,” you stutter out, looking at his big brown eyes. 

“Oh, okay…why, if I may ask?” 

God. What have you gotten yourself into? He doesn't have to know right away that you read Faerie Porn. The wine definitely went to your head. You just give him a wry smile and he slowly seems to understand, looking at you with wide eyes as you put the book back. “Oh yeah, I think I understand” His ears turn a dark color as he avoids your gaze. God. You want him. A little too much. 

"Wine?" 

“Gladly”  

He follows you into the kitchen, sitting on one of the stools as you pour the two of you a drink. You watch his lips touch the glass and he watches you watch him. At this moment everything is happening very quickly. You don't know who will take the step first, but that's irrelevant now. Your body is pressed against the kitchen counter. Strong hands grip your waist as your fingers bury themselves in his soft curls. Warm breath hits your lips and you part them slightly, wetting them. Steven is so close to you and yet you need him even closer. 

“Darlin’… is it okay for me to finally kiss you?” Steven looks between your eyes and lips, waiting for you to back down. Never. “Fuck…please Steven,” you breathe out desperately. That is confirmation enough. Mouths crash into each other, literally devouring each other. Your tongue pushes itself between his lips, which he greets with his. Your heart jumps, your moans encourage the curly-haired man to grab his hands behind your neck and literally press you against him. Breathing heavily, you pull away from each other. Your head rests in the crook of his neck, you feel the goosebumps your warm breath causes on his skin. Steven's fingers run through your hair, kissing your head. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this…” 

You hum against his skin, your lips hovering over his neck. “How long?” you breathe, tracing his skin with gentle kisses. He sighs heavily, running his fingers through your strands. “I think you know that yourself, love…” Your lips curl into a smile. 

“...you just want to hear it again, right?” 

You hum in agreement, causing him to chuckle quietly to himself. Rough fingertips reach under your chin, causing you to lift your head so that you have to look into his deep brown eyes. His facial features are relaxed and gentle; the deep circles under his eyes stand out far too clearly on his skin. You carefully move over the pigmented skin. His eyes flicker briefly. Steven's fingers close around your hand, bringing it to his lips before touching each fingertip with his lips. You look at him breathlessly, feeling the tingling sensation in your fingers as his soft lips kiss them. “Love, I fell for you the moment you first walked through the doors of the museum. Your excitement and charm fascinated me from the first second.”

His open and honest words trigger a storm of emotions in you that you can't yet fully understand. You look at him with wet eyes. 

“If you want me, then I’m yours,” he adds afterwards and now you release yourself from your rigidity. “I want you Steven. I want to be yours,” you mirror his answer. He gives you the most beautiful smile before you can't hold yourself anymore and throw your arms around the unsuspecting Steven, throwing him off balance. Together you find yourself on the cold floor of your kitchen. “Steven…oh god, I’m sorry,” you mumble to yourself, stroking the back of his head and hoping he doesn’t get a bump. A gasp escapes him before he starts to laugh, which calms you down a bit. You straddle his lap, your hair tickling his face as you lean over him. What you clearly feel is his bulge pressing against your thigh. You become bold and move your hips slightly, noticing how he gasps harshly, his fingers pressing harder into your upper arm. 

“Very dangerous, what you're planning on doing…” he says, tucking the strands of hair behind your ear, which was useless because they immediately fell into his face. “Does that bother you, sir?” 

“Not in the slightest, My lady”

You move your hips again, grinding against him. A soft moan escapes Steven's lips, only making you go faster. You want to hear more. “Steven…I want to suck you off….is that okay?” 

“Oh god…are you sure?” 

“There’s nothing I want to do more than to taste you.” Just what comes out of your mouth makes the dark-haired boy whimper. "Please…" 

There it is. The magic word. You kiss him gently before getting off his lap and trying to get comfortable between his legs. You run your fingers over his probably aching erection, desperate to be released. You fiddle with the fastening of his pants, Steven helps you pull them down and you slide them off his feet. 

“Darling, wait...the ground is too hard,” he says gently, holding your shoulder. “You just smile. “I want you in my mouth now” 

“naughty girl...” he grins, which sparks fire right between your legs.  “How can I say no to that?”

Your mouth is watering when you finally pull down his shorts and his cock presses against his stomach in its full bloom. “So pretty” Before Steven can respond, you kiss the leaking tip and lick it up. The curly-haired man accidentally grabs your hair harshly, which only makes you moan against his cock.  You try to take all of him into your mouth, but it seems almost impossible. He's just too big. 

“Love...I don’t want this to be uncomfortable for you...” you hear him say softly. This only encourages you even more to take him deeper, so that his cock massages the back of your throat. You don't care. You want him to lose his mind under you. “Bloody hell...” he blurts out, making you grin before you start moving your mouth. Your saliva collects at his base, the sounds of your mouth around his cock making him throb inside you. “Darling…so good…don’t stop,” he blurts out, trying to press his hips against your face. Your fingers claw at his hips, pushing him to the ground. Your pussy leaks at the taste of his cock, his glassy eyes focused on you between his legs. His fingers run through your hair, which falls loosely over your face. “So pretty…if you could see you, love” 

You moan around his cock, going faster. You gag, but try to continue with your fast pace. You want to see him coming. Want to hear the highest notes from his velvety lips. Your fingers cup his balls. You suck on him, feeling his thighs start to shake. “Darling…I’m coming…wait” 

You keep going, wanting him to cum in your mouth. “hell…I’m coming in your mouth…” 

You finally taste his cum on your tongue and hear your name on his lips before you start swallowing everything his cock gives you. You feel some of his juice running down the corner of your mouth. You suck him dry before slowly letting go of him, his cock gently in your hands. 

Out of breath, Steven sits up, cups your face to wipe your lips, ridding you of his remains. You take his fingers and put them in your mouth, licking them clean. The curly haired man sucks in a sharp breath. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and alternates them with his lips. You sigh into the kiss, cupping his cheeks. You smile at each other. 

“I don’t want to spoil the mood…but my ass is freezing like hell”, the pretty man exclaimes, earning a snort from you and you both heave yourself off the ice-cold floor. “And, already exhausted?” you grin at him, your hand scratching the back of his neck. He smiles, his white teeth biting his bottom lip. “Darling…you just gave me the best blowjob of my life…it would only be fair if I gave it back to you…”

The prospect alone makes your pussy throb around nothing. “If you can do that?” you wink challengingly, which only makes him raise his eyebrows. He takes up your challenge. You grab his hand, leading him to your bedroom. You push him onto the edge of the bed. “Oh you’re so lovely when you’re feisty like this,” he breathes out, looking up at you, desire reflected in his eyes. You brush your fingertips along his chin. “I have to admit...I'm a little excited,” the curly-haired man whispers, his fingertips brushing your arm that you've rested on his shoulder. “Me too…” you reply with a grin. He shakes his head, lowering his head slightly. Your gaze turns to him questioningly. “You don’t quite understand…when I said you gave me the best…you know…that was actually my first” 

Steven speaks so quietly that you almost missed it. “Oh,” is the first thing that comes out of your mouth, without really thinking about his revelation first. “Are you still a virgin?” 

His beautiful head nods. You feel bad at the moment. Have you perhaps pushed him to do something he wasn't ready for? “I know how uncomfortable this is for you…” 

“Steven,” you interrupt him gently. “Look at me.” 

He slowly lifts his head and you immediately hold him, caressing his cheeks. “Why should I be uncomfortable? I just think that if I had known that, I would have slowed down. You don’t have to be embarrassed” 

“I didn’t want to scare you,” he replies, leaning into the touch of your hand. “You can’t scare me, but I understand your thought process,” you reassure him. “Shall we cuddle?” you ask gently. “Darling…you can’t want to cuddle right now,” he replies in disbelief, making you laugh. "Why not?" Your fingers run through his dark curls again. “Because I want to know what you taste like,” he mumbles, his face bright red. This makes your heart beat faster. “Steven…” 

“May I…please?”

How could you say no to that pleading look and words? You are a whole lake down there thanks to him and he would soon discover that for himself. “Fuck okay…” you reply. Everything inside you is tense. He runs his fingers painfully slowly over the contours of your body, which were still far too covered by your clothing. “Darling, will you please take off your clothes for me and lie on the bed?” You nod quickly before literally ripping your clothes off, not avoiding his gaze. You can clearly feel how excited he is, but you can't help it. You also take off your old bra and panties. You would surprise Steven with your good underwear next time. You can't wait to see the look in his eyes when he sees you...

But now he looks at you with shining eyes as you stand completely naked in front of him. You feel like a teenager about to experience his first time. It's your first time too; with him. You close the distance to him, wanting to feel his skin under your fingertips. “Don’t you want to take off your clothes too?” Your heart is pounding even though you already had his cock between your lips. God, his dark eyes looking at you as he unzips his shirt. You see him struggling with the buttons and your fingers are quicker, fumbling around to open those annoying buttons. You're way too impatient. Your hands grasp his shoulders, pulling him onto the bed with you. Steven lets out a surprised sound as he leans over you. Finally he pulls his shirt off his shoulders and throws it on the floor. Suddenly Steven pushes his knee between your legs, rubbing it against your pussy. You gasp and claw at his back, causing a growl to escape him. “Steven…” 

“Yeah, Darling?” 

“Touch me…please” You no longer recognize the voice that says that. You've never been so desperate...

His thumb traces your bottom lip. “Show me where…” 

You reach for his hand, guiding it to your tormenting wetness between your legs. His knee on your pussy disappears, but his fingertips run over your vulva. Everything inside you convulses with anticipation. Two of his fingers tentatively move between your folds. A whimper escapes you as Steven's eyes are on you, watching the movements of your face. His lips part slightly as he moves along your pussy, slowly starting to rub your clit. Your fingers curl into the bed sheets as he explores you. His fingers on your wetness results in the slick sound, which makes you a little uncomfortable. You try to avoid his piercing gaze and close your eyes. 

Steven harshly penetrates you with a finger. You suddenly open your eyes and press your pussy against him. “Fuck...Steven...” you gasp out, spurring him to take a second finger and sink it into you harder. 

“Exactly like that?” he breathes against your open lips as he rubs his thumb over your clit and you can barely hold yourself up. You mumble unintelligible words, lifting your head to feel his lips on yours. Steven grants you the kiss, your tongues mingling together as he purposefully curls his fingers. This almost made you lose your mind. “Steven oh my God!” you practically screamed, you would definitely wake up the neighbors. “Darling….more of this…” he speaks darkly. And you give it to him with ease. YOU are way too close to your orgasm. 

“I..I’m going to cum.” 

“Love, cum for me” He kept the pace, rubbing your clit in just the right places. The climax literally hits you. Steven is there, holding you tightly in his arms while his fingers are inside you. He clearly felt your climax. Your pussy throbbed around his fingers and your name left your lips in a strangled moan. Under Seven's lascivious gaze, the waves pull you along. Your hips fell onto the mattress. He slowly pulls his fingers out of you, looking at them with fascination. Your juice glistened in the dim light and suddenly he put it in his mouth and licked it clean. This scene literally takes your breath away. With your heart still racing, you watch as Steven suddenly places himself between your legs and pushes your thighs apart. “Steven…What?” 

“I have to taste you…” he breathes darkly before he disappears his face between your legs and you have to watch helplessly as the beautiful man devours you. Your thighs automatically close around his head before he grabs the flesh of your thighs and pushes them apart again. You claw at his dark curls, making him moan against your wet pussy. His one hand reaches for your breast, kneading it while his tongue licks your folds. The smacking makes everything even more perverse. 

“Steven...I can't take it anymore...oh!”, your whimpers get louder, but Steven doesn't listen to your words, instead he sucks a clit to drive you crazy. How can he be so good? He's a virgin...That doesn't make any sense. Your thoughts are a mess that quickly disappears as the next painful orgasm approaches far too quickly. 

“I'm coming - Fuck!” you let out from your lips as everything inside you tenses and you fall onto the mattress. Steven slowly lets go of you and you lift your head, exhausted, to look at him. His lips are shiny with your juices. Your hands pull him towards you so you can press your lips to his and taste yourself. Your skin sticks to his as you start trailing kisses down his jawline and neck. You feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh.

“Steven…I thought you were a virgin?”

He looks at you with those big, gentle eyes. “I am Darling…did I do well?” 

The tingling sensation in your pussy is answer enough. A giggle escapes you. “You just gave me my second orgasm. I think that says it all, right?” 

His ears actually turn red. You run your fingers over the warmth of the shell of his ear, a gentle smile on your lips. 

“Steven…you’re beautiful.” 

He shyly places his head in the crook of your neck and gently kisses the area under which your carotid artery pulsates. “Oh darling…don't flatter me too much” 

“It’s no flattery…”, you reply softly, massaging his scalp. “I mean it” Steven buries himself against your body and you let him, feeling his heartbeat against yours, moving in the same rhythm. Oh. Oh. 

You like him a little bit too much. Words wait on your tongue, ready to be spilled out, but your mind holds them back. For now you just enjoy his warmth, lulling you slowly into a well needed sleep.

...

[cpunkrants]

I was going to make a proper introduction but I am fucking sick and tired of the able bodied pretending that I’m either an object or that I don’t exist. Okay at appointments and stuff I’d rather my mom handle it but when I’m out and about talk to ME not my FUCKING CARER. Because I’m in a wheelchair doesn’t mean I’m a baby in a stroller. “Oh can you stop you’re making me uncomfortable” GOOD I HOPE I AM THATS THE POINT

Or yesterday I was at a party right and I was in my wheelchair and this group of what five people stood near me and CONTINUOUSLY BANGED INTO MY CHAIR like I wasn’t there?? I was about to hit them over the head istg

And people who think their strollers take priority. Not just on public transport EVERYWHERE. can’t even go shopping without someone pushing their stroller in front of me. I’m pissed off thoroughly and I wish there was a way to publicly display my anger at all of this.

[sunshinesickies]

Not proof read. Just wanted to get something out for the last day of Feveruary. Don’t worry I will catch up to the days I missed. Been a hell of a couple weeks, but hopefully life will smooth out enough soon for me to have some actual time to write! For now enjoy this fic of Vi on her period and Cait fussing over her. Based on two requests I had in my inbox for Vi on her period, one request by 🧸anon and another anon request. (Also I’ll add a picture later)

Feveruary Day 28— “Well it sounds to me like you need a bit of TLC”— CaitVi/Violyn

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of violence and prison

“Shit again?!” Vi groans as she curls into herself, wrapping her arms tightly around her abdomen. A uncomfortable pain was shooting through her once again and it made her simultaneously nauseous and incredibly irritated. She hasn’t felt like this in, well, years.

Vi tries to think back to when she last had her period only to come up with nothing. She’d been 15 when she was unjustifiably taken to Stillwater, so she’d known about and gotten them for a while. She can remember getting them a few times in prison, but she doesn’t want to think about that.

When you’re in a place like that, there was nothing provided to women during their cycles, only what they could scrap up, and even so, showing any sort of weakness usually meant you were to be beaten to a pulp later. But after her first few months there’s…nothing. She can’t recall having it again.

So yeah, periods in prison sucked, though Vi doesn’t understand why her cramps feel so bad this time. Maybe because they were often drowned out by the stinging pain of the guards’ sticks against her body, or maybe its because she’s grown a little weaker now that she’s living a cushy life in Kiramman estate.

Either way. This fucking sucks. Vi moans again as a fresh wave of cramps shoot through her. Her head is thumping, her body aches and she wants nothing more than for this to be over. Sometimes she hates being a woman.

Currently Vi is curled up on a cozy bed she found in one of the Kirammean’s smaller guest rooms. Yeah. Guest rooms. Plurals. She supposes this is one time she doesn’t think they’re a waste of space.

She’s trying to both hide from her girlfriend and from her own misery. If she could just fall asleep then maybe she could wake up and feel better, sleep off the rest of the pain. But every time she gets close to sleep, some random symptom (usually more cramps) keeps her up.

She knows she probably shouldn’t be hiding this from Caitlyn, but she can’t help it. Vi hates feeling weak. And right now she’s pretty sure she can’t even stand which is pissing her off to no end.

Taking in a calming breath, something Caitlyn has been having her work on whenever she gets frustrated, she squeezes her eyes shut tightly and tries counting as a way to distract herself.

She’s not sure how much time has passed, nor what time it even is. She’d woken up in the morning feeling terrible and somehow gotten herself out of the room without waking Cait up. The curtains in the guest room are drawn closed so tightly that the only light comes from the crack under the door to the hallway.

A gentle creak and the sound of soft footsteps soon pull Vi from her thoughts and she stiffens, hoping not to be found. She knows those steps.

“Violet? Are you in her darling?” Caitlyn’s gentle voice calls a second later and judging by the tone of her voice, Vi knows there’s no use to keep hiding. Plus her girlfriend’s voice was so soft, so warm, that Vi wishes she could sink into its invisible embrace.

“mmno.” Vi murmurs into the pillow she’s clutching and her body softens slightly when she hears an amused chuckle come from across the room.

“Vi? What are you doing in here?” Caitlyn makes her way over to the bed, squinting her good eye to try and make out Vi’s form curled up on the mattress. “Took me ages to find you.” She added, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Kinda the point.” Vi grumbled before curling more into herself with a slight wince, a motion that doesn’t go unnoticed by her attentive girlfriend.

“Are you alright, are you sick?” Caitlyn worries, a small crease forming between her brows.

“Mmfine.” Vi answers but Caitlyn doesn’t buy it for a second. “Vi.” She presses gently but in her no nonsense manner and Vi sighs deeply.

“On my fucking period. Don’t ’member it sucking this much.” She complains even though she hates admitting it. Caitlyn gives a sympathetic hum. “Poor love. Why didn’t you tell me, we’ve got painkillers and pretty much anything else you need.” She offers softly and the thought of having such access to these basic things makes Vi blink rapidly before any betraying tears can slip out.

“Don’t need ‘em. Please don’t make a fuss, Cait. Been through worse.” She answers curtly before she can break down. Caitlyn is slightly taken aback by the sharpness of her tone and she takes a breath, softening her response in her mind before her answers.

“I wont fuss, Vi, and I know you have but…well it sounds to me like you need a little TLC. Let me help? Please.” Caitlyn hums gently as she tucks a strand of hair away from Vi’s eyes.

“Okay…I guess it’d be nice to not feel this sucky.” Vi begrudgingly agrees and Caitlyn frowns as she cups Vi’s face. She isn’t overly warm but there’s some sweat around her temples that lets her know she really is miserable. Plus if she’s agreeing to take meds, Caitlyn knows she’s feeling worse off than she wants to let on. Sure periods are the worst, but Vi’s never mentioned having symptoms this bad, but come to think of it, she can’t remember Vi ever mentioning her period even though they’ve been together a few months now.

“Violet?” An inquiry strikes her attention. Vi hums for her to continue. “When was the last time you had your period?” She asks gently, curiously. Vi shrugs as she begins to sit up, groaning as she moves.

“Dunno…years, maybe?” Her response has Caitlyn completely taken aback this time. “That’s—well that’s interesting. I wonder if your body has been in too much stress for so long that it hasn’t had one, and now that you aren’t constantly watching your back or trying to just survive, that it’s hit you again with full force and then some.” She rambles her idea out loud and honestly, that makes sense to Vi.

She just wishes it weren’t so painful and annoying. “Well it better not be like this every month.” She sighs. “I’m sorry, Vi. Is there anything I can do to help?” Caitlyn hums and Vi looks up to meet her concerned, loving gaze.

“Maybe for now…could you just be with me?” Vi almost whispers, her tone bordering shy in a way that tugs at Caitlyn’s heart.

“Of course my love. There’s no where else I’d rather be. Come here, we can lay here for a bit, but soon I do think it best to get some meds in you.” She tries and Vi nods as Caitlyn moves to sit behind her. Vi settles closely into her girlfriend’s loving arms and for a moment, all the pain dissolves as she sinks into her hold. Caitlyn now has one hand slipped under her shirt, resting on her stomach as she traces soothing circles to her skin. Her other hand finds it way to Vi’s soft pink hair, her nails gently scratching her head.

“Thanks, cupcake.” Vi hums contentedly, the two comforting sensations quickly lulling her into a state of bliss. “Always, love.” Caitlyn leans down to press a kiss to her plush pink lips.

It doesn’t take long for Vi to finally fall asleep, feeling cozy and relaxed in her girlfriend’s loving hold. Periods be damned…though maybe it isn’t so bad. As long as Caitlyn is by her side, Vi feels as she can get through anything.

[leafiatheneko]

There are two types of artist when drawing godly Sephiroth art methinks

— the fellow simps out there (50/50 chance they have oc x canon w him or self ship w him (me real except I can hardly draw him))

— dare I say sefikura shippers

[wryuxim]

this has been in my drafts way too long, and again, i suck at writing, but i’ve really needed to say this. how the hell is millionsummers so normalized in the fandom? well i know why, but it’s honestly crazy to me how 90% of the pretty small amount of legato fans in existence ship him with knives. like do you even understand his character? sure if you haven’t read trimax (like too many people) you literally wouldn’t know anything significant about him since he’s just kinda there in the other iterations. all you’d see is evil guy x bootlicker right hand that have minimal interactions with each other. don’t get me wrong, i could get behind that. like it even. but the issue is that there’s more to it than just that. even if you haven’t gotten to legato’s backstory in the manga, it’s clear from the start that the way that knives treats him crosses the line of average evil toxic yaoi bull. like literally the very first time we see them interact knives casually shatters every bone in legato’s body bro. causing irreparable damage and rendering someone a quadriplegic(?) after they were probably trying to get you a new body for the past 7ish years is so romantic, right!! He also just disregards him as a person and is generally shitty and all that which is kinda mean of him to do ngl. yeah you could say erm actually knives does care about legato though, he’s just too much of a stubborn bitch to show it!1!1!!1!! and i agree with that (to an extent, not getting into it though) but like…that doesn’t excuse the fact that he’s literally abusive. and that isn’t even considering literally everything about legato himself. he was horrifically abused for as long as he could remember. he doesn’t know what a healthy relationship of any kind is. he chose to serve knives (despite being well aware of how he was) because he never knew a life outside of that. he thinks that’s all he’s good for and knows he won’t be anything more to knives, yet still kills himself trying to prove his worth. knives is someone he is unhealthily dependent on who causes him to become more and more self-destructive. just because knives isn’t the same as his previous abusers doesn’t mean it’s not just another shitty situation he fell into. i do think legato’s feelings towards knives could be some sort of crush, but it’s more of a one-sided obsession than anything. to think that it’s an actually good cute little pairing baffles me. i think what i’ve said so far is enough of an argument, but there’s still my main point left. i held back on this till now because of the crazy amount of people say he wasn’t for whatever reason, but legato was a CHILD when they met. like do y’all SERIOUSLY think he’s an adult here??

i really don’t want to pull up panels from his backstory flashback, but you literally cannot convince me. nightow didn’t need to state it outright for it to be pretty obvious that he was a kid. we see how he draws other characters when they were younger as reference so you can clearly see the differences in proportion. i mean just compare it to how he looks throughout the rest of the manga, especially near the end. just because he doesn’t have a confirmed canon age doesn’t mean that there wasn’t an intent there. y’all are grasping at straws to justify it.

also the same applies to elendira (x knives) because of the super secret third legato flashback:

i won’t count this as proof for legato because tristamp (though a separate canon) kinda muddies it, but woah she’s not an adult. also irrelevant but knives was smiling at him 😞😞 i’d like to think he was nice to them at one point but this isn’t about that. the fact that people probably take this to fuel their millionsummers makes me very very sad.

back on topic though, there’s another side of the copium spectrum. i can’t believe i have to say this, but i’ve no joke seen people say that legato and knives were both teenagers when they met as if that makes any damn sense. the twins are both confirmed over 150 years old. in trimax, the july incident happened ten years by the date before the events of the last few volumes (cited in my last post), and legato doesn’t look all that different in the two flashbacks. and the flashbacks or any other evidence i could pull out my ass don’t even actually matter because knives is old as fuck and legato is obviously a normal human age. again, it’s just straw grasping bro so please give up 😭🙏

and if you don’t give a shit and loooove grooming mentally ill teenagers you pick up off the streets then fuck off?? you’re gross and legato would hate your ass. i probably have more to say but i can’t think of anything rn so that’s it for now. millionsummers is cringe and this fandom is a prison. but like a cartoon one where the bars have large enough gaps between them to walk through.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

thinking sashisuri thoughts ………

[eve-will-perceive]

just went through the 2025 grid and there is legit only two drivers i don’t fw

[fingertipsmp3]

Okay I’m adding two more resolutions for 2025. I am exclusively mood-reading books, which means no TBR and no regimented planned reading, and I am also refusing to wear anything I don’t want to wear

[butnotbubblegum]

Thinking a lot recently about the fact that within a wider group of friends there will be people you don’t like. And this is fine and normal and you just get on with them because that’s what you do. But when it happens in a smaller group which is tighter knit, what do you do then? If you try and do the same it comes across weirdly. Because the level of closeness with the rest of the group is on average higher than in a big group.

[northwestofinsanity]

There’s suddenly been a lot of hush-hush, angry, passive-aggressive, no-names-but-lots-of-side-eyes gossip in the student lounge at school this week, and I really don’t like it…

[wriokitty]

Sukuna who was never close to his twin brother and never cared about the pipsqueak runt of a kid who’s his nephew.

He doesn’t care and doesn’t want to be associated with that bullshit. His brother doesn’t take the hint ever and invites him to everything. “My sons’s birthday party” this and “my son’s kindergarten graduation” that. What sort of graduation is meant for a kindergartener anyway? That’s a load of nonsense. But Jin is as annoying as ever with insisting on keeping contact and trying to get Sukuna involved and he hates it until by some tragedy out of nowhere, his brother and sister and law are dead. Yuuji’s left an orphan and no one can care for that kid because there’s no one left.

No one except Sukuna.

They ask him, too. The social workers. They turn to him and say some pitiful script about being “the only family left to take custody of him.” He knows pretty well what’s going to happen to the pipsqueak if he doesn’t agree. The foster care system and the possible horrors such a bright (even if annoying) kid could face makes him question saying no for a second. He’s surprisingly conflicted.

And it’s out of sheer impulsiveness alone does he end up as a single, grumpy, begrudging uncle who’s got custody of a child he never really cared to know in the first place.

And then he meets you.

Sweet, bubbly, warm, and so weirdly happy. Dictionary definition of what an elementary school teacher should be. Yuuji’s absolute favorite person on the planet as he waves hello at you enthusiastically every time that Sukuna drops him off and goodbye every time that Sukuna picks him up.

“I heard his new guardian would be his uncle. It’s nice to meet you,” you murmur to him the first day he picks up Yuuji after school, a look of pure melancholy on your face as you stare at him with an unearthly amount of compassion and sympathy. “Yuuji’s parents were wonderful people. I’m really sorry for your loss.”

“Wasn’t that close with either of them,” he grunts out. You look over at where Yuuji’s gleefully playing on the slide of the playground. Too young and innocent to realize that’s been ripped away from him. Too naive to understand what it means to grieve. Too hopeful about the world around him to realize just how cruel it can really be.

“Oh,” you murmur, nodding slowly.

He thinks that your unnaturally kind demeanor will finally be broken for a split second of judgement. What sort of heartless bastard doesn’t feel an ounce of grief for his own brother’s death? Instead, however, you seem to look at him with some weird sense of wonder.

“You’re a good uncle for stepping up regardless,” you say softly, “it’s more than what most would do in your shoes.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he clicks his teeth, unbearably uncomfortable with how weirdly sentimental this all is. “He’s just a five year old. How much trouble could he be?”

You raise a brow in amusement, eyeing him like he’s got one hell of a surprise waiting for him. He doesn’t like the vague way you hum, “Yeah. How could such a little human cause trouble, right?”

“I’ve got it under control,” he grumbles, a little annoyed that you seem to think that out of all things, a simple child would be enough to cause Sukuna any issues.

“Let me know if you need anything,” you smile.

Yuuji calls to you from the distance, squealing look what I can do! before he does a rather clumsy spin. Sukuna raises an unimpressed brow. You clap and praise him with an exaggerated gasp of approval.

It’s oddly endearing, he thinks to himself—you, not the kid. The kid’s barely tolerable.

“C’mon, you brat,” Sukuna calls. And then he looks at you and gruffly adds, “And I don’t need help.”

“Okay,” you grin brightly. It almost feels like you’re saying that a little sarcastically. “I’m sure you’ve got this parent thing down.”

Before he can even correct you that he’s an uncle, not parent, Yuuji comes running over on clumsy, short little legs and grabs onto Sukuna’s hand.

“C’mon, Uncle ‘Kuna!”

Sukuna doesn’t miss the way your eyes soften. Weirdly enough, he feels this odd sort of squeeze in his chest that doesn’t make any sense. Maybe he’s just getting old—that has to be it.