#as long as you're comfortable that's all that matters to me

[adhdduckie]

not the one! g.s. x reader

synopsis ; you're in love with gojo. he doesn't love you back. It takes you awhile to realise this, and you find out in a way you wish you'd never. Tw: ANGST no fluff no comfort #nofluffwedielikemen my masterlist

jjk masterlist

A/N : guys sorry this came out of nowhere and kinda possessed me (did not at all stem from my own lovelife, no not at all, this was just something that came out of nowhere!)

1.5k -------

being in love with gojo as his friend was pretty insane, a lot of the time.

the first time you ever even said that maybe you loved him, you cringed. it sounded weird, but even when shoko gave you a weird look, you knew that it was to be true.

sometimes, you'd swear that maybe, just maybe, he'd love you back. you'd read too much into stares, and lingering touches.

you'd think too much of how he just always seems to be just around the corner of wherever you'd be, and how he always seemed to be looking at you and only you.

you'd think that because of the smiles his friends throw your way, the fact that getou had spoken to you about him a lot, and how getou always made sure to wave at you when he was with gojo.

how gojo's eyes would seem to light up when he saw you, but maybe that was just his big baby blues, but honestly, anything would have made him look brighter. If you thought about it, maybe it was the sweets you always seemed to have on you, just always specifically for him.

and getou knew, and maybe gojo did too, but the fact that he never changed the way he looked at you meant that he felt the same way too, but he was just afraid to tell you, because that it's quite daunting! and if he needed it, you'd wait till the end of the world for him. this was so embarrassing, you'd think to yourself, finding yourself talking about him for the umpteenth time that day to your friends, who seemed interest in the conversation enough, but you knew they were just waiting for you to stop!

and maybe if you were more rational, you'd think properly. like, well obviously he was basically around every corner, you'd attended the same school and it was just you four students in the year anyway. and obviously he stares a lot, he's pretty unpredictable, and tends to just be super affectionate with everyone.

and getou's your close friend, of course you're gonna be getting smiles from him, because he's your friend. getou obviously is gonna just acknowledge you, because yet again you're his friend. and when you were away from gojo, you could think pretty rationally. "there's no way he likes me" you'd think, and "I gotta stop liking him, this isn't gonna go anywhere." and you were right, but once you saw him again, it was as if you hadn't even considered this at all in the first place, and it was completely gone from your mind. but all in all, no matter what, there was nothing you could do, because if you'd been reading everything wrong, you'd ruin your relationship, and you could never ever be with him at all, not even as his friend anymore. this is the conclusion that you came to one friday night, and honestly, it really did hurt, but then the next day, when he was sitting next to you super close and leaving absolutely no personal space to you, and then it was gone all over again. but when you finally realised, for the first time, that gojo didn't love you at all, was when you'd gone out to the convenience store with gojo, getou and shoko. You'd been standing in the aisle staring at some quick noodles, and gojo's arm had been slung over your shoulder.

you were trying to pretend that you weren't phased at all, but your heart was thumping non-stop in your chest. Shoko had given you a grin and a thumbs up, discreetly to cheer you on and hold yourself together. it had felt, for a moment, quite domestic and romantic. gojo was tactile, you knew this, but you also knew that he wouldn't do this to shoko, so it gave you some doomed hope. not like the hope was gonna last long anyway.

gojo's standing there, with his arm wrapped around your shoulder, and he sighs.

your attention turns to him from the generic brand quick noodle brand in your hand, and you frown, worried. "what's wrong?" you ask him, turning your attention back to the quick noodles on the shelf. "i got no baes." he says, blatantly.

you pause, very confused. "what do you mean?" "I mean that I can't get a girlfriend." he says, drooping a little as he even pouts, and you can't help but want to hit him.

you're not prepared for that sucker gut punch that it seems to give you, and you wince a little. you hear a smack in the vague distance, and you can only assume that it's nobara smacking herself in the face in exasperation at gojo, but you can't really think about that just now. after awhile, you hear yourself going; "loser." and you walk away. that's it, that's all you say. but you try not to think too much about it because that's rather normal behaviour.

you join shoko at the counter, and she slaps you reassuringly on the back, and she says that : "he's an idiot." and you have to agree, even if it's half-arsed, and you're muttering while you're staring off. it gives you time to think, because, if he did know that you liked him, and he liked you, wouldn't he just do something about it? in the distance, you hear a small cheer, and you manage to snap out of it. "what just happened?" you ask shoko as you watch gojo jump up and down like a kid, with getou standing next to him, shaking his head in exasperation. shoko looks at you with pity evident on her face. "getou said that he'd hook gojo up with someone." shoko tells you. you can hear the heart beating in your ears, and manage to limit your emotions to a small little frown that only shoko can see. "i'm sorry" she whispers to you, pulling you in for a hug. you shrug, not exactly sure what you're supposed to do in this moment. you're there when gojo first meets yuki. it's been weeks, and you hear about her non-stop. it's always yuki this, yuki that, and you can never seem to escape it. gojo always needs to talk to her, and you just can't take it anymore. and you see her, for the first time, and she's gorgeous. she's sweet, and she's everything you want to be, and in every single way. you want to be the one that gojo is all happy to see, he's chasing her like you would have chased him, like you did chase him. but unlike her, he didn't turn around to see you, as she did for him. the first time you see them hug, shoko's there, holding your hand. because she knows you love him, even if you won't even want to say it yourself. but he's happy with her. you tell yourself, the first time you see them kiss. he's happy with her and that's all that matters. it doesn't matter that he skips hangouts with you to be with her, it doesn't matter that he completely ignores you for her, and it doesn't matter that when you both sparred, and had a clash of powers, both of you were injured and ran to her, only helping her as you laid there bleeding. It doesn't matter.

it doesn't matter that you don't even see him anymore, and that he skipped out on your birthday just because she wanted to see him. and it really, really doesn't matter, when you 'jokingly' tell him that you used to like him, and he laughs and he says "that's funny." because honestly, that hurts, and you really hate it.

you want to resent getou for getting them together, but you can't because you can't even blame him, because, it's not his fault. nothing would have changed the way he saw you, not with yuki around at least.

and god, you couldn't stop thinking about them. how they would hold hands, how he'd offer his jacket for her if she so much as sneezed at the slightest cold weather, and how she would look at him as if he had hung the moon and the sky and the stars. and you look at her, and you think, god, is that how i look at him? but it's okay for her to do that, because he looks at her the same way.

and sometimes, you lie in bed at night by yourself, and you're overcome with the thought that she might be with him right now in another bed somewhere else, and it makes you sick to your stomach, that it's someone else. But no matter what, nothing will change how things have played out.

and it makes you cry. it really does. you think to yourself that if hanahaki really existed, you would be affected by it, no questions asked, and that thought makes you so upset, because honestly, what did you do to deserve this? but the fact that he's happy makes it all worth it. at least, that's what you tell yourself.

[myunghology]

THE LITTLE THINGS.

summary the little things they do for you, just because they love you. part 1/2 !!

pairings riddle, leona, azul, x gender neutral reader (established relationship)

tw none.. i think IDK

a/n — YAYYY I HIT 1.7K give me more clout pls ily all

✧ — RiDDLE ROSEHEARTS

Teaches you even though it's incredibly late at night. His eyes are already telling you that he's tired— and you try your best to tell him to go to bed.

But noooo, he cares too much about you to let you fail your worst subject. He casually waves his hand to dismiss your ideas for him to get sleep, putting you first before anything else. Well, at least he's learning more as well from teaching you.

Your head would be laying on his lap as he explains literal calculus at 4am in the morning, since you woke up in the middle of the night, making HIM wake up as well, why not torment you as well by making you learn with the time?

You give him such attitude early in the morning, saying "I'm sorry calculus sucks so bad, I'm sorry it's boring?" and yet he's completely whipped for you to the point that he's willing to sacrifice his sleeping schedule for you to learn. It's for your own good!

Riddle's possessive.. But in a good way! He just cares too much, not possessive to the point he's controlling, but possessive in a way that he's just overprotective of you.

He's the "Don't let anybody do this to you, unless that somebody's me." type of boyfriend. Can you tell he gets jealous easily? Gets extra snarky whenever someone asks about you, especially when they don't know you two are dating.

The type to pull you closer wherever just from being possessive, and makes an excuse that's basically just "Because you might get lost". Riddle.. The hallway is currently empty?

He will forever be your first and last love. The little things he does for you, it's everything. To you, and to everyone else who sees. The way he ties your shoelaces— which you didn't even notice that was untied.

When you make a mistake and a small "I'm sorry." comes out of your lips while your eyes get blurry, shaking his head as he shushes you and reassures you, everytime without fail.

The way he looks up at your pretty face right after, as smitten as ever and in complete awe, it's not that obvious, but you can see it in his eyes.

The way he's incredibly patient with you, the way you push your luck just to annoy him— luckily not getting beheaded by your own boyfriend. He has always fully believed time has brought you to him, hell, even fate itself maybe.

✧ — LEONA KiNGSCHOLAR

Leona always finds himself ending up with you, one way or another. At the end of the day, he's home. To you. And that's what matters the most to him.

The way he's burying his face in your chest, making a giggle escape out of your lips, a giggle he especially loves, but of course, would never really admit it directly.

This time, it's your turn to tease him for acting like this. But who could blame him? You're so comfortable.. And you're so.. Everything, really.

The soft sighs of relief he lets out when he feels your fingers thread through his long hair, indirectly asking you to not stop, and just keep going.

He compliments you without even realizing. Like it's a natural response to everything you do. From your little "Isn't this bow really cute, Leona?" with a soft smile as he goes, "Yeah. It'd be cuter if you'd wear it, though."

And you're left red and blushing, it honestly depends if he's going to tease you for it or not. But we all know, your blush is never going to get unnoticed by the prince himself.

Gets defensive whenever you bring this topic up. He will NEVER miss a day of complimenting you— even if it's something random. It's either that, or something completely heartwarming.

It ranges from, "You're really short, you know? Could barely even reach the top of the door even if you stand on your tippy-toes. But it's alright. I like it like that." with a smug grin.

To, "What's wrong with you? You're gorgeous. You're gonna be keepin' up with me in terms of persuasion, with those adorable little eyes of yours, are you?" sir this is a wendys

Can NEVER say no to you when you give him that special look. When you look up at him he absolutely melts— and it's painfully obvious it hurts physically (And by that, I mean butterflies.)

"If my significant other thinks they can just bat their cute lil eyes at me and get whatever they want, they're absolutely right." Type of mindset. He'd never admit it or say it out loud, either. We all saw that coming though, let's be honest..

Grits his teeth whenever you look at him with doe eyes, and it makes him weak because he especially loves your eyes, and how much they can say about you and how you're feeling.

✧ — AZUL ASHENGROTTO

Provides you with anything you need, without you needing to ask, almost everytime he notices. For other people, they'd need payment. But for you..? Ah, just forget about the goddamn contract at this point.

Actually, there IS a payment you have to do. Can you guess? It's definitely something cheesy or corny. Kills myself

Everytime you give him kisses all over his face, he's definitely all read. Who could blame him? We know he's not used to affection like this. And the fact that it's coming from you.. I don't know if that makes it worse or better at this point.

But of course, this will always come with a payment. More of a punishment— maybe. Having to wipe all your faint lipstick marks off his face when he has to be in the mostro lounge, making him just a few minutes late.

He picks up your habits. From talking or texting, no matter how different it is, he'll pick it up. From how much time you two spend together, I can't really say anyone's surprised..?

So, don't be surprised when he randomly responds to you with your usual attitude, or even just talking or texting a little bit like you as well.

The best part is, he doesn't even notice himself. When someone brings it up, he raises an eyebrow and acts like he doesn't know what they're talking about at all.

Gets all flustered when someone mentions you. It wouldn't even be about your relationship and he'd still be a blushing mess. Why? Um.. I dunno..

They probably wouldn't even realize you two are dating until they see Azul's wallpaper is you two, and when he opens his phone, most of the widgets there are your little selfies you send to him for fun.

Whether it'll be a literal thirst trap ("He's getting all red, please stop?" - Jade). Or a 0.5 picture of you sent by a mutual friend, or even Floyd who practically towers over you.

note — 𝔹𝕌ℝℕ 𝕋ℍ𝔼 𝔾𝔸𝕐𝕊 𝓑𝓤𝓡𝓝 𝓣𝓗𝓔 𝓖𝓐𝓨𝓢 𝙱𝚄𝚁𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙶𝙰𝚈𝚂 ꃳ꒤ꋪꋊ ꓄ꁝꏂ ꍌꋬꌦꇙ ฿ɄⱤ₦ ₮ⱧɆ ₲₳Ɏ₴ ᗷᑘᖇᘉ ᖶᕼᘿ ᘜᗩᖻS [̲̅B][̲̅U][̲̅R][̲̅N] [̲̅T][̲̅H][̲̅E] [̲̅G][̲̅A][̲̅Y][̲̅S] BURN THE GAYS ßÚRñ †HÈ GÄ¥§ B̶U̶R̶N̶ T̶H̶E̶ G̶A̶Y̶S̶ вυяη тнє gαуѕ ᏰᏬᏒᏁ ᎿᎻᎬ ᎶᎯᎽᏕ ᴮᵁᴿᴺ ᵀᴴᴱ ᴳᴬʸˢ БҴЯҊ ꚌӉЄ ԌДҰЅ ႦႮჁႶ ႵႹჹ ყმჄႽ B̤̮Ṳ̮R̤̮N̤̮ T̤̮H̤̮E̤̮ G̤̮A̤̮Y̤̮S̤̮ B̷U̷R̷N̷ T̷H̷E̷ G̷A̷Y̷S̷ B̲U̲R̲N̲ T̲H̲E̲ G̲̲A̲̲Y̲̲S̲ B̳U̳R̳N̳ T̳H̳E̳ G̳A̳Y̳S̳ B̾U̾R̾N̾ T̾H̾E̾ G̾A̾Y̾S̾ B͎U͎R͎N͎ T͎H͎E͎ G͎A͎Y͎S͎ B͓̽U͓̽R͓̽N͓̽ T͓̽H͓̽E͓̽ G͓̽A͓̽Y͓̽S͓̽ B҈U҈R҈N҈ T҈H҈E҈ G҈A҈Y҈D҈ B͙U͙R͙N͙ T͙H͙E͙ G͙A͙Y͙S͙ B͒U͒R͒N͒ T͒H͒E͒ G͒A͒Y͒S͒ B̻U̻R̻N̻ T̻H̻E̻ G̻A̻Y̻S̻ ḄỤṚṆ ṬḤẸ G̣ẠỴṢ

[mikareo]

eternal sunshine ── itoshi rin

w.c. 841 content: itoshi rin x fem reader, post-break up angst

༘⋆📼˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

are you okay?

he keeps asking. that same question appears in your messages a few times a day, a few times too many. it's nice to know he cares, a little bit in the slightest at least, but it doesn't help with the raw aching in the center of your chest— where all of the affection you hold for rin is struggling to find a place in your body to settle. it's pulling at your skin and tugging your limbs, urging your fingers to type the infamous 'i miss you' that lives in the delusion your heart wants to come true.

but you do miss him.

you really miss him.

you want to move on, but you can't. you can't seem to push past the denial that you aren't together anymore. you broke up. he broke up with you. you aren't a couple. you aren't his girlfriend. you aren't the love of his life. rin will forget about you. he'll forget you. you don't matter.

you're nothing and he's everything.

he holds so much real estate in your chest that you find yourself starting the car, backing onto the street, and heading towards the home you once shared. will you regret this? probably. do you even care anymore? no.

so, when you raise your hand before the door, there's no hesitation, no anxiety seeping from your fingertips— just heavy grief that hasn't been processed yet. grief that you're begging to receive closure for; and you're one step closer to that gift when the handle turns, and you're face-to-face with the man who broke your heart.

his eyes look heavy. there isn't an ounce of surprise in them. it's almost as if he was expecting you...

...god, you're so predictable. you're so pathetic and desperate that he knew you'd cave and come. why can't you be strong like him? why can't you move on?

"i can't let you in." rin murmurs. his statement is firm and his body doesn't budge. "this isn't healthy, baby."

in spite of his words, he cups your face. the feeling of his palms is familiar. a touch that your dreams welcome when you can't find sleep, and yearn for the comfort you once shared. his blue gaze has love hidden behind those steely irises. you know it. there has to be some love left in there for you. you can't have just vanished from his heart. that's what you choose to believe— a perfect example of how you convince yourself to stay stranded in denial despite knowing otherwise.

"let's talk," you beg, "one last time."

"what's left to say?" his voice cracks and rin's strength wavers for a moment. "i can't do this. i'm not cut out for this. i don't have time for a relationship; i've already said all of this, please don't make me say it again."

you can tell he's on the verge of tears, lip quivering and eyebrows furrowed, rin pulls you closer. his hands magnetically find your body and he embraces you in a tight hug. it's selfish. he's leading you on once more and giving you false hope that maybe, this time, the conversation will end differently. he longs for the comfort you bring him, but won't provide that same favor when you ask for it.

it's too much to handle alone. you're tired.

this needs to stop.

"i've just been thinking so much lately." you begin, trying to find some courage. any courage. anything to help. "and i've realized that i put so much into this. i put my all into you. i gave you everything, and i'm not— i'm just not—"

"not what?"

a sigh escapes you.

"i'm not enough to convince you to stay."

rin's arms tighten. "you're perfect. you are. i'm the one who's not enough for you. believe me—"

"how can i?" you interrupt. "if i was perfect, you'd try harder. you'd want to keep me around so we can help each other be better. i hate who i'm becoming without you. i have no one to care for. i have all of these feelings and i don't know where to put them because they just want to feel for you. i'm running around in circles trying to process everything that happened because it was so abrupt, but i just can't do it— i want you. all i want is you. i don't know who i am anymore. rin please. you can still change your mind. i'm begging. i've begged so many times. let this work, just once. i love you."

his lips are on yours in a split second, deeply kissing you to end your mindless ramble, and his plan works. he shuts you up.

he ends the conversation, once again, with a kiss; never giving a real answer to your questions. never giving a solution to the dilemma. rin just restarts the cycle of manipulation that he doesn't even realize he's doing. you can't let each other go. your efforts will always fail. you'll be stuck in this loop forever. lonely, yet loving him.

[mustainegf]

I totally understand if you won’t be comfortable with writing this, but could you write something, where the reader struggles with an ED? James (any era is fine) obviously notices her weightloss, and discovers her purging one night, comforts her, and helps her with recovery? I completely get if you don’t want to write this, but thank you anyway, for all your amazing fics! 💞

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: mention of ED, purging, mention of vomiting

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ¹⁹⁸⁷

It was late one night in '87, and the stars outside our small apartment seemed extra dark, as if even they took a cue from our dramas. The city was quiet, but my mind was loud, racing with thoughts that couldn't let me sleep. James had long since taken up most of the bed, sprawled out and snoring like a chainsaw, as he always did after a night out. We had been out with his bandmates earlier, grabbing burgers and beers after their rehearsal. I tried to enjoy it, went along with everyone, laughing and talking; but as usual, couldn't get past that nagging voice in my head telling me I shouldn't have eaten so much.

I waited for James to go deep into sleep, his soft hum of breathing filling the room. Quietly, I slipped out from under the sheets, my heart pounding. I hated myself for what I was about to do, but the shame was just like that itch I couldn't ignore. My feet padded softly across the cold floor toward the bathroom, and I shut the door behind me, trying to be as silent as possible.

This was not something I wanted to be doing. Still, it had to be the only way to undo the guilt, wash away that heavy feeling which could trap a person in their skin. I leaned over the toilet and started to do what I had to, hands gripping the sides of the porcelain, eyes shut tight. Just as I started to groggily stand back up, a creak sounded from behind me. I turned around, my stomach falling. There, in the doorway was James. His face screwed up in a mixed expression of. He didn't say anything at first, he just stared, he couldn't believe what he'd just walked in on.

My heart raced in my chest, and I could feel the tingle of heat rise to my cheeks. "James… I, I didn't mean—"

He shook his head and stepped into the bathroom, softly closing the door behind him. "Babe, what are you doing?" His voice was soft, without any trace of anger or disgust, as I'd feared it might be. He reached out and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. I tried to look away, but he tipped my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze.

"I-" My voice came out hoarse; the words seemed to catch in my throat. "I don't know. I just... sometimes I just can't control it... I don't wanna be fat..."

James exhaled deeply, his fingers warm against my skin. "You don't have to do this. You don't need to hurt yourself like this... and you aren't fat." His voice was steady but with a slight crack, it sounded like he was trying not to break down right there in front of me.

Immediately, my eyes welled up with tears, blurring my vision. "I just… I feel like I have to. It's like… no matter what I do, I'm not enough. Not good enough. Not thin enough. Not… I don't know." I wiped at my face, embarrassed to be breaking down like this.

James hugged me tight, holding me close. He didn't let go when, ashamed and embarrassed, I squirmed and tried to pull away. Instead, he drew me closer still, his gentle circular motions on my back soothing me all the more. "Hey, listen," he whispered. "You're enough. You are so much more than enough. You don't have to do this to yourself. Not for me, not for anyone."

We stood in the bathroom for what felt like forever, him just holding me as I cried into his shoulder. I could feel his heartbeat.

After a while, he leaned back, his hands still on my shoulders. "Have you been doing this... a lot?" he asked softly.

I nodded, my head hung in shame. "Yeah..." My voice was barely above a whisper. I didn't want him to know, yet at the same time, it felt like a weight had been lifted just by saying it aloud.

He nodded, his eyes off mine for a moment before he refocused on mine. "Why didn't you tell me?"

I shrugged, swallowing hard. "I didn't want you to think I was weak or… crazy."

"Hey, hey," he said, the tone firm. "You're not weak. And you're definitely not crazy. But we're gonna get through this together, okay?" His eyes softened into a warmth that I hadn't felt in so long. I nodded, something small flaring to life in my chest.

After that night, James was by my side every step through recovery. He would leave little notes around the apartment reminding me how beautiful I was, how much he loved me. He'd take me out on walks in the city, not to burn calories or anything, just to feel alive, to remember that the world was bigger than the darkness inside my head.

There were days it just seemed impossible. Days when the voice in my head was louder than his reassurances, and I'd find that old urge crawling back. But every time, James was there. Sometimes with a hug, sometimes with a distraction, and sometimes just with silence beside me, making sure that he wasn't going to go anywhere.

He helped me to view food as other than just calories or numbers on the scale. We would cook together, laugh together, making a mess of the kitchen, flour everywhere and dishes piling up in the sink. He would make me his pancakes on lazy sunday mornings, and though that voice in my head still nagged, it started to fade, little by little.

Slowly but surely, I taught myself to trust again. Not because I was just ready to trust, but because I had learned that I didn't have to be perfect to love, or to be loved, and that I didn't need to punish myself to feel in control. And every time I doubted that, every time that old fear began to creep in, I would look at James, at the way he looked at me, and it was a reminder that I was enough.

It wasn't easy, and I knew that days of roughness would lay ahead. But having James at my side made me feel capable of handling them. That somehow, I was strong enough to press on-to keep fighting for me, for us.

That for now, was enough.

[jsprnt]

as the saying goes: with every high, comes a low

kenan yıldız x reader

A/N: writing this brought back both good memories and ptsd from the euros 🥲🥲 based on this request, thank you for requesting 🤍🤍 also this is so sappyyy, guess who’s in her feels? 😛

W/C: 1.090

ninety minutes of straight-up torture.

a small fifteen-minute break to calm your pounding heart down, before it starts heavily thumping against your rib cage again.

you wouldn’t be surprised if you dropped onto the floor due to the amount of times your heart rate had skyrocketed.

anxiety and anticipation.

the only words that could describe your mental state in the moment.

losing a match was painful, but even more painful after turkey had been doing so well in the tournament.

as the partner of a football player, you carried your own sadness, and your boyfriend’s sadness.

you bite your lip when the referee ends the match. enough to draw a small amount of blood. the metallic taste fills your mouth, and makes you feel even more horrible.

the chants of the turkey supporters had been non-stop since the start of the game. at first full of joy, then encouragement, then slowly trailing off to tears and disappointment.

even so, everyone had an incredible sense of pride in their hearts for their country. no matter the loss.

when you're given the go-ahead, all family members and friends of the turkey players make their way out of their seats.

you hurry as you go down, your heart aching as you imagine all of the disappointment and anger brewing in your lover’s heart.

when you finally reach him, kenan immediately pulls you into a private room. without a word, his arms wrap around your back, and he buries his handsome face in the crook of your neck.

feeling his breath hit your skin, you sigh shakily. not caring about his sweaty hair and body, you reach up to run your hand down his back.

"are you okay?"

of course, he wasn't, but you could barely register how fast the team had lost control of the match. let alone form a coherent, comforting thought.

you rake your unoccupied hand through his hair, your heart beating in your ears as you try to find the words to comfort your boyfriend.

though, his lack of response told you enough.

after a long stretch of silence, you start spilling your thoughts. licking your dry lips before speaking.

"I'm so fucking proud of you, kenan.."

the words leave your mouth with deep emotion. followed by a tremble of your lip as you try to keep your tears at bay.

"whatever people say, whatever anyone says doesn't matter. you worked so fucking hard, you put your entire soul and body into it. that's what matters. you tried, and I know you did your best.."

you pause as a shaky sigh leaves kenan's mouth. his athletic body pressing into yours, the smell of sweat, notes of his musky cologne, and your perfume creating a familiar atmosphere.

your heart breaks when you hear a small sniffle. your eyes closing as you hold back your own tears.

"you can cry. it's okay, cry it out. I know it hurts, baby.." you whisper, finally feeling hot tears hit your own cheeks, as his transfer down your neck.

"I worked so hard. so many nights and days- and this is the performance I put on when my team, and my entire country is leaning on me!.."

"shh, don't blame yourself, honey. I know it will sound cliché, but you did your absolute best. you can’t do more than your best, baby..”

you pause to pat his back, tears messing up your makeup, and making your nose run.

"it was going so well, you guys created so many chances. it was just an unlucky second half.."

"to have something in the palm of my hand, and then to just lose it within twenty minutes- hurts so fucking bad.." his shoulders shake with the painful sobs. the emotion expressed by your boyfriend causing a soft whimper to leave your own mouth.

"never ever think that the entire thing was on you. It was destined to be like this. as humans, we will learn and grow, even if we don’t see immediate results.."

kenan moves his head to look at you, your heart practically cracking at the sadness on his face.

the hopeless look in his beautiful brown eyes, the irritation of his soft skin- and the fastened pace of his pulse.

"why are you crying?" he asks, and you can swear he starts crying harder after seeing the tears on your face.

"because, you're hurting. don't ever want you to feel bad or upset.." your voice cracks, and you tighten your grip on the fabric of his training jacket.

"fuck. don't you ever cry over me, baby.." kenan rasps, cupping your cheek with his roughened palm. both your eyes visibly red and irritated from the salty tears.

"how can I not?" you question, before pulling his head into your neck again. cradling the back of his head, as you hug each other as tightly as humanly possible.

"i love you so much. your joy is mine. so how can your hurt not be mine?" you ask, raking your fingers through his hair.

"i love you too. so bad it kills me to see you cry over me.." he chokes out, his fingers curling around your body, holding you incredibly close against his warm skin.

you hold each other for a couple of minutes, the only sound in the room being the cold air conditioning, and the sound of your combined sobs.

you can hear kenan take a deep, stuttering breath, before he speaks.

"we’re such crybabies.."

his voice is raw, but thick with fondness and warmth..

your lover always knew how to lighten up the mood, while others could never do so in similar situations.

you chuckle a little through tears, pulling back to look at him. you raise your hand to wipe the tears on kenan's cheeks, his bloodshot eyes on yours.

pushing back his hair, you expose his forehead, wiping away the rest of the moisture with your sleeve.

"your eyes are all red.." you comment, knowing you probably looked the exact same.

"what do you need when we get back to the hotel? a bath? a cuddle? good food?" you inquire, wanting to provide him the best comfort you could offer.

you watch him take a breath before he speaks, and he whips out a tissue from his pocket, before dabbing at the tears on your face.

he was so gentle and thoughtful, like always.

"I just need you. I just need my sweet baby next to me, and everything will be alright.."

[starlightvld]

Bait & Switch, pt. 10 - The END! (almost)

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 // Part 10 // Epilogue

Based on "I wasn't in that tunnel."

Call of Duty, soapghost // CW: Hurt/Comfort, MWIII spoilers

---

Watching Johnny launch himself at Makarov is like staring into the headlights of an oncoming car. The blue of Johnny's eyes through the helmet visor burn with rage, and though the emotion isn't meant for Ghost, he can't help the way his body instinctively tries to dodge the attack.

It doesn't matter. He's too slow. The impact sends them all sprawling across the rooftop, and Johnny scrambles on top of Makarov to smack something out of his hand.

It's not until the small, bright green thing skitters across the roof and cracks against the brick wall of the roof access, bright green seeping out to pool around it, that it finally clicks.

Johnny tackled Makarov to save Ghost.

Makarov screams in frustration... and then grunts in pain as Johnny's fist connects with his face. At the same moment, a bullet punches Ghost's plating into his ribs, and he finally takes his eyes off Johnny long enough to aim his weapon.

The remaining soldier seems to have some back up now — probably people waiting in the wings in case Johnny proved too much for the small team. Johnny is wailing on Makarov, punch after punch accompanied by a growling scream gone tinny from the helmet speakers, but Ghost's heart jumps into his throat as he realizes Johnny is also still in the firing line. Ghost's return fire is keeping their adversaries cautious, and they won't dare take too many shots because of Makarov being in the way. 

But there are already at least two dents in Johnny's helmet. Who knows how many more bullets have hit his armor, leaving vicious bruises at a minimum and possibly causing internal bleeding from the impacts. As high tech as the armor is, Johnny can't survive a full-out onslaught of gunfire.

Another bullet hits Ghost's plating, this time right over his newly-healed bullet would. Ghost growls, dodges behind cover, and sets his sights on the remaining soldiers.

"Johnny! Get to cover!"

The rage dims, and a bit of lucidity seeps back into Johnny's eyes. He doesn't respond, but he rolls both himself and Makarov until they're behind the brick wall of the stairwell entry. Makarov is struggling in earnest now, and Ghost's heart rate ratchets up a few more desperate thumps per minute. He leans out of cover just as one of Makarov's team does and shoots the soldier right between the eyes. He ducks back under the spray of shattering brick where his face used to be. He switches to the broad channel to hear Laswell using her stern voice in the comms.

"Ghost. Soap. This is Watcher-1. Report in now. That's an order. Over."

"Watcher-1, this is Ghost. Makarov is on the roof with me and Johnny. We're under fire. Requestin' immediate backup."

Another soldier pops out from behind an AC unit as Ghost leans around the corner, and Ghost fires. The man drops.

Two down... Three? Or maybe four to go.

"You're on the roof with Soap?" Laswell asks, something incredulous and yet resigned in her tone.

"Affirmative." Ghost glances over, his heart slowing a bit when he sees Johnny has regained his position over Makarov, though he's only getting in a punch every now and then as Makarov fights back. Ghost can't make out much of Makarov's features from all the blood, though. "Better get here fast if you want Makarov alive. Johnny's beatin' his face in."

"And you're not stopping him?" 

"Under fire, remember? Can't get to him."

Which is technically true. If Ghost ran across the open area between them, he'd likely end up with at least one extra hole in his body. The reality, though, is that he wouldn't even if he could. Not unless Makarov somehow got the upper hand and Johnny needed back up.

"Ghost, this is Price. We're on our way in the helo. Sitrep."

Sure enough, the sound of helo blades cuts through the gunfire. Ghost reloads and dips out of cover — only to dodge back at another spray of brick. 

"At least four hostiles are spread across the rooftop. Ductwork and mechanical units givin' 'em lots of cover."

"Roger," Price says, "Safest angle for us to come at you?"

"South. Johnny and I are fully covered from that direction and that's where most of Makarov's people are."

Ghost glances over at Johnny—

—who has a pistol pressed against Makarov's forehead. A pistol that looks a lot like the one that Ghost finds is missing from his thigh holster. Must've snagged it when he knocked them all down.

Ghost switches over to their private channel. "Sitrep, Sergeant."

"Got him," Johnny pants through the comms, his voice too panicked for Ghost's liking. "I got him right where we want him. He moves a millimeter, though, I'm gonna blow his head off."

"Sounds good, Johnny. Take some deep breaths for me, eh? Breathe in..."

The guns around them have gone quiet in direct proportion to the beat of the helo blades, but Ghost focuses on the short, panicky breaths in his ear. Johnny swallows and his breathing changes to one of a measured inhale interrupted by small gasps.

"Now breathe out. Slowly."

The sound changes again to something like a hiss of air through teeth. It's not perfect, but at least Johnny is with it enough to listen to Ghost. He guides him through a couple more breaths even as the helo pops up on the south side to rain gunfire down on the remaining hostiles. An RPG whistles through the air. The helo dodges and aims at the location the grenade came from, destroying the ducts and sending metal and brick flying. 

The broken whisper in Ghost's ear brings all his focus back to Johnny in an instant.

"I can't... Ghost... I can't let him live."

"He talkin' to you?"

"Aye. It's... he..." A harsh growl erupts from Johnny's throat and ebbs into a half whine. Ghost is ready to launch himself across the divide, bullets be damned, when Johnny continues, "I cannae live my life knowing he's out there somewhere. Tha' he might get out again. Tha' you or I or any of the people I care about might be in danger because he's still walking the Earth."

A villa in a rainforest rises up in Ghost's mind, blood spraying from the bullet placed between the eyes of the man who had terrorized him for months followed by fire that consumed everything in its wake. He meets Johnny's eyes across the yawning gap of bullet-riddled roof between them.

"Looks like he's movin' to me," Ghost says in a matter-of-fact tone. "Better put him down."

Johnny's eyes flare as he stares at Ghost before turning his gaze to Makarov. There's a moment of silence except for the helo blades cutting through the air, though Ghost can see Makarov's blood-stained lips moving—

A single gunshot shatters the relative silence.

Makarov's body jerks and then stills as blood begins to pool around his head. Johnny scrambles to his feet, still hovering over the body with his gun pointed at Makarov.

Three more shots ring out, but Makarov doesn't move for those. Ghost hums.

"Good work, Sergeant. Another terrorist down. Switch to the main channel, and we'll wrap this up, alright?"

He watches just long enough to see Johnny's hand move toward his comms and switches over himself in time to hear Price swearing up a storm.

"—amn it, Ghost. If you don't give me a sitrep in two seconds, I'm gonna come down there and kill you myself."

"Ghost 'ere. We're solid." Ghost looks over to meet Johnny's gaze. "Target KIA."

There's a silence on the other end until Laswell's voice comes online.

"Repeat that, Bravo 7-1."

Ghost doesn't look away from Johnny as he says, "Target down. Tried to escape. Was the only way to keep him from gettin' away again."

Laswell doesn't respond. She's probably pissed off, but so is Ghost. She's the one who asked Johnny to put himself in danger by being here at all.

Though it's true that Makarov probably wouldn't have shown himself if Johnny hadn't come.

"Ghost, Soap, you're clear," Price says. "Vaqueros are on the way up to bag and tag. We'll RV by the warehouse."

Ghost is moving before Price finishes, dashing across the space to Johnny, who is now staring down at the mangled, bloody face of his tormentor who he very nearly beat to death. Slowly, Ghost reaches out and presses a hand to Johnny's chest.

"You with me, Johnny?"

"Always."

It sounds like an automatic reply, but when Johnny lifts his head, eyes overflowing with tears, there's no distance or haze clouding his gaze. Ghost reaches up to mute his comms. Johnny does the same before reaching under his chin to unlatch his helmet and pull it off. It falls from his hands, the clatter loud without the helo or gunfire to mute the noise. 

"It's over," Johnny gasps, his voice little more than an incredulous whisper. "He's gone."

"You did good, Johnny."

"Why're ye here? Ye werenae supposed to be on overwatch."

Ghost shrugs. "The Vaquero assigned to overwatch was eager to be part of the action on the ground. I was doin' him a favor." A broken laugh bursts from Johnny's heaving chest, and Ghost slides his gloved hand up to cup Johnny's tear-stained cheek. "Told you I wouldn't let owt happen to you. Not now. Not ever again."

Johnny's face goes soft, and Ghost can't resist any longer. He lifts his mask, leans in, and kisses Johnny the way he's been aching to since that day in the hospital... and all those days before when he thought Johnny was gone from his world.

The distant sound of the stairwell door opening pulls them apart, but only by a few inches. They confirm that their company is, in fact, the Vaqueros before turning back to each other. Johnny is grinning at him, his expression bordering on giddy.

"So all I've gotta do to get ye to kiss me is kill a terrorist in cold blood? Good to know."

"No terrorist murder necessary. Just keep bein' 'ere, Johnny. Just stay with me. 'S'all I need."

"Oh, but..."

Johnny trails off, his brows furrowing so deeply Ghost is compelled to smooth a thumb over the puckered skin. "But what?"

"Ye just never seemed to want" — Johnny looks around them and lowers his voice — "more, ye ken?"

"You mean when I was recoverin' from gettin' shot and you from years of torture?"

Johnny blinks, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally stutters out a soft, "Well, when ye put it tha' way, I suppose ye've got a point... but ye should know..."

Johnny grunts when they have to move away from Makarov's body so the Vaqueros can bag it. His gaze is fixed on Makarov's bloody face until the bag zips up over it.

When he doesn't continue his train of thought, Ghost puts a hand on his waist and squeezes to get his attention. Johnny flinches and hisses through his teeth.

"Shit, you broken?"

"Nae. Just bruised to hell and back. I stopped counting after ten hits to the armor."

Ghost blows out a long breath, his spiking heart rate calming with the confirmation Johnny isn't bleeding out, though he still needs medical attention stat. 

"Christ. You're a head case, Johnny."

"Aye, but I'm yer head case," he says, flashing that sudden, broad grin that Ghost hasn't seen in more than three years. "And yer mine," he adds as he curls discreet fingers through Ghost's thigh strap.

Ghost doesn't argue as he directs Johnny to the stairs. They'll have time later to discuss the finer points of their mutual insanity.

They have time. And Ghost will never take a single second of it for granted again.

---

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 // Part 10 // Epilogue

[jenniferspet]

Part 2 of my werewolf bully story!!

TW Knotting, Shitty boyfriend

Sorry it took so long to get out Hope y’all like it!

When she awoke, the room was bathed in the soft glow of dawn. The curtains fluttered slightly, and the scent of rain-kissed earth filled the air. Carefully, she extracted herself from the tangle of limbs, her gaze lingering on the man who had claimed her so fiercely the night before. He looked almost sweet, his features softened by sleep.

Y/N slipped from the bed and gathered her torn clothing. Her heart raced as she tried to piece together the events of the night. Was this a twisted dream or a new reality? Did Grey truly want to be with her, or was this just another way to exert his dominance over her?

The floorboards creaked softly as she tiptoed across the room. She searched for her shoes, spotting them in the corner by the door. The house was quiet, the only sounds the distant chirping of early birds outside. As she dressed, she wondered if she should leave before he woke up. Maybe she could sneak out and pretend the whole thing never happened.

But the thought of facing another day alone, with the whispers and glares of her classmates, was too much to bear. And there was something about the way he was with her yesterday that didn't feel cruel. The sex was rough and dominating. But afterwards he was sweet, holding her through the night.

With a deep breath, she steeled herself and approached the bed, her eyes scanning his face for any hint of malice. His eyes fluttered open, revealing a sleepy confusion that quickly morphed into surprise when he saw her standing there. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them thick with unspoken questions and uncertainties.

"You're awake," Grey finally said, his voice gruff with sleep. He sat up, the sheets sliding down to his waist, exposing the powerful lines of his chest and abs. "I didn't mean to... I didn't expect you to still be here."

"I'm not entirely sure I should be," she murmured, clutching her clothes to her chest. The words hung in the air, a fragile confession that echoed the tumult of her emotions. She wasn't sure if she wanted to be there, in his room, in his life.

Grey's expression grew serious as he took in her disheveled appearance, his eyes lingering on the bruises that had already begun to form. He reached out a hand, tentative, and she flinched. He sighed, dropping it back to the bed. "Look, about last night... I didn't mean to hurt you. I just..." His voice trailed off, and she could see the struggle in his eyes to find the right words.

"Just what?" she prodded, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice. "What is this to you? Some sick game?"

Grey looked away, his jaw tightening. "No, it's not like that," he said firmly. "I... I don't know what came over me. I've never felt this way about anyone before."

"But why me?" she whispered, the words barely audible. "Why did you choose me?"

He was silent for a moment before speaking. "You're different, Y/N. You're beautiful, even when you think you're not. And when I saw you reading about creatures like me, it was like... it was like nothing else mattered. I felt like I had a chance"

Her eyes searched his, looking for any trace of the sneer that had been there the night before. But all she found was sincerity, a raw vulnerability that she hadn't expected. It was disarming.

"What happens now?" she asked, taking a tentative step towards the bed.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know I don't deserve it, but... I want to make this right. If you'll let me."

Her heart pounded in her chest as she took another step closer, setting her clothes aside. "How can you do that?" she asked, hope and fear warring within her.

Grey reached for her hand, his touch gentle. "I'll start by being nicer to you. And maybe I can fix this."

The tension in the room dissipated slightly as he pulled her into an embrace, his warmth seeping into her bones. She let herself lean into him, the comfort of his arms a stark contrast to the turmoil in her mind.

As they sat there, she felt something shift within her. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to this than she had thought. Perhaps Grey wasn't the monster she had thought he was. But she knew she couldn't let her guard down completely. Not yet.

"I need to know I can trust you," she said, her voice muffled against his chest.

"I'll earn it," he promised, his grip on her tightening. "I'll prove it to you."

Y/N pulled back, her eyes searching his. "How?"

"I'll stop the bullying," he said, his gaze unwavering. "I'll tell everyone that you're mine, and that means you're off-limits to everyone else."

Her eyes searched his, looking for the truth in his words. "And what does that mean? Being 'yours'?"

He leaned closer, his breath warm against her face. "It means I'll protect you. Take care of you. And maybe, if we give this a chance, we could... we could actually be happy together."

Before she could respond, he leaned in and kissed her softly, a stark contrast to the roughness of the night before. His lips were gentle, coaxing, and she felt a flutter in her stomach that she hadn't expected. His hands cupped her face, holding her in place as if he were afraid she'd pull away.

The kiss grew deeper, and she found herself responding, her arms winding around his neck. His tongue danced with hers, and she forgot about the bruises, the fear, and the doubt. For a brief moment, she allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there could be something real between them.

When he pulled back, she was breathless, her heart racing. "See?" he murmured. "I can be gentle."

But she didn't miss the underlying challenge in his eyes. This wasn't just about convincing her; it was about showing her a side of him that no one else had seen. A side that was more than the schoolyard bully.

They sat in silence for a moment and then, she took a deep breath and made her decision. "Okay," she said. "But if you hurt me again, I'm out."

Grey nodded, his expression solemn. "Fair enough," he said. "But I won't. I promise."

The next few days were a whirlwind of change. Grey was true to his word, and the bullying stopped. He walked her to class, sat with her at lunch, and even started defending her when others tried to pick fights. It was a new dynamic she was still trying to wrap her head around.

And the way he looked at her, it was like he was seeing her for the first time. No more sneers or cruel jokes. Just... admiration. It was strange, but also... nice.

But there was still a part of her that waited for the other shoe to drop. That waited for him to turn on her again. To use his newfound power over her for his own amusement. She couldn't shake the feeling that this was all just a setup for a bigger, more devastating blow.

But every time she voiced her concerns, he'd just smile and pull her closer. "Just give it time," he'd say. "You'll see."

And so she waited, watching him, studying every move, every gesture. Trying to find the cracks in this newfound kindness. But they never came. Instead, she found herself falling deeper into the warmth of his embrace, the safety of his arms.

As the days turned into weeks, she began to let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, he really had changed. That maybe there was something real between them after all. And as she leaned into another of his soft, sweet kisses, she couldn't help but wonder if this was the start of something beautiful. Or if it was just the calm before the storm.

One morning, as they walked to school under the cover of a crisp, autumn sky, she noticed a new face. A boy, tall and lanky, with a mop of dark hair that fell into his eyes. He hovered at the edge of the schoolyard, his eyes darting around nervously.

Grey, who had been whispering something into her ear that made her blush, followed her gaze. "Ah, new meat," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"What do you mean, 'new meat'?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

Grey chuckled, his arm sliding around her waist. "It's just an expression, baby," he said. "It means fresh blood. Someone new to mess with." His grin was wide, his teeth sharp in the morning light.

Y/N felt a twinge of unease. "You're not planning to mess with him, are you?"

Grey's eyes lit up with mischief, but he quickly schooled his features when he saw her concern. "Nah, not unless he steps out of line," he assured her, his voice dropping low. "But if he does, he'll have me to deal with."

The warning in his tone was clear, and she couldn't help but feel a thrill of fear and excitement. The new boy looked over, catching her gaze, and she offered a tentative smile. He returned it, looking slightly less lost.

As they approached the school, the new student looked even more out of place, his eyes scanning the unfamiliar faces with a hint of desperation. Y/N felt a pang of sympathy. She knew what it was like to be the outsider, the target. She also knew that Grey's protection could be as much a curse as a blessing.

In their first class, she was surprised to find the new boy sitting right next to her. He looked at her, his eyes wide with curiosity, and she gave him a small nod of greeting. "Hi," she whispered, trying to be friendly. "I'm Y/N."

"Hi," he replied, his voice shaky. "I'm Liam."

The bell rang, signaling the start of class, and she turned to face the front, her heart racing. The lesson began, but she couldn't focus. Every time she glanced at him, she saw the way the other students looked at him, the way they whispered and pointed. It was all too familiar, and she couldn't help but feel a kinship with him.

At lunch, Grey had to deal with some pack business, so she found herself sitting next to Liam, her usual tablemates giving her a wide berth. They talked tentatively, sharing stories of their hometowns, their likes and dislikes. He was sweet, with a shy smile that made her heart ache for his innocence in the face of the school's harsh reality.

As the days went on, she found herself looking forward to the moments they shared in class, the brief conversations in the hallways, and the occasional lunchtime chat. He was a stark contrast to the harshness of her usual routine, a gentle breeze in the storm of her life. His presence became a beacon of comfort, a secret she guarded from Grey, who had become increasingly protective and possessive of her time.

One afternoon, as the last bell rang and the students dispersed, Liam approached her with a hesitant step. "Hey, Y/N," he called out, his voice carrying over the din of the crowded hallway. "Could I... could I walk you home today?"

Her heart fluttered at his words, and she felt a strange mix of excitement and dread. Grey had never explicitly forbidden her from talking to other guys, but she knew the rules. They were unspoken but as solid as the steel bars of a cage. She looked around, searching for any sign of him, and felt a warm presence at her side.

Grey stepped in, his arm wrapping around her waist in a gesture that was both protective and possessive. His eyes locked onto Liam's, and she could almost see the challenge in them. "She's with me," he said, his voice low and firm. "Back off."

Liam's face fell, and he took a step back. "I-I didn't know," he stammered. "I'm sorry."

Y/N felt a surge of anger at Grey's possessiveness. She had made no promises to him, and yet he was acting as if she belonged to him. She shrugged off his arm and turned to face him. "What the hell was that?" she demanded, her voice echoing off the lockers.

Grey's eyes narrowed, the playfulness of the morning replaced with a hard edge. "What do you think you're doing?"

"What does it look like?" she shot back, her voice tight with frustration. "I'm just trying to be nice to someone new."

"You're mine," Grey growled, his eyes flashing with a hint of his wolfish nature. "You don't need to be nice to anyone else."

Y/N felt a cold shiver run down her spine. "Is this what it's going to be?" she asked, her voice steady despite the fear bubbling inside her. "You just want me to be your little pet?"

Grey's expression softened slightly, and he took a step closer. "It's not like that," he said, his voice low. "You just... I don't trust anyone else around you."

Y/N crossed her arms, her eyes flashing. "That's not fair," she said. "I can't just stop being a person because you don't trust anyone."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know," he admitted. "But it's hard. I just want to keep you safe."

The tension between them was palpable, a silent battle of wills. Finally, she spoke. "If we're going to do this," she said, her voice firm, "then you have to trust me."

Grey nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "I'll try," he said, and she could see the effort it took for him to say it. "But I can't help the way I feel."

"Fine," she said, her voice softening. "But you can't control me, Grey. I need to be able to live my life."

He nodded again, looking slightly chastened. "I know," he said. "I'll do better."

The rest of the day passed in a blur, her mind racing with thoughts of Grey and Liam. As she walked home, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. She quickened her pace, her heart racing in her chest. When she reached her house, she collapsed onto her bed, the weight of the day pressing down on her.

The next morning, she woke up to a text from Grey, asking her to meet him at their usual spot before school. She agreed, though her stomach was in knots. As she approached the spot, she saw him leaning against a tree, his arms folded over his chest. He looked serious, almost... nervous.

"What's up?" she asked, her voice tentative.

Grey took a deep breath, his eyes searching hers. "I talked to the pack last night," he said. "I told them to leave Liam alone. He's not going to be a target."

Y/N's eyes widened. "You did that for me?"

He nodded, his expression unreadable. "I don't want you to be unhappy," he said. "And if that means letting you have friends... then I'll deal with it."

It was a small victory, but it felt like a significant one. For the first time since the claiming, she felt like she had a say in her own life. "Thank you," she said, her voice sincere.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a soft kiss that made her heart race. "Now, let's get to school," he murmured, his hand sliding into hers.

As the days passed, Y/N found herself drawn to Liam more and more. The gentle way he talked, the way he listened, it was like a balm to her soul. They became inseparable during class, sharing smiles and whispers that grew into laughs and confessions. His friendship was like a lifeline in a sea of sharks, a safe haven she hadn't realized she needed.

The other students began to notice the shift in the social hierarchy. Grey was still the alpha, but now there was a clear line drawn around her. He allowed her friendship with Liam, though his eyes never left them when they were together. It was a dance of power and control that Y/N was all too familiar with.

Slowly, she started becoming Liam's best friend. They'd sit together during lunch, sharing stories and laughter, and she'd help him navigate the treacherous waters of high school politics. He was a quick study, though, and it wasn't long before he was standing up for himself.

But Grey noticed the growing bond between them, his eyes narrowing every time she talked to the new student. One evening, as they were leaving school, he pulled her aside. "I'm throwing a party tonight," he said, his voice low and intense. "Make sure you're there."

Her heart sank. She didn't want to go to his parties; they were never anything but a show of his power and dominance. But she knew better than to refuse. "Okay," she murmured, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

The party was loud, filled with the scent of beer and the heavy thump of bass. The house was packed with his friends, all of them looking at her with a mix of curiosity and contempt. She felt like a trophy, displayed for all to see.

Grey kept her close, his hand never leaving her side, and she felt suffocated by his possessiveness. But every time she tried to pull away, he'd tug her back with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "You're mine," he'd murmur in her ear, his breath hot against her neck.

The night grew later, and the party grew wilder. She could feel the tension building, the same energy that had been present the night he claimed her. It was like a storm was brewing, and she was stuck right in the middle of it.

Liam arrived, looking slightly uncomfortable in the sea of unfamiliar faces. He spotted her and made his way over, his smile genuine and welcoming. For a moment, she felt a pang of regret for the life she could have had without Grey's claim.

"Having fun?" he asked, his voice barely audible over the music.

Y/N forced a smile. "Yeah," she lied. "You?"

He shrugged, his eyes darting around the room. "It's okay," he said. "But I'd rather be doing something else."

"Like what?" she asked, genuinely curious.

His eyes lit up. "Like going for a walk," he said. "Or watching a movie. Something not so …. Loud."

The word stuck in her mind. Normal. It was something she hadn't had in a long time. "Me too," she murmured, her hand finding his in the crowded room.

Grey watched them, his gaze burning into the side of her head. She knew he was waiting for her to do something, to slip up, to give him a reason to take her aside and remind her of her place. But she refused to give him that satisfaction.

Instead, she leaned into Liam's side, whispering in his ear. "Would you like to go for a walk?" she asked, her voice filled with a dare.

He nodded eagerly, and they slipped out into the cool night air. The sound of the party faded behind them, leaving only the whisper of the wind and the crunch of leaves beneath their feet.

For a moment, she allowed herself to breathe, to feel the weight of the world lift from her shoulders. And when Liam looked at her with those kind eyes, she knew she had made the right choice.

But the moment didn't last. As they turned the corner, she spotted Grey striding towards them, his expression thunderous. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he snarled, yanking her away from Liam.

Y/N stumbled, her heart racing. "We were just going for a walk," she protested, her voice trembling.

Grey's eyes flashed with anger. "You're mine," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You don't get to just wander off with anyone you like."

Liam took a step forward, panicking slightly. "We weren't doing anything wrong!" he yelled over the music. "We just wanted some fresh air!"

But Grey wasn't listening. He was too busy pulling her closer, his grip almost painful. "You think you can just ignore me?" he snarled. "You think you can make a fool of me?"

Y/N's heart was racing. She could feel the power struggle between them, the tension thick and suffocating. She didn't want to be the prize in this game of dominance, but she also didn't want to see Liam get hurt. "Grey, please," she begged, her voice shaking. "We weren't doing anything."

But Grey wasn't in the mood for reasoning. His hand tightened around her arm, his eyes glowing with a possessive rage that sent chills down her spine. "You're mine," he repeated. "Mine to protect, mine to keep."

Liam stepped back, his eyes wide with fear. "I'm sorry," he stammered, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I didn't mean to cause any trouble."

Y/N's stomach twisted into knots. She had seen this look on Grey's face before, the one that preceded the cruel jokes, the harsh words. But this time, it was directed at someone she cared about. "Grey, stop," she pleaded, trying to pull away.

But he didn't stop. Instead, he leaned in closer, his teeth bared. "You don't know what you're getting into," he hissed. "You should stay away from her."

Liam's eyes flicked to hers, filled with a silent question. She knew what he was asking. Was she okay? Could she handle this? And in that moment, she realized she couldn't. She couldn't watch him get hurt, not like this.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to Liam, the words tearing from her throat. "I can't do this."

With that, she turned and allowed Grey to pull her back into the house, his grip tightening with each step. The partygoers parted like the Red Sea, their eyes following the tense line of their bodies as they moved through the room. Once inside, he slammed the door shut behind them, the noise of the party muffling slightly.

"What the fuck was that?" he demanded, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down her spine.

Y/N stared at the floor, her cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and anger. "We were just going for a walk," she mumbled, trying to keep her voice steady.

Grey's grip on her arm tightened, his eyes flashing. "Don't lie to me," he snarled. "You were cozying up to him, weren't you?"

Her head snapped up, her eyes meeting his. "I was trying to be a decent human being," she spat, yanking her arm free. "What's so wrong with that?"

He stepped closer, his face a mask of rage. "You're mine," he repeated. "You don't get to 'cozy up' to anyone else."

"I'm not a possession," she shot back, her voice rising. "You can't just claim me and expect me to sit here like a good little girlfriend."

He grabbed her again, pulling her close. "But you are," he whispered, his breath hot in her ear. "You're mine, and I won't let anyone take you away from me."

Her heart raced, a mix of fear and anger coursing through her veins. She pushed against his chest, but he was immovable. "I don't belong to you," she hissed. "I never did."

With a trembling hand, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, typing out a message to Liam as fast as her shaking fingers would allow. "Meet me at the park," she wrote. "Please."

Grey's grip loosened slightly as he stared down at her, his eyes searching hers. "Please, Y/N," he begged, his voice strained. "Don't do this. I'll change, I promise."

But she was already backing away from him, her eyes filled with a fiery determination. "You don't get to decide who I talk to," she said firmly. "You don't get to decide who I'm friends with. I’m so sick of you acting like you own me, I’m done."

Without another word, she turned and bolted from the house, her feet pounding against the pavement as she ran. The cold night air was a stark contrast to the stifling heat of Grey's anger, and she gulped in lungfuls of it, feeling more alive than she had in weeks.

When she arrived at the park, her chest heaving with the exertion, she saw Liam waiting for her. He looked worried, his eyes scanning the shadows as if expecting Grey to jump out at any moment. She rushed over to him, throwing her arms around his neck.

"Thank you for coming," she whispered, her voice shaking with relief.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his arms wrapping around her in a gentle embrace.

"I don't know," she admitted, leaning into him. "But I had to get out of there."

Liam nodded, his grip tightening slightly. "What happened?"

Y/N took a deep breath, recounting the events of the night. His expression grew stormy, his jaw clenching with each word she spoke. When she finished, they stood in silence for a moment, the only sound their harsh breathing and the distant echoes of the party.

"You don't have to go back to him," Liam said, his voice low and fierce. "You deserve better than that."

Her eyes searched his, looking for the truth in his words. "What do you mean?"

He took a step closer, his hands sliding to her face. "I mean, I'll protect you," he said, his voice earnest. "You don't have to be with someone who makes you feel like a possession."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at his words. It was a tempting offer, one she had dreamed of for so long. But she knew the reality was far more complicated. "What if he doesn't let me go?" she whispered.

Liam's expression grew serious. "Then we'll deal with it," he said. "Together."

The park was quiet, the only sound the rustling of leaves and the distant hum of the city. The moon cast a silver light on their faces, highlighting the determination in his eyes. She felt a spark of hope, a flicker of something that had been missing for so long.

"But what about you?" she asked, her voice soft. "What about your safety?"

"I'm not afraid of him," Liam said, his voice steady. "I'm a werewolf too, you know."

The revelation hit her like a ton of bricks. All this time, she had been walking beside a creature just as powerful, if not more so, than the one who had claimed her. "What does that mean?" she asked, her voice shaking.

He took a deep breath. "It means that if he tries to hurt you again, he'll have to go through me." His eyes glowed faintly, the beast within him stirring.

The air grew thick with the weight of their emotions, the tension between them palpable. She reached up, her hand resting on his chest. "Liam, I don't want anyone to get hurt," she said, her eyes searching his.

He took her hand in his, holding it tightly. "I know," he said. "But I can't stand by and watch him treat you like that. You're not his to own."

Her heart raced at the intensity in his eyes, the fierce protectiveness that washed over her. "But what if he finds out?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Liam's grip on her hand tightened. "Let him," he said, his voice filled with a quiet confidence that she hadn't heard from him before. "I'm not going to let him hurt you."

Y/N felt a mix of fear and excitement. She had never seen this side of him, the one that was willing to stand up to Grey. "What are we going to do?"

He took a step closer, his thumb brushing gently over the back of her hand. "We're going to take this one day at a time," he murmured. "But I promise you, I'll be there for you."

Their eyes locked, and for a moment, she forgot about the danger, the fear, and the uncertainty. In Liam's arms, she felt safe, cherished even. And for the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was a way out of this mess.

With a tremulous sigh, she leaned into him, her eyes closing as his warmth surrounded her. His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw with a gentle touch that made her heart race. And then, without a word, their lips met.

The kiss was soft, tentative at first, as if they were both afraid to break the fragile spell that had been cast between them. But as the moments ticked by, it grew deeper, more passionate, filled with the promise of something more.

Liam's arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer, his kiss a silent declaration of his intentions. And as she kissed him back, she knew that she was crossing a line she could never uncross.

The kiss grew more fervent with each passing second, the taste of him like a drug she couldn't get enough of. His hands roamed over her back, her body responding to his touch in a way she hadn't felt with Grey in a long time. It was as if she had been starved for this, for the gentle kindness that Liam offered so freely.

The world around them melted away, leaving only the two of them standing in the moonlit park. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated freedom, a taste of what life could be like without the shadow of Grey's possessiveness looming over her.

When they finally pulled apart, Y/N's eyes were wide with shock and wonder. "What does this mean?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

Liam's expression was serious, his eyes searching hers. "It means that we're in this together," he said. "And I'm not going to let him control you anymore."

Her heart raced at his words, the reality of what she had done sinking in. She was standing up to Grey, and she had Liam by her side. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. "What do we do now?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly.

He took her hand again, leading her to a nearby bench. They sat down, the cold metal a stark contrast to the warmth that was still pulsing through her body. "We take it slow," he said, his voice steady. "We plan."

Y/N nodded, her mind racing with thoughts of rebellion and fear of retribution. "But what if he finds out?"

Liam's expression grew solemn. "Then we face it together," he said. "But we're not going to let him dictate your life anymore."

The rest of the night was a blur of whispered secrets and stolen glances, their hands entwined as they talked about their feelings and their hopes for the future. It was a future filled with uncertainty, but for the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to believe in the possibility of happiness.

When Monday morning came, she walked into school with Liam by her side, his presence a silent declaration to everyone that she was no longer Grey's to claim. The whispers followed them as they moved through the halls, the other students watching with a mix of curiosity and fear. Grey's eyes narrowed when he saw them, his expression a storm cloud ready to unleash its fury.

But Liam didn't seem to care about the whispers or the glares. He just kept his eyes on her, his grip on her hand firm and reassuring. They had spent the weekend together, mostly holed up in her room, talking about their pasts and their hopes for the future. He had shown her a gentle, caring side of himself that she hadn't seen in anyone else. They had watched movies, shared secrets, and even cooked meals together. It was like a taste of a normal life, and she hadn't wanted it to end.

When they reached their lockers, she pulled away slightly, her eyes searching for any sign of Grey. But he was nowhere to be seen. The hallways felt eerily quiet, as if the entire school was holding its breath, waiting for the fallout.

As they approached their first class, she felt Liam's hand tighten around hers. "You okay?" he asked, his voice a low murmur.

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. "Yeah," she lied, plastering a smile on her face. "Let's just get through this day."

But the day was anything but ordinary. Grey was strangely absent from school, leaving her feeling both relieved and on edge. Every time she looked over her shoulder, she half-expected to see his furious gaze on her. But as the hours ticked by, she started to believe that maybe, just maybe, he had taken her words to heart.

It was only when she was walking home that she saw him, leaning against a tree just outside the school gates. His eyes were cold, but there was no anger in his expression. Instead, he looked hurt, and it was a look that she hadn't seen from him in a long time.

"We need to talk," he said, his voice devoid of its usual confidence.

Her heart sank. This couldn't be good. "What about?" she asked, her voice wary.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I know I messed up," he said. "I know I've been a dick."

The admission took her by surprise. "What are you talking about?" she asked, her voice guarded.

Grey's gaze was sincere, a rare sight in their tumultuous relationship. "I saw the way you looked at Liam," he said. "I know you're not happy with me, and maybe... maybe I deserve it. I was never good for you."

Her heart skipped a beat. Was he really acknowledging his behavior? "What do you mean?"

He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I want to be the one you choose," he said, his eyes searching hers. "But I can't force you to be with me."

Y/N's throat tightened. It was the closest thing to an apology she had ever received from him, and it was almost painful to hear. "What are you saying?"

Grey looked at the ground, his jaw clenching. "I'm saying that if you want to be with him, I won't stand in your way," he murmured. "But know this: if you choose him, you're choosing to leave all of this behind."

The threat was clear, but she couldn't help the spark of hope that flared in her chest. "What does that mean?"

He met her gaze, his eyes serious. "It means that if you walk away from me, you're walking away from my protection, from the pack." His voice was low, but she could hear the underlying current of power in his words. "You'll be on your own."

Y/N swallowed hard, the weight of his words heavy in the air. She knew what that meant. Without Grey and his pack, she would be vulnerable, a target for any supernatural being that took an interest in her. But with Liam by her side, she had a different kind of strength, one that didn't rely on fear and dominance.

"I understand," she said, her voice firm. "But I've made my choice."

Grey's eyes narrowed, but she didn't waver. "If you're going to threaten me, then I'll deal with it," she continued. "But I'm not going to live in fear anymore."

For a moment, they stood there, locked in a silent battle of wills. Then, without another word, Grey turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving her heart racing.

Y/N took a deep breath, her hand still shaking in Liam's grip. "Thank you," she murmured. "For being here."

He squeezed her hand gently. "Always," he said, his voice filled with a quiet strength. "Now let's get you home."

The walk home was tense, each step fraught with the anticipation of Grey's return. But he didn't come. By the time they reached her house, the adrenaline had worn off, leaving her feeling both drained and oddly elated.

"Do you... do you want to come in?" she asked, her voice small. She hadn't meant to, but the words slipped out before she could stop them.

Liam's eyes searched hers, a question in their depths. "Are you sure?"

She nodded, feeling a sudden need to not be alone. "I could use the company," she murmured, her heart racing.

He followed her inside, his eyes scanning the room as if searching for any signs of Grey's presence. She led him to the living room, where they sat on the couch, the air thick with unspoken words.

"So, what's your favorite show?" she asked, trying to break the tension.

Liam chuckled, his eyes lighting up. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he said, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

"Oh, really?" she teased, raising an eyebrow. "Let me guess, something with vampires?"

"Worse," he admitted with a laugh. "I'm obsessed with cooking shows."

Her eyes widened. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," he said. "There's just something about the competition, the passion, the creativity."

They ended up watching a cooking show marathon, their laughter echoing through the house. It was the first time she had felt truly relaxed in weeks, the first time she didn't have to watch her every move.

As the night grew later, she found herself leaning into him, her head resting on his shoulder. His arm slid around her, his warmth enveloping her like a blanket. She hadn't realized how much she had missed the simple act of cuddling, of being close to someone without the fear of repercussions.

Their conversation grew quieter, the laughter replaced by a comfortable silence that spoke volumes of the bond that was forming between them. And then, without warning, his hand found hers, their fingers interlocking in a silent declaration of unity.

Their eyes met, the tension palpable, and in that moment, they both knew where the night was heading. Slowly, as if afraid to break the spell, they leaned closer, their breaths mingling. And then, as if pulled by an invisible force, their lips met in a kiss that was unlike any she had ever experienced with Grey.

Liam's kiss was gentle yet firm, filled with a passion that didn't need to be claimed or taken. It was a kiss of equals, of two souls finding refuge in each other's arms. His hands slid up her body, the warmth of his touch igniting a fire within her that she had long thought extinguished. She wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss as she felt herself letting go of the fear and anger that had been her constant companions.

Their bodies pressed together, the heat between them growing with every shared breath. Y/N's heart pounded in her chest, a mix of excitement and anxiety. Was she really doing this? Was she really choosing Liam over Grey? The question was almost forgotten as Liam's hands began to roam more freely, his fingertips tracing the curves of her body with a tenderness she hadn't known existed.

He broke the kiss, his eyes searching hers for permission. She nodded, the need for air forgotten as she pulled him back down. His hands moved to the hem of her shirt, lifting it over her head. Her skin was bared to the cool air, goosebumps rising in the wake of his touch. His eyes took in the sight of her, a soft groan escaping his lips. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

They moved to the bedroom, their steps slow and deliberate. The floorboards creaked beneath their weight, but the rest of the house remained silent. It was as if the world outside had ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the two of them in this moment. He led her to the bed, his hands never leaving her body as they tumbled onto the soft mattress.

Liam's kisses grew more urgent, his hands exploring every inch of her. Y/N moaned, her body responding to his touch in ways she hadn't thought possible. With Grey, there had always been a sense of urgency, a need to prove something. But with Liam, it was different. It was as if he was discovering her, worshipping every part of her like it was the first time.

He pulled away, his eyes dark with passion. With trembling hands, he began to strip her, each layer of clothing revealing more of her smooth, soft skin. His gaze never left hers, his eyes filled with a fierce protectiveness that made her heart race. Every button, every zipper was a declaration of his intentions. This wasn't just about desire; it was about claiming her, not in the possessive way that Grey did, but in a way that was gentle and respectful.

Y/N felt a thrill run down her spine as Liam's hands continued to explore her. He was thorough, his fingertips tracing every curve and line as if committing them to memory. His touch was like a brand, setting her alight with a heat that grew more intense with every passing second. She reached for his shirt, her own hands shaking as she pulled it over his head. His chest was firm, the muscles rippling beneath her touch.

They lay there for a moment, panting, their eyes locked in silent communication. Then, with a groan, Liam leaned in to kiss her again, his hands sliding up to cup her breasts. His thumbs brushed over her sensitive nipples, eliciting a gasp from her. His mouth trailed down her neck, nipping and kissing as he went. She arched into his touch, her body begging for more.

With a gentle nudge, he pushed her legs apart, his eyes never leaving hers. He kissed a path down her chest, his lips brushing over her stomach and lower still. When he reached the apex of her thighs, she could feel the heat of his breath, sending a shiver through her. He looked up at her, a question in his eyes, and she nodded, biting her lip.

With a soft growl, he dipped his head, his tongue flicking out to taste her. She gasped, her hips bucking involuntarily. His touch was feather-light at first, a teasing promise of what was to come. He explored her with a gentle curiosity, his mouth moving with a skill that left her trembling. Every stroke of his tongue was a declaration of his desire to pleasure her, to make her feel cherished and wanted.

Her hands found his hair, tangling in the soft strands as she urged him closer, her hips rolling against his mouth. The world outside fell away, leaving only the sound of their ragged breathing and the wet, intimate noises of their lovemaking. She had never felt so alive, so seen. With Grey, sex had been a battle, a fight for dominance. But with Liam, it was a dance, a give and take that left her feeling powerful and vulnerable all at once.

He kissed her inner thighs, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, making her whimper. His hands slid up her body, his thumbs teasing her nipples as he continued to taste her. She was lost in the sensation, the feeling of his mouth on her driving her closer and closer to the edge. And then, with a sudden, intense movement, he brought her over, her body convulsing with pleasure.

Her eyes rolled back in her head, a cry escaping her lips as she felt herself come undone. It was unlike anything she had ever felt before, a release that washed over her in waves. Liam looked up at her, his eyes glowing with satisfaction, his mouth wet from her desire. He kissed his way back up her body, his hands never leaving her.

When their lips met again, she could taste herself on him, the salty sweetness mixing with the mint of his breath. It was an intimate, heady sensation that made her knees weak. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her body arching towards him, begging for more. His kiss grew more demanding, his tongue delving deep as if he couldn't get enough of her.

And then, with a soft growl, he rolled them over so she was straddling him. She felt his arousal pressing against her, and she gasped, her eyes wide with both excitement and trepidation. He reached between them, his hand guiding himself to her entrance. Slowly, so slowly, he pushed into her, filling her in a way she hadn't felt in so long. She had almost forgotten the feeling of being stretched and filled, the way it made her feel whole.

His eyes never left hers as he moved, his hips rocking up to meet her downward strokes. Each thrust was met with a gasp, her body adjusting to his size and the unfamiliar feeling of someone else inside her. But it didn't feel wrong; it felt right, like they were two puzzle pieces that had finally found where they belonged.

Their rhythm grew steadier, the slap of their skin against each other's echoing through the room. Y/N leaned forward, her hands resting on his chest as she moved, her breasts brushing against him with every movement. Liam's hands slid up her back, gripping her hips, guiding her as he pushed into her.

The tension grew, the air around them thick with it. She could feel the beast within him, the power that he kept so tightly leashed. It was a thrilling, terrifying feeling, to be with someone so strong yet so gentle. But she didn't fear him; she trusted him. With every stroke, she felt that trust grow, the bond between them tightening like a noose.

His hands moved to her breasts again, his thumbs playing with her nipples as he thrust into her. The sensation was almost too much, her body a live wire of pleasure. She threw her head back, her hair cascading down her back, and she felt his teeth graze her neck. The threat of his bite, the promise of the pain, only heightened her pleasure.

"Can you take it?" he growled, his voice low and deep. "Can you take my knot?"

The question sent a bolt of excitement through her, the idea of such an intimate connection both thrilling and a little frightening. She nodded, her breath coming in ragged pants. "Yes," she gasped, her body aching for more.

Liam's eyes flared with desire as he felt her tighten around him. With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself inside her to the hilt. Y/N's eyes went wide with pleasure and surprise as she felt his knot swell and lock them together, his heat searing her from the inside out. The sensation was overwhelming, but instead of pain, she felt a deep, primal satisfaction.

He whispered against her neck, his breath hot against her skin. "I love you," he murmured, his voice filled with awe. "I can't believe you're with me."

Her eyes met his, the love and warmth in his gaze almost too much to handle. "I love you too," she replied, her voice thick with emotion.

They remained connected, their hearts racing as one. The sensation of his knot was strange and intense, a physical manifestation of their bond. As the initial shock of pleasure receded, she felt a warmth spread through her, a comforting feeling of belonging that she hadn't felt in what felt like an eternity.

They lay there, their bodies tangled together, the room bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains. His arms were wrapped around her, holding her close as if afraid she might slip away. His breathing was still ragged, but it evened out as the minutes passed, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm beneath her.

Her eyes grew heavy, the weight of the day and the intensity of their encounter making her eyelids feel like they were made of lead. She could feel the warmth of his skin, his heartbeat in sync with hers, and she knew that she was safe here. Safe in a way she hadn't felt in a long time.

With a contented sigh, she allowed sleep to claim her, her body going limp against his. Her breathing evened out, the tension of the day slowly releasing its grip on her. Her mind drifted to dreams filled with a future she never thought possible, one where didn't have to look over her shoulder, where she could just be herself without fear of retribution.

[abarbaricyalp]

Hi! Mini fic ask: SamBucky #12?

Hi!!! From this prompt list

I feel like we could all use a lot of sappy nonsense right now.

12: Things you say when you think I'm asleep

When Sam was a boy, he used to lay in his parents' bed in the morning, milking out ten extra minutes of sleep until the bathroom was open for him to get ready, and he'd listen to them get their day started. They'd share hushed conversations, pretending not to know he had snuck under the blankets, or just get ready in comfortable silence. He still found the glow of low-light through a half open door more comforting than anything else. The smell of his daddy's aftershave and his mama's perfume was a better wake up call than good coffee. He still had a bottle of each in his medicine cabinet.

It was something he missed, even into adulthood. He'd lived alone most of his grown life (the time spent not on a base) and even when he had family around, he was usually the first one up in the morning. There was no one to listen to patter around in the bathroom, run the shower for too long to use the steam as a pseudo-heater, spritz hair product and deodorant.

Bucky, though, tended to come in late. He always showered, if he'd been outside, and he still had pre-bed rituals he had to work through no matter what time it was. He used aftershave very particularly. He dressed in the bedroom instead of the bathroom. He laid out whatever watch or necklace he'd been wearing earlier on the dresser.

Sam watched him through his lashes, trying not to open his eyes. He listened to Bucky curse under his breath when the water was always too hot, and counted the number of seconds between him opening his shaving cream can and then closing it.

The bathroom's light was just as warm now as it had been and Bucky kept the door half shut, just like Sam's parents had. Aside from his shampoo and aftershave, there was no strong smell to follow him out, but Sam didn't mind. Bucky getting in the bed, shower warm and a little damp, was a good replacement.

Bucky ought to be able to tell when Sam was awake, but he never really seemed to. Maybe Sam had just become too good at keeping his breathing and heartrate even. Maybe Bucky was telling the truth when he said he tried not to listen in on Sam like that. (Sam kind of didn't believe it)

So Bucky got into the bed and turned off the lights and curled himself against Sam's back, took his hand and held it against Sam's chest, and began to talk. Every night.

Some nights it was nothing. What he was going to write in his debrief. What he'd seen while he was sitting on the porch. The sale at the grocery store.

And sometimes it was everything.

"I love you," he said against Sam's shoulder, pressing a kiss to a cluster of freckles there. Sam had to fight down the goosebumps he got every time Bucky said it. That would definitely give him away. "I missed you. I dunno how we used to go six, seven, eight months without seeing each other. My fault, I guess. But you weren't a very good seeker either, y'know."

Well, now he was just saying things on purpose to get a rise out of Sam.

He traced his fingers blindly across the center of Sam's chest, following the line of his pectorals and the familiar spread of Sam's birthmarks to guide himself.

"Read something the other day that said birthmarks were where you'd been most kissed in a past life," he said suddenly. "And I'm gonna keep these birthmarks right where they are in your next life. And the one after that and the ones after that too. Gonna find you and keep kissing you right over your heart and across your shoulders and under your eye. I know every version of me is gonna love them.

"And I hope the next time I'm kissing all these same spots, fate is a little kinder to us. I hope there's not so much blood and fear. Maybe a dog. Gotta keep the cats, too. I hope in that world, we go to bed at the same time. And when we don't, it's because you're up too late tinkering on something or I wanted to watch a baseball game and you didn't. And I know you'll still wake up too early to go running, but maybe there are more mornings where I get to wake you up with kisses and you complain about my morning breath.

"I hope I find you sooner too. I kind of hate that I had a whole lifetime--two whole lifetimes--without you. I don't want to waste time next time. I wanna love you for as long as I can, as soon as possible. I wanna skin our hands and knees on the playground together. I wanna take you to crappy high school dances. I wanna make out and break up and make up in your first car. The truck has to come with us, in this life. I wanna move into an apartment together and fight about bills when the broken AC floods the whole place. I wanna propose to you and actually be able to marry you. Grow old together and put those rocking chairs you still haven't fixed out on the porch so we can watch the thunderstorms even when our knees don't work anymore.

"But mostly, I wanna make sure this little constellation of freckles, and all the other ones, make it into your next life too."

He kissed the back of Sam's shoulder again and Sam couldn't stop himself from shivering. Surely Bucky could feel the racing of his heart anyway. He must've known Sam was awake by then.

He didn't mention it, though. He kept pressing kisses along Sam's shoulders and up his neck, taking his time and roaming. His fingers curled around Sam's again, and Sam could feel his heartbeat in them. His pulse was racing too.

"Anyway," he said after a few quiet moments of shared touch, "Kate accidentally hit Yelena in the face today and I think the whole entire world stopped breathing while we all waited to see what she'd do."

He launched into a story about whatever they'd been doing. Some mock training that had gone off the rails. Sam’s heart still raced, but the sound of Bucky's voice and the warmth of his body slowly pulled him down until he actually fell asleep.

In the morning, when he woke to their position reversed and the back of Bucky's neck bare in front of him (all of Bucky's hair was sprawled across Sam's pillow instead) he mapped out the faint edges of a wine stain birthmark that peeked out from his hairline. He touched his fingers to it, making Bucky mumble and shift in his sleep. Then he leaned forward and kissed it gently.

This, too, would follow them into their next life.

[theoneandonlysemla]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by: @skyrim-forever @hircines-hunter @dirty-bosmer

Tagging: @did3lphis @tiredela @ladytanithia @thequeenofthewinter @elavoria

Let's go girls! Okay, maybe not so much. I'm damn tired, my brain is goo due to migraines on Sunday, Monday and today so... Hate that for me. I will write some Nevri x Morotar Hurt/Comfort but at the moment that is still all in my head. Instead, I'm going with a snipped from next weekend's new DwD II chapter! Ancano is, as always, an ass (ugh, I love him). Also under the cut because of spoilers.

A knock sounded. Ghash narrowed his eyes and stared unblinking at the door. Nevri sat rooted to her chair. Who wanted anything from her in the evening? Granted, it wasn't too late, so the visit wasn't rude, but it was certainly unusual. Maybe it's Colette, she thought and got up from her chair. Another knock followed. Nevri turned the key in the lock, pressed the handle and took a step backwards and stumbled back another. The Thalmor stood in front of her door, his face expressionless and his hands clasped behind his back. He looked different as he had taken off his long, pitch-black coat with the gold trim. Underneath was a dark purple tunic, as Nevri now realised. He had rolled up his sleeves, exposing sinewy forearms.

“Ah, you’re still awake. May I come in?” he asked, his tone as monotone as his countenance.

“What do you want?” Nevri immediately blurted out. Anxiety pressed on her stomach and made it queasy.  

“I just wanted to enquire about you.” The corners of his mouth lifted into something resembling a smile. But it didn't inspire confidence in Nevri. “Since I was involved in your rescue, it is my duty to look after you.”

“So, you've been looking after me. I'm standing upright. Is that it?” she said. Had he really been there? She did not remember him in the slightest. Only how she had been spewing water from her lungs and that the pale Altmer had been far too close to her.    

“Is that it?” he mimicked and made a step towards her, entering the room. “A little more gratitude might be in order.”

“How I remember it, you weren’t the one to pull me out of the ocean. Nor carry me to Colette,” she spat, but made another step back, the back of her knee hit her bedframe. Ghash sat next to her, his tail whipping.

Ancano closed the door behind him, then inspected her chamber with a look of depreciation. Everything in here seemed to displease him, but so did the whole college. In the one week that Nevri had been here, she had heard his lamenting often enough.         He stopped by her desk, his slender, golden fingers gliding over the two letters, keen eyes scanning them. A barely visible crease formed between his eyebrows as he read the second letter. Nevri bit on the inside of her cheek and thanked herself, that she had only written vague suggestions of the matters. He looked up, fixed his citrine gaze on her, staring her into the ground. Rarely had she encountered such a penetrating glare; only one other pair of eyes had had such a devastating effect on her. But that had been azure.

“To answer your question, yes, I have not been the one to recue you from the sea. My fellow agent had that honour, even though I deemed it hopeless.” His tone had become as sharp as his features, cutting like the keen edge of a blade. “A fall from such height, it's almost a miracle that you're standing in front of me.”

“It was pure luck,” Nevri answered quickly, maybe a little too quickly to not to raise suspicion. “And fast help. I would have drowned without it.”

Ancano took a few more steps towards her, stood right in front of her. He was not much taller than her, but he knew how to make himself look towering. A hint of lemon reached her nose, accompanied with pine needles. Under other circumstances, she would have described it as pleasant, but right now Nevri felt like she was shrinking under his scrutinizing gaze.

“I’ve seen people fall in similar conditions.” He paused, observing every movement in her face. “I have thrown people from comparable heights. It is a death sentence. No matter if there is stone, sand or water beneath them. The impact should have killed you, Dunmer.”

[kulemii]

I saw your post on the internal struggle to interact. Honestly? Same. For me its half feeling like I'm intruding, and half fear I'll be expected to maintain a level of interaction I may not have the energy for. Anyway, I just wanted to send my support. Here's to being happier and more comfortable with ourselves.

ah- intruding! that's the word i was looking for! also, i get that worry about expectations too! and i feel both sides of that- not having the energy and worrying that i'm making people feel obligated to interact continually. because of the way my brain is wired, it's sometimes hard to tell how much is too much interaction because i'm always under the assumption that i'm doing too much (especially when i'm first getting to know someone). i'm always really happy when people tell me straight up what to expect from them or what they're comfortable with because it cuts down on the guess work for me. but i realize that socializing with strangers isn't always that straightforward haha

also, thank you for the support! i appreciate you! good luck on this journey, i'm sure you're a lovely person :)

[uncanny-tranny]

You know, I feel like other trans people might get this, but it's honestly kind of refreshing when a cis person has, like, undeniable tboy/tgirl/whatever swag. It's like when you come across somebody who speaks the same language as you and you only find out when they start speaking it, too.

[icewindandboringhorror]

"We can get through this by working together, reach out to your friends, community is all we have, a social network will be your security in the world, now is the time to lean on others!"

I do agree, and it's scientifically sound (pretty sure there is data about how people with better social networks live longer and etc) but also....augh..... what about the severe social issues, difficulty to leave the house, physical issues which lead to like zero socialization energy a majority of the time, etc. etc. Social support can be a replacement for structural support, but.. I guess I just wish it didn't have to be. Community is extremely difficult to build, even moreso if you're someone who has issues with social cues or group conversations or even just being around others in the first place. And blah, nuance, of course I'm just complaining or maybe being too negative or maybe misunderstanding, but, I hardly have the energy to brush my hair once every 2 months.. how am I supposed to maintain a wide social network and be active in a Community and Join Groups lol... sometimes it kind of feels like "er.. well if thats my only option then...... ruh roh". It's overwhelming

[absentlyabbie]

i've developed some interesting methods of handling having a relationship with my mother who made my childhood/teen years misery and committed more than a little abuse.

as an adult, we have a very different dynamic, her daughters (sister and i) have confronted her with a lot of her bullshit and the things she both did and enabled. for some she has been sorrowful and even sometimes apologetic. she's a better mother to me now than she ever was when i most needed one. so i'll never actually trust her again, and she'll never be much deeper than surface level in my life, but we have something mostly good now, and on my terms.

however, she is very definitely one of those "i don't remember it that way" and "i did the best i could" mothers in a lot of areas, and has also always been the type to (probably unconsciously) emotionally manipulate the people she's hurt into catering to her hurt feelings about it instead.

over the years i've learned to get really comfortable with just not indulging it.

is she having a bad day, seems sad and upset? i'll give her a hug, try to make her laugh. if she throws broad hints it's a surge of hurt feelings about having driven one of her children to cut her off? well i'm just gonna stand there and not acknowledge or entertain it.

"well, apparently i was a bad mother" or shit like that? i'm just gonna look at her for a second, and i might either shrug or even nod, but i'm not saying a damn thing. i'm not awkwardly, uncomfortably, painfully contorting to her guilt trip nonsense. i'm not apologizing or trying to soothe her or reassure her or minimize it.

like, yeah. you really were. you know it, glad to hear it. we've definitely had that talk.

best kindness, most generosity i can offer her in times like that is not maintaining eye contact to bluntly tell her "yeah, you were." she can go ahead and feel bad about it.

it's not on me to make her feel less bad. she should feel bad. and i am definitely not someone she gets to seek comfort from about it.

hopefully someday she'll inch past just "poor me, i'm so sad and angsty about it" towards, like, examining the whys and acknowledging what she actually did wrong and work actively to be be better. in a few places, some of that has happened.

but that's her work. her job and responsibility. she can do that shit on her own time.

i say all this to offer a shoulder of solidarity to others like me. if you maintain a complicated relationship as an adult with the parent who hurt you and did you wrong as a child, that is okay. you get to choose how and if to thread that needle.

but you don't have to accommodate emotional manipulation and guilt trip garbage. stonewall it. walk away if you need to. don't apologize. don't try to make it better. that's not on you and it doesn't have to be. it's okay.

[tanicus-caesareth]

guarana drama, damage control

[rowenabean]

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[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

Do you ever read a post where someone is explaining a pokitical thing and from the way they're saying you know with absolute certainty 1) they got their info from a tumblr post and have never actually followed up on how feasible that information actually is to act upon (they may not even have checked if it was CORRECT, but when they do they have clearly not looked into how easy or hard it may be to follow those instructions with a positive outcome), and 2) you know WHICH tumblr post they're quoting because it is basically a copy/paste of it, and 3) it was YOUR goddamn post and the thing they are saying is entirely counter to the point you were making when you said it to the point that you genuinely wonder if they just like. Memory-holed the entire context once they saw that one itty bitty point.

It's like the motherfuckiny dating apps all over again. I do not want people to love my words if they are not actually willing to do the work of understanding them! Didn't your kindergarten ever make you play Telephone to teach you how heresay falls out????