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hsnlv · 3 days ago

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stolen affection | y.jw

pairing: husband!jungwon x wife!reader

synopsis: caught in a swirl of tender jealousy, you can’t help but feel left out when your husband showers all his attention on your daughter. but when night falls and it’s just the two of you, jungwon reminds you in the sweetest way that no matter what, you’ll always be his number one.

warnings/others: you both have a daughter in this one🤭, clingy and jealous reader🫵🏻, MANLY MATURE JUNGWON MWAH *chefs kiss*

wc: 1.3k

a/n: idk why ive been thinking about husband!enha lately maybe im just desperate for a husband now *sobbing*💔 butttttt, happy reading loveliesss🎀 here’s my masterlist!

okay, so you’re not actually jealous of your three-year-old daughter. not really. but can anyone really blame you? she’s been glued to jungwon since the moment she woke up, hogging all of his hugs, kisses, and attention like it’s her life’s mission. you’re happy that they have such a sweet bond, of course you are, but… is it so wrong to want some of your husband’s affection too? just a little?

you watch from the doorway as she curls herself into jungwon’s lap on the couch, her tiny arms wrapped tightly around his neck. jungwon, ever the doting dad, smiles down at her and presses a kiss to the top of her head, his dimples making an appearance. and what do you get? a quick glance and an absentminded, “hey, babe.”

“hey,” you reply flatly, crossing your arms as you step into the living room.

jungwon doesn’t even notice your tone, too busy entertaining the little one in his lap. she’s giggling as he pokes her cheeks, and it’s undeniably adorable, but that’s beside the point.

you clear your throat loudly, hoping to catch his attention, but your daughter beats you to it. “daddy, do the funny voice again!”

“of course, princess,” jungwon says, his voice suddenly shifting into a goofy, high-pitched tone that has your daughter dissolving into laughter.

you narrow your eyes. “you know, i like funny voices too.”

jungwon glances at you, amused. “oh? want me to do one for you?”

“not funny voices. just attention,” you mutter under your breath, but he doesn’t catch it.

with a sigh, you try to reclaim some of the spotlight. “hey, sweetheart,” you call to your daughter in your sweetest voice, “don’t you think it’s time for a little nap? mommy can tuck you in.”

she looks at you like you’ve just suggested she eat vegetables for the rest of her life. “no nap! i want daddy!”

jungwon grins, pulling her closer as if to seal the deal. “looks like i’m in high demand today.”

“yeah, lucky you,” you mutter, your pout growing deeper.

jungwon chuckles, clearly thinking you’re joking. but you’re not. not even a little.

as the day goes on, your daughter doesn’t relent. every time you try to coax her away from jungwon, she clings to him harder. by dinnertime, she’s practically fused to his side, and your patience is wearing thin.

jungwon, oblivious as ever, ruffles her hair and says, “you’re such a daddy’s girl, aren’t you?”

“yep!” she chirps, shooting you a victorious little grin.

you glare at her. okay, maybe you are a little jealous of your own daughter.

as bedtime finally rolls around, you’re left feeling more than a little neglected. and it doesn’t help that jungwon, being the affectionate husband he is, crawls into bed with his usual grin, ready to pull you into his arms like always.

but this time, you turn your back to him.

jungwon blinks, surprised by the cold shoulder. “huh? what’s this?” he asks, inching closer.

“nothing,” you reply, your tone clipped.

he hums, clearly unconvinced. “nothing? then why aren’t you letting me hug you?”

“just too tired,” you mumble, hoping he’ll drop it.

but jungwon, ever the teaser, smirks. “ah, i see,” he says dramatically, flopping onto his back. “too tired for me, huh? alright then, i’ll just go to sleep like this.” he tugs the covers up to his chin and lets out an exaggerated sigh. “goodnight, honey.”

you sit up abruptly, the words spilling out before you can stop them. “oh my god, jungwon, that’s not it!”

he peeks at you from under the blanket, eyebrows raised, and you suddenly feel flustered. “what’s not it?” he asks innocently, though there’s a mischievous glint in his eye.

you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “it’s just… you’ve been ignoring me all day!”

jungwon sits up too, clearly trying to hold back a laugh. “ignoring you?”

“yes!” you say, your voice rising slightly. “you’ve been cuddling her since this morning, and you didn’t even look at me! you don’t care about me anymore!”

jungwon finally lets out the laugh he’s been holding in, his dimples deepening as he reaches for you. “oh, baby,” he says softly, his tone full of affection.

“are you seriously jealous? of our own daughter?”

“i am not jealous,” you snap. “i just think it’s unfair that she got all your attention today. i barely got a single hug!”

jungwon’s grin softens into a fond smile. “baby,” he says, his voice gentle, “you know she’s just a kid, right? she doesn’t mean to hog all my time.”

“i know,” you grumble, “but still. i’m your wife. i should be your number one priority.” his giggle grows louder as he looks at you.

your pout grow deeper at his laugh, glaring at him. “don’t laugh at me! i’m being serious.”

jungwon’s laughter fades, though his smile remains. “okay, okay. i’m sorry. come here,” he says, his voice gentle as he tugs you closer.

you let him pull you into his lap, though you’re still pouting. “you don’t care about me,” you mutter again, but your voice wavers slightly.

“that’s not true,” jungwon says immediately, cupping your face in his hands. “you know that’s not true.”

“but you didn’t even hug me today,” you whisper, your eyes dropping to your lap.

jungwon’s heart softens, and he tilts your chin up so you’re looking at him. “i’m sorry, my love,” he says sincerely.

“you’re right. i was so caught up with her today, and I didn’t realize how that made you feel. but let me make one thing clear—nothing and no one could ever replace you in my heart. you’re my number one. always.”

“didnt feel like it today,” you mutter, but your resolve is starting to crumble under his warm gaze.

his gaze softened even more, cupping your cheeks. “hey, listen to me. you’re my everything, okay? my wife, my partner, the love of my life. no one could ever take your place, not even our adorable little cuddle monster.”

you purse your lips, trying to hold onto your pout, but jungwon leans in and brushes the softest kiss against your forehead.

“i mean it,” he says, his voice dropping to a whisper. “if it ever feels like i’m not giving you enough attention, just tell me. i’ll drop everything for you. always.”

“even if our daughter cries for you?” you ask, only half-joking.

he chuckles. “even then. though i might have to bribe her with extra cookies to make it up to her.”

you look at him, a mocking glare penetrating him. “really? you would do that for me?”

jungwon smiles, leaning forward to press the softest kiss to your forehead. “really,” he murmurs. “you’re my wife, my partner, my everything. and if you ever feel like I’m not showing you how much I love you, tell me. I’ll do better, okay?”

“okay,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

jungwon kisses the tip of your nose, then your cheeks, then finally your lips, his touch so tender it makes your heart ache in the best way. “better?” he asks, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes.

you nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “better.”

“good,” he says, wrapping his arms around you tightly. “because you’re stuck with me, and I’m going to smother you with love until you’re sick of me.”

you laugh, burying your face in his chest. “you’re so cheesy.”

“and you love it,” he says confidently, pressing another kiss to your hair.

“maybe,” you admit, your smile widening.

“no ‘maybe’ about it,” he teases, rocking you gently in his arms.

as you settle against him, the warmth of his love wrapping around you like a blanket, you realize that he’s right. no matter how much your daughter adores him, there’s no doubt in your mind that jungwon’s heart belongs to you.

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undead-moth · 1 day ago

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I feel the need to point out here that “conspiracy theory” does not just mean “a theory that goes against the record.”

Conspiracy theories are theories that if true, would require widespread, invisible, seamless collaboration between many multiple parties that would not realistically choose to collaborate with each other, nor successfully do so. They’re theories that are contrary to extensive, consistent, widespread evidence from many multiple qualified sources. They’re theories that when examined further, if they were true, either have no obvious reason to warrant the near impossible collaboration, or rely heavily on bigotry to make sense.

Consider people who believe Covid was a worldwide scheme. Consider what it would take to fake something like that, behind the scenes (worldwide collaboration on all levels, from the most powerful of people to everyday citizens), how contrary it is to enormous amounts of evidence from many sources, and how, if that were true, what was the point? Why would any hypothetical parties suddenly decide to manufacture a pandemic? Especially when during the height of the pandemic so many of those hypothetical parties wanted to do nothing more than pretend the pandemic wasn’t happening?

The same is true with holocaust denial, for example. Not only is it acknowledged around the world and would have to have been faked by multiple countries, but there is so much evidence of every possible kind. And most the time, when someone poses the question, “Why fake the holocaust though?” to a holocaust denier, their response will ultimately boil down to “Because Jews run the world,” or whatever.

None of this applies to Luigi Mangione. We know exactly who the “parties” collaborating in question would be (The NYPD and the media), and I would not remotely argue that their collaboration is invisible or seamless or even without contradiction. There’s also limited, circumstantial evidence, from few sources (the person who called the police on Luigi, and the police’s evidence) and that evidence isn’t consistent, nor enormous, nor infallible or widespread. The sources are also dubious (the caller had a financial incentive to report anyone who looked like the blurry image of the shooter, and the NYPD was under enormous pressure to catch the shooter, and they’ve even been caught planting evidence before, multiple times. They’re a notoriously corrupt police department.)

And lastly, there’s a very clear reason why the police might frame Luigi: to nip resistance in the bud. To show anyone else who might have any ideas about challenging the status quo, or overthrowing the ruling class, that they will face immediate and extreme punishment for doing so - hence why they are aiming for the death penalty with Luigi, and why all Brianna Boston had to do was reference the shooting to be arrested and charged with making a terrorist threat.

To be honest, I don’t know if Luigi did it either, but that’s beside the point. Even if he did do it, it still makes perfect sense to question the “evidence” being used against him. It isn’t remotely conspiratorial to point out that things are just not adding up, especially when a notoriously corrupt police department is responsible for “finding” the “evidence.” As far as I’m concerned, it will be impossible to truly prove Luigi is the shooter beyond reasonable doubt because literally all of the evidence is reasonable to doubt.

I really try not to be a conspiracy theorist but I’m seriously flip flopping on whether or not I believe Luigi Mangione actually did it, on one hand this guy’s digital footprint is too vast to not be a real person with real motive, but on the other hand the circumstances of how they caught him are so odd that it just doesn’t add up, like, he wore very nondescript clothing and a mask the day of the shooting, suggesting he doesn’t want to be identified, despite this they were somehow able to identify him at a hostel in different clothing without a mask, he not only fled the scene but allegedly fled New York with a fake ID that the police recovered, several days later they found him in Pennsylvania carrying around all of the evidence in his backpack, including a manifesto, gun, and fake ID, the police also claim he had somewhere between $8,000-$12,000 in his bag, yet when asked about it Luigi claims he had no idea where the money came from and suggests it was planted (which raises several more alarm bells because if this “evidence” was planted then what else could they have fabricated to “catch” this guy?)

this not mentioning the fact that I find it really odd that this guy didn’t digitally publish his manifesto and instead chose to carry a physical copy of it around for days

this all could mean that he wanted to get caught but if that’s the case why go to Pennsylvania at all? why not just stay in New York?

I will say, though, that I think some of this can also be explained by this comment on Reddit:

regardless, the circumstances are suspicious as hell

edit: I realized I forgot to mention this part but it’s also so suspicious how everyone, the police, the media, whatever, are all 100% certain that Luigi Mangione did it, I’ve seen so many high profile cases where cops do press conferences and say “this is America, the suspect is innocent until proven guilty!” yet they’re not even calling Luigi a suspect, they’re outright saying he is the shooter and that he did do it, that’s just weird to me

#not that that will stop them from convicting him anyway of course #I’m just fucking praying for jury nullification #this isn’t just about not giving a fuck that the CEO was shot #it should not be possible to convict anyone of anything with the ‘evidence’ being used against Luigi #it makes a joke out of our entire judicial system that he’s the only suspect let alone the number one suspect that everyone is already #thinking of as guilty #America is a fucking joke and it’s not even a funny joke

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extinctlesspains · 2 days ago

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𝐒𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐞𝐫: 𝐊𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐚𝐞-𝐁𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐤 ✧･

»»——⍟——««

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ: ʏᴇs ᴏʀ ɴᴏ

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐊𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐚𝐞-𝐁𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐤 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐊𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐚𝐞-𝐁𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐤, 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬. 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 �� 𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬.

　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

The rules of the games were clear: trust no one, form alliances only if necessary, and never show weakness. Sae-Byeok lived by those principles, but there was one complication she hadn’t accounted for—you.

From the moment she noticed you, something shifted. It wasn’t love at first sight or some fairytale nonsense, but a quiet realization that she found you… distracting. You had a way of carrying yourself, a confidence and calm that stood out in the chaos of the game.

And it wasn’t just your demeanor. You were beautiful, in a way that tugged at her focus. She hated it.

But even more frustrating? You knew. Every time she tried to get close, you seemed to read her like an open book. And instead of playing along, you made her work for it.

It started during one of the few quiet moments in the dormitory. Most of the players were either asleep or murmuring in hushed tones, strategizing or trying to make sense of their situation. Sae-Byeok saw you sitting against the wall, your arms draped lazily over your knees as you stared at the floor.

She didn’t think twice before sitting down beside you, close enough that your shoulders almost touched. You didn’t acknowledge her at first, but she wasn’t deterred.

“You’ve been keeping to yourself,” she said, her voice low.

You turned your head slightly, offering her a faint smile. “Not much worth saying.”

Her lips twitched in a smirk. “So, what’s your plan?”

“Plan for what?”

“For staying alive,” she said bluntly.

You shrugged, your eyes glinting with amusement. “Maybe I’m just waiting for someone to impress me enough to team up.”

It was a challenge, and she knew it. She leaned in just slightly, her voice dipping into a playful, almost seductive tone. “You don’t seem easy to impress.”

“I’m not,” you replied smoothly, meeting her gaze.

Sae-Byeok’s smirk widened. She liked a challenge.

Over the next few games, Sae-Byeok’s interest in you only grew. She’d catch herself glancing your way during tense moments, like the tug-of-war game where you held your ground with surprising strength.

Between games, she made more attempts to talk to you, to draw you out of your shell. She wasn’t subtle about her attraction, either—leaning closer than necessary, finding excuses to brush against you, her compliments laced with an undeniable flirtation.

But you remained frustratingly nonchalant.

One night, as the dorm quieted, she sat beside you again, her tone casual but her intentions clear. “You know, I don’t trust anyone here.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the wall. “Not even me?”

“Especially not you,” she replied, a hint of teasing in her voice.

You chuckled softly, and she found herself staring at the curve of your lips. “Smart move,” you said. “I could be dangerous.”

“You don’t scare me,” Sae-Byeok shot back, leaning closer. Her voice softened, growing almost intimate. “In fact, I think you like the attention.”

You met her gaze, holding it for a long moment before shrugging. “Maybe. But you’re going to have to try harder.”

The opportunity to push things further came late one night. After the lights went out, you slipped away to the bathroom for a moment of solitude. Sae-Byeok noticed and followed, her steps quiet as she slipped inside behind you.

You turned, startled. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure you’re not sneaking off to do something stupid,” she said, though her tone lacked any real conviction.

“Right,” you said, crossing your arms. “And this has nothing to do with you wanting to corner me alone?”

She smirked, leaning against the wall. “Maybe it does.”

Her boldness caught you off guard, but you didn’t back down. “You’re awfully confident.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she said, pushing off the wall and stepping closer. Her eyes traced over your face, lingering on your lips. “I know what I want.”

“And what’s that?” you asked, your voice softening despite yourself.

“You,” she admitted, her voice dropping to a whisper. “But you already knew that.”

The tension in the room was almost suffocating. Sae-Byeok was close now, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from her body. She reached out, her fingers brushing against your arm.

For a moment, you considered pushing her away, keeping up the game. But the way she looked at you—intense, vulnerable, and so full of want—made you falter.

“Sae-Byeok,” you murmured, and before you could overthink it, you closed the distance, pressing your lips to hers.

She responded instantly, her hands gripping your waist as if afraid you’d change your mind. The kiss was slow at first, a testing of boundaries, but it quickly deepened, all the tension from the past few days spilling over.

When you finally pulled back, her forehead rested against yours, her breath warm against your skin.

“You win,” you whispered, and she let out a soft laugh, her lips brushing yours again.

“I always do,” she teased, her voice full of satisfaction.

#kang Sae-Byeok #Kang Sae-Byeok x reader #Squid games #squid game #squid games x reader #067 #kang sae byeok x reader #sae byeok x reader #sae byeok #wlw #squid game x reader

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000marie198 · 2 days ago

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Also love the fact that nobody in Berk treats it as such. I mean, to those people who grew up battling giant fire breathing reptiles, scars and amputations aren't considered as a pit of despair. They're sort of a norm there. Gobber doesn't have a hand and a foot and he had never let that stop him from being himself, having an entire collection of prosthetics which are tools for his work.

I just, I like how Hiccup's disability is treated by his home as a new but normal part of his life, and that everyone knows Toothless can't fly by himself and keeps it in mind every time his rider is out of the picture for some reason, and that even the antagonists treat the peg leg as both an identifiable feature and something to hinder him with without making it feel like something which defines Hiccup, and that the boys' closest friends add to the normality of it going "yeah you're our friend and that gives us a right to annoy you relentlessly without making you feel bad about your disability".

The series, the movies, they treat these disabilities as part of them which isn't dismissed and at the same time, don't treat it as something that defines them.

Like yes, this is Hiccup Haddock, he loves dragons, he invents stuff, he's sassy and snarky and takes petty revenge when it comes to his cousin and he adores his best friend more than anything in the world. And this is Toothless, he's a night fury! Pretty awesome, right? He is kind and sweet and loyal and sometimes just as sarcastic as Hiccup, he gets possessive about his human if random baby dragons stealing his best friend - yes I am looking at you Torch - keep Hiccup focused more on them and he loves fish and he is very protective and stealthy and intelligent and he is so so tired of Hiccup's stupidity, somebody please stop his human from jumping off cliffs. Oh and he needs a rider to be able to fly but that's okay because him and Hiccup are practically inseparable.

Another thing I adore about the series is that even though Hiccup and Toothless are always together and basically complete each other and even though Toothless cannot fly without Hiccup, it has been made clear that they aren't each other's crutch, so to speak. The series showed that Hiccup needed Toothless because he loves this dragon, they are best friends, not because of his peg leg or self confidence or whatnot. He could be himself, do everything, even when he didn't have Toothless beside him.

They are not one another's crutches, they don't depend on each other to be able to live and do everything. They are simply a part of a whole, they complete each other. Toothless didn't leave Hiccup when he got his flight back because it wasn't about the flight or freedom or the disability, it was about the bond they shared. He broke that tail, I will never get over the fact he broke that tail. And Hiccup didn't leave Toothless when he grew into himself, when his confidence was built, when Berk accepted him, at any point anywhere. It wasn't about Toothless being a crutch to him in the slightest. He just loves his best friend, that's all. He would and he had turned against the calls of his people so many times just for Toothless.

Their disabilities are part of them, part of who they are but they do not define them neither are they the reason behind their bond or friendship, merely a part of that bond and something that strengthens it but not the reason behind said bond.

The series handles their disabilities and those of several other characters wonderfully.

Do you ever think about the fact that hiccup haddock is a disabled Viking with a disabled dragon

#btw. there's a part of the timeline in httyd canon that simoly does not exist to me. i call it thw. bcoz lo qnd behold another thing it got #wrong was that Toothless was a crutch to Hiccup & vice versa. no the fuck not thw . thw disregarded everything that was built over the year #but. as i said. part of timeline I don't consider canon so shooing it away #i just meant to say. the whole thing i added is based upon the entire series from first movie through the short movies & rob/dob n rtte #and up till the second movie #thw and afterwards? nope nuh uh #httyd #hiccup and toothless

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wonderjanga · 2 days ago

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Driver’s Test!

This is Part 2 to this post!

After both of those incidences, it was made very clear to everyone that Marvel was a terrible driver. Any of Billy’s attempts to drive afterwards were quickly shut down by anyone in the vicinity.

GL and Flash: *injured badly after a fight*

Marvel: “I’ll drive!”

GL: “NO. No. No… we’re good pal.”

Marvel: But all of you are basically crippled and I’m the only one who’s uninjured.

Flash: “It’s fine. Hal can drive.”

GL: “Yeah, I can. I’m only with uninjured legs.”

Marvel: “Are you sure?”

GL: “Yeah, yeah, man we’re sure.”

Marvel: “Oh… Okay…” *moves to go to the passenger seat*

Flash: “I call shotgun!” *rushes over, aggravating his injuries in the process, but would rather have that happen instead of Marvel being anywhere near a steering wheel again*

Marvel: *little frown before getting in the backseat*

GL and Flash: *simultaneously breathe a sigh of relief*

See, despite what people might think, Billy actually noticed that people were uncomfortable whenever he drove, so he decided to go to Tawny for help. After all, the dapper gentleman tiger has driven before. Or at least Billy thinks so.

Tawny: *holding a little clipboard and a pen, wearing reading glasses* “Alright, Billy. Today we’re gonna teach you how to drive.”

Billy: “Yay!”

Tawny: “The enthusiasm is much appreciated. Now…”

And with that, Tawny taught Billy how to drive. After about an hour or two Billy was driving like a proper gentleman. When he thought he was good enough, he went to Batman to see if he could be allowed to drive again. Batman allowed it on the condition that Batman and he would have a mock driver’s test.

Marvel: “Alright!” *buckles his seatbelt and puts his hand on the wheel*

Batman: *gets in beside him and is already having PTSD flashbacks from the time in Gotham*

Marvel: *checks the rearview mirror and starts to pull out of the parking space*

Batman: *gripping the seats for dear life because he does not trust this man to drive safely*

Marvel: *starts driving*

Batman: “Slow. Down.”

Marvel: “What? But I’m going the speed limit?”

Batman: “Still slow down.” *still getting vigorous PTSD flashbacks and is trying to tell himself that he’s driven worse than Marvel has in the Batmobile, but it’s not working*

The drivers test was a little difficult with Batman, fearing for his life every single time Marvel even breathed in that car. Thankfully, Billy passed. Though he doesn’t know if that was due to the fact he actually passed or if Batman just wanted to get out of the car as soon as possible.

They later got Nightwing to later do it and the man gave Billy a stellar pass and driving privileges back.

#billy batson #shazam #dc captain marvel #captain marvel dc #fawcett city #fawcett #fawcett comics

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boneblushed · 3 days ago

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Is it enough?

synopsis All these people think love’s for show, but Rafe would die for you in secret.

a/n a late lil Christmas blurb for all the pre-Euro Trip Rafe lovers out there (aka me). Hope everyone’s enjoying the holidays !! 💗

You prefer the Outer Banks over Christmas break.

It’s when the salt air quiets and the tourons dissipate, the pavements pleasantly bare with cold asphalt unblemished. You’re certain to recognise everyone you see in December; you don’t have to perform when you’re out and about, the details of your personality are already firmly embedded. You prefer this, like to smile at that member of your mother’s book club, or that convenience store owner that’s watched you gain inches over the years.

You like recognising the people you make eye contact with. This is easier to do during the winter months, when touron tarnish isn’t diluting the street strollers and beach crowds.

Or so you think.

You’re celebrating the start of Christmas break at the Shake Shack with Topper and Kelce, when this pretty girl you don’t recognise walks in with Rafe and his younger sister.

You use the split second before he spots you to take inventory of his figure. He’s without that Kildare Island cap he likes to wear—always backwards; you’re chagrined that even you remember this little detail—his dirty-blonde locks overgrown and a little damp. He’s just showered, or something. Maybe gone for a swim. A fleeting image of Rafe Cameron’s chiseled torso enters your brain.

You blink. The heat in your cheeks makes you frown on instinct.

Topper must spot him at the same time you do, because he straightens and shouts, “Oi! Cameron!”

Rafe turns toward your table, his blue eyes brightening as he takes the three of you in. Behind him, his younger sister Sarah smiles politely. You watch her lean close to the mystery girl beside her, whisper something inconspicuous that makes her eyes pull right toward you. You smile back, though it’s more grimace than anything particularly deferential.

And then you fix Topper with a pointed glare, because your poor skin has suffered enough warmth for the day. “Topper,” you hiss, “why would you do that?”

“Uh,” Topper balks, looking to Kelce for help. (He provides none. He’s far too busy staring at the girl on Sarah’s left.) “Because he’s our friend?”

“Your friend,” you mutter irritably. You’re still feeling the after effects of shirtless Rafe in your head.

“No way!” Rafe exclaims then; you refuse to look up at him as he walks over, but the amusement in his voice is recognisable as ever. “How’re you guys going?”

He says ‘you guys’, but he only means you really. He’s more pleased than he should be about a rendezvous outside of school hours.

He walks slow, allowing his gaze to fall over you in paces. He’s already forgotten why he came here in the first place, his only goal now to get close enough to spot that freckle on your lower neck. He thinks about kissing it often. Not to mention, it’s winter, so any bare skin on display is a privilege. Light-wash jeans and a singlet with a cardigan pulled over it; he discerns the sliver of waist exposed between them, smells your lavender perfume and feels a jolt in his ribcage.

Kelce straightens slightly as he nears, clearing his throat. “Not bad.” He’s adopted a deeper timbre than you’re used to, enough octaves lower to earn a look of bewilderment. “You?”

“Not bad?” Rafe echoes, sending you a meaningful glance. “You guys have gotta do better than that.”

You narrow your eyes up at him. “Worse now that you’re here.”

“Funny, my afternoon’s gotten way better since I saw you.” Rafe grins. “What’s that saying again? Opposites attract or something?”

You frown harder at that, as if that’s somehow possible. Rafe aches. He’s going to get a smile out of you even if it fucking kills him.

“Anyway,” you say then, ignoring his jibe. “You seem busy, so we’ll let you get back to—”

“We’re not busy,” Rafe interrupts. He reaches behind him and grabs a chair from the table adjacent, sliding it forward and sitting down beside you.

“Rafael.” You sigh. “You can’t just—”

But the sound of Kelce’s chair scraping linoleum causes you to falter; he’s up and out of his own seat before you can continue, grabbing two more chairs and gesturing for Sarah and the mystery girl to join you.

You turn to him, confused, but he’s only got eyes for the pretty brunette that’s taking a seat beside him.

“Oh, thanks,” she says kindly. She’s almost blushing if you squint. “You’re Rafe and Sarah’s friends?”

“Barely,” you reply just as Kelce says, “mainly Rafe’s.” He sends you a pointed look before adding, “we all go to the Academy together. How do you know the Camerons?”

“We’re cousins,” she replies with a smile. “I’m Manon.”

“Manon,” Kelce repeats, slow, in that perplexingly low timbre. “I’m Kelce. How’re you finding the Outer Banks?”

“Good,” she says, still smiling. They haven’t stopped staring at each other since the conversation started.

That’s when it hits you. Your pretty eyes widen, and the corners of your mouth pull up into a pleased expression.

He’s totally crushing on her. Having known him for the better half of his formative years, you’re pretty sure your mind has gathered every single one of his tells.

The way that he’s scooted his chair closer to Manon’s, almost imperceptible. The fact that every word she says has his gaze pulling to her pink lips. They’re still having a conversation, but their eyes aren’t quite in it. Topper’s talking too, Sarah piping up here and there, but you’re taking in Kelce’s features and coming up with a plan.

Rafe is silent too. He hasn’t spoken a word since he noticed your features brighten. His chair’s pretty close to yours too, to be fair; he’s finding it hard to concentrate with your face a kissable distance away. The frown he brought to it has long since dissipated, the smile that reigns making his hands feel rogue, a little reckless.

He has a want to touch you that’s maddening. His only goal now is to keep you smiling that sweet smile.

Besides, he clocked Kelce’s eyes on his cousin the moment he made it over to your table. He’d recognise that look anywhere. It has that same helpless quality that your mere proximity brings him.

He throws his arm around your chair, pulling it closer to his. “Gross,” he murmurs, too low for anyone else to hear. “Could they be any more obvious?”

Your shoulders are touching. You try to focus on everything but the static bare skin on skin elicits.

“Personal space, Rafael,” you grumble weakly, sending him a reproachful look.

“I know right?” Rafe teases quietly, the grin on his face audible. “Manon may as well sit on Smith’s lap, huh?”

You try for a frown. “You know what I meant.”

“It’s different with us,” he says.

You turn to him then, raising your eyebrows. “How so, Cameron?”

A pause then, the closeness of your faces becoming painfully evident. Rafe’s gaze pulls down to your lips, the arm that’s resting on your chair pressing into your back. Your surroundings blur. How does he always manage to get you into such compromising positions?

“Just is,” he murmurs back, his voice rougher now than it was a second ago. His eyes are still on your lips, this maddening pressure bubbling up through his chest. “Mrs Cameron.”

“Ha ha.”

The jibe is enough to pull you out of your reverie, and you roll your eyes, giving him a shove in his chest. He doubles back dramatically, rubbing the space your hand pressed with a pleased grin.

“So have you guys ordered yet?” Rafe asks, drawing back into your space like a magnet.

“Nah,” Topper answers. “We’d only just arrived when you got here.”

“And we aren’t doing anything after,” Kelce adds, only really looking at Manon as he says it. “So we should grab ice-cream too, if you guys are keen. We’d love to help show you around.” He turns to you then, this pointed, pleading look on his face. “Right Y/n?”

“Uh.” You balk. “Yes?”

Your gaze moves to Topper and Sarah, who have struck up a similarly cozy conversation. They’re sitting pretty close together, all eye contact and Topper’s hand on Sarah’s chair back. Your heart drops.

“As long as it’s okay with Top and Sarah,” you add quickly, forcing them to re-enter discussion. “Top—don’t you have that thing later? With your mom and dad?”

Topper doesn’t seem to pick up on your cues, his hand sliding along the chair’s top rail. Sarah leans back into it. In your stomach now, you aren’t sure your heart has any further to plummet.

It’s easier to ignore Rafe’s patchouli and spice cologne when Topper’s indifference is so obvious. You find yourself at odds with wingwoman-ing Kelce and keeping Topper and Sarah as far away from each other as possible.

And you at a distance from Rafe, obviously. No grazing touches and lingering eye contact permitted.

“Uh… oh, the dinner?” Topper replies, furrowing his brow. “Yeah, but it’s only 1.00pm Y/n. Plenty of time before I have to head off for that.”

You grimace. “Right.”

Rafe frowns slightly as he looks over your features, bemused. There’s been a shift in your demeanour, but the culprit evades him.

He watches you glimpse the sliver of space between Topper’s chair and Sarah’s. Oh. The need to pull yours closer to his intensifies ten-fold.

“If that’s settled, we should order,” he says quickly, jumping up out of his seat. He looks down at you expectantly, resisting the urge to offer up his shoulder for you to take.

He’s learned that some things are ‘too much’, whatever that’s supposed to mean. When it comes to you, too much isn’t actually part of his vocabulary.

“You coming, sweetheart?” He adds, his eyes still on your figure.

You meet his gaze. It’s softer than before. An emotion you can’t quite put your finger on passes between the two of you, a gentle something that warms your insides.

“Uh,” you balk again. “Me? Why?”

“Need your help. Don’t know anyone else’s order,” he says. Anyone else, like it’s obvious he knows yours.

Your eyes widen. That gentle something intensifies to hot molasses. “Neither do I,” you reply, almost defensive.

“I’ll get the classic,” Sarah says then, trying not to smile. She shares another look with Manon, who adds, “and I’ll grab the veggie.”

“Okay,” you say slowly, nodding as you stand. “Classic for you too, right Top? And the double for Kelce?”

“Nah, I want the veggie,” Kelce responds, sending Manon a wink. “Reckon it’s time I tried something new.”

Manon’s ears grow pink. “Good choice,” she says, her smile widening.

You can’t help but smile too, turning to face Rafe. And he’s grinning down at you in tandem, this mischievous glint in his eye, and you almost forget that you’re supposed to be vexed as opposed to enamoured.

Almost. You turn back toward the table, creating space between you and him. Rafe aches, again. There’s longing like static in your physical distance.

“Alright,” you say, sounding more amused than bewildered. “Coming right up, I guess?”

You make your way toward the front counter, Rafe falling into your step seamlessly. Once you’re safely out of earshot of your friends, he ducks his head closer to continue your conversation.

“So,” he says seriously. “How’re we going to play this?”

You frown up at him, confused. “Play what exactly?”

“Smith and Manon.”

You balk. “What? Like… set them up?” You steal a glance back at the table, where Kelce and Manon’s chairs have scooted impossibly closer. The unimpressed look on your face softens, a pleased smile transforming your features. “I don’t think they need our help Rafael,” you say, gesturing toward them. “Look.”

Rafe turns too, taking in the scene. “Shit, you’re right,” he responds, grinning. “We’re going to have to keep these good vibes going.”

“You’ll be an expert at those,” you say, raising your eyebrows. “‘Good vibes’.”

“For you, always.”

“For them, Rafe.”

“If it’s you asking,” he reiterates. “Always.”

Your traitorous heart stutters. To compensate, you roll your eyes and turn to face the counter. He moves in tandem, shoulders side by side, elbows almost touching.

“What can I get for you guys today?” The server asks absentmindedly, fiddling with the iPad in front of her.

“Uh, can we get—”

But Rafe’s quicker than you are, repeating the order with ease and adding your own at the end of it. He knows to order your burger with extra pickles and sauce, tacks on the shake you love to dip your fries in when you’re starved. And he pays for the whole meal before you can so much as grab your own card, leaving the server impressed and you perplexingly pissed off.

“You didn’t need to do that,” you say stubbornly, watching him slide his wallet back into his pocket. “We’ll Venmo you.”

“What? No way.” Rafe looks down at you then, all handsome and sincere. Your heart stutters again, a forgotten car engine reborn. “It’s on me, seriously.”

“Rafe.”

“Venmo’s gonna kill the mood, trust me,” he says. “We can’t go back to the table and talk finances. That isn’t romantic.”

“Maybe not for Kelce and Manon,” you reply, frowning up at him. “But Top and I will. You don’t need to pay for our meals.”

“Top got me some beers a few weeks ago, so I owe him.”

Bold faced lie, but Rafe doesn’t particularly care. He wonders whether you realise that you stand closer to him when you’re vexed.

“And me, Cameron?”

“You?” He echoes.

You fold your arms across your chest defiantly, furrowing your brow. Rafe tries to command his gaze, willing it not to fall with the movement.

He fails miserably.

“I—I’ll Venmo you,” you clarify. You aren’t sure why you’re faltering.

“You know I can’t let you do that, sweetheart,” he replies helplessly, his voice lower now.

You sigh, beleaguered. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re impossible,” Rafe returns. “I’d be beyond fucking disowned if anyone found out I made you Venmo me for a burger.”

“It’s polite,” you say stubbornly.

“It’s not polite when what’s mine is yours.”

You balk. “But it isn’t.”

“Course it is,” Rafe replies matter-of-factly. “Has been since freshman year.”

“When we met?” You ask, bewildered.

“Aw.” Rafe cracks a roguish grin. “You remembered.”

“You know what—”

“Y/n, I’m kidding,” he adds quickly, sounding amused. “Not just when we met. When I told my mom I was going to marry you.”

Your cheeks warm, the tips of your ears on fire. “Like I fucking said… impossible.”

“Anyway,” he continues, faux-sombre now. “Today isn’t about us. It’s about Smith and Manon.”

He turns back towards the table, gesturing for you to do the same. As you do, your wrists brush against each other, the pulses within them syncing. The skin-on-skin lingers. “What should we do after lunch? Beach?”

You nod slowly, returning to the task at hand. Trying to ignore the feeling of Rafe’s rough forearm on yours.

“Beach,” you agree. “Let ‘em walk ahead a bit, head to that monument where the lookout is.”

“Great idea,” Rafe says, that mischievous glint in his eye returning.

“And… have you guys shown her the old Church yet? We can drive up there and point out all the old boat wrecks.”

“Well, Smith can,” Rafe replies, raising his eyebrows at you. “We can pretend we don’t know shit.”

“Even better,” you respond delightedly, grinning up at him.

“And how d’you propose we spend the evening, sweetheart?”

You pause, furrowing your brow in thought. “I know,” you say after a beat. “Star-gazing. We can take some blankets to that park at the end of Clover, you can see Orion’s Belt from there.”

Rafe doesn’t miss the fact that you don’t tell him off for the pet-name, not in that exasperated way you normally do. He realises that playing Cupid makes you more happy than he initially thought it would.

Suddenly, it doesn’t matter that he was your very first victim. Spending time with you like this—like friends—is just as pleasing as teasing you into oblivion.

Not to mention, your proximity is far more apparent when you’re excited. Rafe wonders whether you realise how often your hips touch, your forearms, the soft knuckles of your index and thumb.

(You do. Rafe’s signet ring is as cool on your skin as it is devastating.)

“You know where else you can see Orion’s Belt?” Rafe asks.

“Hm?”

“From the very end of our boat dock.”

You turn to him then, eyes wide. “You’re kidding.”

“Not kidding,” Rafe replies slowly. You’re closer now than you were before, as if that’s somehow possible. “Used to lay out there with my mom all the time. She’d point them all out to me when I was a kid.”

“There’s more?”

Rafe nods. “Ursa Major and minor.” His freckles aren’t dissimilar to the constellations he’s describing. “The Big Dipper too, if we’re lucky and there’s no clouds.”

“Kelce won’t even know where to look for them,” you murmur, quietly bewildered.

“Doesn’t matter,” Rafe replies, his voice low too. “He just has to point at random shit and sound confident.”

You let out a bemused laugh. “S’that what you do with all the girls you take home, Cameron?”

He grins sheepishly. “Guilty. Only cause I know it doesn’t count with them.” He pauses then, ducking his head to eye level. “Don’t worry though, I’ll make sure I know every constellation there is when it’s you I bring home.”

—

Mission set Kelce and Manon up is a roaring success.

After a very enlightening lunch—where Kelce and Manon flirt shamelessly while the rest of you make hushed small talk—the six of you head down to the beach before Topper takes his leave for dinner.

And though by then the two lovebirds are well acquainted enough to be left to their own devices, they continue to insist on your company under the guise of maintaining pleasantries.

If you go, Kelce feels the obligation to go too.

If Rafe does, or Sarah for that matter, Manon’s far too polite to ask you and Kelce for a ride home.

Not that Rafe’s complaining or anything. He’s been afforded the luxury of your presence and he’s basking in it. Everyone around him seems to think his love’s for show, but quiet admiration in the name of company is just as valuable to him.

Setting up your best friend with his cousin, for example, putting his own feelings on pause so you aren’t obligated to act abashed.

So true are his efforts that they’ve led the five of you back to Tannyhill, the sun low on the horizon and amaranth dusk painting the walls in shadow.

As it isn’t yet dark enough to justify star-gazing on the dock, Kelce and Manon have situated themselves on the couch, looking far too cosy with bare shoulders pressed together.

Sarah’s retreated to her room, so you and Rafe idle at the stairwell, unsure.

“Uh…” Kelce turns to you over his shoulder, a hopeful look on his face. “Has Rafe given you a tour of the place yet?”

“Ye—” You falter, Kelce’s eyes widening pointedly. “Oh um, no. Don’t think so.”

Manon shifts sideways then, glancing back at the pair of you. “Rafe should then, no?”

Rafe’s trying his best not to look too pleased. He looks down at you to find that your gaze is already on him, that unnameable emotion back and torturous as ever. “I should, yeah. C’mon.”

He places his hands on your shoulders to guide you up the stairs, exerting this rough, sure pressure that leaves you a little dazed.

“So transparent, huh?” He murmurs, the smile on his face audible. “Sickening.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” you whisper back, equally amused.

“Touchè.” He lets go of your shoulders then, pushing open a door on his left. The heat of his touch lingers. “Here, this is my room.”

You walk in slowly, cautiously. To enter his private space feels oddly sacred.

What’s mine is yours, echoes his voice on your head. You find yourself continuing forward before you’re able to stop yourself.

Scruples of purple light spill through his window, illuminating the flannel comforter pulled over his bed. There’s two bedside tables and a chest of drawers decorated with memorabilia, a wooden desk holding his computer propped up against one corner.

His en-suite door is ajar, shadowy dusk illuminating his toothbrush holder. And all you can smell is his woody cologne, all musk and citrus and spicy patchouli.

You didn’t realise how familiar the notes were until they registered. Less sacred, more home. It’s terrifying.

You grapple for purchase on something you don’t recognise. Walking around his bed to inspect his belongings more carefully, you find yourself face to face with baby Rafe immortalised.

“Fuck off,” you exclaim, letting out a delighted laugh. “How old were you in this, Rafael?”

You’re holding the photo frame that sits on his bedside table, your pretty eyes alight with mischief.

Rafe needs a second to recalibrate. You’re in his room, in the flesh, and Rafe really really needs a second to recalibrate.

“Four,” he answers finally, flashing you a sheepish grin. “I was a chubby kid, huh?”

“A chubby cute kid,” you reply, raising your eyebrows. “What happened?”

“Gained a few inches.” He walks toward you until he’s close, until the difference in your height and his is painfully obvious. “A whole lot of inches.”

You look up at him then, the dim lighting deepening the blue of his eyes. “A whole lot of audacity too.”

“And love,” he murmurs.

“Rafe,” you warn quietly.

“You’re in my room, sweetheart,” he replies helplessly, the timbre of his voice roughening. His gaze is darker now, mirroring the amaranth hues of nightfall. “You’ve gotta cut me some slack.”

Your eyes widen. “Doesn’t mean you’re allowed to look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re going to kiss me.”

A pause. Rafe’s Adam’s apple bobs dangerously in his throat, the small distance between your figures shrinking. “Fuck, Y/n,” he says finally, stepping back from you in a daze. “Is it enough?”

You furrow your brow at him. “What do you mean?”

“Knowing that I’d kiss you… that I’d do anything for you. Is it enough?”

You swallow. The pulse on your wrist falters. “I… I don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” Rafe murmurs back. “Cause it’s enough for me.”

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron imagine #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction

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teddybeartoji · 11 hours ago

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when co-worker!toji finds a cupcake, a note and a small paper flower on his table when he comes back from his break, he’s more than confused. he hasn’t told anybody about his birthday because he doesn’t even care about it in the first place and he doesn’t really care for the people at the office other than you either, so—

you.

his green eyes scan the room but he notices that you’re missing from behind your desk, he slowly slumps down onto his chair. he gnaws on his scarred lip as if he’s a little nervous – he’s used to just spend the new year’s eve with shiu and his family, and while they always gift him something nice, a little too nice even, to toji, his birthday has lost its meaning almost completely.

he thinks this is too nice, too.

sure, you’ve been working with each other for a good couple of months now and he gets along with you the best out of everybody here, he really can’t imagine why you’d go out of your way to get him something. hell, he doesn’t even know how you know it’s his birthday in the first place.

he eyes the cupcake and the little note beside it. and the flower.

did you– did you make that for him?

no way.

…right?

gently, he takes the small thing and places it right under the monitor, right where he can see it at all times. he doesn’t know how to describe the feeling inside him, right behind his ribcage, as he looks at the gift with his furrowed brows but it sure is something new. something he hasn’t felt in a very long time.

next, he takes the note into his hand and glances around the office to make sure that nobody has noticed what he’s doing. they haven’t, and toji finds himself in a new type of a bubble – one that you’ve crafted just for him.

it’s definitely your handwriting, he has seen it before. it’s a very simple ‘happy birthday toji’ with a very small heart next to his name and oh, how stupid he feels. what do you mean a doodle is making him feel giddy?

this is ridiculous; he is a grown man, he doesn’t get giddy, he doesn’t—

“i hope the flower wasn’t too weird.”

toji isn’t easily scared, it’s almost impossible to catch him off-guard like that, and yet, right now, his eyes are wider than ever. your voice is barely a whisper, most likely just so you wouldn’t attract any unwanted attention, but toji hears you loud and clear.

he swallows the lump in his throat before pushing himself off the chair but since he didn’t realize you were so close behind him and you didn’t realize he’d stand up for you, he ends up grabbing onto your arms, so you wouldn’t fall over.

“sorry…” you bite your lip and bat your eyelashes at him. he thinks he’s going to die.

“how’d you know?”

he drops his hands to his side but he doesn’t move away and neither do you.

“what, that today is the big day?”

he squints his eyes at you and you laugh. “okay, the small day.”

a ray of sun peeking in through the blinds. a warm light kissing his cheeks. you make the stupidest jokes. and he will always listen.

“it’s a secret.”

toji clicks his tongue.

“why?”

“why is it a secret?”

“why’d you buy me stuff?”

to a stranger, it’d probably sound like he’s interrogating you. but you know it’s just because you managed to surprise him. you, too, feel a little giddy now.

“i didn’t buy you anything.”

his brows furrow again while your smile grows bigger.

“i made them, silly. and ‘why’ you ask?”

you don’t miss the slight flush that now adorns the apples of his cheeks.

“because i wanted to. simple as that.”

#HAPPY BIRTHDAY SILLYYYYY I LOVE YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU #unfortunately for everybody i love writing stupidly fluffy cutesy things for toji i need him to be in a romcom with me #toji #wtf mickey can write #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro fluff

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flowersforbucky · 24 hours ago

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this was the sweetest follow up to part one 🥹 thoughts under the cut again

Over time, his attachment to you had grown increasingly intense, and he began experiencing waves of jealousy whenever your attention was directed elsewhere. You helped around the tower a lot, so you tended to be distracted with tasks or aiding in another’s need. The soldier didn’t like it, so he began leaving his mark on you. It started subtly at first, he would rub your clothes on himself, in his mind it was good enough that you smelled like him. He saw it in a documentary once, of animals, but he had been in such a dehumanized state for so long, it made sense to him. His body’s scent on you, others would back off. That would work.

!!!!! AND ALSO THIS NEXT PARAGRAPH OMG

The possessive displays sent warmth coursing through your body, and you willingly accepted his territorial behavior. After all, you had become his sole source of comfort and security in this world, making it perfectly natural for him to want to claim you in some way - whether through his distinctive scent (you knew about him rubbing your clothes on his body) or these carefully placed marks. His need to establish this connection, to make his claim visible, he was terrified you’d be taken from him.

like i said in sugar plums... maybe i am a tiny bit messed up in the head but the thought of him so possessive and jealous over me that he feels the need to mark his territory??? i am here for it, idc, he can mark me however he needs/wants to.

You stayed by Bucky all morning, carefully observing his reactions to the bustling holiday atmosphere. It was clear he was struggling to process the overwhelming sensory experience and you didn’t blame him. The twinkling lights and shimmering tinsel to the constant chatter and laughter of the group, on top of holiday music and the smells of breakfast and baked goods from the kitchen, were surely a lot to process. His discomfort grew and you recognized the telltale signs of sensory overload in his slightly widened eyes and shallow breathing. The social expectations was clearly taking its toll.

real as FUCK christmas and holidays are so overstimulating. i can barely handle situations like this myself for more than like half an hour and then i am ready for some peace and quiet by myself. i can only imagine how bucky would feel.

The soldier's gaze slowly drifted back to his lap, his fingers lingering momentarily on the thoughtful gifts before carefully pushing the journal and elephant to rest beside him. He then leaned forward quickly, closing the distance between you and wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. The display caught you off guard, given his usual hesitance to initiate any form of contact beyond nightly cuddling or his possessive love-bites.

oh my god the gifts and his reaction were both sooo so sweet 😭😭😭 i absolutely loved alllll of this

Подарок. | W.S

summary: You give the soldier a present for Christmas.

a/n: Sort of unofficial part two to Sugar Plums since I had a few people asking for a part two. Same universe I guess, with some time between. Uhh probably rushed idk. To be edited later. ;; wc: 3.3k

Recovery.

Fickle, fragile, exhausting.

He gradually accepted being called Bucky, though the name stirred something uncomfortable within him each time it reached his ears. Steve, ever persistent and hopeful, would use various versions of the name - Bucky, Buck, or sometimes James - in his unwavering attempts to resurrect the friend he once knew, unable to accept that the Bucky from his memories had faded away like footprints in snow.

Winter had completely erased the old Bucky.

While these names would trigger a subtle internal struggle, he maintained an almost perfect mask of indifference, with only the slightest furrowing of his brow betraying any sign of his inner turmoil.

You, however, carefully navigated between calling him Bucky and Soldat, aware that using his old code name might reinforce programming you wished to help him break free from. Yet there was a slight relaxation in his shoulders when you used the familiar designation, the way it seemed to ease the constant tension he carried made it impossible to completely abandon - his comfort, however small, had become your priority.

Even if that comfort stemmed from a dehumanizing name.

It required negotiation and persistent discussions to convince Tony to finally allow the soldier access to the medbay wing for his necessary medical treatments. Despite the soldier's extended stay in the tower passing without any concerning incidents, Tony maintained a strong hesitation about providing medical assistance. His deeply-rooted skepticism and apparent distrust were sources of frustration for you, though you consciously chose to avoid escalating the situation into a full-blown argument, knowing it would only make matters more complicated.

You had already gotten into intense scuffles with Tony over the soldier’s stay, how he needed to be looked over, physically and internally. The dislocated arm Steve caused never healed, and he had been carrying his arm awkwardly close to his body. Other physical injuries on top of the apparent dehydration and malnourishment, he was constantly under a veil of sickness.

The situation was particularly delicate because Soldat struggled with being in the presence of the other tower residents. He was acutely aware of how everyone seemed to cautiously moderate their behavior around him, treating each interaction as if they were navigating through a minefield of potential triggers. Like they were walking along eggshells every time they were near him.

It felt like he was walking on glass.

You were his only source of comfort, though traces of caution still lingered in his demeanor. He knew you posed no threat to his wellbeing. You had been patient and gentle the entire time, regardless of his panic or prone sense to lash out if he got stressed enough.

Long nights stretched endlessly in the sterile medbay rooms, where you faithfully maintained your vigil in the uncomfortable chair positioned beside the standard-issue medical bed. The soldier’s bed remained empty, as he consistently chose to rest on the cold floor instead. Sleep was an elusive companion for him, a nightly battle he rarely won. More often than not, his rest was violently interrupted by his own terrified screams or desperate shouts, his body jerking upright with defensive movements, arms swinging at invisible threats.

You would spend countless minutes trying everything in your power to bring him back to reality and calm his frantic state. Sometimes, despite your best efforts and gentle words, the situation would escalate beyond your ability to manage, forcing the medical staff on standby to intervene with sedatives to prevent him from unintentionally causing harm during these episodes.

Luckily his recovery progressed slowly but surely, transitioning from those intensive IV treatments in the clinical environment of the medbay to the more comfortable setting of your personal quarters. His sleeping arrangements evolved as gradually as his treatment; first from the hard floor, then to the modest couch tucked against the far wall, and finally to your bed.

These days, he found his rest beside you each night, his body instinctively seeking comfort by curling close to yours, desperately trying to make up for all those decades of disturbed sleep and haunted dreams.

But, no, it wasn’t enough.

One day, crossing an unspoken boundary between you, he started placing love bites along your skin, positioning these tender marks from your neck down to your shoulders, eventually becoming bold enough to venture lower, marking your chest with these plum bruises.

Progress was being made in your relationship.

While he was still cautious with physical contact, he had begun to allow gentle touches and brief moments of closeness, though always within carefully maintained boundaries. He was like a cat, deciding when he wanted physical attention and when he wanted it to stop. The challenge of memory recovery remained a significant hurdle in his healing process. You had to help him remember specific things, he often mixed Russian and English, or plainly forgot the simplest of words.

He couldn’t for the life of him remember what a pillow was.

When Steve would speak to him, sharing stories and memories of their past, Bucky would often find himself lost in confusion, unable to connect with the vivid recollections that Steve so enthusiastically shared. The determination in Steve's eyes was evident as he tried desperately to help his lost friend remember the bond they once shared, but for Bucky, these memories remained frustratingly out of reach.

Steve's enthusiasm was well-intentioned, but sometimes, it manifested as an overwhelming flood of information and expectations. You could sense Bucky's growing distress during these interactions, the way his shoulders would tense, how his eyes would dart anxiously around the room. The stark reality was that Bucky's memories of Steve were minimal at best, yet Steve continued to share detailed accounts of their past experiences with increasing intensity.

Your became a careful mediator, providing emotional support to Bucky while gently helping Steve understand that his passionate approach was more hindering rather than helping the delicate process of memory recovery.

Bucky would get frustrated with himself during his journey of recovery. His collection of journals became a sanctuary for his fragmented memories, filled with carefully preserved photographs (provided by Steve), detailed notes written in an unsteady hand, and hastily scrawled thoughts or recollections that would suddenly surface from the depths of his consciousness throughout all hours of the day and night. These journals became both a source of comfort and torment, evidence of his struggle to piece himself back together like a puzzle without a photo.

Even with help from you or Steve, he maintained strict control over his recovery process. He deliberately chose not to document anything that Steve mentioned or tried to convince him of, instead focusing solely on recording memories that emerged organically from within his own mind.

Having experienced decades of mental manipulation, he didn’t want anyone influencing his thoughts or memories ever again. He couldn't bring himself to simply accept Steve's version of events without questioning them, needing to verify everything through his own recollections.

You knew it hurt Steve to see Bucky this way, how he refused to listen or believe him, but you couldn’t blame the man. Either of them, really. It was delicate, it took a lot of patience on everyone’s part.

Bucky’s dedication to recovering his past manifested in sleepless marathons that would stretch on for days at a time. The soldier within him approached the task with military precision, attempting to reconstruct his shattered memories in a specific manner. Yet despite his efforts, the majority of his recollections remained disjointed and fractured, with memories of his time with HYDRA dominating his consciousness more than anything else.

While Bucky was trying to recall his elusive past, you dedicated yourself to helping him build new neural pathways and retain more recent experiences, hoping to make his daily life more manageable and give him a sense of independence. The simplest tasks had become foreign territory for him - the muscle memory and basic understanding of everyday activities having slipped away like water through cupped hands. Modern appliances like microwaves, coffee makers, or the oven had become objects that he approached with confusion.

His relationship with food had become particularly concerning. Unable to prepare proper meals, you would find him furtively consuming makeshift sandwiches, but only when he believed he could finish them before being discovered. His posture during meals was hunched, protectively positioning himself over his plate or bowl, shoveling food into his mouth at an alarming pace, his entire body tense as though preparing to defend his meal from unseen threats.

Food aggression, apparently, wasn't restrictive to just animals.

Among the numerous concerns, his recurring nightmares stood out as the most troubling and pressing issue. The frequency and intensity of these night terrors had become increasingly worrisome, regardless of how well he had progressed otherwise.

Night after night, his anguished screams would pierce the darkness, and these episodes gradually evolved into extended periods where sleep became completely impossible for him to achieve. Bucky would remain awake for days and nights at a stretch, fighting against his own exhaustion, scribbling nonsense into his journals until his body would finally surrender and he would collapse into a brief, troubled slumber.

This cycle would repeat, each time more severe than the last.

Your began looking into different methods that might help ease his troubled sleep so that Bucky could experience the simple luxury of peaceful rest. Your research led you through a wide array of options; from various herbal teas and natural sleep remedies to more conventional medical interventions. However, given his strong aversion to pharmaceutical solutions, you deliberately steered clear of medication-based approaches, knowing they would likely be met with resistance.

Over time, you discovered that a soothing routine of warm herbal tea and gentle companionship proved to be an effective remedy for his nightmares. The nightly ritual of sharing your sleeping space had become second nature, and you observed how this consistent presence brought him the comfort and stability his life lacked for seven decades. His sleep patterns were delicately intertwined with his emotional state, thus during periods of anxiety or perceived threat, his rest would become noticeably disturbed and fitful.

However, your unwavering presence served as a constant source of reassurance, creating a safe haven where he could finally find peaceful rest. Plus, it helped him regain new memories to write down and you could see how proud he was every time he recounted something from his past.

Christmas morning.

Every corner and crevice of the tower sparkled with festive décor, tinsel draped from every available surface, and twinkling lights illuminated the halls in a dazzling display. It was an extravagant winter wonderland that bordered on excessive, but that was exactly Tony's style - he approached every holiday with unbridled enthusiasm, and Christmas was undoubtedly his crowning achievement.

With his seemingly limitless resources at his disposal, there was nothing holding him back from creating the most elaborate celebrations possible.

Aka…he was rich so he could.

In contrast to Tony's lavish approach, you took a more modest approach when it came to gift-giving. The act of receiving presents always made you somewhat uncomfortable, as you found far more joy in being the one doing the giving. You selected meaningful presents for each team member, carefully considering their individual interests and preferences. You couldn't match Tony's extravagant spending (something he never failed to remind everyone of that morning), but you firmly believed that the genuine thought and personal consideration behind a gift carried far more significance than its monetary value (Tony disagrees).

Bucky perched uncomfortably at the far end of the plush couch, his posture tense and rigid while the other team members enthusiastically tore through their wrapped presents with childlike excitement. Your general annoyance with Tony's characteristic swagger and showmanship failed you this morning, a warmth spread through your chest at the genuine joy radiating from Pepper's face when she discovered the exquisite diamond ring he had carefully selected for her and presented after she freed it from the tight wrapping paper.

He had wanted to try, he wanted to sit down with you that morning, but he had been struggling.

Your gift pile was modest, exactly as you had requested. You insisted that presents weren't necessary, you found yourself the recipient of a generously stuffed Christmas stocking and an assortment of small, meaningful items carefully chosen by your teammates in a way that made it impossible for you to object to their kindness.

When Steve presented Bucky with a collection of carefully preserved mementos from their past, but the soldier's response wasn’t what he wanted. His eyes fixed on the items that should have sparked recognition, should have ignited memories of happier times, but instead were met with blank confusion and growing distress. You sensed the uncomfortable scene and noticed the mounting anxiety in Bucky's expression, you decided to intervene with a present you got for him.

"Here, I got this for you." You handed him a carefully wrapped bag with delicate tissue paper peeking out from the top, rustling softly with each movement. "Nothing all that special but...I figured it might be nice to have something like this." You replied gently, your voice carrying a hint of nervousness as you watched him, waiting with anticipation for him to open the gift.

Bucky held the bag tentatively, his eyes fixed on the festive baby blue packaging adorned with an intricate pattern of darker blue ornaments. The glitter-coated decorations caught the light as they spiraled across the surface of the bag. He had to blink a few times to refocus his eyes, his hand slowly reached up and grasped the white tissue paper that had been carefully arranged at the top, concealing the gift. He pulled it free, soft crinkling sounded as he removed it.

He reached into the depths of the bag, his fingers brushing against something soft before grasping it. As he drew it out, his hand revealed a charming stuffed elephant, its plush grey body soft to the touch. The toy was perfectly proportioned, with endearing fat limbs that dangled naturally from its tear-shaped body. Its oversized ears flopped gently and its trunk curved in a friendly manner that seemed to welcome embrace. The stuffed animal sat comfortably in his hands, sized just right for holding close and cuddling.

"Elephants are known for their memories, you know." You gave him a gentle, encouraging nudge, your voice soft and hopeful. "Who knows? Maybe having this elephant around will help spark some of those lost memories of yours. They say elephants never forget, after all."

Bucky turned to face you, his expression one of confusion and curiosity. His eyes held that familiar, guarded look the soldier usually carried - a careful blend of wariness and interest that never quite revealed his inner thoughts. He examined the stuffed toy with an almost childlike fascination, as if encountering one for the first time.

His flesh hand explored every detail of the plush elephant with careful attention, fingers trailing along the soft fabric. He wrapped them around the trunk, testing its flexibility, then moved to rub the floppy ears between his thumb and forefinger, then squeezing the body gently as if checking its softness.

"There's something else too." You smiled warmly, gesturing toward the bag with enthusiasm. "Go ahead, take another look." He complied, reaching in until his hand emerged clutching a brand new journal. Following the theme, the journal was decorated in a soothing light blue shade, its cover stamped with a delicately printed elephant in the center. "I noticed your other journals were getting pretty full, so I thought you might need a fresh start. This one's got plenty of space, lots of room for all those thoughts and memories you want to keep safe."

His hands gently set the items down after examining each one carefully, his eyes lingering on every detail as if trying to memorize them. Then he turned to you, his expression unreadable. "You...got these...for me." Bucky spoke slowly, each word carefully chosen, as if he was having trouble processing the simple act of kindness. "To help me remember?"

"And, the elephant will be a nice cuddle buddy for those long nights you tend to have," you explained softly, watching his reaction. "It has special infusions of lavender and bergamot oils that I picked specifically to help you sleep better. The aromatherapy might even help soothe away those bad dreams you've been having. Well, at least according to the sales clerk." You reached out and lifted the soft plush elephant, bringing it to your nose and inhaling deeply. "See? It's really calming, isn't it?"

He took the toy back and smelled it deeply, letting out a contented sigh as the aroma filled his nose and sent waves of comfort through his body, making him feel warm and fuzzy inside. He carefully lowered the elephant into his lap, treating it as if it were made of delicate porcelain. His throat tightened with emotion as he swallowed hard and looked back at you, his eyes wide with disbelief and gratitude.

"All this for me?" he whispered, his voice barely audible as he struggled to process the reality that someone would think to get him anything at all (Steve didn’t count). The concept of receiving gifts was so foreign to him, so far removed from his perception of what he deserved, that he could barely wrap his mind around it.

You thought maybe it looked sill to some people, but it was more about why you got it, not what you got him.

You nodded, offering a warm smile, "Yes...I got this just for you."

After you recovered from the sudden gesture, your arms encircled him in return. You drew him closer as he nestled himself against your body, seeking comfort in your warmth and smell. It was one of the only things he could consistently rely on.

A knowing smile played across your lips as you whispered against his ear, "I take it you like it?"

"...Да."

Thanks for reading. -em 🌿

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Images found on Pinterest.

#bucky barnes x reader #fic rec

709 notes · View notes

parkerslatte · 2 days ago

Text

The Purest Kind of Love || Part Three

Azriel x Fem!Reader x Eris Vanserra

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: murder attempt. minor panic attack.

Summary: Eris Vanserra arrives at the Night Court to discuss trade deals, alliances and anything that would benefit him as High Lord. During a meeting, things go south quite quickly.

The Purest Kind of Love Masterlist

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

PREVIOUS / NEXT

•••

Weeks had passed since Y/N had felt that damned bond snap with Eris Vanserra. There were days where the bond was faint, as if it no longer existed but on others, she felt a strong pull, barely able to resist it. Concentrating on her work on those particular days was beginning to get increasingly difficult. All of her work had been conducted from her own cottage, she hadn’t given anything to Rhys as of yet, their final conversation replaying in her mind. Anger coursed through her veins whenever she thought about it. If she saw Rhys’s face anytime soon she was sure she was going to connect her palm to it.

Y/N hadn’t seen anyone from the Inner Circle since the day after Eris’s celebration. For once, she was not sure about how they would react to the news of her new mating bond– assuming Azriel had already told them. She knew that there would be a few angry faces amongst the group, Mor’s especially.

With a sigh Y/N pulled away from her open notebook, rubbing her eyes. The words she had written had only begun to blur together. Her concentration had only begun to slip once again. It didn’t help that she could still faintly smell Azriel’s scent. Many of his clothes were still within her cottage, he hadn’t come to collect them yet. There were many times where Y/N had considered returning them to him herself but just the thought of returning the only things that held his scent made her heart sting. She also wanted to give him the space that he requested.

A knock sounded through the cottage and Y/N perked up. She hadn’t spoken to anyone in weeks– she probably hadn’t even spoken aloud in weeks. She stood to her feet and walked the short distance from her office to the front door and opened it wide. The beaming face of Mor stood on the other side.

“Mor?” Y/N said, surprised to see her.

“Are you happy to see me?” she asked. “Because I am happy to see you. It’s been weeks since I have even heard from you.”

Y/N laughed nervously. “I’ve been busy with my work.”

Mor hummed, as if she didn’t believe it. Thankfully she didn’t call Y/N out on it. Mor held up a letter in her hand. “This came for you a few days ago. I thought Azriel would have delivered it to you but I haven’t seen him around either.”

Oh, Y/N thought. Mor didn’t know.

“I haven’t seen Azriel either,” Y/N said, her voice sad. “Our relationship ended, Mor.”

Surprise lit up Mor’s face. “You split up?”

Y/N nodded. “A few weeks ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Mor said, gesturing to Y/N to sit down. “How are you?”

“Honestly, I am finding it hard,” Y/N said. “Having someone beside you for years and then they are suddenly gone is certainly an adjustment. I still have some of his clothes here.”

“I can take them to him for you–”

“No,” Y/N cut her off. She cleared her throat. “No, it’s okay. I’ll send them to him soon.”

Mor nodded and handed Y/N the letter. “I’m unsure of who it is from as there was no name given.”

The writing on the letter was exquisite and beautiful and was a piece of artwork within itself. It was much better than the fast scrawl that filled Y/N’s notebooks.

“As much as I would love to stay here with you, Emerie and I planned our own trip to visit the Day Court,” Mor said.

“It’s okay,” Y/N said, her eyes snapping up from the letter. “Enjoy yourselves.”

A small smile toyed at Mor’s lips. “We will, I’ll tell her you said hell0.”

A long hug and another goodbye, Mor was gone, leaving Y/N alone in her cottage once more.

***

The letter sat on the table unopened. A wax seal on the back of the letter clearly indicated who it was from. The wax was a near perfect match of the sender's eyes. Not that Y/N would recognise them immediately of course.

Why would Eris send me a letter? Y/N thought.

As she took the letter back in her hands, Y/N contemplated opening it. As much as she liked to believe the stories that depicted Eris as a terrible male, Y/N personally didn’t see it. They had only shared a dance and a few conversations together but for some reason she could see that careful constructed mask he hides behind. It had slipped just before he left her room the morning after his celebration. Somehow she believed that her whole family was wrong about him.

Y/N carefully broke the seal of the letter and took the parchment out. It faintly smelt of a crackling fire. Y/N couldn’t help but breathe it in. Once the letter was unfolded, it was written in the same delicate handwriting that was on the front. It was shorter than Y/N was expecting. She began to read.

—----

Dear Y/N,

I am currently on a tour around Prythian to work out trade deals and build stronger relationships between my court and others and hopefully fix all the hurt my father caused. I only have two stops to go before I finish this little task of mine; Night and Winter. Due to circumstances in the Winter Court, I would need to visit the Night Court first.

Now this is where my problem resides. The Night Court is your home and I do not wish to intrude. It is true that we have a mating bond between us and it is true that it connects our souls. Though I do not wish for you to be uncomfortable in your own home. If you truly feel uncomfortable with me being in your home court, I can conduct my business from my home in Autumn.

If you wish for me to stay in Autumn, don’t open this letter.

If you wish for me to come to Night, open this letter–

—----

Y/N stopped reading as if she couldn’t believe her eyes. Though she couldn’t help the laugh that slipped past her lips. The nerve of him, Y/N thought. Though he did bring a genuine smile to her lips for the first time in weeks.

Truthfully, Y/N wouldn’t mind for him to come to the Night Court. If she did feel uncomfortable in his presence, she would simply stay away. Even with the mating bond’s desperate attempts to pull her closer. Saoise cast her eyes back down to the letter.

—----

It may be obvious to you now that I am indeed on my way to the Night Court, depending on when you read this, I might already be there now. But I am being serious when I say that if you truly are uncomfortable with me around, happily tell me and I will be gone before you even have the chance to blink.

I hope this letter finds you well.

Your mate

Kind regards,

Eris Vanserra, High Lord of Autumn

—----

The smile tugged at the corner of Y/N’s mouth and she consciously removed it. She folded the letter and placed it back in its envelope, tucking it away in the drawer under the table. There was a possibility that Eris was already in the Night Court. The thought made her chest contort, nerves itching. She shouldn’t feel nervous. Eris was her mate and she knew how to handle him, evident from the dance they shared.

Perhaps the reason Mor and Emerie were going to spend some time in the Day Court was because of Eris’s arrival. Why hadn’t anyone told her about it? Despite how Rhys might not think of her as part of his family, she was still a member of the Inner Circle whether he liked it or not. Her research was a large part of what kept the court running and kept people safe, even if Rhys deemed them not worth saving like the people in Hewn City. Y/N would go out of her way to warn him about possible dangers that target the area.

If Eris was meant to be arriving at the Night Court, she should have been informed of it. Perhaps he hadn’t arrived yet and that was the reason. Though deep down, Y/N already knew that both Rhys and Cassian would choose Azriel’s comfort over her. If Azriel didn’t want to be within a certain distance of her, Rhys and Cassian would do all they could to make it happen.

Y/N closed the drawer containing the letter from Eris and returned to her research, her mind becoming consumed.

***

A whole day had passed and Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about the letter Eris had sent. By her estimations, he should have already been in the Night Court for at least No one had reached out to her. Even Eris, which Y/N hated to admit, disappointed her a little. The work she had been doing had been completed and Y/N had felt fidgety. For the majority of her work, she would assign herself jobs but Rhys did task her with conducting research for him. She had completed it all and had no motivation to do any of her own.

The hot mug in Y/N’s hand was placed upon the table as she walked over to the front door. Being trapped in the cottage where Azriel’s scent still lingered was not doing her any good.

Y/N swung the door open and a surprised Cassian stood just down the cobblestone pathway. A frown found its way onto Y/N’s face.

“What are you doing here, Cassian?” Y/N asked.

Cassian chuckled nervously. “So I don’t get a hug of greeting?”

Y/N folded her arms across her chest. “No I don’t believe you will. Why are you here?”

Cassian sighed. “Eris is meeting with Rhys and the rest of us to discuss some trade deals and to strengthen his alliance with us.”

“And Rhys is the one who assigned you to get me?” Y/N asked.

“No,” Cassian answered and Y/N’s heart sank. If it wasn’t clear by her last conversation with Rhys, it was evident now that he didn’t even view Y/N as part of his Inner Circle. “It was actually Azriel who demanded that you be there as part of the Inner Circle.”

Surprise filled Y/N’s eyes. “Azriel demanded it?”

“He threatened to not attend the meeting himself if you weren’t there,” Cassian explained.

Somehow that made Y/N feel worse.

***

The tension in the room was thick and it only amused Eris to his core. While everyone around him was alert, he casually lounged in his chair, waiting for the meeting to begin. He wasn’t told the reason for the delay but he had noticed that both of the Illyrian warriors were nowhere to be seen.

Rhysand sat at the head of the table with Fere by his side, a clear sense of who was actually in power. The smaller fae with short black hair, Eris hadn’t ever bothered to know her name, sat to his right, her piercing gaze never leaving him for a second.

It had only been a matter of hours since Eris had been welcomed into the Night Court and he had yet to leave this very room. If he were to be confined for the week he was meant to be staying, Eris was sure that he would go insane. Despite his dislike towards certain members of Rhysand’s Inner Circle and the Night Court itself, Eris did have to admit that what he had seen of Velaris had been rather beautiful.

The door to the room opened, cutting through the silence. The shadowsinger stepped inside, eyes full of carefully concealed rage. Eris watched his movements carefully as he slowly pulled out of the chair opposite him and took a seat, wings tucked tightly into his back, shadows restlessly moving over his shoulders. Just from the look of him, Eris could tell that he was finding it hard to keep his emotions in check. Perfect, Eris thought.

Two more figures entered the room soon after. The first was Cassian, probably the only member of the Inner Circle who Eris could have a semi-pleasant conversation with. Stepping in after him however was the person who made his chest ache deliciously.

That pull that Eris had tried his best to ignore the past few weeks was now pulled taunt as his eyes met Y/N’s. She was just as beautiful as she looked at his celebration. The only difference was the dark circles under her eyes. It was clear that she hadn’t been sleeping and Eris wanted to know the reason why. Perhaps he could do something to help her. But what if the reason she was losing sleep was because of him?

The stories the Inner Circle must have told her about him were certainly not pleasant. What if she was kept awake at night after finding out that she was mated to such a diabolical male. After all, that is what he wanted everyone to think when his father was alive. But knowing that Y/N most likely thought that way about him– that filled Eris with a sadness that was foreign to him.

The chair next to Eris was pulled out and Y/N slowly sat down and shuffled the chair back in, her hands folded in her lap.

“Now that everyone is here,” Rhysand began, his eyes lingering on Y/N for a brief moment and in that moment Eris fought the urge to reach across the table and connect his fist with his face. “I would firstly like to set some rules for this meeting.”

Eris rolled his eyes. “Rules? Are these rules for me or for you brainless servants?” Eris said, gesturing to Azriel and Cassian. Eris’s gaze fixated on Azriel. The shadowsinger’s gaze was locked on Eris and it seemed as if that he had no intention of looking away. “And if I may be completely honest. All of you are terrible hosts, locking me in a room with surveillance for hours, no offer of a drink or food. When I had my meeting with Helion, we had already discussed what we needed to and were sharing a bottle of wine on the balcony.”

The smile that spread across Rhysands face was nothing short of malicious. “My apologies, Eris. Would you like a glass of my finest wine?”

“Absolutely not,” Eris replied, leaning back in his chair. “I wouldn’t put it past you to poison my glass.” Eris’s gaze slowly shifted to Y/N whose gaze was cast to the table. “Except Y/N here. Unlike all of you, she seemes to have her head actually screwed on.”

The shadows resting on Azriel’s shoulders moved around his body, seemingly readying to strike Eris at any moment– Eris simply ignored him. Y/N’s head lifted and looked at Eris and when their eyes locked once more, Eris couldn’t help the small twitch of the corner of his mouth. Y/N seemed to notice it as the corner of her mouth twitched too. The pull only became stronger.

Clearing his throat, Eris turned to face Azriel who still hadn’t looked away from him, a burning hatred resided in his eyes. Eris smirked. “Are you jealous, Azriel? That I can get a female to smile at me while you simply pine from afar, struggling to gain even the smallest bit of affection. It's quite sad really.”

The shadows that rested upon Azriel’s shoulders reached out to Eris and the fury in Azriel’s eyes grew. Eris knew that he had touched a nerve.

“Stop with the threatening look, Azriel. How do you ever wish to seduce anyone into your bed with an aura of murder surrounding you. No wonder you’ve been alone for centuries,” Eris said, casually crossing one leg over the other.

Shadows wrapped around Eris’s throat and most air was cut off. The feeling of the tightness around his throat made Eris immediately panic. Azriel loomed over Eris as everyone around them tried to stop what was occurring.

“Azriel,” Rhysand warned. “Stop this. You know what will happen if you harm him.”

“I don’t care,” Azriel growled.

“Az,” Cassian said, placing a hand on the shadowisnger’s shoulder. Azriel just shrugged it off. “You need to stop.”

“Stop this!” Feyre demanded, looking between Eris and Azriel.

“Azriel!” Y/N snapped. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

For the first time since he entered the room, Azriel looked away from Eris and to Y/N. The tightness around his throat faltered but there was still no way for Eris to escape. He clawed at his throat but his hands only clawed at his skin.

“Let him go now,” Y/N said, her voice dangerous.

The shaowingers eyes found Eris’s again and the shadows tightened as if it were instinctual, as if they were connected to his emotions. It was beginning to get harder and harder to breathe. Eris desperately tried to claw at his neck again but it only made him scratch his own skin more, this time drawing blood.

As he began to feel fainter and fainter, Eris couldn’t stop the rising panic within him. It was almost as if he could feel the ghost of his fathers hand wrapping around his neck. Eris scratched at his neck even more and drew more blood, desperate to breathe again. Black spots clouded his vision and all attempts from the Inner Circle to get Azriel to stop fell on deaf ears.

“Azriel, please stop,” Y/N pleaded and Eris felt gentle hands rest on his shoulder. It was the only thing that grounded him against visions of his father looking over him with his hand around his neck.

“Stop…” Eris begged Azriel.

Something within Azriel’s eyes seemed to snap him back to reality as the shadows recoiled from Eris as if he had burnt them. They rested on Azriel’s shoulders before shrinking away entirely. Stumbling back, Azriel blinked as Eris’s chest heaved up and down, slowly getting air back into his lungs.

“Azriel…” Y/N was the first to speak, a hint of disappointment in her tone.

“I-I’m sorry,” Azriel said before he swiftly left the room.

Eris continued to breathe heavily as Y/N’s hands remained on his shoulders. He wanted to shrink into her touch. Just feeling all eyes on him made him want to hide– he was too exposed, too vulnerable. Eris never wanted to feel that way again.

“Why don’t we finish this meeting tomorrow once everything has calmed down?” Feyre suggested, looking at the blood smeared on Eris’s neck.

“That would be a smart idea, Feyre darling,” Rhysand said. “Cassian, you can escort Eris to–”

“I will do it,” Y/N said firmly. “I don’t think he wants to be around any of you right now.”

Eris closed his eyes and allowed his body to slump against the chair as he tried to even out his breathing, nothing seemed to work.

“But–” Rhysand began.

“I will take him to his room,” Y/N said, sending a glare Rhysand’s way. “Do you have a problem with that, Rhys?”

Rhysand studied Y/N for a moment, his eyes lingering on where her hands were gently holding onto Eris’s shoulders. He slowly nodded. “Of course not, Y/N. Make sure he doesn’t go anywhere anacompanied.”

“I’m not a prisoner, Rhysand,” Eris said quietly.

There was no reply as the footsteps of the Inner Circle slowly grew quieter as they all left the room until only Y/N and Eris remained. Eris’s chest still heaved up and down as his breathing still hadn't returned to normal. Beron’s phantom hands were still wrapped around his throat.

“Let me clean that away,” Y/N said quietly, procuring a small cloth from thin air.

When his eyes met Y/N’s, they were filled with concern as she looked at his neck. Eris didn’t want to know what it looked like.

“I can clean it myself,” Eris mumbled, taking the rag from Y/N’s hands.

A simple nod was her response. The scratches on his neck were already beginning to heal as Eris wiped the blood away, the previously white cloth now crimson.

“Do you wish to return to your room?” Y/N asked.

Eris chuckled, no humour behind it. “I’d rather not be concealed in a small room right now.”

The two sat together alone in the room until Eris’s breathing had evened out. The phantom hand still remained but the panic within his body was washed away. Almost immediately, a switch flipped in Eris as he turned to Y/N. The facade he put on lit up his face once more.

“Well, why don’t you show me around Velaris? I’m sure someone as beautiful as you knows where the stunning sights are,” Eris suggested, a smirk toying at his lips.

Y/N frowned, immediately seeing through the facade. “Cut the bullshit, Eris. You can parade this fake attitude to everyone else but not me.” A gentler expression replaced her frown. “You…are my mate. You don’t need to hide your true self away from me.”

Slowly but surely, the smirk fell from Eris’s face. “Mate? That is the first time I have heard you admit that aloud.”

“We have only had one conversation since it snapped,” Y/N said, an amused tone filling her voice.

Eris huffed out a laugh, looking down at the blood stained cloth in his hand. “That is true. But it still feels…surreal that someone is telling me that I am their mate.”

Y/N sighed. “It is strange for me too. If a mating bond did snap for me, I thought it would be with…someone else.”

Eris raised an eyebrow. “And that someone is?”

A saddened expression fell upon Y/N’s face and Eris immediately regretted asking. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“I apologise for asking,” Eris said, throwing the bloodied cloth on the table.

“Don’t apologise,” Y/N said firmly.

Eris nodded and slouched back in the chair, all sense of formality disappearing from his posture. If it were anyone else but Y/N in his presence, Eris wouldn’t be caught dead slouching in his chair, but he felt…comfortable.

“Well, aren’t you going to take me to my prison– I mean room?” Eris said.

Y/N smiled. “The rooms might not be as grand as the rooms in the Autumn Court, but I assure you that your room isn’t a prison. It was my old room, actually.”

Eris suddenly perked up. “Your old room?”

Y/N nodded. “It was always the nicest room and now it is used as a guest room as Nesta demandes to make guests feel comfortable when they stay here. There have been a lot of…strange guests over the past few years. And I wasn’t going to take you there anyway. You said you didn’t want to be concealed in a small room so I’m taking you out to see Velaris.”

Surprise filled Eris’s body. “You are letting me leave?”

“Despite what Rhys tells you, Eris. You can go anywhere you want unsupervised. I trust you. If Rhys wants to shout at anyone about it, send him my way,” said Y/N, standing to her feet.

“Now come on,” Y/N said. “This beautiful female, as you like to put it, is going to show you some stunning sights.”

***

Despite the sun being high in the sky, it didn’t stop Y/N from shivering as they walked down the cobblestone streets. Some stopped and stared, clearly confused as to why the new High Lord of Autumn was walking through the streets of Velaris. Eris didn’t seem to care as he looked around, clearly taking in every small detail.

Y/N wasn’t exactly sure what came over her when she suggested that she take Eris out in the city, all that she did know was that it had been instinctual to spend time with him. It wasn’t in her plans to get to know her mate, at least not so soon after her relationship with Azriel ended– but when Eris was clawing at his throat and Azriel loomed over him, she had the strong urge to protect him. There were still a few scratches that hadn’t healed yet from how deep Eris had scratched himself.

“You’ve been shivering for the past hour,” Eris commented as he stopped to look in a window of a shop.

“Unlike you, I don’t have fire coursing through my veins,” Y/N said, wrapping her arms tighter around herself.

“If I had a jacket I would offer it to you,” Eris said, finally turning to her. He frowned once he noticed her thin dress for what seemed like the first time.

“It's okay,” Y/N said with a wave of her hand. “I can return to my cottage to get a jacket, it isn’t too far away if you don’t mind the walk.”

Eris shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

With a nod, Y/N led them down the street and away from the shops. “You can stay here if you wish, I’m unsure how long I will be.”

“It’s fine,” Eris said. “If I am being honest, I do wish to see more of this city– don’t tell Rhysand I said that.”

Y/N nodded. “Don’t worry, I am unsure if Rhys and I are on speaking terms currently.”

“I am not prying you for an answer but if you would like to tell me, I am awaiting your answer eagerly– unfortunately for you, I do enjoy some gossip,” Eris replied.

Y/N huffed a laugh. “Unfortunately for you, I will not be telling you. You may be my mate, Eris, but sharing personal conversations is not on the table yet.”

“Yet,” Eris smirked.

“Sorry?” Y/N questioned.

“You said ‘yet’,” Eris remarked. “So that means that one day you will tell me.”

“I–shut up,” Y/N said, pulling her arms closer to herself as a chill ran down her spine.

A low chuckle emitted from Eris that sent pleasant shivers down Y/N’s spine. “My, my, just when we were getting along too.”

“Who said that we were getting along?” Y/N questioned, raising a brow.

“Well, you haven’t threatened to harm or kill me yet, so I am taking our brief relationship thus far as a successful one,” Eris remarked.

The two continued walking for a while longer in silence. Though it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence like Y/N expected, she was perfectly at ease. Eris seemed to be keen on taking in his surroundings as they walked down the cobblestone street. Y/N nearly slipped a few times when her attention fixated on Eris for a moment too long so she missed where the stone was raised higher than the others, thus causing her to trip. Whenever she did, Eris huffed out a small laugh.

“May I ask you a question?” Y/N questioned suddenly after a long silence. The question she wanted to ask was burned onto her tongue.

“Depends what the question is,” Eris answered with a raised eyebrow.

“That letter you sent me,” Saoirs began and Eris laughed. “Why didn’t you give me a choice if you were going to come here regardless.”

“Oh Y/N,” Eris said, her name flowing from his lips like a beautiful poem. “You are mistaken, I did give you a choice.”

Y/N laughed. “A choice? You said in your letter that if I was comfortable with you coming to my home, I should open the letter– how would I even know what the letter contained or who the letter was from if I didn’t open it?”

Eris glanced at her. “You knew who the letter was from as soon as you picked it up, didn’t you?”

“I might not have,” Y/N defended, folding her arms across her chest.

“But you did,” Eris said. “And despite how little time we have spent together, I knew that you would have never opened that letter if you were uncomfortable with me. Am I correct?”

“No,” Y/N said, sending a small glare his way. She hated how correct he was.

“Liar,” Eris whispered.

Their faces were close as Y/N cleared her throat and turned away. “My cottage is just up this street.”

Seemingly snapping back into reality, Eris took a step back, clasping his hands behind his back. “You said that this walk wasn’t too far. You live quite far from the city.”

Y/N shrugged. “It’s a short walk for me. It helps me focus more on my work. When I used to live in the House of Wind with everyone, I could hardly focus on my work as I was interrupted almost every time I tried to get anything done.”

Despite the fact that her home had been her sanctuary for many years, always full of life and love– it now held an aura of sadness around it. Even though Y/N had lived in her cottage years before she and Azriel made their bargain, it was the place where they had started building their life together. Residing all over the cottage and land surrounding it held small reminders of the shadowsinger. His chair for instance, which allowed him to sit comfortably with his wings. The bed which Y/N had surprised him with once when she had noticed how much he had ached whenever he slept in her previous bed. The decorations Azriel had bought for her whenever he had business elsewhere.

Y/N unlocked the door and stepped inside, Eris followed after. The room was cold, it had been ever since Azriel had left. But with Eris standing next to her there was a flicker of warmth that spread through the air.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Y/N muttered, stepping away from Eris.

There was no reply from Eris, or if he did reply, Y/N didn’t hear as she made her way to her bedroom. Only one side of the bed was slept in and the other was still perfectly made, she hadn’t wanted to move anything just yet, not while the scent of Azriel still lingered. Moving onto her wardrobe, Y/N pulled out a thick coat, trying her best to ignore Azriel’s hung up just beside hers. She needed to return it to him– just not yet.

When she exited her bedroom, Y/N found Eris looking over the various decor pieces. She cleared her throat to announce her presence. It felt strange bringing Eris to her cottage, perhaps she should have left him in the city while she came back here alone. Despite the terms of their bargain, it felt wrong to bring Eris into the place where she had just begun to build a life with Azriel. Yet– the High Lord fit in well with her decor.

“I’m ready to leave now,” Y/N said.

“May I ask you a question now?” Eris said suddenly.

“Depends what it is,” she answered, putting on her coat.

“I don’t mean to pry while asking this question, but do you live with someone else in this cottage– the spymaster more specifically? His scent is blocking all my other senses,” Eris said, clasping his hands behind his back.

The question wasn’t one Y/N was prepared for, of course she planned to tell Eris at some point but not so soon. But Eris was very perceptive and would know that she was lying if she denied his statement. With a sigh, Y/N nodded. “Yes he lived here with me– four years to be exact.”

“So at my celebration, the two of you were…together?” Eris questions.

“We were, yes,” said Y/N honestly.

“Ah, so that is why he was glaring at me for the entire length of the dance we shared,” Eris said. “But I cannot help but notice you are speaking in past tense about your relationship.”

“We are not together anymore,” Y/N said, the statement sending a pain through her heart. “That ended the night of your celebration.”

A guilty look washed over Eris’s face. “That wasn’t because of me, was it? Even though I do not like the shadowsinger, I do not wish to harm you in any way.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his sweet words but Y/N gave him a tight lipped smile. “The only reason why you are involved is because the mating bond snapped between us. Even if it snapped between me and anyone else that night, our relationship would have ended the same way at the same time.”

“You do not need to tell me if you don’t want to, Y/N,” Eris said earnestly. “I might act like a gossip, but most of the time, I do prefer staying far away from it.”

“It’s okay,” Y/N said. “I would have eventually needed to tell you at some point. Four years ago, Azriel and I made a bargain. We were both so sick of being alone, everyone around us was happily mated and were starting families or already had one. At the time we thought it was an incredible idea. We would form a relationship with each other but if one of us were to ever find our mate, we would walk away from one another and our relationship would end. Realistically, we both never thought we would find our mates. We are both over five-hundred years old, if a bond would have snapped with anyone, then it would have snapped by then.”

“We lived together for four years, were steadily building a life together until–”

“Our bond snapped,” Eris finished.

“Correct,” Y/N said. “That night when I told him, I was in so much pain because I tried to fight the terms of the bargain. I begged him to stay with me but we both knew that we couldn’t continue our relationship because sooner or later the bargain would have killed me. Azriel left me in that room the night and never came back. The meeting earlier was the first time I had seen him since.”

“That morning when I came to speak to you and you were upset,” said Eris, taking a hesitant step forward. “It was because of the bargain.”

Y/N nodded. “I didn’t mean to be snappy with you, I couldn’t help it.”

“I didn’t mean to provoke you that morning, if I did, I apologise,” Eris said before proceeding to let out a breathless chuckle. “It’s funny, that morning I wanted to see if you were okay and I was pacing outside of your room for nearly an hour trying to gain the courage to knock. I didn’t want to seem invasive.”

Saoise’s face clouded over in surprise. “You needed to pluck up the courage to do something? Colour me shocked.”

With a shake of his head, Eris laughed and the sound was beautiful. “Don't get too used to it, Y/N, I never back down from a challenge.”

“Except when it consists of asking someone if they are okay?” Y/N asked.

“It was only because it was you– my mate– if it were any other member of your so-called ‘Inner Circle’, I don’t think I could have cared less,” Eris replied before his eyes suddenly turned serious. “There is still a lot that you don’t know about me, Y/N– and there is still a lot that I don’t know about you. I am not the monster that Rhysand and his lapdogs have made me out to be.”

Y/N took an unconscious step forward. “Believe it or not, Eris, I can already tell that you are not the male I have heard stories about.”

At that statement, Eris’s face lit up and he seemed relieved. “If you are open to it, Y/N, would you mind getting to know one another? I know that we eventually need to address the glaring topic of our mating bond– but right now, I am asking as a friend. Because believe it or not– I don’t have many of those.”

Despite Y/N’s previous feelings about the guilt trailing down her spine at Eris standing in the home she had made with Azriel, she now thought he fit in perfectly with her belongings– even the ones Azriel had picked out.

A bright smile stretched across Y/N’s face. “I would love that, Eris.”

Eris dipped his head in a nod. “I am glad to hear that, Y/N.”

As their conversation had progressed, Y/N now found herself standing barely an arms length away from Eris, it was as if the taunt bond between them had slowly pulled them closer. Slowly, she linked her arm with Eris’s, the warmth of his body seeping through her coat.

“Now, there is a small tavern that I like just down the street from my cottage,” Y/N said as she led Eris to the front door. “If we are getting to know one another, we might as well do it over a few friendly drinks.”

As the door to her cottage shut behind them, Y/N couldn’t help the small weight lifted from her shoulders. Walking with Eris by her side eased her in a way she couldn’t describe.

Though perhaps it was because of the faint scent of cedar mixing with a cracking fire.

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