#but i colour-corrected as best as I could

[wanderingline]

A commission I've just finished :)

[malkwin]

tanger pretty pink lips interview | 12/11/2011 penguins @ canes

[augustinewrites]

cw: pregnancy

“when you said we were sneaking out to go for a ride, i didn't think you meant that,” you sigh, breathless but content as you slump against your husband’s chest.

“deep breaths, darling,” diluc encourages, fingertips brushing down your spine. it makes him think of before, of juvenile fumbling and embarrassment. he’s much less chaste now. confident in his touches and his ability to please you. “why let the horses have all the fun?”

“you’ve been spending too much time with kaeya,” you grumble.

“i agree. it’s why i had to sneak away from his party with you.”

“your party,” you correct, letting him twine your fingers with yours. just like he had earlier, when he’d convinced you to sneak out of the surprise birthday party thrown in his honour. “the guests are likely looking for you.”

diluc’s used to being the center of attention. he doesn't necessarily enjoy it, but his day-to-day is filled with employees searching for his signature or potential clients seeking his participation on new ventures. as the king of the wine industry, he’s possibly the most in-demand person in mondstadt.

but their attention is nothing compared to yours. you’re his favourite person.

“you didn't even make it to the cake,” you add, shifting in his lap. “which means they'll be looking for us soon.”

he brings your hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss upon your knuckles and making your heart flutter. “i've already had dessert.”

your face warms considerably against his skin as he chuckles, releasing your hand in favour of slowly smoothing his palm down your side, resting on your hip. he’s more than content to abandon his birthday party entirely in favour of being here in bed, watching the sunset over the fields of your home and bathing you both in golden light.

“well, it’s your birthday party,” you say softly. “even if your actual birthday is two days away, i still want you to have everything you could possibly want. and if what you want is to sneak away from your party to bed me so thoroughly, who am i to argue?”

his heart starts to thump so loudly in his chest that he fears you can hear it. he does want something else, an answer to a question that’s been stifled by shyness, fear, and uncertainty.

“and if i wanted…something else?”

your fingers trace idle patterns across his arm as you hum. “i’d do my best to give it to you.”

he knows you would. which is why he’s been waiting, making sure you want this just as much as he does.

“kaeya said something to me earlier,” he starts.

“please tell me this doesn't end with you hitting him.”

“of course not.” well, not this time. “he asked when i would make him an uncle.”

your movements pause, and diluc wonders if he'd messed up, if it was too soon–

you sit up immediately, grasping his shoulders. “he told you i was pregnant, didn't he? i knew adelaide wouldn't be able to keep it a secret. she’s been knitting baby socks since last week.”

wait.

wait.

“you’re–”

“i wanted it to be a surprise,” you deflate, a frown tugging on your pretty lips. “on your real birthday. adelinde was the only one i told, only because she’d caught me throwing up in the rose bush she’d just pruned and insisted i get checked…”

diluc’s hardly hearing you, your rambling slowing to a stop as he holds your face in his hands.

he needs to hear you say it.

“we’re having a baby?”

you place your hands atop his, nodding. “we’re having a baby, diluc.”

he presses his lips against yours, one firm kiss before he rests his forehead against yours. you are and will always be his favourite person, the only one who could give him a gift as special as this.

_____

BONUS:

“lavender bisque. whispering peach. sweet potato surprise…” adelinde murmurs, hunched over a few sheets of paper.

“what is that? is that the menu for tomorrow’s party?” kaeya asks, peeking over her shoulder.

adelinde sighs, shaking her head. “they're sample colours i had sent over for the nursery.”

“nursery?”

“yes–” the colour drains from the poor woman’s face as she realizes her slip. “oh dear!”

the realization takes a few moments to sink into the cavalry captain’s “my brother had sex?!”

for @mydiluc aka mrs diluc ragnvindr for listening to my endless rambles...and also diluc bday fic!!!

[charminglygrouped]

One very subtle but speaking moment in P&P that I don't think I've ever seen anyone talk about is this one:

“Yes, and her petticoat; I hope you saw her petticoat, six inches deep in mud, I am absolutely certain, and the gown which had been let down to hide it not doing its office.”

We all get caught up on the "six inches deep in mud" thing (and it is a very funny and versatile line)—but that misses the depth of the characterisation of Elizabeth that's developed in this sentence.

What Mrs. Hurst means is that Elizabeth had, at some point, been wearing her gown (this would have been morning dress) pinned up to show the bottom portion of her petticoat. This was pretty common in the very late 18th and early 19th centuries: an outer petticoat was not really considered an undergarment, but something that could be shown, at least in part. Gowns might be shorter than the petticoat; or very sheer to show a coloured petticoat; or slit up the front or sides; or entirely open in the front (called "négligée" or, racistly, "mameluke" style). A lot of petticoats were embroidered around the bottom (and sometimes in a pattern up the center as well) in a way that would be visible under these conditions. See these examples:

"Costume Parisiennes," The Ladies' Monthly Museum Vol 3 (April 1816), p. 231:

Evening Dress.—Round dress of soft white satin, made short enough to discover the muslin-petticoat underneath, which is ornamented with two full quillings of fine lace; the satindress finished at the border by four rows of scarlet velvet [...]. (see the illustration for this one here)

"London Fashions," The Repository of arts, literature, commerce, manufactures, fashions and politics (May 1, 1819), p. 304, plate 31:

A jaconic muslin petticoat, ornamented round the bottom with four rows of muslin trimming, composed of narrow welts finished with edging. Over this is an open robe, with a plain high body [...]. (description of left image above)

Ibid., no. 82 vol. 14 (Oct. 1815), p. 240, plate 22:

A cambric muslin petticoat, ornamented at the feet with a double flounce of French work, appliqued with a narrow heading of the same; the body, from the shoulder to the neck, gathered full into narrow trimming, corresponding with the heading of the flounce; a military collar, frilled with the French work; short French négligée, open in the iront, and trimmed entirely round to correspond. (description of right image above)

If Mrs. Hurst is correct, Elizabeth had either been wearing her dress pinned up anyway, or pinned it up specifically for the walk—and then, after she had arrived at Netherfield but before she had been announced, taken the pins out and let the skirt of the dress down to try to hide the dirt on her petticoat. This is an amount of forethought that suggests that she actually does care about how she looks, or about appearing tidy, or about what the party at Netherfield thinks of her.

She doesn't care enough to keep her from seeing Jane (“I shall be very fit to see Jane—which is all I want"), or enough to wish to avoid the walk (Mr. Bennet says “Is this a hint to me, Lizzy, to send for the horses?", which coming from him I think is tantamount to an engraved invitation to send for the carriage). But she cares just enough to briefly plan how best to minimise the damage, and decide to pin up her skirt before walking—or at least to take a moment to think about how she would appear to an observer, check her skirts, and take a step to improve her appearance slightly, once she had arrived.

Jennifer Ehle looks very cute and charming in the scene in the 95 version where she's walking to Netherfield and accidentally jumps in a mud puddle and looks at her skirts and shrugs like, oh well! But I don't think it's very "Elizabeth."

Elizabeth is sort of the Goldilocks of ladyhood. She doesn't have the rigid adherence to conduct-book logic that Mary has, or the sneering sophistication that the Bingley sisters have, or the impulsive, pleasure-seeking anarchic energy that Lydia has. She's neither very fashionable, nor completely without a sense of propriety, decency, or morality (whatever these words mean according to 19th-century mores). I think takes that emphasise only her wildness and distinctness from fashionable ladies, and takes that emphasise only her respectability, are both missing something.

[gguk-n]

Hello!! I was wondering if you could please write a redbull driver with multiple wdc x platonic grid

But the older drivers like max Charles Lewis lando etc get jealous of her constantly being with the younger ones like franco kimi and Ollie all fluff n funny n fans going crazy bout their jealousy

Thank you

Rivals of the Track

{Reader's POV}

It was the Azerbaijan GP, Kevin wouldn't be racing so Ollie had replaced him for the race. He was this tall lanky British teen who rightfully corrected me saying that he was an adult now, he was funny. Ollie was with his best friend Kimi, who had come to support him for the race. I found their friendship endearing and reminded me of my best friend who would try to come to as many races as she could. The other drivers would argue about who my best friend was, but I knew who my best friend was and it was Y/BFF/N.

"Y/N, did you colour your hair?" Kimi asked. "You can tell?" I asked slightly shocked, "I just went for a lighter shade of burgundy than the last time" I elaborated. "Yeah, you look prettier" Ollie chimed. "Thank you. You boys are so sweet, unlike some people I know" I said looking at the other drivers who were stood a few feet away who were very confused when I asked them if anything was different about me. "You're always pretty" Franco added. "Okay, okay, flattery will only get you so far" I laughed. "We're being honest. Having some one as talented and beautiful on the grid that we can learn from is an honour" Kimi said solemnly. "Okay, is there a body you boys wanna hide?" I asked laughing. They laughed back.

"Can you introduce us to Lewis?" Franco whispered while we were stood there waiting for the media interviews. "Sure" I said. "He's so cool and we aren't sure if he'll talk to us" The other two boys added. "Oh, no, my babies, he's a sweetheart. You could just walk up to him and start talking. I was scared of him when I first joined too but we're pretty good friends" I explained. The 3 boys smiled at me, nodding in agreement.

Every time I would be talking to these 3, trying to make them feel at home like all the times the others did, I could feel eyes on me. I wasn't sure why they were all glaring at me.

I was doing my post quali media after qualifying P4. "So, what a race? Are you expecting a win or a podium?" The interviewer asked. "Obviously going to go for the win, podium isn't too far away either, let's see, I have a Ferrari and a McLaren to fight off though" I laughed. "We've seen you hanging around with the younger drivers, do they remind you of your rookie days?" she asked. "Yes, they are so nervous and scared but full of energy. They are fun to hang out with too" I said. "Does this mean you find the older drivers boring?" she prodded. "Never said that" I tsked. "I'm just trying to make them feel at home" I said. "Well, the fans are eating your interactions up. They find it so cute, you're like the mother duck and they are your ducklings" she said. "I wouldn't say that they are wrong" I chuckled. "I interviewed your teammate Max a while back and he didn't seem too pleased with your blossoming friendship. Why is that so?" the interviewer pointed out. "We're all competitive. I guess they are competitive about friends too" I shrugged. "It was nice talking to you, can't wait to watch you on the podium" she stated. I smiled and talked away.

I met the others in my drivers room. "I think this is a confidentiality breech to have all the other teams here" I laughed. "We're staging an intervention" Max stated. "For what? I don't have an addiction" I pointed out. "Since we're losing our bestie" Lando said. I couldn't help but laugh, "Who?" I asked. "You, you dumbass" Charles said. I sat on the chair that was unoccupied. "What's up my fellow drivers?" I asked. "We aren't only your fellow drivers, we're best friends" Lewis said. "Arguable but okay" I shrugged. "Are we not best friends?" Daniel fake cried. "My best friend is Y/BFF/n. You guys, I tolerate at best" I laughed. I could see all them visibly pout. "We don't like it" they said in unison. "What do you not like?" I asked. "You hanging out with the younger drivers or that we aren't best friends. Are we too old for you?" Carlos asked. "I'm as old as you guys. They just remind me of my siblings, they are like my ducklings and I'm their mother duck" I chuckled reminded of the analogy. "So, you aren't replacing us?" Oscar quipped. "Obviously not, they are my children. You guys are my friends" I said face palming myself. "Group hug?" Yuki asked and then we all huddled together. "What about us being best friends?" Max asked. "Still Y/BFF/N. I don't feel like a girl when I'm around you guys, she reminds me. We all have something special, we're competitors and friends" I said. They all seemed to nod in agreement.

After an abysmal race, I was laying in my hotel room going through twitter when I saw people talking about how I had taken the younger drivers under my wing and how they would follow me around like lost puppies while you could see the others stare daggers at them. At some point in the weekend, Max did almost carry me away from them, out of jealousy it seems and the gif was circulating all over the internet. I laughed at the tweets, my friends can get jealous, they would be jealous when I hang out with Y/BFF/N but I do need a get away from all the testosterone, but they are nice people, just bad at communicating.

[l0vergirlsw0rld]

Need fluff with logan and a southern reader pretty pretty pls!!!

I’m from a hawt place so a winter man in a winter cabin is needed right about now. Please can I request headcanons or a one shot about the reader that bakes him so many sweets/makes so much food for winter he gets chubby and notices, maybe they swap recipes or bake together? Just so much domestic fluff

It’s a primal need to see this man happy, unbothered in the Canadian wilderness, thriving with anything his heart wants and I know I can make that happen lmao

taste of home

bigdaddy!loganxsouthern!reader

a/n: i got so inspired by this request that I started and finished in one session! was definitely needed to whip up some cute cozy feel feel-good after the hours of writing smut for Ravish. thank you for the request, my asks are always open! hope y'all enjoy it! <3 a/n: i got so inspired by this request that I started and finished in one session! was definitely needed to whip up some cute cozy feel feel-good after the hours of writing smut for Ravish. thank you for the request, my asks are always open! hope y'all enjoy it! <3

wc: 1k

18+ MDNI | sexual themes, FLUFF, the name daddy is used.

summary: Y/N has been a little homesick lately and found a temporary cure through baking for Logan.

"What're you getting all dolled up for?" Logan cooed from the doorframe he was leaning on, his arms crossed. 

Your eyes met his reflection in the mirror of your vanity. 

"Nothin', just felt like being pretty." You smiled up at him as you put on your pearl earrings. 

It was true, you had nowhere to go. Logan's cabin was located in quite literally the middle of nowhere. Miles and miles of trees surrounded the property secluding you both from any and all civilization. 

Back home, it was part of your routine to get ready for the day even though all you'd do was stay home. There was something fulfilling about looking your best every day: if you looked good, you felt good.

You had felt a little homesick lately.

 Logan had dragged you deep into the Canadian forests for the winter because he couldn't stand the southern heat that you were used to. At first, you weren't a fan of the idea, but seeing as how happy it made Logan, it made the move all worthwhile.

He'd let go of his negative ways, he was now affectionate, talkative, and adventurous. His being away from all the stress allowed him to show you some of his other colours and vibrant ones at that.

"What do you always say... as pretty as a plum?" He snorted.

"As a peach. It's pretty as a peach." You giggled. 

"Well then, darling, you're as pretty as a peach." He corrected himself, pushing off the door frame and walking up behind your chair.

"Why thank you, Daddy," You blushed as he placed a gentle kiss on your exposed shoulder. 

"God, I love it when you call me that." He groaned into your skin, giving you a soft bite. 

You giggled from the slight pinch and finished getting ready with a few final pats of powder. 

"Mmm, as much as I'd want to do that with you right now, know what day it is. It's my baking day, Lo'." You tipped your head back and pressed a kiss to his stubbly cheek. 

"Can't you do it tomorrow baby?" He huffed.

"You know it's tradition, Sunday is baking day. Do you want more sweets or what?" You raised an eyebrow. 

"Yes, mam'." He chuckled, taking a seat on the bed and letting you get to your  work station.

He knew how serious you got about your baking, it was your primary way of curing your homesickness. 

You'd always keep a pitcher of sweet tea in the fridge and cupboards stocked with fresh bread and goodies. Logan could not bring himself to complain, he had developed a major sweet tooth since being with you. Every time you'd make new batches they would be gone in a matter of a few days. It's as if he'd eat one each time he'd pass by them. 

You didn't mind though, it warmed your heart to see how much he enjoyed your baking. Often you'd find some powdered sugar left in his beard. 

"You should watch it with those," You'd warn him as he devoured them, one by one. 

"I got bones of steel. No need to worry baby, sugar is the last thing that'll take me out." He mumbled with his mouth full, not being able to control himself around your delicious treats.

His favourites were your peach cobbler, lemon bars and peanut butter-chocolate fudge. Those were also conveniently the easiest ones to make. You had tried to teach Logan how to make them on his own, but it never stuck. 

"Why are they flat like pancakes? I followed your recipe," He had come to you while you left him unsupervised in the kitchen. You put your embroidery down and peered into the baking pan. 

"Did you use baking powder?" You poked the gooey top of his 'cupcake.' 

"Yes." He grumbled.

"Are you sure it was baking powder and not baking soda?" You tasted the batter, making a face. Salty.

"There's a difference?" His eyebrows furrowed.

Baking didn't come naturally to Logan, and that was okay. You had your strengths and he had his, which is what made you two work so well together. 

You spent the entire day working up a storm in the kitchen. 

Multitasking the different steps for each recipe with ease. You had spent so much time of your life baking that tackling multiple projects at once didn't even make you break a sweat. Logan turned his leather armchair to face you from across the house so he could watch you. 

He enjoyed watching you get lost in your little head as you worked. The way your plump lips wrapped around your finger when you taste-tested the recipes, making sure they were just right for him. The slight lift of your dress as you bent over to grab some pans from storage. Your flushed skin, glowing underneath the kitchen light. That little sigh of relief would escape you as you tied your hair up from the heat of the oven. Just like that, silently, he'd ogle you from his corner, sipping his favourite whiskey, and watching his favourite doll. 

Of course, at any chance he'd get he'd be there to come help you when you needed him to reach some things that were too high up or lift the heavy sac of flour on the counter for you. 

Today, you had made the biggest batches yet, pans of cooling sweets covered your entire kitchen surface. 

"Whoa baby, what're you feeding, the army?" Logan teased as he walked by shirtless. 

When you first started seeing Logan, he was in optimal shape. He was nothing but an angry mess of hair and muscle. But since he moved you into the cabin, he had started putting on a few extra pounds, most likely from his overconsumption of your treats. 

"No, I'm feeding a Wolverine that's clearly getting ready for winter." You teased back, poking his stomach. 

 He stopped in his tracks and peered down at his hair-covered gut. 

In no way shape or form did he look bad with the added weight, if anything you like him having a few extra layers? 

"You callin' me fat?" Grinned mischievously. 

"I was just playin- ah Logan!" You gasped as he threw you over his shoulder with a swift motion. Holding your ass right next to his face with his arm. He hoisted up your dress with his free hand, revealing your white bow panties. Your legs kicked in protest. 

"Daddy, stop it- you're not fat-" 

"That's not very nice baby, gonna need to punish you." He chuckled giving you a hard spank on the cheek, then placed you back down. 

"Now if you will excuse me, I've gotta get ready for winter." He winked as he grabbed the cookie closest to him. Sinking with teeth in it with that smile you oh so fell in love with. 

🏷️: @babey-fruit-bat <3

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[thehauntedetheral]

YANDERE PAINTER

Requests are open !

• You were not at all a art person. You appreciated all the artist and their passion for their art but you were just not interested.

• But your bestfriend she is a huge art person especially passionate about painting and painters.

• If anyone asked your bestfriend about painters and painting she would start her lecture on painters from today's time till the 1700s knowing every painter, everything. Meanwhile on the other hand you don't know any other painter than Picasso. That too you just knew his name nothing else.

• Your bestfriend attends every painting exhibition and forcefully drags you with her to every exhibition hence here you are staring at a painting you have no idea about while your bestfriend rambled like a maniac.

"The colours, the brush strokes, the technique, everything is just flawless y/n" your bestfriend said while you nodded absent mindly.

"You know the painter's whose exhibition this is. Is a lot famous despite being quite young and he is good looking too. His paintings are just out worldly and their price at auctions go to crazy numbers. And I heard he is here at the exhibition I hope we could get to meet him." Your bestfriend continued rambling while you felt some people looking at you and whispered something between themselves and when you made eye contact with them they just gave you a polite smile. Weird you thought.

• You both moved towards next various painting when at one painting you and your bestfriend jaws just fell down. You were not an art person and you didn't understand a single thing about paintings. But this one really made your jaw fell down because the painting infront of you is of a face of a woman and that face is none other than yours. The same eyes, lips, hairs. It was like looking at a mirror.

• Is this some kind of prank getting filmed for internet? What in the actual fuck is going on? Now you know why many people were looking at you and talking because they saw this painting. They thought you were the women in the painting.

• You looked at the painting with more focused mind and yes still definitely your face looking more beautiful than that in reality filled with warm colours.

"What is going on?" You asked your bestfriend.

"I have no idea. How did your face ended up as Yan's painting???" Your bestfriend asked with the same curiosity.

• Before you know your bestfriend has marched to get the exhibition incharge and what not people to get your answers.

• You just stood there thinking of many possibilities. Could it be that he painted a imaginary face but it ended up being real? Or some other person has the same exact face as you and they modelled for this painting? Your mind was creating many theories.

• When someone came and stood beside you. A good looking tall man with an expensive blazer smiled at you and introduced himself.

"Hello. I am yan the painter of this painting you are looking at." He said while looking at you like a child looks at moon.

"How did I ended up on your painting?" You asked not sure what was going on.

"Oh I just drew a imaginary face. I didn't knew it existed and that too thousands times more beautiful than my painting." Yan said making you blush. And thinking yes my theory is correct.

• But what you didn't knew was that yan lied. This painting was not his imagination but is inspired by you. He just lied to you to avoid any suspicions.

• The story of how you ended in his painting is that when you were on a vacation a few months ago yan was there too for his exhibition. He saw your face only for a few minutes while you were passing. He just ..... He just got hypnotized.

• Your facial features harmony, your eyes, your hairs they were just perfect. Just flawless . As if you were god's best creation.

• He was sad that he only saw you for a few minutes. But he was mesmerized.

• Days passed by but your face kept popping up in his mind every other minute. Too often. Too much.

• That he stopped working on his upcoming projects and instead started painting your face. He tried his best to paint your face even though he saw you only for few minutes.

• He drew, sketched, painted hundreds, thousands of times your face but he still felt that they are injustice to your ethereal beauty.

• He didn't knew your name, age, address anything but he was obsessed. It's just that some crazy passion rushes through his body whenever he looked at your face drawn on canvas.

• His whole studio, house is filled with your paintings in different colours, size, expressions.

• He kept your paintings as a treasure to himself thinking only he is worthy to look upon. That even though much insisting from his secretary he didn't gave any of your paintings to show on exhibition. He don't want strangers to look at his beautiful inspiration.

• But his secretary didn't listen to yan and secretly put it in today's exhibition hoping that somehow with this painting put out open will he be able to find you and stop his this crazy madness about you.

• Upon seeing your painting on the exhibition yan was furious and was About to cancel the exhibition when your bestfriend came rushing to his secretary asking how her friend y/n ended in Yan's painting? Hearing this all his anger was kept aside and he just started looking for you. His inspiration.

• And hence here you are both standing beside each other infront of the painting which caused all this while yan looking at you thinks he has been born on this earth to capture, paint your beauty on his canvas.

• "Oh to be loved by an artist" many people say this in your case you were definitely being loved, obsessed by yan an artist.

For more yandere reading :

[filomiya]

PARTY CANDLES ! – prod. filomiya

characters – mualani , kinich , xilonen , citlali , mavuika ( takes place after the 5.3 aq !! )

THEM , when its your birthday ( bullet headcanons based on their birthday messages )

notes : ITS MY BIRTHDAY CHAT CAN YOU BELIEVE IT 6th january wowowowo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! this is very self indulgent if you cant tell but i might do a fontaine version of this later if i feel like it or continue with the other natlan characters or mayb. with vbs WHATEVER ill see!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! might be ooc plz correct me if theyre ooc .. . . . . . .. . . .. . . . . . . .

MUALANI

planned her surprise one week in advance.

but how could she not? shes your partner, afterall! and never expect the least from mualani, she will ALWAYS do the most!!

booked the best restaurant for you, making sure most of the dishes would be liked by both you and the guests. also threw in a few of your favourite desserts, but she kept insisting on making those herself along with the cake… where does she find the time!?

you had the party take place from noon to night, living it to the fullest, next to her ( and the other guests i GUESS. ) but the inevitable happened – exhaustion. on your part, atleast. mualani still had a surprise in store for you. and what is better than a reserved hot spring for the both of you after so much activity?

this was a much more relaxed way to celebrate the afterparty, but a little time between you two doesnt hurt anyone! she’d end the day with a kiss, and a content ‘happy birthday.’

KINICH

he had planned two surprises total. not more, not less.

after the usual small talk he’d ensue, kinich would remind ajaw of the conversation they had hours prior. thankfully, you were one of the humans the almighty dragon liked, so it didnt take long for him to give in.

turning into his actual dragon form ( and holding back some complaints ), you and your partner hopped onto his back for a sky stroll across the landscapes of natlan. it was filled with casual chatting, ajaw occasionally joining.

while you expected to be brought back to the place you were before, the dragon instead dropped you two off on a high, secluded cliff with the best view to the stadium. laid there was a picnic blanket, and you almost called kinich a sap.

truly, one of the best people you couldve spent your birthday with.

XILONEN

you thought youd get special treatment? well, you thought well.

usually, she’d get her friends actual useful gifts ( allegedly, in her eyes ) like a set of tools, or something for their hobbies, because in what situation could sappy presents be functional? if you prefer sentimental value over functional things, be her guest!

but you were her fully fledged partner. no WAY she could gift you JUST tools.

being the blacksmith of the children of the echoes, she has access to some of the best stones out there. you bet she’d search all about birthstones and use yours into making some of the most refined jewelry. i could see her also do a bouquet of handi-picked flowers on your preferred colours. paper wrapping included!!

all of that combined with a reservation to the restaurant youve been gushing about… if that isnt special treatment, then what is?

CITLALI

at her age, she wouldnt have thought she would find someone, let alone friends, or someone like you!

so she didnt bat an eye to gift giving, mostly. occasionally, for whenever it was one of her people’s birthday, she’d offer the usual gift card or blessings. but with you in the picture now, she doesnt know what to do!!

her first thought was to give you some volumes from her light novels collection, which she did proceed with, but she had to think of a plan B. no way she could turn to her grandson, for all he’d have to offer is his finest pick of vegetables…

and before she knew it, your birthday came. so all she had to offer were the novels. it was so underwhelming in her eyes… but thank god you reassured her than even only drinking with her was enough.

MAVUIKA

for her, small and thoughtful gifts are always the go-to.

something motivational, that you can look back to and reminisce about – but you didnt expect her to gift you a small notebook. correction, actually – a small album. it was filled with photos you took through your time together, and letters she poured her feelings into. 

it was obvious it took her sweet time to put it together, probably did it during her time off as an occupation. if you asked her about it, you wouldve found out your guess wasnt far off. instead, you thanked her in her own way – whether it be words, physical affection or acts of service (on your own birthday tho..??) 

another thing mavuika would offer is a delightful night stroll with her motorbike. cliche x2, i know, but not before serving some of the best cake she had baked for you! dont ask her where or how, or do, do whatever you want…. (xilonens house.)

just hold onto her if she decides to pick the speed up as a way to wake you from your daydreams.

filomiya : any acts of plagiarism of my works are strictly prohibited. credits to the divider creators.

[ataliagold]

Flowers In Your Hair

For @astrangersummer week 3 prompt 'flowers'. Title from Flowers In Your Hair by The Lumineers.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rating: General

W/C: 1249

Tags: Post Series 4 Volume 2, Everyone Lives, Established Steddie, Fluff, Soft Steve Harrington, Steve Loves Yellow Flowers, Eddie Loves Steve, El and Max are best friends, summer, this is just softness

Summary: Eddie enlists some help to find the perfect flowers for Steve. Despite his own insecurities, Eddie is learning that his boyfriend loves soft things.

___

“Robin, what kind of flowers does Steve like?”

Eddie was draped over the Family Video counter, having stolen the barely-working desk fan air flow for himself.

Robin paused where she was rifling through the box of returned tapes to give him a confused look. “Flowers? Really?”

Eddie threw up a hand, then regretted it, because that had taken far too much effort in the stifling heat. “What? You think a man can’t buy flowers for another man? You judging me, Buckley?”

Robin scoffed. “No. Just…why flowers?”

“It’s romantic!” Eddie whined. “We have a date tonight and Steve loves that stuff. He might not say it, but he does. On Valentine’s Day I got him chocolates and roses and you should’ve seen his face, honestly if we hadn’t been in public I probably would’ve got on my knees there and then -”

Robin leaned over and slapped a hand across his mouth. “Jesus, enough.”

Eddie grinned behind her hand, and poked his tongue out to touch Robin’s palm.

She snatched it away with a shout, fake gagging behind the counter. “Munson, that was disgusting.”

Eddie shrugged. “You love me, though.”

“Steve loves you,” Robin corrected. “And so, by extension, I’m unfortunately forced to too.” She smiled a little, taking any sting out of her words. “Seriously though, the kids are over there, watch your mouth.” She dipped her head towards the sci-fi section, where Dustin and Mike were loudly arguing over which tape to rent for their next movie night. Max and El were hanging back, Max eagerly trying to explain a movie synopsis to El. Whatever it was, it sounded violent, and El looked confused.

Eddie leaned further over the counter, letting the weak breeze from the fan flick his hair around. “Help me?” he asked, batting his eyes at Robin.

She screwed up her nose a little before responding. “Honestly, I don’t know. You said you got him roses before, right? Did he like those?”

“Well, yeah, but I think he liked the gesture more than anything else.”

Robin shrugged. “Just get him anything, then. It’s from you, so he’ll love it.”

“But I want to get his favourite,” Eddie lamented. “He deserves the best.”

“Well, I agree with you there.”

“Eddie?”

A small voice sounded behind him, and Eddie summoned the energy to turn his head. El was standing behind him, looking a little shy.

“Yeah, supergirl?”

“You wanted to know Steve’s favourite flowers?”

Eddie slid off the counter a bit, straightening up. “Yeah, I do.”

El glanced between him and Robin for a moment. “Steve used to help me and Max with our hair. When mine was longer, we would make daisy chains and Steve braided them into my hair, he even let us put them in his sometimes. We tried to use other flowers sometimes but they did not stay together very well. But Steve’s favourites are yellow ones.”

And that…made sense, Eddie supposed. Yellow was Steve’s favourite colour, after all, but Eddie wasn’t sure where to find yellow flowers. He couldn’t afford much at the florist, and what flowers were yellow, anyway? Sunflowers? Where the hell would he get those?

Robin tugged his sleeve, pulled Eddie back to the counter so she could lean over and whisper, “The Klines have yellow roses growing by their fence.”

“The old Mayor?” Eddie asked with a frown.

“Yup.”

A smile slowly spread across his face.

“There are marigolds by the school field,” El added. “And yellow violas and tulips by the cabin. I can show you.”

And that was how, a short time later, Eddie was snapping off fragrant yellow roses at the stalk where they were poking out between the stark white pickets of Larry Kline’s fence. Max and El were standing further down the footpath, acting as lookouts while Eddie huddled by the fence and took his quarry as quickly as he could.

At the first surprised shout from inside the fence, he darted away, collecting the girls with a grin as he ran past them.

He threw back his head and laughed, roses clutched in his warm hand, Max beaming beside him.

“That guy’s an asshole,” she told Eddie as they jogged away from the house. “Serves him right.”

They couldn’t move too quickly – Max’s bones had healed, but she wasn’t exactly up to a sprint across town just yet. But they made it to Eddie’s van parked around the corner, and moved on to their next stop.

Just like that, Eddie spent the afternoon traipsing along with the two girls. El showed him where to find all sorts of different flowers, and Max went along because where El went, she went. It was hot, the sun baking them from above in a cloudless sky, but Eddie didn’t care – this was for Steve.

By the time they were finished, Eddie had gathered a large handful of flowers in all different shades of yellow and orange, and the girls had wrapped them in some plastic procured from Hopper’s cabin and poured some water into the bottom to keep them fresh in the summer heat.

“There,” El told him proudly, handing over the bouquet while Max tried to find some ribbon in a drawer to tie around it. “They’re pretty. Like Steve.”

Eddie spluttered a little at El’s directness. “Oh…yeah. Yeah, they are. He is.”

El nodded. “Max often says so, too.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Max yelled from El’s room.

Eddie smirked, because the girl’s little crush on his boyfriend was no secret. “It’s ok Max, I agree with you.”

Max stomped back towards them, slapped a length of gold ribbon into Eddie’s hands, and then took El’s arm and pulled her back towards the room.

Effectively dismissed, Eddie returned to his trailer to rush through a shower and getting changed, barely with enough time left to get to Steve’s before their dinner plans.

Waiting in front of his boyfriend’s door, Eddie passed the bouquet from hand to hand, a little nervous.

This is stupid.

Steve Harrington, former jock supreme, once-captain of the basketball team, nail-bat wielding badass wasn’t going to appreciate some yellow flowers.

Eddie almost turned tail. Almost tossed the flowers into the back of his van to be dealt with later, almost gave in to the nerves in his stomach.

Almost.

Because there was a softness to Steve that Eddie was learning to know and love. It was in the way he treated the kids, the way he gently held Eddie’s hand, the way he baked cookies when his friends were coming over and apparently braided flowers into the girls’ hair.

Eddie took a deep breath, clutched his yellow flowers, and knocked on the door.

It opened after a moment.

“Eds, hey, sorry I just gotta get my shoes on -” Steve trailed off as he took in the sight of Eddie standing there, flowers gripped in shaky hands.

Eddie cleared his throat, held out the bouquet. “For you. If, um…if you want them. Sorry if it’s stupid, I wanted to get you something but I couldn’t afford much and El told me you liked yellow flowers so I spent the afternoon going around town and finding them, and the roses actually involved some petty theft but -”

Steve took the flowers with one hand, and pulled Eddie through the door with the other, lips seeking his mouth and swallowing the rest of his sentence.

When they finally pulled apart, Eddie smiled shyly. “You like them, then?”

“I love them, Eds.”

___

[lemonade4wanda]

Sniffle any louder

Natasha Romanoff x reader

Minors dni!! Masterlist°•☆

Summary - when you show up to work il lit aggravates Natasha that is until she sees your dire state

Warnings - mention of illness, nonsexual nudity, hurt comfort, as usual not proofread

Word count - 2k

A/n - I started rushing at the end because I wanted to have it out by tonight so the ending might not be as good srry

Fractures of pain shot through your aching body like icicles as you left the team meeting. God how you wished you'd just admitted you were ill this morning instead of letting your pride get in the way and pretended to the team that you were right as rain. I guess that's what happens when your on a team with literal super soldiers, you too start believing your above any illness or injury. Oh, but how wrong you realised you were when this flu hit you like a ton of bricks. The combined migraine alongside with the distrsssing chill of your bones left little energy left for you to do anything except lie down and rest, which you hated to admit and wouldn't ever given the choice, despite how sickly you'd begun to look.

Your usual bright eyes full of life and wonder became dull and bloodshot from the lack of sleep your blocked nose had caused you the previous night when you chose to ignore it. The skin on your face that was often painted a rosy colour now paled almost deathly looking, comparable to that of a ghost. Your unshakable senses, often remarked as some of the best had become overworked and dulled from the sickness using up all your remaining energy causing you not to notice people around you until they had begun to speak. The gravelly gasping and choking noises that spluttered from your inflamed throat were foreign to your usual bubbly voice.

Despite these stark and clear changes in not only your physical appearance but also how you carried yourself around the compound you had tricked yourself, somehow, into the belief no one around you would notice. Obviously you were unwell anyone could see that from a mile off and if you didn't think out of a house full of spies, enhanced beings and military personnel that not one of them would pick up on something up with you then you must have been seriously down with something.

Unlucky for you someone did notice after your sniffling had interupted their train of thought for the seventh time, it didn't take a genuis but she'd been ignoring the signs since you arrived. Natasha Romanoff had been trying to reread and correct a badly written mission report written by an incompetent intern. This had already been stressful enough for her without the woman next to her trying to desperately through her blocked nose instead of just going home. The first time she actually noticed something was up was when you nearly walked into the door, stumbling around like bambi on ice. This was something someone with your spacial awareness and high senses would never manage to do if they were as okay as they were telling everyone they were. She spotted it again when you began to cough like a smoker and at that like someone who smoked at least five packs a day, a thing she knew you were not. You'd told her a while back that despite your bad habits which were endless and definitely on show today that you never wanted to smoke because it reminded you of your mother. So unless you'd switched up on that which she very much doubted and had taken up chain smoking the answer was clear; you were ill, very ill.

She also questioned why you were even here, how you were even here. Natasha would leap at the first chance to avoid these dull meetings even if it meant admitting illness to the rest of the group. She'd actually faked being ill before to skip debriefs and instead head to the gym. At one point she had no clue how you were even still able to be alive and functioning with how shallow your breaths were. Everytime your mouth opened a disgusting noise alike to the disgust she felt at nails on a chalk board rung from deep in your throat. Aswell your ever scratcher voice that was beginning to drive her insane. It was one thing to come in sick, it was another to make yourself more ill by working harder than usual.

This had made her angry more than anything, angry at your selflessness. Angry no one else would ever do this, including herself. Angry you put working above your own physical health. Angry that you'd risk everyone else getting ill instead of taking a sick day. Angry you couldnt just admit your illness and leave.

Your eighth sniffle really sent Natasha over the edge as she turned to look dead at you and gave you a menacingly dirty look. A scowl that could kill glowering into your soul. Yet in feverly state you could hardly even register the spy looking in your direction as you still tried to process something said in conversation several minutes ago. Throughout the rest of the meeting she sideyed, scowled, gritted teeth, frowned, muttered under breath and cursed in your direction much to you ignorance. On an average day you could recognise what emotion someone was going through just by being in the same room as them and the tone of their breath but right now even with Natasha directly next you, practically right in your face you couldn't pick up a single negative emotion.

After the meeting you quickly stumbled in the direction of your room, hoping to avoid anyone on the way there, which you managed with much ease despite your worsening condition. Once you reached your room you shut the door without bothering with the lock. Stripped to your underwear and crawled back into bed without a sound. Curling up under your soft thick duvets you shivered and slowly cried yourself into a feverish slumber.

Natasha stayed behind to finish her reports, which she easily could have done hours ago without your incessant coughing and sniffling and all round ill noises. It only infuriated her more as she worked quickly, alone and welcoming the silence since the end of the meeting. When she finished up the work she was just about ready to give you a piece of her mind. And thats what she was gonna do. She had strong feelings about you prioritisation of work over wellness and she was gonna share them with you whether you wanted to hear or not.

Easily, she threw open your door and it hit the wall with a bang, enraged she didnt notice your crumpled whimpering figure writhing under the duvet.

"Sniffle a little louder next meeting." She comments loudly and sarcastically before instantly wincing at the sight of you in the bed.

Instantly her whole demeanour changes into one of care and pure unhidden worry. Natasha crouched over your trembling figure on the bed. Quickly she removed the pile of blankets from overtop and pressed a palm to your forhead before just as swiftly pulling it away with a frown. You were boiling 38°c at the very least and yet your body was still shivering. Without thinking twice Natasha knew the best thing for you was a cold, very cold shower.

She carried your somehow still sleeping figure easily into the bathroom as if you were no more than a light weight to her, which you probably were considering her max dead lift. Gently and ever so carefully she sat you down in the bath before turning the cool shower on next to you. Adjusting it so the water pressure was lower than usual so that it maybe less of a shock for when you fully woke.

Soon after the water began to flow your eyes opened to the hazy view before you. Natasha knelt over the bath making sure you were just alright. When you noticed the water and the bath, definitely not where you fall asleep you began to panic. Quickly flailing much like a fish out of water. Thrashing to get out the bath and attempting to scrabble to your feet. Natasha noticed your sudden frenzy and much quicker than you could, grabbed a hold of your hands halting your movements while whispering affirming words to you.

"Shh sh its okay. Your just in the bath, don't worry were just trying to soothe your fever." She begins to rub your palms slowly in a way which soothes you and instantly slows your panic as you go to rest your head on the bathroom wall.

"Hm don't do that darling. Try and stay awake while your in the bath, just for now." She's says quietly afraid to worsen the headache you already had as she coaxes your head off the wall. "That's it good girl. You can do this."

Her small praises would have usually annoyed you and felt almost condescending but right now they were almost enough to make you smile. She was making you feel as if your feeble attempts to stay conscious were really doing anything.

"M' so tired." You mumbled out a response that slumped together into your mouth so it was barely understandable to Natasha yet she still smiled and nodded at you, not wanting you to feel any worse than you already did.

"That's okay sweet girl, the sooner we get you out the bath and some medicine down you the sooner you can sleep." All the while she kept rubbing at your hands and fingers to keep you grounded in the moment. "I'm going to find you some fresh clothes just stay here."

You nodded but the minute Natasha left your head flopped back against the wall as if magnetised towards it. Upon her return with fresh clothes Natasha tutted.

"You really aren't well, are you?" A small attempt at a nod on your part did not surprise her one bit. "See if you told someone earlier we wouldn't be here right now. You have to ask for help when you need it." She knew her words meant little to you in your current state but she wanted to start bedding them in now nonetheless.

"Now, do you need help getting dressed? There's no shame in needing the help."

"Uhm.. I think a bit." Your response was croaky and your voice was beginning to sound worse by the second.

"That's okay, I'll help you then." She gives you a hand getting out the bath and holds you upright as she helps fully undress you. In her panic to get you in the bath she hadn't thought to remove what you were wearing.

You weren't insecure about your body but something like this would usually not be on with you. But right now you knew you couldn't refuse the help Natasha was offering as you could barely even stand still yourself. So begrudgingly you allowed her to undo your bra and slip off your underwear before tossing them in the bath saying something about getting them to the wash later. Putting on the fresh clothes was easier than either of you anticipated as you didn't resist and her strength helped you from falling against the cold tile floor.

Natasha helped you hobble back towards your bed which you instantly fell against ready to embrace sleep again.

"Ah. Not so quick, first the medicine then sleep." She said softly handing you first a couple pills and some water. "For your headache." Begrudgingly you took them and Natasha smiled as she saw the look of grimace on your face finding it both amusing and adorable. "Okay sweet girl just the syrup left, this will help for your throat." You stared at the syrup in your hand with a frown. Just the smell of its contents was enough to make you dry heave and its colour wasn't tempting either. After two minutes of more convincing and praise you managed to stomach it, not all of it but enough so Natasha was happy enough to stop bothering you.

You knew after that you could finally emmerse yourself in a blissful slumber and with little care curled up, face pressing into Natasha who watched over you as you slept making sure nothing interupted your much needed rest.

Tags: @wandasfifthwife @yanaromanov @idkwhatever580 @stayevildarling

[minhosimthings]

Elysian || 18+

Synopsis: you never wanted to fall for the only son of the family yours hated. And yet you did.

Pairings: Mafia boss!Hyunjin × fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI 18+, mentions of dagger, kind of knife play?, P in v sex, fingering, angst, fluff, forbiddened love, mafia boss au, mention of poison, blood, food and alcohol, reader wears a dress, implied mental abuse, fluffy at the end but it's really angsty in the middle sorry yall

A/N: ahhh this took a lot of time to write because I wanted everything to be PERFECT. and in my opinion this is the best shit I've ever written Mona 2am brain go burr. Also this is dedicated to my beloved @astraystayyh and Hyunjin's photoshoots which have made me go feral approximately 143 times

Red.

You remembered it as a hibiscus, decorating the gardens of your family's estate as child. You remembered it as the ugly hue of your grandmother's rug, the only thing you'd fixate on whenever the stench of blood filled your nose. You remembered it as your family's emblem, in a kingdom of money and roses and whatnot. You remembered red as death.

But you never thought you would have remembered red as the colour which outlined the shadows of the painting in front you.

You never though red would remind you of one of your most favourite persons ever, of his plump pink lips and gorgeous waterfall of hair you would decorate with rose petals anyday.

You never thought red would remind you of Hwang Hyunjin.

Red, as the multifaceted colour it is, fascinated you. It was like an idea in your head, hard to drive out, impossible to kill. What was red truly? What shades did it hide?

Red as a ladybug or red as a lobster? Red as a tulip or red as red as a new bride's cheeks? Red as lipstick or red as a gown? Red as roses or red as blood?

Red as the dominating colour of Hyunjin's palette was the correct answer to you most of the time.

You could recall the first time you had ever met him. Five months ago or had it been a year? You didn't remember much, just the fact that Hwang Hyunjin saved you, the 'enemy' from a bullet wound when he could have let you rot and made his family proud. The Hwangs were nefarious for their merciless behaviour, and yet you found in Hyunjin, a different kind of warmer mercy.

A mercy which you preferred because no one else gave it to you.

And that was how you found comfort in Hyunjin, a sense of familiarity that made you believe that you could be your true self with him and not just another painted version of you. Granted, he did paint you, in various shades of golds, violets and reds.

Painstaking as they were, you loved your short lived secret sessions with him. He was like a thief, quietly sneaking in through a window, and stealing away your heart with his demeanor.

Both of you came from families who despised each other, there was a certain Romeo-Juliet element to it all that both amused and frightened you.

But no matter what thing troubled you, you always had your memories with him to come back to. Especially those soft tender moments when you realised how much you craved a normal life away from the money and the blood.

You remembered one moment better than most others. It was the first time you said the poisonous word. It was that time in Italy...or was it Belgium? All you seemed to actually recall was the time you first walked into the love which Hyunjin gave you.

Dark chocolate eyes flickered over your naked body as it sunk beneath warm water, a bottle of liquid soap shone a bit in the candlelight as Hyunjin poured it into your tub. His ethereal figure was like a God in the pale moonlight coming from the tiny window.

“Just a little something extra to provide you some… relief,” he smiled, dipping his elegant hand into the waters to stir it around.

Hyunjin knew you were an assassin, carefully molded into one by your family, nevertheless he saw more than what he was supposed to. He saw you as a human instead. A human who was tired of all the blood she had spilt.

Your body easing into the water, you barely noticed the ripples of Hyunjin slipping his carved body beside you. It barely registered, his arm wrapping around you, the warm water pouring down your neck to rinse off the blood, the trickles that run down your face as he wets your hair and washed it clean of sweat and more.

You couldn't remember the last time you had felt like this, so relaxed so taken care of. So you said it, you said the word without a moment's waste.

"I love you" you had blurted out without a second thought, "I love you, Hwang Hyunjin." The name mattered to you in ways you hadn't ever fathomed before.

And the worst thing was he said it back. With a kiss to imprint it.

And now here you were, eyes flickering between the ceiling and each other. The warm light of the massive ballroom shone its glory onto you as you clutched your champagne tight to your bosom, making sure to distract yourself with it, whenever your stolen glances at Hyunjin were caught by someone.

You hadn't been forced to attend the ball by any means by your family, in fact you volunteered for it. You had waited eagerly for your target's name, your mother stressed that it was an important one, and as the quietest daughter it would have been easy for you to kill in plain sight and prove once and for all to your father that you were ready to take over as the heir to his 'buisness'. Maybe you'd finally have the fame and the power you craved off as a child, like some starved deer eating its own kind.

But now, you clutched the tiny vile of hemlock close to your hip, carefully dropping it into your pocket, all the while staring at Hyunjin across the room, who was laughing with someone you recognised as a painter Hyunjin adored. His raucous yet polite laughter, gorgeous strands of hair framing his face, your heart sobbed at the thought of slipping poison into his veins.

If you had even a modicum of respect for your own head, maybe you would have sneaked the hemlock into his drink at the slightest moment. Unfortunately though, you didn't and so it came to be that you resorted to dissecting a serene painting until hopefully Hyunjin ultimately noticed you.

The painting fascinated you, it was one you hadn't ever seen before. Dark blue traced the outlines two people, with grey hair and wisened foreheads, holding hands through a rough brown canvas. You smiled at the painting before taking a sip of your champagne. Love, eternally, was one of Hyunjin's most beloved topics to waste all his blue paint on.

Words rushed through your mind as your eyes traced each brushstroke. Whips of harsh sentences and scenes of conversations, contrasting the soft daubs of paint, flashed in front of your eyes.

'The Parks? Mum I can't do that!'

'You want to be useful to this family? Marry him and you'll be more than useful'

'But Mum...!'

'You think you have a say in this? Shut up and do what's good for that useless head of yours'

"Admiring my work, my love?"

You flinched slightly at the different voice, which sounded like spring rain and lily pads. Spinning on your heel to face the source of the voice, you found yourself melting into a pair of beautiful eyes, the kind of eyes that made thieves wonder why they ever bothered to steal pieces of art. His eyes—the color of an intoxicating champagne—beckoned you over with nothing more than a warm smile.

"What?" Hyunjin chuckled, seeing you stare at him, "Did I get fondue on my lips again?"

"No, just..." You trailed off, not finding the correct words, "You look good."

"As you do, my sweet." Hyunjin's hand took yours and brought it up to his lips, "God, I wish I could paint you right here."

"Hyunjin," you gave him a playful look, unsure of whether or not it was hiding your fright, what if someone saw?

Hyunjin's arms went to your waist, pulling you closer to him, which felt like syrup wafting through the air, sweet with a touch of familiarity. He leaned in, you felt his hot breath on your neck as he whispered, "None of your family or their spies are here don't worry."

You took in a shaky breath, as you felt his long, dainty fingers reaching up your thigh, fiddling with something strapped tightly to it. Hyunjin smiled into your neck, as he continued to fiddle with the leather.

"That's how they plan to kill me?" He chuckled, "With a dagger strapped to the ravishing thigh of the love of my life?"

"That's just Plan B." You whispered, shoving his hand off gently, as your eye caught a waiter in the corner glancing at you and Hyunjin, "Just in case the hemlock doesn't work."

"Willing to test that theory?" Hyunjin stepped away from you, leaving your body colder than you wished. His cocky smile, his raised brow and relaxed demeanour, he was like a like a cat lounging in a garden, at peace with watching the world pass on.

"In front of everyone?" You questioned, "don't tell me the only son of the Hwangs is becoming soft for someone like me."

Hyunjin's mouth stretched lazily as he grinned at you, extending a hand for you to take.

"Let's go somewhere private?" He asked, not giving you time to answer as he basically dragged you across the hall, where magnificent stairs led to the upper floors of the luxurious mansion. Gossiping eyes followed your movements, well, more precisely, Hyunjin's movements, as he led you up the stairs, making sure not to step on your tartine dress, as you carried the fabric behind you with regal grace.

"Now," Hyunjin smirked as you climbed onto the last step, now well hidden from the party downstairs, "Shall we?" And he broke into a run, dragging you behind him, giggling maniacally like a child in the summer. You were sure you heard your dress rip, but you had not a care as you ran with Hyunjin down the corridor, to the last door, his bedroom. The walls of the corridors were lined with paintings, Hyunjin's evidently, fading edges of canvases standing out against the ruby of the wall paint and the carpeted floor. You recognised each and every painting. A painting of a woman amongst daffodils, another of the same woman in an abandoned mansion which Hyunjin had always told you would be that women's one day. The day he married that woman to be specific.

'The woman in my dreams', Hyunjin told his family when they asked him who she was. 'The woman in my dreams', Hyunjin told his patrons when they asked who she was. 'You', Hyunjin told you when you asked, though you knew, but you still questioned him, in between chaste kisses on the neck and giggles. Hyunjin came to a halt in front of the oak carved door, a tiny metal label on top spelling his name in cursive letters.

"How about we put that dagger to use then?" Hyunjin pressed your back against the door in no time, devouring your being as he tasted the honey of your elysian lips. His hands went again, to your thigh, fumbling to take the dagger out, but you were quicker in your actions. Your hand had been resting on the door's handle, and as you tugged on it, both of you fell back into the room, lips never wanting to leave each other's company.

"Jinnie," you made a sound of pleasure as you pulled away from him, suddenly aware of the audible music coming from downstairs, "Maybe not now."

"Come now love," Hyunjin laughed, striding into the room, where painting supplies lay cluttered next to a pristinely made bed, "Don't say that after we escaped from the prying eyes of everyone downstairs."

"Hyunjin," you looked at him with reprimanding eyes, how could you tell him the actual reason? "Don't you think it'd be suspicious to my family if I return today with messed up hair and a torn silken dress after merely slipping poison into someone's champagne?" How could you tell him to make you stop falling more for him? "This shit is expensive you know."

"Would it not be more dangerous if you were to return without killing the Hwang family's brightest hope?" Hyunjin's voice, though low, spoke it's volume, as he removed his coat, throwing it onto an empty chair.

Locked in a gaze that spoke volumes, you inched toward Hyunjin, a silent plea lingering in the air. As your fingers tightened around his hair, a palpable tension filled the space between you.

His ethereal eyes held yours, revealing a tumult of unspoken struggles and desires. Your gaze shifted to his lips—slightly chapped yet irresistibly inviting. 

Without even a moment of hesitation, you kissed him.

Hyunjin's initial surprise melted into a shared passion, and for a moment, the world around you faded. His arms encircled you, pulling you close as if trying to etch the moment into his memory. As the intensity deepened, you let go of his soft hair, your hands finding their way to his jaw, pulling him even closer.

He tasted your soft lips and felt your warm skin. He pulled away slightly, breath mingling with yours, lips lingering, an anguished pause in the silent night.

"so pretty..." he mutters, taking in the sight of your body.

Hyunjin's lips attach to your skin, leaving deep marks of love all over which wouldn't go away for days now. You stifled your moan, as his lips sucked on your collarbone, you could feel his erection pressing through his pants to your core, making you accidentally whimper.

Hyunjin's ringed hands made their way up your right thigh, the slit in your dress allowing him to caress the soft skin, the cold metal of the ruby created dagger hitting his skin like soft cotton to a wound.

He couldn't explain how attractive it was to him, the carved golden hilt, the blood red jewel in the centre, and the carefully shaped blade of the dagger, decorating his most favourite muse. You were a painting come to life for him.

You were his painting, his magnum opus, a canvas as precious as an angel's wing.

Your mind, on the other hand, was racing at a hundred miles per the hour. How could you tell him? How could you tell him the truth he'd always known? That your love was one the stars crossed each other to find?

You draw him into another uncertain kiss, this one your confused mind didn't think much about, and trailed a hand up the smooth skin of his exposed chest. Hyunjin signs into your mouth and runs both his hands down your sides, pausing to squeeze your thigh, and the cold blade pressed against your skin again.

“My love, that was by far one of the most sexy things I’ve ever seen.” Voice low and seductive, your lips barely pulling away from him. "I really can't believe you chose this one out of all. You know it's my gift don't you?"

"Hyunjin..." You trailed off, impatiently pulling away from his lips, "we shouldn't, we really shouldn't."

"Why not love?" Hyunjin's lips pressed against yours again morphing into a gentler kiss, he was evidently trying to calm you down.

"Hyunjin please don't." You begged with him, as if you were begging for your mind to stop itself before you went too far. You had to stop falling for him before it was too late. And yet how could you?

"Princess-" Hyunjin began before looking at you with worried eyes, "You're scaring me what's wrong? You can talk to me."

"What's wrong is we shouldn't be doing this." You tried to feign disgust, but all that came out was pathetic love for Hyunjin, 'Don't let me fall in love again' was what you had meant to say.

"Princess—"

"No!" You all as but screamed, forgetting that you were currently above a party filled with guns and roses, Hyunjin stood shocked in front of you at your sudden outburst, the air around you stilled, as words came out like vomit.

"listen, I am to get married to the Park family's eldest son, and if anyone, anyone, finds out about this," you stopped and took in a breath, "we're dead, Hyunjin, both of us! Or worse shit I can't even fathom to think about!" You took a breath at every word, stressing each note like a violin's vibrato, "And I'd really fucking take this poison myself rather than living in a world where everything tries to stop us from being together. So, please Hyunjin," your eyes held whispers of pained love, "Don't let me fall into this depth of love, because I just know I can never climb out."

The silence that overtook the room was heavy, heavier than you would have liked. You could have endured bullet heads, burn marks, fractures, but this was the greatest wound of all. The greatest pain you'd endured was the one you had always been deprived of.

Love, had it always been such a sin?

Your head felt dizzy as you say down on the bed, letting the soft material of the cover sink in. The dagger round your thigh and the air round your being felt tighter. You felt as if you could have drawn oceans of blood at that moment.

"Love," his voice echoed through your entire being, "look at me.

Your head turned to look up at him, as his hands quickly straddled you onto his lap, one of them squeezing your right thigh, eliciting a quiet moan out of you.

You saw it in his eyes. Felt it in his touch. The ethereal, devilish angel, Hwang Hyunjin had been loafing around on this earth long enough to know how to claim what was his. When his hips knocked yours to lay you flat on the bed, you already knew what was coming next.

"Hyunjin I-"

"I don't care what or who comes in our way. You, my dearest, are mine, and mine alone." Hyunjin growled into your ear, his anger would never seep through to you but on certain occasions it would certainly scare you, the way his anger was cold as an icicle, rather than fiery like a volcano.

A groan rumbles through Hyunjin's chest, and he dips down to give a playful bite to your bottom lip, earning a squeak you will deny if asked about later.

One of his hands moves down to delicately play with your breast, kneading softly before pinching your nipple between his finger and thumb. You break the kiss with a breathless gasp, tugging at Hyunjin’s roots, forcing a ragged groan from him. Hyunjin wastes no time to pepper kisses down the column of your neck. He pushed the hair out of his eyes before he grabbed you by the waist and rubbed his cock up against you. He could feel heat settle in his body as his cock throbbed for you. He wanted you, he needed you more than he needed air. And he was more than willing to let you know that.

Stripping off your clothes and throwing it to the side, Hyunjin climbed up the bed and grabbed your hand on the way, hauling you under him. He wasted no time in lining himself up with you, throwing his head back in a groan as your pussy enveloped him.

Hyunjin groaned through grit teeth as he pushed his cock into you. You tensed and he groaned louder, he held onto the bed under you and moved all the way inside of you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and held him tightly as he started to thrust. You moaned into his skin as he moved against you.

His mouth went to your neck, leaving dark scars there. His teeth hit the ruby of your necklace, as he took it in his mouth and tugged at it, making you gasp loudly.

Your body felt numb but in a pleasurable way. You could only lie there and accept all the pleasure that he was giving you. He kissed your soft face, he could feel your racing heartbeat under your skin. His face went back to your neck where he left more bruises on the flesh. He felt heat through his body as the pleasure coursed through his veins. It was arousing, he couldn’t deny what he was feeling.

"You're mine." Hyunjin growled through a symphony of soft sighs, "I will never let anything get in between us, alright?"

The only response he got was a pleasured moan escaping from your lips, but he took it. He took pride in the way he could make you feel like this.

Your head fills with pleasures, not a single thought could form in your head. “Fuck you feel so good doll” he groans holding your hips down and slamming deeper inside you. “G-god Hyunjin! Feels…s-so good!” You cry.

Your eyes begin to roll back feeling how good he felt. His tip hitting your G-spot making you ready to cum just as fast as before. “H-Hyune fuck I’m gonna c-“ you are interrupted by his hand gripping your throat, choking you.

“Fuck baby you got wetter just from that… god you're so good” his mixture of degradation and praise had your body a dripping, desperate mess. You couldn’t believe the hold he had over you.

His breathing is labored when he pulls his hips back and thrusts in, he goes slow at first, treating you like you were a fragile statue made from porcelain, but then you’re begging him to go faster, to go harder. His tongue swipes along the roof of his mouth before he speaks, “are you sure, doll? i don’t— fuck— want to hurt you.”

“h-hurt me, it’s okay,” you mumble out, and he truly does hesitate for a second, then his thrusts are suddenly faster, bumping you into the bed with the sheer snap of his hips. Your cries sound like noises formed from a blessed harp, passed down by the gods for him to listen to, each moan getting louder and louder until his ears are ringing, until the music sounds hushed compared to your screams.

He felt you trembling hard, pulsing around his cock as you got close to cumming. He works himself deeper inside you, stroking all the places you need to reach that high point. A few more thrusts and you burst. You gush around him with a long whine.

You squirm and buck as he holds you in place and keeps rutting into you until it becomes too much for him. He also lets loose and shoots his cum inside you. He fucks it into you a bit, before slowly pulling out.

Slightly panting and out of breath, Hyunjin's figure could be seen gracefully outlined by the moon's tears penetrating through the tall, stained windows. He gets up and fetches a towel, gently cleaning you up as your eyes flickered between sleep and consciousness.

"Are you alright, love?" He questioned you, his fingers tracing shapes on your hips as he layed down beside you again, clearly not in the mood for wearing his clothes. Neither were you, so you turned your body towards him, allowing him to wrap you into the cocoon of his warm muscles. Laying your head on his chest, you felt his hand, once again, reaching for your thigh.

"You really do like that dagger don't you?" You laughed, as he caressed the metal.

"You should wear it more often, maybe for a painting?" Hyunjin's suggested, a smile like the air after rain, fresh with the stench of earth and dew, imprinted on his face.

"Hyunjin I-", you began, taking a breath before continuing, "What about—about my family?"

You swore you could have heard Hyunjin gently scoff, but you ignored it as he brought you closer to him, the space in between you practically empty.

"Stay here for tonight." Hyunjin said, "and if they come in search of their 'beloved' daughter," he scoffed once again, muttering a curse underneath his breath, "I'll tell them I stole her away from her tower."

"More like stole her dagger away." You giggled, finding his obsession with the strap on your thigh amusing. Hyunjin merely smiled at that, and silence fell again.

"Y/N?"

"Hm?"

"I love you."

Red wasn't that bad of a colour after all. Not when it reminded you of Hyunjin, not when it reminded you of secret kisses and poisoned paintings, and certainly not when it reminded you of love.

"I love you too, Hyunjin."

[livelaughlovesubs]

Nini nini hate fuck with either blade or dan heng pls I beg 🥺💝

I finished this some days ago and it got deleted- also it’s unnecessarily long, and I’m not sure if it’s good… hope you like it anyway 😭😭

Dom!reader x sub!blade (reader is gender neutral)

Warning: pegging (can be read as a dick), chocking, slapping (once), degrading, rough sex, blood (hand injury)

Riiiip

The sound of bandage being ripped.

Blade wrapped his hand with the white cloth, biting one end to tied the other end around it. Slowly the pure colour got tainted with his blood, a crimson colour spreading and seeking though the fabric. He sighed, staring at his own hand with a distaste on his tongue, before glancing at the door. Heavy footsteps could be made out from the other side. Loud and hectic, stomping even. You must have noticed his arrival.

It was just as he predicted. Moments after he finished treating his injury the door got slammed open, a loud bang as the door hit the wall. Your figure stood in the frame, stopping, not entering his chamber. Instead you glared at him and scanned the situation. He instantly noticed how your gaze lingered around his injured hand, and how you were frowning. The man chose to not elaborate, hence you two were holding a starring contest. After a while you closed the door behind you and walked over to him, grabbing his wrist and yelled, “now do you care to explain?”

He knew exactly why you were so angry, but that doesn’t mean he understood it. Not giving him any time to explain himself, something he wouldn’t have done anyway, you continued your nagging, “why do you have to keep going on dangerous missions alone? I can’t reach you at all! It’s not like you use your phone after all.” You stopped for a second, still holding his wrist while he avoided your gaze, gritting your teeth in anger. With an impatient tone you said, “I’m waiting for an answer.”

If it were up to blade, then you could wait until the sun sets. He wasn’t a man of many words, and he didn’t believe he had to tell you everything. That was if it was up to him, because he knew it would get worse if he doesn’t say anything. With his usual deep voice, he uttered, “I wanted to practice.” This was the best excuse he could think of, practicing his sword. It was reasonable, no? “Practice? It’s more like you wanted to get hurt.” “Not get hurt, I wanted to..” he didn’t really want to say ‘die’ in this context, and you didn’t pursue it any further neither. You sighed at him, followed by a rough push from your hands. The male fell backwards, now laying on his back, stabilising himself with his hands.

“Lay down.” You ordered, and yanked the arm with the injured hand away, you didn’t want him to keep using that hand so much. The spot where his hand was has been tainted red. He glanced at you hesitatingly, his dark blue bangs almost covered his entire face. Soon he obeyed your command and laid on his back, you were still raising his arm up into the air. “Keep it raised.” Once again, you gave him another cold order. How did it escalate to this? He was pretty sure he knew what you were going to do, yet he didn’t mind. Just then his speculations were correct, and you pulled his pants down.

He smirked, it was a mocking one, as if he was laughing at you. At this sudden unexpected change in atmosphere. After a bit he asked with a challenging tone, “did the sight of me hurt turn you on?” You knew he was playing now, so why not join in? “Have you finally decided to speak, now that I’m in your pants?” Your hands grabbed his knees, raising them to his chest and folding him apart. It wasn’t about doing him a favour, so you just proceeded to manhandle him, making him spread his legs for you. “So eager, aren’t you? Give me a break.” Blade said, but he allowed you to do whatever you wanted without resisting. Without giving him any glances, you replied “Same goes to you.”

Even though you two shared such a foul mouthed conversation, the advances you did on him continued. Then you stood up, walked around the room for a bit and came back with a bottle of lube. The blue haired man looked at you awkwardly and waited, feeling a little stupid at the situation in front of him. As soon as you came back, you started working on his abdomen. Opening the bottle, squeezing some of the lube onto his half erect shaft. The cold liquid made him flinch slightly, and he frowned as he watched you keep coating him with that slippery fluid. It flowed all the way down to his hole, and his rim clenched. What a roundabout way to prepare him, he thought you were being unnecessarily childish.

With one of your fingers, you sloppily spread the contents of the bottle around his lower body. Somehow the mood was getting heavier with every second and he didn’t know what to say, until your little comments returned. “Getting exited, little pervert?” You also coated your own dick with the lube, before lining it up with his entrance. “So much that you stopped talking, cat got your tongue?” He wasn’t going to let you go away with that, or at least that’s what he planned. Instead of coming up with a snarky remark he had to bite his lip to stop a moan erupting from his throat.

“Gu-Mhn..! You- fuck..” his eyes widened a little, and he was furrowing his brows even more than before. You sticked it in without some proper preparation, and it caught him off guard. Since you used a lot of lube, the tip still slipped in, but the rest was starting to get difficult. He wanted to curse at you, yet the words didn’t come out, so he just hold it and glared at you. If you didn’t know him you’d think he wants you dead, even so you weren’t pleased by that, so you chuckled, “not with those eyes, bladie. I’m sure your hole can take it, after I fucked it so good last time.” “Shut up- ugHh..! You.. shit.” Suddenly his hand reached out to you. You didn’t know what he was trying to do, which is why you grabbed his arm and kept it in place. His hand was now in the air, some blood drops were dripping onto his belly.

“Keep your pawns to yourself.” You had such an annoying smile while you said that, especially so while you pushed the rest of your length in. “UHh..! Mhm-nGghH..” the male was still trying his best to keep quiet, making some grunts and groans on the way. Fuck, if this was under normal circumstances you wouldn’t be able to keep his hand still like this, he was sure he was stronger. Though this wasn’t a normal situation, with you inside him, spreading him open with your cock. It was strange but he felt a little vulnerable, and so hot.

Sweat was forming on his skin, face turning redder by the second. It must be because he just came back from a mission, he is tired, thats why he is feeling all this heat. He blinked, closing his eyes to focus on the feeling, noticing his heart rate going up and body twitch each time you touch him. When he opened his eyes again you were inches away from his face, startling him a little. With a gentle whisper, unlike your tone before, you mumbled into his ear, “you want to get hurt? I’ll make it hurt.”

The face of the male was crimson red now, matching the colour of his hand. He took a tad longer to process the information, and you didn’t give him that moment. You started moving without giving him a warning, hips snapping against his at an already rough pace. “Ugh-uUugGh..!! Wa-waAaaiit.., oh- fuck, fuck. It mhm.. hurts.” Blade clenched his fists, more red coated his tummy. You slowed down a little, intertwining your fingers with his injured hand, not minding the blood sticking to your palms. Then you resumed to your previous movements, pounding into him like there’s so tomorrow.

The switched between your gentleness and relentless actions made his head spin. He really tried to keep the noise down but to no avail. Without him noticing you went down again to whisper more dirty things into his brain, like calling him degrading names. Blade wrapped his other hand over your neck, gasping and whining as you kept going, whispering as a begging voice, “please.. ah, haah..” “does it hurt?” He answered without thinking, “a-a bit.., uhhh..” to which you asked again, “do you hate it?”

Both of you knew what he would answer, and he didn’t want to cover up the truth as he uttered the words, “no, I love it.” That’s when the insulting really hit off, now that you were sure he enjoyed it too. “You really only go into fights because you’re a fucking masochist, aren’t you?” He shook his head, suddenly so expressive unlike before. “You sure you aren’t actually a male prostitute? Hmm blade? You fucking whore.” Even though you were calling him such hurtful name with such fever, he only felt hotter. The trust and the feeling of your dick rubbing against his walls was unreal, like a dream. And he wasn’t sure if it was a nightmare or not.

“Don’t you fucking dare leave like that again.” You said, panting a little too since you were still rutting into him like a damn animal. Despite all those hateful words, there was no way you actually hated him. You were angry because you cared, that’s all. And he knew it as well. Now your own hand looked like a grotesque mess, mixed with his and stuck to the bandages. He also didn’t feel pain anymore, or rather, it was because the pleasure was too overwhelming. It was all too much, from the way it rubbed against his deepest parts, to the fast pace you set. This felt so good he could cry.

When he still didn’t nod to your demand, you stopped holding his hand, they both instead reached out to his neck. The pale skin was now tainted red on one side. You squeezed down onto his trachea, watching his mouth hung open. “Did you understand me, blade?” He chocked, hand meekly reaching out to yours out of reflex. But he didn’t use any strength to keep you from suffocating him, only staring at you through his clouded vision. You thought you saw the corners of his mouth going upwards into a smile, and you watched his face get even redder. After a while you stopped, he immediately inhaled and panted. A bodily reaction, nothing he could control.

“I still haven’t gotten my answer.” You reminded him and started fucking into him again, at a slower pace. He trembled, his hole clenching around you even more now that you were moving so gently. It was way too late for that, after you’ve been so rough with him, no? Because now it’s not enough for him anymore, he needed you harder and deeper. Out of nowhere he felt a harsh slap on his cheek, causing him to shake. “Ah..” the male whimpered, eyes gazing up at you. You looked at him like he was vermin, akin to one would look at an insect. This alone caused a shiver to run down his spine and an uncomfortable twitch at his lower body.

He knew you wanted him to agree, but he didn’t want to, he wished to keep fulfil those missions on his own. This wasn’t something you could change, and he wasn’t willing to lie to you. Instead of answering your question, he grabbed your hand with his, and begged prettily. In a submissive tone, with a sweet pleading voice he said, “please, it’s not enough… I want you so deep inside me.” You noticed him spread his legs wider for you, and his injured hand being thrown over his mouth. Then he licked some of his own blood off.

You knew he won’t listen to you, after so many tries you knew. So instead of trying any longer, maybe you should go along with his request? Even if it leaves a bad taste on your tongue…

[the-newlymadeweeb]

I Gotcha.

Luke Castellan x daughter of Apollo!reader

Description: three times you promised Luke that you got him. The two times he struggled to believe and finally when he did.

A/N: the gif is not mine, credits to the owner.

************************************************************

The days spent at camp immediately after his failed quest were arguably the worst of Luke's entire life.

He had to drag himself back home with a burnt chunk of an apple, a dragon tooth and half his face destroyed.

You had nursed him back to health. Spending three days straight in the infirmary. The solo quest was a bad idea and you had known it. Luke had gone alone in some sort of attempt to prove himself, seeking glory but now this entire thing had backfired and you couldn't help but worry.

When he awoke he had stared in mute horror at the mirror you held up to his face.

"I tried to minimise the scarring as much as I could, Luke. I couldn't remove it entirely but with the correct balm and scar creams it'll fade," you had explained.

Luke knew you were the best the camp infirmary had but he couldn't explain the rage that boiled within him. This fruitless quest, with its dumb replication to Heracles' and his quest all for the sake of earning his father's attention had permanently marred him.

Physical proof of his father's neglect right there for everyone to witness.

And he would have to carry this stupid scar for the rest of his life.

"Luke?"

His gaze snapped to meet yours, softening slightly, as you placed the mirror facedown on his bedside table.

"Yeah?"

He didn't want to see sympathy in your eyes, no doubt too many campers will be looking upon him like he was a pitiful kicked dog, nor did he want to see disappointment; he wasn't quite sure how he'd stomach that.

But your face held neither of those emotions, instead a strong conviction resided in the lines of your face, lines that you were too young to have, that marked the effects of stress no adolescent should feel.

"I'm gonna take care of you Luke, okay?" You reached out and cupped his uninjured cheek, "I gotcha. I always gotcha."

And wasn't that something.

He reached out cupping your face in his hands, this was his whole world.

"Okay baby; yeah, please."

****************************

Luke had miscalculated. He'd failed to retain the master bolt and the helm of darkness.

Now, he was being punished. Severely. And he hated it but he deserved it. He'd let Kronos down, he needed to learn his lesson so he never makes the same mistake.

The nightmares cut too much into reality though sometimes. His entire body lit aflame but it always got so much worse when he was forced to face a scenario where he had to cut you up so that your pieces would replace the Titan.

He never failed this test, but it always took the most out of him. Even if you always understood his anger, he wasn't sure you'd understand his methods; and at the crack of every dawn, he'd escape his cabin and run to the lake where he knew you'd always be. Like clockwork, watching the sun rise.

This time his skin buzzed with the phantom recollection of his nightmares, he had to scrub at his eyes to clear his vision a few times, mistaking the blood on his hands to be real in his fatigued state.

You sat on the deck, eyes fixed on the changing colours of the sky. He could hear your voice humming a soft nameless tune. This was your ritual, your futile attempts at interactions with your father as he burst across the heavenly dome on his sun chariot.

Nonetheless, Luke always enjoyed the sound of your voice. He'd appreciate it if Apollo never would.

You'd sense his presence as you always did in the early hours and you'd beckon him towards you.

Sitting by your side felt right, amidst all the tension he'd been under. The weight of all his plans. Your song was familiar, the heat and strength of your figure a comfort.

"Nightmares again?" You asked, knowing the answer regardless.

He'd nod.

There were a few truths he was allowed to tell you. Sometimes if he said it with enough of himself, he could fool himself to believe that all you knew weren't mainly lies.

"Come here."

And you'd guide his head to you lap, gentle– loving, like the first rays of the sun. You would card your fingers through his curls, and every now and then lightly ghost your fingertips over the scar on his face.

On occasion, Luke would dream that you were healing him, erasing his scars, erasing his pains.

"I gotcha Luke," you'd murmur, "I always gotcha."

Some mornings he'd fall into a dreamless sleep.

************************

"I gotcha baby," oh he's missed that voice, "I always gotcha, Luke." It's been too long. Days, weeks, months. Years.

You were crying.

Percy and Annabeth were crying too but–

You're crying.

Don't cry.

He's really tired, and it's getting difficult to take a breath. He figures this is the feeling of death and he's trying to not be afraid.

You reach for him, and he forces himself to open his eyes and look at you.

It's not so bad. Your face has always been what he'd like to see last. It's just–

There's so much to say. So many things he has to tell you, to apologise for, to confess, to love and there's no time.

You're so beautiful.

Even covered in soot and monster dust and blood.

Your hands cup his face, fingers instinctively brushing his brows and scar. You keep mumbling small comforts, little assurances. But you don't promise life, because that wouldn't be true and while Luke has been a deceitful liar, you have never been one yourself and you won't lie to him even now.

But you promise that you got him. And he believes you.

"I know baby," He huffs and tries to say, "but now...it's time– time to let me go."

It's a struggle. His vision is blurry, he's really tired.

So he focuses on the feel of you instead, letting his eyes close. This is just like falling asleep.

*****************************************************************************

[inmyheaddd]

walkin’ out the door with your bags - part 4

⤷ “but what’s the rush? kissing, then my cheeks are so flushed.”

summary: grayson drives you home, and you can tell he isn’t feeling the best, so you insist the perfect remedy - on hosting an impromptu movie night while your roommate gigi is at her new boyfriends house! a/n: this takes place immediately after end of part 3!! warnings: little tiny sad grayson flashback, kissing, (friends to lovers is finally friends to lovering) wc: 4k masterlist || series masterlist — other parts!

…previously on part three

“ finally, after an intense game of eenie meenie miney mo —suggested by gigi, noah payed. 

grayson reluctantly put his card back in his wallet, tucking it back in his pocket as noah flashed gigi a nervous smile. 

when they caught eachother’s eyes, grayson offered noah a slight nod, almost of respect. noah returned it with a smile.

you and gigi once again glanced at eachother. in both your eyes, that seemed like a success.”

—

grayson was driving you home, the roads were bustling and crowded, and the ride was taking much longer than anticipated. 

you weren’t staring— staring was a big stretch. you think taking notice, observing, perceiving, even, were all better words to describe what you were doing. 

you were simply taking note of grayson’s features. 

the way his jaw slightly clenched when someone’s bad driving annoyed him, the way his hands grip would momentarily tighten on the wheel, the way the soft dim lighting of the night interrupted by headlights passing and traffic lights coloured his face— not staring. 

flashback - 12 years old…

maybe standing outside the huge hawthorne house with no plan at all wasn’t the best choice. your parents weren’t home, the house was empty, and you were bored out of your mind, and it was only 1pm!

so, 12 year old you did what sounded like the most fun: called grayson. annoying him was maybe your favorite past time.

you went straight in, not even waiting for him to say anything when he answered. 

“hey grayson, do you wanna go hang out?”

the other end was silent for a moment. “excuse me?”

“you know, hang out?” you laughed like he’d been talking nonsense, “like, when two friends go somewhere and—“

“i know what hanging out means.” he cut you off, and you could hear the annoyance in his tone. he didn’t speak for a second, “… i suppose my schedule is free today.” 

that was his way of saying yes. you rolled your eyes jokingly even though he couldn’t see you, what kind of 12 year old has a schedule?

“okay, i’m outside.”

“what?” he breathed out, sounding more shocked than ever. “sorry,” he corrected himself, and if your ears weren’t deceiving you, he almost sounded amused. 

“what if i had said no?” he added.

you laughed softly into your phone, “well, i just knew you wouldn’t.” you said, “now hurry up, it’s freezing out here.”

you stood outside in the brisk air, and grayson came down no less than a minute later, opening the door and being met with your cold-air-flushed face. 

you beamed, “grayson! hi!” it was muscle memory for you to hug your any of friends whenever you saw them — but you quickly stopped yourself, retracting your hands back to your sides awkwardly.

he raised a single eyebrow at you, “i spoke with you less than a minutes ago.” he deadpanned. “why are you so happy to see me?” 

if it was anyone else, you would’ve felt severely judged. you suppose that was his intent, though, so you didn’t let it affect you.

“i’m not happy to see you, i’m just happy. stop trying to dull my spark, hawthorne.” you rolled your eyes as you both began to walk, the cold december air hitting you. “let me live.”

he muttered something under his breath about an “annoying glare, not a spark.”before handing you something. “take this.”

you looked down at what he was handing you, “what?” you said quietly. 

you hadn’t even noticed before, but he had brought a sweater with him. 

“you mentioned you were cold earlier,” he stated matter-of-factly. “please, take it.” 

“oh,” you said, sounding too surprised at the casual action for your own liking. 

“thanks,” warmth instantly spread over you as you put it on, and when you noticed some sort of rock band logo on it with lots of writing. 

you furrowed your brows, did grayson have a complete closet change overnight?

“it’s not mine.” he said, eyes flickering back up to yours like he could read your thoughts. “it belongs to one of my brothers.”

“you wouldn’t want to spoil one of your precious hoodies on me?” you remarked sarcastically.

“i don’t own any hoodies.” 

oh. 

“wait,” you stopped in your tracks when you let that sink in, “not even a single one?” 

he just blinked at you, “no.” 

“why?” 

“it’s not my preferred style.” he said like it was clear. i mean, of course grayson hawthorne of all people wouldn’t own a hoodie; it was kind of clear.

“okay well, our next stop is obvious,” you said, and graysons brows knit. “the mall! we need to get you some hoodies.”

based on the look on his face, you don’t think he liked that idea…

but he went anyway. 

present…

you stopped infront of the red light, the colour sending a reddish hue over everything in the car.

grayson’s side profile was on full view, eyes not leaving the road as he broke the comfortable silence, “i may have misjudged his character.” 

“hm?” you hummed, snapped out of the trance-like state you were in, as you looked more intently, trying to decipher at the emotion behind his eyes.

“noah.” he made himself clear, “i presumed him to be…” he trailed off, thumb running up and down the wheel methodically, “different. worse.” 

you chuckled, “me and gigi both told you he was a good person,” you pointed out, “what, you think our taste is that bad?” 

is lips turned up for a flash of a second, “no,” he said as he shook his head slightly, “that’s not what i meant to imply.” 

“oh?” you said, leaning your head back against the head rest as your eyes stayed fixed on grayson’s face. “what was your intended affect then, hawthorne?” 

his head turned, his eyes narrowing jokingly as they finally met yours for a moment, before going back on the road. there was almost a full smile on his face. 

he redirected the conversation as he steered the wheel, “he seems like a nice fit for gigi.”

“aw,” you fake cooed, bringing a heartfelt hand to your chest. “you really think so?”

in all seriousness, though. the date had actually been much better than you had anticipated. gigi’s smile didn’t leave her face once. 

you saw him side glance at you, “yes, i do.” he said, “that, however, does not mean i’m agreeing to one of these ‘double dates’ ever again.” he quickly reiterated, like he could read your next thought. 

the way he said double dates made it seem like the last 2 hours were living hell for him.

you rolled your eyes and laughed under your breath, “don’t lie. i know the word fun isn’t in your dictionary, but i know you enjoyed yourself.”

“enjoy is a very large stretch.” he deadpanned, glancing at you momentarily.

“you had the best time ever. be honest.” 

“it was bearable.” 

“okay, sure. whatever you say,” you rolled your eyes jokingly, you said, just before started you noticed the familiar turns, and before you knew it, the the car was parked infront your house. you could see the stars twinkling in the night sky through the dashboard window— stargazing was one of your favorite activities.

flashback - 12 years old…

after a semi-successful shopping trip — grayson bought 3 hoodies, a black, grey, and navy one (gosh, the variety!) — you came across one of your favorite ice cream spots as you walked back together. it was nearing 3pm now and there was, by some miracle, no one around.

the 50s theme of the this cream store always brought you a sense of comfort, even with its bright overhead lights. you smiled as you and grayson walked in and the bell on the door rang upon your entrance.

the conversation was dulling down, mostly consisting of you making dumb jokes or making fun of him, and him maybe cracking a tiny smile once every 45 minutes, if you were lucky. 

you had a cup of cookies and cream ice cream in front of you, half eaten as you took your eyes to the photo booth placed in the corner of the store. 

there were hundreds of photos stuck on the sides of it— so many faces, so many smiles, friends, families, couples. 

you didn’t know any of their stories, but simply seeing them smile made you want to smile. 

then, you took your eyes to the boy sitting in the chair in front of you: grayson. 

he was sipping on his black coffee —that you relentlessly made fun of him for picking— but, the weird thing was that he was just… staring at you. 

“what are you looking at?” you snorted, putting your spoon down in your ice cream and leaning back in the booth seat. 

he shook his head slightly, “nothing.” 

it wasn’t nothing, because then after a second, he spoke again. he put his cup down, “why’d you take us here? it’s essentially empty, and it’s the middle of winter.”

your cheeks flushed— only because of the cold air hitting you. 

you shrugged with a sheepish smile, “i don’t know…” you trailed off, but you did know. “i kind of remembered you saying you haven’t tried ice cream, and i remember thinking in that moment, “i need to get this kid to have some ice cream.” then i saw this place, and thought, why not?”

he was silent for a moment, and a thousand thoughts overflowed in your mind. 

“i said that 3 years ago.” he finally said, sounding surprised, and it was like you could see his guarded mask slowly slipping away. 

“yeah,” you said, “i know.” 

his eyes flickered between yours, and then he did one of his barely there smiles that made you want to squeal — how come he got to make you feel like that? it wasn’t fair.

“if it’s any relief to you,” he said half jokingly, “i went home that night and asked my older brother to get me ice cream.” he spoke with softness in his voice; you noticed it was always that way when he spoke about his siblings. “it wasn’t as bad as i had anticipated.” 

you smiled softly at the emotion in his voice, “yeah, well, you’re literally drinking a specially made black coffee in an ice cream shop right now,” you stated. “so… my mission has failed, sort of.” 

he narrowed his grey eyes slightly like he was in deep thought, before briefly glancing at the counter. a server sat behind it, bored and staring his phone.

he looked back at you and then stood up, heading towards the ice cream counter.

you gasped in mock amazement. truthfully though, you were actually pretty shocked. “grayson hawthorne, actually living his life a little? i can’t believe i’m witnessing this in real time. this is extraordinary.” you got up and stood beside him, looking at the ice cream flavors in front. 

he offered you a side glance. “the possibility of me leaving is still very high.”

“oh shut up,” you rolled your eyes, “the possibility of me slapping you is very high.” oh, good comeback…

he seemed surprised at that, “oh, is that so?”

your cheeks flushed, but you stayed stubborn. “yes.” you didn’t look at him, but you could basically feel that stupid half smile of his. “now pick your ice cream already.”

he picked mint chocolate chip.

as you sat back down at your tables, you went right back to teasing him. “is this you attempting to be a little different, trying something new?” you asked teasingly as you sat down, with an oreo milkshake infront of you now. “i’m surprised you didn’t pick vanilla.”

he gave you that single eyebrow arch again. “why would that be?”

“because vanillas just… vanilla. and you’re so… you.”

his brows furrowed ever so slightly, and you could tell he was trying to keep his face completely unreactive. your heart suddenly felt 50 pounds heavier in your chest. 

the next time he spoke, he hesitated. his expression actually looked like he was his age for once, not way beyond his years. 

you always wondered if that was what other people forced him to be, or if it who he really was.

or, did they start to merge into the same thing at some point? that thought made your stomach feel cold. 

“so you really think i’m,” he paused slightly as he found the words, “… boring?” 

no, not actually, you wanted to say. 

he was that one mystery you decided you wanted to uncover since the day you met him. he was funny when he wanted to be, and despite everything, he actually cared for what you had to say. 

that was why you were here right now.

“oh yeah, for sure.” you grinned, nodding vigorously as grayson’s expression changed to one that looked less sad. “you’re about as interesting as a blank piece of paper.” 

grayson seemed to have gotten the answer he was looking for. his smile slowly matched yours, “so i’ve been told.” 

his eyes twinkled a little, you raised your eyebrows in a way to say, “shocker,” as you sipped from your straw, and then he laughed.  

you joined in, your combined soft laughs being the only sound in the ice cream shop apart from the soft 50’s music, before his phone began to ring and interrupted the moment. 

“sorry,” he said quietly, a hint of a smile still in his voice. “if you’ll excuse me.” he pressed the phone to his ear and answered promptly with, “grayson.” 

you heard a loud voice from the other line, and it all you could roughly understand was:

“GRAYSON! why do you answer like that?we’ve missed you! …. xander… movie night… pillow fight … broke his arm…. where are you?”

whoever was on the other line said that and more all in the span of 30 seconds, and didn’t stop once.

grayson listened to every word intently, and his little expressions of frustration, shock, and sheer annoyance as he looked at a spot on the table, almost made you burst out laughing as you stared.

in hindsight, you probably should’ve kept yourself busy, make it any less obvious you were eavesdropping, but you couldn’t help but stare at him. 

one thing was clear, though, and it made your heart feel fuzzy: he cared very deeply for whoever was on the other line, even if he didn’t show it. 

“listen, jameson. i’m currently out, however—“

“you’re out? doing what?” you heard a laugh from the other person—his brother, jameson, —and grayson rolled his eyes. 

“nothing that concerns you.”

you couldn’t stop the snort that followed at the sight of grayson so frustrated, and his eyes immediately flickered to yours. 

“sorry,” you mouthed. 

but to your surprise, grayson wasn’t glaring at you. if anything, he was holding your gaze with a glint of humour in his eyes, and he smiled at you as he held the phone to his ear. 

you heard shuffling on the other end, and then shouts. 

“xander! go call grayson on your own phone, and stop trying to steal mine!” 

“but he blocked me after i kept yodeling in his voicemail! i need to—“ 

grayson ended the phone call just as promptly as he’d answered it. 

he sighed, rubbing his temples, then you saw him power off his phone. he took a bite of his ice cream and then met your eyes. it looked like he almost paused when he did, maybe because you had been doing nothing but stare at him for the past few minutes. you’d probably be a little weirded out too. 

“your brothers seem funny,” you commented, taking another sip of your milkshake. 

he shook his head slightly, “i believe chaotic or headache inducing would be more fitting,” he put his spoon back down, “but, i suppose funny works.” 

you laughed, “yeah, but you still love them.” you told him with your voice a little quiet, “more than anything, right?” 

he nodded, “of course i do. they’re…” he trailed off trying to find the right way to put it, but there was just no better way to put it.

“they’re my family.”

present…

grayson cut the engine and got out of his side of the door, and walked around to yours to open it for you. it was a a small gesture, but it was one that made you pause slightly.

“thank you,” you muttered to him softly, and he nodded as he closed the car door behind you. 

he walked you to the doorstep, and you both stood infront of the closed door.

“is gigi not home?” he asked, nodding his head towards the windows, and the fact that all of the lights were closed.

“yeah, she uh, she went home with noah.” you responded, pressing your lips together in a line momentarily.

grayson was really trying to be supportive, you could tell, but the way there was a slight tick in his jaw and his shoulders sense told you everything you needed to know.

he nodded once again, a slight clench in his jaw. “right.” 

you chuckled as you hit his shoulder slightly, “relax, she’s really happy, gray. he’s not an axe murderer.” 

“i know, i know that.” he said, as he combed a hair that fell into his face, back in its place with his hand.

“but?” you sensed.

“like i said before, with everything that’s happened in our lives… it’s hard to trust anyone fully.”

“it’s not that hard,” you shrugged, trying to ease the tension, because trust issues with was not a topic you wanted to delve into right now. “i trust you, and i know that you trust me. it’s easy.” 

“of course, because we know eachother. i trust you more than most.“ grayson said, but the way he said the word ‘know’ felt like there was more to it, like it went deeper than just the fact that you ‘went way back’.

“yeah,” you sighed, understanding what he was getting at— but you still had to defend gigi. “and gigi knows noah. you should be able to trust her with her choices.”

he didn’t speak for a moment, thinking before he finally spoke. “you’re right.” he almost sighed, his neck strained like he wanted to say more. 

“… is she,” he paused, “is she truly happy?” he asked. you’d said it before, but maybe he just didn’t believe you. 

you smiled, thinking about all the sleepless nights spent with gigi of her giggling like a schoolgirl with a crush, sleepover sessions - even when you lived in the same apartment - with face masks as you laughed and talked about life. she was happier than you’d ever seen her, healed from the things she wouldn’t quite tell you about.

“yeah, gray.” you said softly, “she is happy.”

he tore his eyes away from you, nodding as he looked at the floor. “that’s good, she deserves it.”

after a moment of silence standing under your door, you grinned, trying to take away that pained look on his face as you changed the subject. “you know, earlier that was the second time you’ve said i’m right today. i’m sort of on a streak.” 

the tension broke away from his face as a slow grin spread across his face. “i’ve began to think; when are you not right?” 

“pretty much never.” you put your hand on the door handle, smiling up at him.  “and another one of my perfect, right ideas, is that having a movie night will make you feel infinitely better and stop your overthinking.”

you cracked the door open further as you took a step in, and he quirked a brow up. “i have no room to say no, i assume?”

“oh please,” you scoffed, “you don’t even want to say no.” grayson walked in, and you were already making your way to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

he shut the door behind him, and you couldn’t see it, but a smile stretched across his face. he shook his head and exhaled a long breath, just before you called out to him.

“i’m going to go do my skincare now, you can pick the movie this time!” 

—

you stood infront of your bathroom mirror, rubbing your cleanser in circular motions on your face. you hummed to yourself, with no particular song in mind. 

you were recalling the whole night in your head, a replay of your favorite moments, and how even the car ride back was fun. 

you wondered what gigi was doing right now, if she was feeling the same sense of happiness.

before you could dwell on that any longer, a soft knock against your bathroom door cut through your thoughts. you splashed water on your face and washed away your face wash.

“come in!”

the door opened softly, revealing grayson on the other side without his suit jacket on, white sleeves rolled up to his forearms for more comfort. 

“are you nearly done?” he asked softly, shoulders leaning against the door frame. not in a way to rush you, or with any sense of annoyance, but because he was genuinely getting bored without you there. 

“almost,” you said as you squeezed out your serum into your hands. 

then you realised you were only on the first step of your routine, ”actually…” you mumbled as you looked at your hands, “this might take a while.” 

when you brought your eyes back up to his, he was looking at you in the strangest way, in a way you’d never seen him look at you before, and let out a breath of a chuckle.

grayson was still standing oddly in the doorframe, though you doubt odd was the right word, you said. “you can um, come in, if you want.”

he walked in, the door shutting softly behind him as he stood next to you behind the sink. 

he picked up the serum you had just put down, and began to read the ingredients on the back of your skincare as you finished up. he offered a slight hum of approval. 

that must’ve been a good sign you weren’t burning your skin off.

grayson turned an unlabeled green tube to you. “what’s this?” 

you hummed, taking your eyes to the product. “oh, that’s a face mask. the label somehow just rubbed off.” you answered half-paying attention.

you took your eyes back to the mirror, before they quickly snapped back 

“wait.” you piped up. “i have an ideaaaa.”

grayson raised a brow as you turned around, “i’ve learned to not trust your ideas.” he said, almost sighing. “what is it?”

you pulled out a pink fluffy headband, one that had bunny ears. “here, wear this.”

“i am not wearing that.”

2 minutes later, grayson davenport hawthorne was wearing a pink headband, with pink eye patches underneath his stormy eyes, and a green face mask on. 

he insisted on applying it himself. 

he also insisted on washing it off just as quick as he had applied it. 

and of course, you were laughing the entire time. he grumbled something under his breath about, “the things i do for you.” 

—

now, you and grayson sat on your couch, opposite ends, a meter ish or so apart. you were halfway through the first movie of the ‘before’ trilogy. there were no lights in your living room apart from the lit candles and the large tv with the movie playing, the room a mix of golden and blue light.

you yawned, reaching for your cold water bottle to help you stay awake. 

the icy water you drank didn’t help though, and you could feel your eyes getting heavier and heavier. 

why were they so goddamn heavy?

maybe it was the sleep talking, but grayson hawthorne’s arms looked extra inviting tonight. 

you shook lightly your head at the thought. you felt grayson look at you in confusion from the corner of your eye, if you were him, you’d be thinking, “is this girl schizophrenic… why is she shaking her head?”. 

you wanted to laugh out loud at that thought, but then you’d look downright mental. you placed you water bottle back on the table infront of you.

you propped your elbow on the armrest of the sofa, your head resting in your hands.

as the two main characters in the movie talked on a train, your eyelids were begging to close. your head shot up slightly every time you’d reopen them, willing yourself to stay awake. 

you took your arm off the armrest and sat with your knees on the sofa, curling up slightly to the other side.

i’m just going to my eyes for a 5 minutes, you told yourself, i’m not even tired.

you stayed true to your word, and your eyes opened 5 minutes later.

only, you weren’t resting on your hand anymore— you were on grayson’s chest, and one of his arms were around you.

you hummed in confusion, using all your energy to get yourself off of grayson’s chest. you rubbed your eyes as you sat up, elbows rested on your knees and face in your hands as you leaned slightly forward.

you took your eyes to the tv in your confused, sleepy state and realised something: the credits were rolling. 

maybe it wasn’t just 5 minutes.

grayson watched you in amusement - only really seeing you from the side and back, “we can turn off the movie, if you’d like. it’s getting late.”

“oh, no. it’s okay,” you attempted to stifle a yawn, but you failed.

“i’m sorry,” you turned your head to look at him, “your movie choice wasn’t boring, i swear,” you giggled, your voice sleepy as you nearly zoned out and fell asleep again. 

“i’m just so exhausted.” you said finally, turning to face him with a small smile on your face. “today was so much fun.”

“it was alright, wasn’t it?” he replied, and you saw the corner of his lips turn up a little. 

you blinked at him, a slow smile spreading across your face. “grayson hawthorne having fun and admitting it,” you chuckled slightly, “who would’ve thought i’d live to see the day?” you nudged him with your elbow, and a smile finally split on his face. 

“you know i always enjoy myself with you, i don’t need to say it.”

“i know,” you said softly as you turned to look at him, the dim candlelight making his eyes look warmer than ever. “it’s still nice to hear, though.” 

“then i’ll tell you more often.” 

your heart did a somersault. “okay, deal.” you hadn’t noticed, but he had sat up fully now — closer to you, and you felt yourself wanting the space between you to be even less. “i tell you my amazing jokes, and you tell me how amazing i am to be around.” 

his eyes traveled your face, “i’d tell you regardless.” he said.”you’re an extraordinary person with a mind like no other. i often find myself fascinated by you.” god, only grayson hawthorne could give compliments that made you feel like you and him were the only people existing. 

“you really think so?” you teased, a smile tugging at your lips. 

“i know so,” he murmured quietly, “and i know you.” at this point, every nerve in your body was screaming for you to break those few inches between you and just kiss the boy already. 

you didn’t, though. 

it looked like grayson was facing the same internal dilemma as you, because his eyes were on your lips far too much for it to just be friendly. he leaned in slightly, and you felt your own breath hitch.

you whispered against his lips, “what are we doing?”

“we can stop,” he said. “we should stop.”

he didnt sound like he wanted to stop.

in fact, he didn’t even look like it, with the way his eyes were so trained in your lips.

you hesitated for a second. all the times you’d spent with grayson played on a loop in your mind, like all the time waiting, not understanding your feelings, and loving him silently were suddenly so worth it. 

“i’ve never been too good at should.”

you noticed his lips twitch upwards at your words, just before he finally pressed them to yours. the way his breath hitched did not go unnoticed. 

the kiss was soft and tentative as you finally crossed the border you’d been tiptoeing around for the past few years.

one of his hands moved to hold your jaw, the other steady on your waist. they felt cold yet somehow comforting.

maybe this was what you needed.

he began to lean forward into the kiss, his weight shifting until you feel him pressing down slightly. you let yourself fall back and feel the couch arm against your shoulders as he kept leaning, his arms bracing on either side of you. 

he was close, closer than before, closer than ever with his chest almost brushing yours, but for some reason, neither of you stopped.

until you remembered: oh, right. oxygen.

when you pulled back you were breathing heavily, both of you were. 

your whole body felt like it was on fire,

you never understood what people meant by their face feeling hot or knowing that they were blushing, but now you got it.

you just hoped you didn’t look as flushed as you felt.

your hands quickly moved up to his face, pulling him down into another kiss again.

it was like, now that you knew how it felt, you had to keep having it.

you were addicted to grayson hawthorne’s lips. 

and by the looks of it, he was addicted to you too. 

this time, when he pulled back, you propped yourself up on your elbows and fully let yourself breathe.

“was that—“ grayson hesitated, “are you alright?”

here you had grayson davenport hawthorne, sitting right next to you on your couch, with ever so slightly messy hair and flushed lips, asking you if you were alright. 

“yeah,” you ran a hand through your hair as you exhaled, “yeah, i’m alright.” 

grayson’s smile almost matched yours after you said that,  “i’m glad,” he said.

“are we…” you trailed off, not knowing exactly what to ask. especially with grayson’s gaze so focused on you— your mind felt blurry.

“are we going to finish the movie?” you managed to come up with; the next installment of the trilogy you had started to watch with him already began to play.

“you’re tired,” he answered, grey eyes cutting through yours, but they still felt soft somehow. “you should sleep, get some rest.” 

“yeah,” you nodded, mind hazy, barely hanging onto his words. you really were tired.

“you couldn’t possibly understand how long i’ve wanted to do that.” he let the words fall off his lips, eyes trailing down to your mouth before he looked all around your face.

“do what?” you knew exactly what.

his eyes focused on yours. “kiss you.”

your cheeks reddened, but you couldn’t not tease him. 

“i mean, how long, exactly? a timeframe would be nice, maybe, or even like a rough estimate—“ 

you cut yourself off at the sound of his low chuckle as he shook his head, as he ran his hand over his mouth.

you felt like you could skip through a million fields, jump up and down for days, and at this rate, never stop smiling. you were so keenly aware of your heartbeat, of every nerve ending buzzing with energy. 

“sorry, i just…” you cut yourself off with a laugh, you seemed to be finding eveyrthing funny. you weren’t sure if that was the lovesick haze in your mind or the lack of sleep making you delirious.

“i’ve also, um. you know…” talking about your feelings was never easy for you, even when it was with someone you knew better than anyone. “wanted to— i mean, i’ve liked you.” 

he slightly narrowed his eyes jokingly, “you don’t seem that assured of yourself there.” he deadpanned, making you push away his shoulder playfully.

“stop,” you mumbled, hiding your face with your hands for a second. “you know better than anyone i can’t say talk about my feelings like that without wanting to throw up.” 

his eyes softened even further, even though you were taking a humorous tone and chuckled at the end. “i know.”

the corners of your lips turned up slightly, for no real reason other than how happy you felt, “

“i should leave, it’s late. gigi will be coming home soon.”

“yeah,” you nodded as you ran a hand through your hair, “you probably should.” 

“i wouldn’t like to,” he specified, “but, it’s more sensible.” 

“yeah. sensible.” you nodded once again, “sensible is good, you’re right. it’s really late.” you laughed for no reason, not even too sure if the words that were spilling out made any sense.

you said goodbye at the door once again, and this time, you felt brave enough to his kiss his cheek goodbye. the action took a lot of courage, even though he had practically been on top of you 30 minutes prior. 

it was actually time for you to go to bed now, and you rolled over relentlessly. you couldn’t count how many times you replayed the moment over and over in your head. 

you brought a hand to your mouth as you fought a smile.

grayson, the boy you’d known since forever. his lips, yours. 

seriously, what was your life? 

part 5

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[gremlin-girly]

Forget-me-not Blues

Ask and ye shall recieve! Buckle up buttercups, this is my first Soulmate AU.

Banner by me and the images were sourced from Pinterest, made in Canva

Dividers by: @/sweetmelodygraphics

Pairing: Bucky x f!reader

Tags/Warnings: FLUFF, ANGST/WHUMP, Soulmate Mate Mark AU!, mentions of death., mentions of torture, right person wrong time, 2nd and 3rd person P.O.V, petnames (doll)

I’m leaving out some tags so I don’t go spoiling the plot so please read at your own risk! Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be copied, reposted or translated (or put through AI)

A/N: I cut a huge chunk about Soulmate AU context at the beginning because it felt unnecessary. It's just a world where word/phrase of the soulmate's is written on them; it's not always the first thing they say to a person :)

More Author’s Notes are at the end of this fic so if you want to know more about the flowers and some thoughts I had whilst writing this, please go take a peek! This has been a labour of love.

Summary: A story about finding and losing soulmates to the test of time.

Word count: 4.2k

Navigation | The Bucky Barnes Collection

1942

Your family had owned a flower stand for as long as you could remember. Ever since you could stand on your own two feet your father put you to work handing out daisies to every woman, young or old, that passed by just to put a smile on their face.

Adorned with roses, daisies, poppies and more, the colourful stall had always been popular. Your father expertly wrapped combinations of flowers in old newspapers until the war began. He believed it was bad luck to wrap gifts in bad news.

When your father had been called to return to service, he had entrusted the stall to you. The old women who’d lost husbands and sons in the war would often buy a poppy or three, and any of the soldiers on a short stay would always buy a dozen or so roses for all of the dames.

James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes was one of your best customers. Bucky was always smiling, flirting and generally schmoozing his way by, often with a battered Steve Rogers in tow. Bucky being the big romantic he was liked roses, of course, and would frequently stop by your stall on his way home from work.

“Hey doll,” Bucky grinned, leaning against your display table.

You couldn’t help but smile back. The playful air he had around him was infectious and you half wished you could find a soul mate like him. Or wished you could just have him.

“Afternoon Buck,” You fluff up a pile of pink roses. Despite the trying times, business was booming. A lot of dates, a lot of weddings and a lot of funerals. “Want the usual?”

Bucky plucks up a rose and twirls it in his fingers before raising it to his nose and inhaling the gentle, sweet scent. His grin grows wider, his boyish charm shining through with the glimmer of mischief in his blue eyes and the dirt on his cheeks from a long day at work.

You know what’s coming next.

“No, Bucky.” You say airily, smiling at him as you move to the next pile of roses on the stall. Bucky gapes at you.

“Please, doll. One dance - that’s all ’m askin’!”

It’s now the sixth time he’s asked you and each time he looks like a kicked puppy when you tell him no.

“Yes but one dance turns into two, then three.” You tease, moving around the stall to face him, plucking the rose from his fingers and leaning close. “And then you’ll be dancing with a new dame next week anyway. I’m just cutting out the middle man. Plenty of men like you come by my stall, James.”

You turn away from him with a short shrug, placing the pink rose back into it’s correct pile before moving to a new carefully packed crate of flowers that need unpacking.

“What if I’m not the man you think I am?” Bucky counters, following after you. “Maybe I’m terrible at dancing.”

Chuckling you turn to face him, ready to spout another weak excuse to not go with him, when one of your white roses is stuffed under your nose. Raising an eyebrow you look over at Bucky, who’s smirking at you.

“Hi, my name’s Bucky and, if you’d be so kind as to let me take you dancing sometime, I promise to make it worth your while.”

You feel heat crawl up your face as you start to laugh. “Why are you introducing yourself to me?”

“Because,” Bucky shrugs, the twinkle in his eyes becoming a bright sparkle now that you’re laughing. “I’m not the man you think I am. And life’s too short, doll. I’d like to spend at least one night of my life dancin’ with you.”

How were you going to argue with that?

But something seemed… strange. When you’d say no, usually he’d banter with you a bit more and ask about your dad, you’d ask after his mom, his sister and Steve before he’d trot on his merry little way with you gazing after him.

Today, Bucky was insistent but behind his eyes was a sadness you hadn’t seen before. Your heart strings tugged, something within you screamed at you to say yes like you had desperately wanted to all those times before. No more imagining what it would feel like to have his hands in yours as you twirled and danced well into the night.

“Sure,” you sigh after a few moments, trying not to seem too eager. Bucky beams at you so brightly anyone else would think you’ve hung the moon and hands you your white rose with a mocking bow.

“One dance.” You add firmly, heart fluttering as your fingers brush his when you pluck the rose from him.

Bucky puts his hand on his heart, beginning to walk backwards. As he passes your stall he stuffs a dollar into your change jar and bats his eyelashes innocently at you.

“I only need one dance to make you fall in love with me, doll!” He continues walking backwards, narrowly avoiding other New Yorkers, but his eyes never leave yours. “I’ll pick you up at seven!”

You shake your head with a grin, watching him go. There was an electric charge all around you and you felt excited for your long-dreamed-of date with one Bucky Barnes.

Dancing with Bucky was exactly how you imagined it would be; your feet barely touched the ground as he spun and lifted you. You felt lighter than air as you looked down at Bucky's grinning face, eyes sparkling with joy as he held you close. One dance quickly turned to three.

After the third, Bucky led you to a nearby table.

"So much for one dance." Bucky teases lightly, his hand still lightly holding your waist. You're thankful your flushed cheeks hide your embarrassment but you're smiling regardless. Before he can ask you what drink he can get you, We'll Meet Again begins to crackle over the speaker and you drag him back to the dance floor.

"Hey, shouldn't I be leading doll?" He jokes, hands immediately encompassing your hips once you'd found a space to sway in.

"Hush," You murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I like this song."

Bucky smiles down at you and says nothing further until the song finishes. You both mimic the other, swaying to the music and gently singing along as you gaze at eachother.

"I should walk you home doll." Bucky says quietly once the song finishes. You feel a little light-headed and breathless, even though you'd only been swaying and you notice that Bucky's hands are still on your waist.

"O-okay." You swallow. If Soulmates didn't exist, you'd be kissing him right about now. "I know a short-cut."

"This," Bucky looked up as the wrought iron fence. "Is a short-cut?"

"Where's your sense of adventure?" You grin back at him as you crawl through a gap in the fence. "Come on Sarge, it's not far I promise."

Bucky sighs with a smile, pulling his dress pants up so they don't rip at the knees when he crawls through the gap after you. You take his hand and lead him blindly through the dark park, the both of you stumbling and giggling like teenagers, until you reach a dirtpath leading through a small thatch of trees to a clearing. The light of the moon illuminates the clearing into a sea of blue. Forget-me-nots are clustered together in one large group in the clearing; thousands upon thousands of tiny blue flowers that disappear to black when the moon vanishes again behind a cloud.

"Wow," Bucky breathes. "You've been holdin' out on me, doll. If I knew this was here, I'd have taken you on a romantic picnic instead of dancin'."

“Yeah, I could spend forever getting lost in those forget-me-not blues,” you sigh wistfully, looking over at Bucky's face.

“Well doll, forget me not.” He punctuates each word with a sad smile.

What should be a joyous moment filled with love, happiness and a rainbow of technicolour is soured by the harsh reality that Bucky wouldn't be staying in New York any longer. You shouldn't be too surprised, you knew he got drafted but you can see it in his eyes, the utter sadness of your situation. You can't even enjoy finding your soulmate in peace.

“You’ve got orders.” You can barely eke the words out of your closing throat.

Bucky nods, swallowing thickly and looking at your entwined hands. “Got my letter the other day. England."

You breathe out, long and slow, your nose becoming more blocked as more tears stream down your face and your throat burns with unvoiced sobs. It was unfair. So, so unfair.

“I could never forget you James Buchanan Barnes. Never.“ You say firmly, gazing over at him and squeezing his hand hard.

"I'll write to you everyday." He promises, squeezing your hand back. "I'll come back and visit every chance I can get until this war is over. And then-"

You cut him off with a quick kiss that doesn't even begin to convey how happy you are to have found him, trying to protect your heart from more hurt that undoubtedly will come.

"Save it for your letters," You tease softly, sniffing away tears. "I want something to look forward to while I wait."

Bucky grins and pecks your lips back. "You got it, doll."

You both stay on that log until the early hours, basking in each other's presence before Bucky was deployed to England the next afternoon. The voids left in your hearts when you separated were almost too much to bare but when you were safely home, and Bucky tucked away on a boat, you both immediately began to work on your letters to each other.

Being posted in England isn't too bad to begin with. In fact, Bucky thinks that his letters are too boring but he doesn't want to fill the letters with how much he misses you or how he wishes he could be with you instead; he knows you know it too, and it doesn't make it hurt any less.

When he's sent to Europe, suddenly those boring, mundane letters are a God-send. One of your letters contained a good Iuck charm, courtesy of your small slice of blue paradise ; a single pressed forger-me-not into a piece of card with a lipstick stain of your lips on the reverse. Bucky kept the piece in his left breast pocket, just over his heart, keeping the thought of you near wherever he went.

The first thing he does after Steve rescues him is write you.

He leaves out the details but tells you not to worry, he'll be home soon. Tell Mom and Rebecca not to worry too.

Days later, when he's lying in the snow bleeding from the Stump that was his left arm, he wonders if it was all worth it. Your lucky charm had disappeared somewhere during the fall and Bucky sobbed at the thought that not only had he lost his arm but a piece of you too. Delirious with blood loss, he imagined your face in the cold comfort of the snow, smiling playfully like you always did, kissing him so tenderly like you had on your date all those moons ago. He couldn't leave you without a soulmate.

Hearing approaching footsteps crunching in the snow, Bucky screamed for help, hoping, praying that it was Steve.

It wasn't.

Turns out, HYDRA don't like it when their science experiments escape and despite vowing to escape a second time once he's healed, it's nigh impossible. And not without consequence.

Bucky's vow quickly becomes to always remember you instead when he's strapped to the electric chair, biting on his tongue so hard he draws blood. The more his brain cooks in the chair, the more torture he's subjected to, the more your face blurs in his mind's eye. It kills him, little by little, knowing you're fading from his memory but he still tries to remember your face. He still hopes, dreams and thinks of you. Would you remember him? Would you recognise him if he returned from this hell on Earth?

What breaks him is not the twenty-seven long years of being thawed and unthawed, tortured and electrocuted. It's the one rainy day where his heart hurts so badly, he screams until he can't any longer. It's the day his blurred soulmate's face is torn from his soul and leaves him all alone in the cruellest, darkest place imaginable.

The premature death of Bucky Barnes' soulmate caused the birth of the Winter Soldier after twenty-seven gruelling years.

How could you suffer on knowing you would never see your one true love again? His brain and heart couldn't win out after that.

Present Day

Museums were Bucky’s favourite places to be on his days off. There was something comforting about the silence and the relics of human history, the evolution and study of animals, rocks and bones and the celebration of human artistry that wasn’t as overwhelming as the Internet. The Internet was faster, sure, but museums had everything in one neat place and no two museums were the same.

He and Steve had spent countless days of their childhood visiting the Natural History Museum and then when he'd finally broken away from HYDRA, he'd visited every museum he could find to learn about himself and the developments after the war that he'd missed.

Today, though, Bucky had decided to take a longer wander through the galleries. It was easy to walk through and ignore the paintings until something caught your eye but Bucky was insistent that he would stop at every painting today and perhaps try to see what Steve sees.

The galleries aren’t busy, as usual. A few old couples taking a wander through, a gaggle of tourists taking photos and an art student or two studying brush strokes of portraits. However, in a small alcove surrounded by paintings of flowers and woodland, sat a woman who looked entirely out of place.

It wasn't with what she was wearing or how she looked but something just didn't seem right. Bucky knew he should probably investigate but dammit it was his day off; he deserved some peace and quiet.

The woman is still there when he makes it to the alcove and the pull from his chest is unbearable now. He was wrong before when he'd thought that she didn't seem right; she was perfect. He couldn't remember when he'd last seen someone so beautiful that she looked like a rare painting come to life. Nervous didn't begin to describe the feelings swirling in his chest. There was an unfathomable joy coupled with anxiety and he wished he kept gum in his leather jacket right now.

“I could spend forever getting lost in those forget-me-not blues.” The woman sighs dreamily, gazing at the painting before her.

The hair on Bucky’s arm and neck stand on end, his heart rate sky rocketing. He’d heard that phrase before.

“What did you say?”

Bucky's caught off guard when she turns to look over at him, her eyes catching his for a small respite and he almost folds like a deck chair. The air is sucked out of Bucky’s lungs so quickly he can barely process it and he feels faint, no dizzy, from just looking at her properly. Her eyes are wide with surprise but there's a sliver of playfulness that hides within them and whatever ever was nagging at him earlier has now blossomed into a crackling hearth of building adoration that was vaguely familiar somehow.

Bucky's eyes drop to her neck, where a tiny blue flowers pendant sits on a delicate silver chain. It's delicate but sweet, an almost perfect compliment to her being.

“Oh! I’m sorry. Talking to myself.” The stranger gives him a sheepish smile and turns back to the painting. “Beautiful isn’t it?”

Bucky tears his eyes from her and looks at the painting; two blurred figures dancing amongst a sea of blue flowers, similar to the necklace she wears. The male figure is holding the female figure's hand as her dress billows and blends into the flowers. Although they don't have faces, it's clear these figures are happy and in love.

For some odd reason, Bucky feels a wave of melancholy. He can't place why when there's a stunning woman in front of him.

"Does it make you feel sad?" The woman asks suddenly. Bucky glances over to see that her expression has changed to one of longing.

"I... yeah. Even though-"

"-they look happy." She finishes, looking over with a wry smile. "Sorry, I shouldn't be so depressing to a stranger."

Bucky smiles and shifts on his feet. He wants to say something more, tell her that it's fine, but instead he dumbly states;

"I like your necklace."

He regrets it as soon as he says it and looks to his feet. Didn't this used to be easy? Hadn't he charmed women both as Bucky and the Winter Soldier?

"Oh! This?" She fiddles with the pendant between her thumb and fore finger, inspecting it gently. She doesn't seem bothered by the awkward compliment. "I just like forget-me-nots."

Forget-me-nots. Something in his mind flashes with recognition.

“Why forget-me-nots?” He asks suddenly.

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you like them?”

The woman pauses and scratches her face thoughtfully, as if trying to place when she began loving the tiny flower. "I… don’t know, actually. I just always have.”

She offers Bucky a shrug. “I guess they’re pretty? Teeny, tiny little things but the colour?” She gives Bucky an impressive smile but then it falters for a moment as she catches his eyes again, really looking at them this time. “Wow. Your eyes are some shade of blue.”

Bucky starts to smile wider. He feels like himself, how he used to be back in the 30s. Even though there's something about her that makes him suffer this almost recognition, like she’s a word stuck on the tip of his tongue, he can't deny the joy and warmth he feels in her presence and he can't help but want keep speaking with her.

“Thanks.” He clears his throat and tries for nonchalance. "Do you... come here often?"

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he cringes, scrunching his face with disgusted embarrassment. So much for feeling like himself. Was flirting always so hard?

"Ugh. Sorry that was.... oh God." Bucky runs a hand down his face as the woman laughs.

“It’s alright and to answer, no - I don't. Today I just, well, it sounds stupid. But today I just really wanted to come here. I usually just walk straight past but I’m glad I did.” The flirtatious smirk she gives Bucky makes his knees wobble and he has to shift his weight to hide it. "You probably already know why they’re called forget-me-nots.” Bucky says, opting to try to sound knowledgeable instead of cool. Maybe that would be a better play. He doesn't know what's gotten into him. He's usually calm and collected. However, his heart is beating so hard he's scared it may fall right out of his chest.

“I do but tell me anyway.”

Bucky’s lip twitch into a smirk and the woman pats the empty space next to her, shuffling over slightly to make space for Bucky. His knee knocks hers and he gives a quiet, embarrassed apology before clearing his throat to recite what he'd been told.

“They used to be given to soldiers going off to war by their lovers.” He says. “I don’t remember who told me but…”

He trails but the woman is transfixed on his face.

"Sorry." Bucky scrunches his nose and smiles. "I got lost for a moment."

"At least you came back." The woman smiles in return. She looks back towards the painting again. Bucky tells himself that it’s out of old observational habits that he watches her face; how her eyes look longingly at the dancing couple of the painting, the sweet curve of her lips as she smiles.

"Do you think they were soulmates?"

"I think they're two people who love each other." Bucky says cautiously and when the woman raises an eyebrow at him, he shrugs sheepishly, waving his left arm. "Sorry I... I don't have one. The writing must have been on my left arm and I can't remember what it said. I'm a little jaded, unfortunately."

She frowns and points to his arm. "Your arm looks fine to me."

Bucky snorts and smiles sheepishly at her. “It’s a…. um, prosthetic. I don’t have any words anywhere else so they had to have been on my left arm. I should have been clearer."

“Oh.” The woman's face turns fire-engine red with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry. That was so rude of me."

"Don't worry about it." Bucky shrugs it off with a chuckle before swiftly changing the subject. "What do you like about the painting?"

“I’d love to do that one day.” She says wistfully after a moment, nodding at the figures.

“Do what? Dance?” Bucky asks curiously, sensing an opportunity. “You can dance whenever you want. We can dance right here if you want, I’ll ask one of the guards for music.”

She laughs, no chuckle this time, a pure lilt of happiness that makes Bucky’s heart twist in his chest and he can’t help but smile a little wider. Flirting was a little bit like riding a bike, not that he’d been interested in flirting much since having his brain fried multiple times.

The woman glances over at him, biting back a smile and rolling her eyes playfully. “Riiiiiight. Sure."

"I mean it!" Bucky bolsters, hopping to his feet. "I-..."

He falters for a moment when he sees her grin; her challenge. Her eyes meet his, bright and sparkling. Whatever he feels he knows she feels it too. He offers his left arm to her, stiff and awkward as his face blooms red.

“Hi, my name’s Bucky and, if you’d be so kind as to let have this dance, I promise to make it worth your while.”

The woman snorts and laughs again but she takes hold of his gloved hand, rising to her feet.

"Y/N. And just one." Her tone is firm but her glittering eyes betray the same excitement he feels. "What about music?"

"Heard they have music on phones nowadays, doll." Bucky quips, his free hand reaching for his phone in his back pocket. He doesn't notices she's raised a curious brow.

"Doll? That's a new one."

"I - oh..." Bucky grins sheepishly but before he can apologise, she stops him with a smile.

"I like it. Vintage."

Now it's Bucky's turn to snort. Who needed soulmates anyhow?

"Speaking of vintage." Bucky hits play on Vera Lynn's remastered classic.

"We'll Meet Again." She murmurs as Bucky's hands ghost along her waist. "Good choice."

"Thanks. Is this okay?"

"You're barely touching me." She giggles, wrists crossing behind his neck.

"Hey, I gotta make sure. Just follow my lead."

Vera Lynne's voice echoes around the alcove drawing curious peeks from other museum-goers but both Bucky and the woman in his arms couldn't care less as they swayed to the music. Y/N followed Bucky's footsteps as he guided her around the room with practices ease, poking fun at her lightly when she'd step on his feet accidentally.

An image rears its head in Bucky's mind's eye. There's a park, somewhere, with hundreds of forget-me-nots but he can't place the timeline. Did he go there as the Winter Soldier? Did he go there during the war? Was it a passing visit on a mission? He knows he didn’t find it, someone showed him. Maybe Steve? Someone else? Did he see it once in a dream?

“You’re a good dancer.” Y/N whispers against his chest as the song draws to a close. Bucky is sure she can hear his heartbeat through his leather jacket now. “I don’t think I could ever forget this.”

“Well, doll... Forget me not.” He doesn’t know why he says it. It’s cheesy at best, terrible word play at worst.

But she halts, blinking up at him. The silence in the alcove is so loud a pin could drop.

“What did you just say?”

It’s like a veil has lifted. The air shifts, Bucky can feel it now. That joy he buried earlier rose from the soles of his feet all the way up to his head. He felt like he was walking on air. He can see her eyes widen, further and further until their the size of dinnerplates, and there, almost within the depths of her soul; there's the flicker of recognition.

It's a domino effect. Y/N's soul reaches for Bucky's as memories flood back; lifetimes of memories, experiences and pain binding their souls together in a dance that will last for eternity.

The kiss they share is nothing like their first one. It's longer, more patient, relishing the electric feel of each other's lips for what feel like eons. “James Buchanan Barnes,” You breathe, tears of happiness filling your eyes. “I knew I wouldn’t forget you. And I knew you’d come back.”

"It's you," He chuckles, still not quite believing his eyes. "It's really you."

That playful smile he'd grown to love all those decades ago makes a swift appearance on your face and reaches the lights of your eyes as you look up at him.

"Now, if I remember correctly, we have a few decades worth of catching up to do."

END

A/N1: Ready for the flower symbolism? None of this the roses were pink because they were pink roses bs

Forget-Me-Nots: were given to lovers when their gifter went away to war. Commonly associated with the phrase “Forget me not.” (Duh). But they are also representative of remembrance, memory, love, friendship, hope, and fidelity. Source here

The necklace is based on this one on Etsy that I adore

Pink roses: (The first rose Bucky picks up and you steal back) symbolise admiration, happiness and love.

White roses: (The second rose Bucky picks up and hands to you) represent Innocence, purity and loyalty. Bucky’s intentions are were true.

These also are used for fresh starts, so can also be used as Bucky “starting over” (like when he goofily re-introduces himself to you and in the modern day where his memory has been wiped).

A/N 2: Name of the Fic

Well, a multitude of reasons really.

1) forget-me-nots are hardy plants that always come back (hence why reader says it to Bucky). He has an awful habit of bouncing back bless him.

2) Bucky’s Eyes: Azure blue? But there’s something about little poetic in a forget-me-not Blue ;)

3) Blues: Bucky is a big fan of Jazz, and Blues although Blues came before jazz its debated heavily on whether it is a sub-genre of jazz or if its a genre all on its own. Blues songs tend to be romantic, sad and slow; which I think are key elements of Bucky and his story.

4) Their meaning: true love and faithfulness. Can’t have a romance without those right?

5) the utter irony of the fact that Bucky did actually completely forget her lmao

A/N 3: I heavily debated how to incorporate the words of the Soul Mark back into modern day. Originally I was going to leave it kinda open ended at the gallery because I couldn’t think of a way to get Bucky’s words in without them seeming forced. But when I was doing a third edit of this, I realised they could end up having a haphazard date; which ended up as a replay of the 40s just so their souls could greet eachother again in the same place bc I am nothing if not a romantic at heart. I ended up scrapping that in favour of the museum alcove and having them recreate their "first date" there with the paintings acting as the woodland this time because I was struggling with dialogue and bridging the two - but I think it turned out pretty romantic!!!

This was my first time writing a Soulmate AU and I quite enjoyed myself! But I would like some feedback, and obviously all comments are welcome! It’s not to say I’m not proud of my other work on here but this story has been brewing for months (and I’m actually really happy that it won the WIP poll).

I wholly appreciate any comments or asks on this work!! I don’t quite think I’m ready to let it go yet 🥹 so much so that even though there's not a part 2 in the works, there's another fic in the same AU I'm working on ;)

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Chapter 4- Breaking Down Walls

Arranged For Love (Carlos Sainz Jr x Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- Y/N and Carlos realise that they love each other. They tie the knot. Everything seems to perfect to be real.

Warning- Mention of death

After the two agreed to make their families happy by getting married, the preparations were in full swing. The wedding would be a black and white tie affair in the backyard of Y/N's house. Seemed like a good idea to have it be small and intimate.

As the two of them got involved picking out colours and flowers for the wedding; they felt their bond growing closer. This was a major milestone in their life and they couldn't help but feel a connection. It wasn't just the wedding or the late night calls, they had started to confide in each other and realised that maybe this whole marriage thing wouldn't be so bad, after all. They felt like they could enjoy each other's company and be able to grow as people even though they hadn't met since that dinner.

Carlos was extremely busy with the season and the talks with Ferrari. It was taking up a lot of his time and he couldn't be there for most of the wedding planning. It was just Y/N and a couple messages to choose between this or that during the preparations. A lot of the choices had her grandmother's opinion. She would let her grandma pick what she thought would be best in places where Carlos and her couldn't decide.

Y/N had been watching Carlos's races since she found out about him. She would listen to him talk about how it went and how he could improve on it with a glint in his eyes. She felt special that she could share his love for racing even though she barely understood some of the words.

Trying to juggle a semester at home while at the same time planning a wedding during her end semester exams was proving to be a bigger challenge than Y/N had anticipated. She was trying to be on top of everything to be prepared and it was causing more migraines than necessary. She might've lashed out on Carlos a couple times over text which she did apologise for since doing everything almost alone was stressing her out.

Towards the end of the racing season, Y/N was planning on going to the last race to watch Carlos but everything got cancelled due to the increasing cases in Abu Dhabi. Carlos noticed that she looked sad during call and asked, "You look sad, what's up?" She was an open book, her expressions gave her emotions away. She wasn't lying to anyone, "I had thought I'd come to your last race of the season but I can't because of the..." she trailed off, clearly distraught with the new developments. "It's fine, you can come next year. It's not like I'll be gone" he tried to joke. "True, I could attend it as Mrs Sainz" she joked. "That is correct" Carlos smiled. He felt weird hearing her refer to herself as Mrs Sainz, but he liked that.

After the post season testing, Carlos had come to meet Y/N. He had a promise to keep; he would take her out on a date before their wedding. He was able to thankfully get a reservation at a restaurant.

With the restaurant no longer operating at full capacity, would give the pair the much needed privacy. Y/N wore a fitted midi coral dress which hit her just below her knees. Carlos was wearing his signature baby blue button down with white slacks. He looked handsome as ever. "Shall we?" Carlos asked. "yes, we shall" Y/N smiled taking Carlos's hand. Y/N's grandma could be heard calling out, "Have fun. Don't stay out to late." She felt proud of herself for at least setting her grand daughter up with a gentleman.

Carlos drove them to the restaurant. Their conversation flowed easily, they laughed along at stupid jokes they said and Carlos heard Y/N softly hum along to the songs on the radio to fill in the silence. Carlos would look over, a fond smile gracing his lips. After they reached the restaurant, Carlos opened the doors for her and pulled out her chair for her. He was going to make it her best date ever; he owed her that much.

While they waited for the dinner, "I can't believe we're going to be married in 2 weeks" Y/N mulled over her thoughts. All the preparations were done, they would have the wedding arch in the backyard and a day before the wedding; they would have a rehearsal dinner. She had skipped over the bachelorette even though her best friend wanted to throw her one. They decided to stick to a sleep over the night before. "I can't either. When we met I didn't expect to marry you" Carlos said. "Me neither. I fought my parents, more like disagreed with them" Y/N hummed. "Me too. I just didn't expect to marry so soon" Carlos stated. "Yeah, I didn't expect to be married before I graduated either" Y/N laughed. "But the world works in mysterious ways I guess" she shrugged her shoulders.

The food was great, "This is so good. I don't know why I never came here before" she told Carlos. Carlos smiled and raised his hand to wipe the food off the corner of her mouth. Y/N's eyes widened as Carlos's fingers brushed past her lips. She instinctively pulled away, apologising. "There was something there" Carlos said cleaning his finger with his tongue. Y/N watched as Carlos's finger, the same one that was on her lips moments ago touched his tongue. She quickly looked at her food, which seemed way more interesting suddenly. Her heart was beating fast, a lot faster than she had expected. Watching Carlos made her feel hot and bothered. She felt like crap for the unholy thoughts that were plaguing her mind.

Thankfully, the dinner ended without any more hiccups. And Carlos drove her back to her place. The next two weeks, Carlos's family flew in and they all enjoyed the pleasant Spring weather before the wedding and letting the to be weds to spend some much needed time together.

One of those days, Y/N's best friend, Ava came over to meet the man that would be marrying her best friend. Ava was fiercely protective of Y/N and when she found out about the arranged marriage situation, she a had a bit of a fight with Y/N's grandmother regarding Y/N's wedding. She couldn't believe she would get her grand daughter married off to some random dude. She was very close to their family since they'd been friends since middle school. Y/N tried to deescalate the fight but it only ended when Y/N dragged Ava to her room. "Grandma isn't that bad" she began. "You're saying that because she's your grandmother who is sick. I get it, I really do but an arranged marriage. I didn't think she was that old fashioned." Ava sighed. "She isn't. Plus the guy she chose is hot hot" Y/N whispered. "Show me" Ava spoke slowly, unsure of her friend. Y/N pulled out her phone and showed a picture of Carlos. "He's a F1 driver" she explained further. "Oh, he's rich rich" Ava smirked. "He'll be driving for Ferrari next year" Y/N added further. "Oh My God, he's loaded. I don't think we could've pulled him" Ava sighed, accepting defeat.

So, when she met Carlos for the first time, she played the part of the skeptical best friend well; going as far as to threaten him. Carlos only smiled, happy that Y/N was surrounded by people who loved and cared for her. He promised Ava to always take care of her best friend.

The day of the rehearsal dinner came quicker than any one expected, the to be weds were dressed in pastel colours and both their families and friends were sat at the table. They went over the schedule for the next day. The weather was a lot nicer, with the sun setting on them. The atmosphere was perfect to be getting married in. As Carlos watched Y/N interact with his family, he felt it. He thought about everything; all the weird feeling he had when talking to her or thinking about her; it made him realise that maybe just maybe he liked her. Y/N couldn't say she wasn't feeling the same. She had always wanted to be with someone who meshed well with her family. She never thought it would be someone chosen by her family, but right now she saw it. She decided to finally acknowledge all the feelings she's been feeling and perhaps she liked Carlos more than she let on and spending forever with him didn't sound as bad.

After the rehearsal dinner, when everyone was dispersing; Y/N asked Carlos to speak to her in private. She wanted to tell him how she felt and how she wanted to go forward with this marriage. She didn't expect Carlos to feel the same but she felt like she wanted to lay the ground work for what the relationship she wanted to be like. "Carlos, I wanted to tell you something" she breathed in, "Go on" Carlos encouraged her. "I know we started off the way we did and I know we are getting married because of my grand mother but along the way I've realised as I spoke to you more and got to know you more that I like you. Not as a friend or someone I was forced to spend time with way but someone I see a future with. Regardless of what happens 5 years or 10 years down the line, I want you to know that I'm not marrying you because my grandmother told me, kind of true but that's beside the point, but I'm marrying you because right now, in this moment, I like you. I've liked you for a while but it was watching you with everyone today, cemented it for me" Y/N finished without a break. Carlos's lips turned up into a smile and he took her hands in his, "I realised that now too, during the rehearsal dinner that maybe spending the rest of my life with you didn't sound like a bad idea or something I was being forced to do. I like you too Y/N" Carlos replied. "Can I kiss you?" Y/N asked looking at Carlos's lips. "Yeah" Carlos breathed and Y/N stood on her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. Carlos's hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer. Y/N placing her hands on his cheeks, "Maybe when everything settles down we can have a big wedding with everyone" Y/N asked hopefully after pulling away from the kiss. "Maybe we can" Carlos replied.

Ava and Y/N had a fun sleepover, watching movies and pampering each other. Y/N woke up refreshed and well rested, all thanks to her best friend. The day of the wedding was as hectic as expected. Anika helped her grand daughter dress up. She was very happy zipping up the gorgeous gown Y/N had picked out and then she took the necklace off of her neck and put it on Y/N's neck. "I always thought I would give this to you. But when you said you loved it when I bought it, I knew I had to give it to you" Anika smiled and clasped the necklace. "I love it" Y/N smiled at the necklace and her reflection. "I'm happy I get to share this with you" Y/N said, hugging her grandma. "I'm happy you're happy. I never thought I'd get to see my grand daughter get married ever" Anika said wiping her tears. "You have a lot to live for. You have to attend my graduation, play with my kids. I can't wait for you to come to my graduation tho" Y/N smiled brightly. "You want this old hag at your graduation" Anika asked. "Obviously, you practically raised me. I'm here because of you. Even if my parents can't make it, I want you there" she told her grandma. "Okay" she smiled at her grand daughter.

The wedding was wonderful, they had a few generic vows written down and read them out as the ceremony progressed. It was followed by dinner where you could hear everyone talking and laughing and having a good time. The family had come together and even though it was small yet quaint; Y/N couldn't have asked for a better day. She ended the night by dancing with her grandma.

Sadly, their happiness was short lived. Because soon after the wedding, Anika's health started to decline. She hadn't been able to stomach any food. She was barely able to walk at a point. The hospital visits were erratic since they couldn't go due to COVID which meant the family tried to provide Anika with all the care that they could.

It was getting harder, day by day to provide her the care she needed and when things got really tough, they were finally able to have her admitted in a hospital. Y/N had come to visit her grandma at the hospital. People weren't allowed to come as often, so she was sat with her grandma's hand in hers, after a long time. "You'll be good as new in no time" Y/N said, tears threatening to fall. "I'm okay sweetheart, whether I live or die, I've seen everything I wanted to. I just hope you all are always happy" Anika whispered. "You still have a lot to see" Y/N crocked. "Can I speak with Carlos?" Anika asked. Y/N FaceTimed Carlos, who answered immediately. "Hello, dear" Anika spoke. "Hi grandma, how are you?" Carlos asked. "I'm okay. I just wanted to talk to you both together." she said looking at her grand daughter. "You can talk to us whenever" Carlos reassured. "I know I forced you two to get married, so I'm sorry for putting you two in a tough spot. I was selfish and I wanted to have one last happy moment" she said. "You'll have more" Y/N interrupted. Anika smiled, "I just hope you two are happy forever. I will only wish for happiness in your lives whether I'm a part of it or not" Anika breathed. out. "Thank you for bringing me Y/N. You have no idea how happy she makes me" Carlos said. "I'm glad, dear. I hope you two will take care of each other" she sighed. "Forgive this old woman for meddling in your lives. I promise, I just wanted what was good for you" she smiled weakly. Y/N soon cut the call and spent some time with her grandma before she had to leave. Her aunt would be staying over for the next few hours.

As she got home, she was informed that her grandmother wasn't doing too well and they weren't sure, she would make it. Y/N was optimistic, her grandma had been to the hospital before and returned after the treatment. But this time was different. A few hours later, in the middle of the night, Y/N was informed that her grandmother had passed away. She couldn't believe it, she didn't believe it, not for a couple hours, not until she saw it herself. She felt the world came crashing down on her, she sat there letting the words sink in as the world seemed to rush past her. Her grand mother, who had raised her, had passed away on a beautiful spring night. How was she supposed to go on?

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