#and i was just like. have never felt like more of a museum exhibit in my life

[theghostofashton]

.

[gender-trash]

I would be very interested in hearing the museum design rant

by popular demand: Guy That Took One (1) Museum Studies Class Focused On Science Museums Rants About Art Museums. thank u for coming please have a seat

so. background. the concept of the "science museum" grew out of 1) the wunderkammer (cabinet of curiosities), also known as "hey check out all this weird cool shit i have", and 2) academic collections of natural history specimens (usually taxidermied) -- pre-photography these were super important for biological research (see also). early science museums usually grew out of university collections or bequests of some guy's Weird Shit Collection or both, and were focused on utility to researchers rather than educational value to the layperson (picture a room just, full of taxidermy birds with little labels on them and not a lot of curation outside that). eventually i guess they figured they could make more on admission by aiming for a mass audience? or maybe it was the cultural influence of all the world's fairs and shit (many of which also caused science museums to exist), which were aimed at a mass audience. or maybe it was because the research function became much more divorced from the museum function over time. i dunno. ANYWAY, science and technology museums nowadays have basically zero research function; the exhibits are designed more or less solely for educating the layperson (and very frequently the layperson is assumed to be a child, which does honestly irritate me, as an adult who likes to go to science museums). the collections are still there in case someone does need some DNA from one of the preserved bird skins, but items from the collections that are exhibited typically exist in service of the exhibit's conceptual message, rather than the other way around.

meanwhile at art museums they kind of haven't moved on from the "here is my pile of weird shit" paradigm, except it's "here is my pile of Fine Art". as far as i can tell, the thing that curators (and donors!) care about above all is The Collection. what artists are represented in The Collection? rich fucks derive personal prestige from donating their shit to The Collection. in big art museums usually something like 3-5% of the collection is ever on exhibit -- and sometimes they rotate stuff from the vault in and out, but let's be real, only a fraction of an art museum's square footage is temporary exhibits. they're not going to take the scream off display when it's like the only reason anyone who's not a giant nerd ever visits the norwegian national museum of art. most of the stuff in the vault just sits in the vault forever. like -- art museum curators, my dudes, do you think the general public gives a SINGLE FUCK what's in The Collection that isn't on display? no!! but i guarantee you it will never occur, ever, to an art museum curator that they could print-to-scale high-res images of artworks that are NOT in The Collection in order to contextualize the art in an exhibit, because items that are not in The Collection functionally do not exist to them. (and of course there's the deaccessioning discourse -- tumblr collectively has some level of awareness that repatriation is A Whole Kettle of Worms but even just garden-variety selling off parts of The Collection is a huge hairy fucking deal. check out deaccessioning and its discontents; it's a banger read if you're into This Kind Of Thing.)

with the contents of The Collection foregrounded like this, what you wind up with is art museum exhibits where the exhibit's message is kind of downstream of what shit you've got in the collection. often the message is just "here is some art from [century] [location]", or, if someone felt like doing a little exhibit design one fine morning, "here is some art from [century] [location] which is interesting for [reason]". the displays are SOOOOO bad by science museum standards -- if you're lucky you get a little explanatory placard in tiny font relating the art to an art movement or to its historical context or to the artist's career. if you're unlucky you get artist name, date, and medium. fucker most of the people who visit your museum know Jack Shit about art history why are you doing them dirty like this

(if you don't get it you're just not Cultured enough. fuck you, we're the art museum!)

i think i've talked about this before on this blog but the best-exhibited art exhibit i've ever been to was actually at the boston museum of science, in this traveling leonardo da vinci exhibit where they'd done a bunch of historical reconstructions of inventions out of his notebooks, and that was the main Thing, but also they had a whole little exhibit devoted to the mona lisa. obviously they didn't even have the real fucking mona lisa, but they went into a lot of detail on like -- here's some X-ray and UV photos of it, and here's how art experts interpret them. here's a (photo of a) contemporary study of the finished painting, which we've cleaned the yellowed varnish off of, so you can see what the colors looked like before the varnish yellowed. here's why we can't clean the varnish off the actual painting (da vinci used multiple varnish layers and thinned paints to translucency with varnish to create the illusion of depth, which means we now can't remove the yellowed varnish without stripping paint).

even if you don't go into that level of depth about every painting (and how could you? there absolutely wouldn't be space), you could at least talk a little about, like, pigment availability -- pigment availability is an INCREDIBLY useful lens for looking at historical paintings and, unbelievably, never once have i seen an art museum exhibit discuss it (and i've been to a lot of art museums). you know how medieval european religious paintings often have funky skin tones? THEY HADN'T INVENTED CADMIUM PIGMENTS YET. for red pigments you had like... red ochre (a muted earth-based pigment, like all ochres and umbers), vermilion (ESPENSIVE), alizarin crimson (aka madder -- this is one of my favorite reds, but it's cool-toned and NOT good for mixing most skintones), carmine/cochineal (ALSO ESPENSIVE, and purple-ish so you wouldn't want to use it for skintones anyway), red lead/minium (cheaper than vermilion), indian red/various other iron oxide reds, and apparently fucking realgar? sure. whatever. what the hell was i talking about.

oh yeah -- anyway, i'd kill for an art exhibit that's just, like, one or two oil paintings from each century for six centuries, with sample palettes of the pigments they used. but no! if an art museum curator has to put in any level of effort beyond writing up a little placard and maybe a room-level text block, they'll literally keel over and die. dude, every piece of art was made in a material context for a social purpose! it's completely deranged to divorce it from its material context and only mention the social purpose insofar as it matters to art history the field. for god's sake half the time the placard doesn't even tell you if the thing was a commission or not. there's a lot to be said about edo period woodblock prints and mass culture driven by the growing merchant class! the met has a fuckton of edo period prints; they could get a hell of an exhibit out of that!

or, tying back to an earlier thread -- the detroit institute of arts has got a solid like eight picasso paintings. when i went, they were kind of just... hanging out in a room. fuck it, let's make this an exhibit! picasso's an artist who pretty famously had Periods, right? why don't you group the paintings by period, and if you've only got one or two (or even zero!) from a particular period, pad it out with some decent life-size prints so i can compare them and get a better sense for the overarching similarities? and then arrange them all in a timeline, with little summaries of what each Period was ~about~? that'd teach me a hell of a lot more about picasso -- but you'd have to admit you don't have Every Cool Painting Ever in The Collection, which is illegalé.

also thinking about the mit museum temporary exhibit i saw briefly (sorry, i was only there for like 10 minutes because i arrived early for a meeting and didn't get a chance to go through it super thoroughly) of a bunch of ship technical drawings from the Hart nautical collection. if you handed this shit to an art museum curator they'd just stick it on the wall and tell you to stand around and look at it until you Understood. so anyway the mit museum had this enormous room-sized diorama of various hull shapes and how they sat in the water and their benefits and drawbacks, placed below the relevant technical drawings.

tbh i think the main problem is that art museum people and science museum people are completely different sets of people, trained in completely different curatorial traditions. it would not occur to an art museum curator to do anything like this because they're probably from the ~art world~ -- maybe they have experience working at an art gallery, or working as an art buyer for a rich collector, neither of which is in any way pedagogical. nobody thinks an exhibit of historical clothing should work like a clothing store but it's fine when it's art, i guess?

also the experience of going to an art museum is pretty user-hostile, i have to say. there's never enough benches, and if you want a backrest, fuck you. fuck you if going up stairs is painful; use our shitty elevator in the corner that we begrudgingly have for wheelchair accessibility, if you can find it. fuck you if you can't see very well, and need to be closer to the art. fuck you if you need to hydrate or eat food regularly; go to our stupid little overpriced cafeteria, and fuck you if we don't actually sell any food you can eat. (obviously you don't want someone accidentally spilling a smoothie on the art, but there's no reason you couldn't provide little Safe For Eating Rooms where people could just duck in and monch a protein bar, except that then you couldn't sell them a $30 salad at the cafe.) fuck you if you're overwhelmed by noise in echoing rooms with hard surfaces and a lot of people in them. fuck you if you are TOO SHORT and so our overhead illumination generates BRIGHT REFLECTIONS ON THE SHINY VARNISH. we're the art museum! we don't give a shit!!!

[angel-of-the-moons]

Need Steven with a freak. Let’s say he’s been dating this girl for a while and he’s ready to take it to the next step. He’s super worried he’ll make you all uncomfortable and stuff when he asks but the next thing he know he’s being ridden till the break of dawn

(I’m ovulating I am so sorry-)

OMG SAMESIES AND I. AM. ✨FERAL✨ RN

Please

Steven Grant x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Smut, just smut af, protected sex (implant), oral sex (m!receiving) creampie, overstimulation

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: This lil dress here is what I had in mind for the outfit in the start. (I'm a sucker for sunflower patterns)

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

It had to be tonight. He just couldn't take it anymore. None of them could.

But Steven was the worst about his urges. He felt awkward and worried it would chase you away, the first girlfriend he ever got to finally have; all the others didn't understand his... Problems.

Problems he later learned were triggered by Marc (and in some cases, Jake), but you? You took them in stride, like a duck to water.

The moment he first saw you, his breath had been sucked right out of him. Marc and Jake went dead silent, too.

It was a gloomy, dreary day; the rain coming down in heavy droplets, casting a grim light down on the London streets.

But there you were, walking around the museum, looking at exhibits and scribbling notes in your tiny notebook with oh, so many post-its sticking out, fattening the tiny book until it looked close to bursting.

You were the only ray of sunshine on that day, your yellow dress that hugged your body just right, little sunflowers covering the fabric. Your hair done just the right way to accentuate your face as your eyes studied each artifact and bauble you saw.

To say the boys were instantly smitten was an understatement.

It took weeks of bumping into you to work up the courage to talk to you, and it was only when you came in to buy a rather dinky looking scarab plushie in the gift shop. It's this conversation where he finds out you're in school, trying to become an archaeologist and historian.

Steven's dream girl, and he had hearts in his eyes at every word you spoke.

He couldn't help but blubber out a request for a date, and you agreed.

The rest... History in the making.

You'd been dating for two months, but already he could feel the pull of urges he didn't necessarily indulge in often.

Sure, he, Marc and Jake could indulge in it themselves, trying to take the edge off. But sometimes it felt like the more he indulged in it, the more intense his fantasies got.

He simply couldn't keep tugging his cock for momentary relief anymore, imagining it was your soft hand, your mouth, your tits or something else wrapped around his cock that had him practically drooling: your sweet cunt.

But tonight? Tonight was the night. He was afraid to bring it up because he didn't want you to feel like he was moving too fast; and he could barely function when you admitted you were a little surprised he waited so long. (And teased him a little for how sometimes he just wasn't stealthy when trying to conceal a surprise boner.)

You'd told him that you thought about him too, and that you were more than willing to let him indulge.

But it was from there that you found out that Steven had never actually been intimate with anyone. Jake and Marc had, yes. But poor Steven has just never had the luck.

And that's how Steven found himself in this precarious situation, you on your knees, your pretty little mouth wrapped around his cock as you bobbed your head so sweetly, tongue laving around his length, hollowing and sucking your cheeks with every drag, tracing the vein that ran up the side of him.

He couldn't stop with the babbling praises, the sweet petting in your hair.

Honestly, if you knew he was this weak? You'd have jumped his bones a lot sooner. Probably after the fourth or fifth date. It was rare you found someone who was intellectually a joy to talk to (not excluding Marc and Jake) who was so handsome and sweet to you.

One hand was thrust down into your panties, playing with yourself, dress hiked up so you could have better access as you continue sucking him off, the lewd sounds coming from both of you more suited to a pornography than the quiet air of his flat.

You could feel your orgasm cresting already, but you knew that you didn't want to just cum on your fingers like you had so many times before, you wanted to feel Steven inside of you and god did you want to drain him for everything he had.

Steven made a whine, babbling your name again.

"L-luv, I'm--I'm gonna--ugh--"

He couldn't even get the sentence out before you felt him spill down your throat, his hips bucking suddenly you gagged, carefully adjusting so you didn't choke as he pumped his load into your greedy mouth.

Well... you weren't surprised he didn't last very long...

He immediately started rattling off apologies that had you giggling.

God damn, you were going to enjoy draining him. Maybe Marc and Jake, too.

The blush that spread up to his ears made him look absolutely adorable.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--" He stammered out, covering his face. "In--in your mouth, I--"

With the fluid grace of a cat you climb into his lap, straddling him.

You cup his cheeks and kiss him softly, before pulling away.

"You're alright." You assure him, peppering his adorable face with kisses.

It's when he squeezes your thighs and ruts up into you, his face buried in your neck that you realize he's still hard.

You bite your lip and kiss his ear.

"Steven, do you want me to ride you?"

"Ohgodsyesplease." He breathes out on a whimper.

You hastily line his cock up with your hole and sink down, taking him in inch by delicious inch until you're stretched beautifully around him.

You tip your head back with a groan. He certainly had girth for days, that was for sure.

"I'm... Already close. Can you help me?" You say, giving him a sweet pout that makes his heart jump up into his throat.

"Y-yes, I can--"

The way he keeps cutting himself off makes you want to cuddle him and cover him with kisses, but at the same time fuck him until his legs go numb.

Maybe you'd do the former later.

You pull his fingers into your mouth and he makes a soft moan when you suck his fingers, swirling your tongue around his calloused digits until you deemed them wet enough.

Then, you guide his hand down your body to your throbbing clit, and show him the rhythm that'd work for you best.

"Try to keep it in time with me, m'kay?" You groan, grinding down on him in one slow, languid movement.

His eyes roll back, but he nods and keeps his fingers over your clit, massaging the bundle of nerves in time with each downward stroke of your hips.

Every bit of him had you aching, from his electric touches to his fat cock spearing you open and fucking your weeping pussy in the best way possible, you kicked yourself mentally again for not bringing up sex sooner.

Steven's cock felt far better inside of you than your fingers or your toys at home. He felt hot, he felt real. And real is what you'd been lacking lately.

Whatever Steven would give you, you planned on taking happily. You would--

Your eyes flutter open when Steven suddenly arches his back and hits you deeper than you expected him to; opening your mouth in a quiet cry, no sound escapes as your orgasm hits you and Steven continues swiping at your clit, fucking you from below as you shudder and collapse on top of him as he continues breathing on the hot embers of your orgasm to keep it going for as long as possible.

"Please." He whines in your ear.

"Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease."

"In-inside--" You whimper, biting down on his shoulder, earning a toe-curling moan from him.

"You can do it inside."

He grits his teeth and let's out a hissing cry, veins popping in his neck and forehead as he fucks his spend up into you, his orgasm burning and flaying his nerves raw as he pumps you full.

He drops back onto the cushions of the couch and sofa, breathing hard, desperately trying to drag oxygen back into his lungs.

Reality however, is a cruel mistress and he looks down at where you two were connected.

"Oh, b-bloody hell. I--I didn't--"

"Relax, hon." You giggle, leaning back with one hand braced on one of his knees for support, your other hand trailing lazily down to where his cock still split you open, his cum leaking out around his length. The sight of you sent a dizzying spiral through him.

"I'm safe, promise. I have an implant. Still good for another three years."

The thought that he could keep doing this for three years--

His mind went blank when you grind down on his lap, feeling his cock stir to life despite the fact he was now exhausted.

"L-luv, I... I don't think I can..." He panted desperately.

Your brace your hands on his chest and start bouncing on his lap, grinning wickedly the whole time.

"I'm gonna keep going until I drain you dry, sweetheart. Get comfortable."

The gulp he made was audible in the space you shared, as was the sinful slap of skin on skin.

[cyberpunkgyu]

SERIES: The Sun and the Sunflower / P. Sunghoon

genre: fluff, romance

introduction: these series include random one shots of tsundere! sunghoon and bubbly! reader’s relationship, more chapters/parts will follow in the future! this part shows the softer side of sunghoon but next chapters/parts will show his more “tsundere” side

a/n: i decided to make it one shots because i realized i suck at making long stories so hopefully this turns out alright! let me know what you think :D

warnings: suggestive, and not proofread cause i’m lazy

I. Jealousy *ੈ✩‧₊˚ — when you get jealous

Sunghoon is someone who doesn’t show a lot of affection when there are other people around you both. If a stranger saw the two of you, they might not even think you both are in a relationship because of how casual he is around you in public. You didn’t mind, you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable in anyway, and you respected that (though there were times where he would peck your lips when no one is looking).

But there were times you wish you could just kiss him to show others that he is yours. Like right now.

You always thought you weren’t a jealousy person. What’s there to be jealous about? You know Sunghoon is a loyal person and would never do anything to hurt you. He is a whole green flag, a green forest even.

But you can’t help it when you see girls flirting with him out in the open.

He has asked you out for a night out in a nearby art museum that just opened. Of course you agreed, making sure you were free and don’t have anything else planned, you definitely wouldn’t pass any opportunity to spend time with him.

The night has been going well since far. You two went around to see different exhibitions, taking photos of one another (you even secretly took photos of him when he wasn’t looking because he looked so dreamy).

He was wearing a suit and tie with his glasses on, which you have always told him how handsome he looks with it on. Sunghoon is very handsome in general, but when he wears his glasses on, it just hits different. There’s just something about it that makes your stomach flutter ten times more.

You have also dressed up quite nicely, wearing the dress Sunghoon gifted you for your birthday which wasn’t too long ago. It was a pretty long white dress, and you felt very confident in it. Spending almost two hours doing your hair and makeup, your craft not going unnoticed by your boyfriend.

He is quick to notice your appearance, staring at you in awe when he picked you up from your apartment. He had literal heart eyes for you, a soft smile on his face.

For a quick moment you have left him outside to use the bathroom, to freshen up and all that. Once you got out, you didn’t expect to see him talk to someone, and a woman. And he was smiling?

What caught you off guard is when the girl placed her hand by his bicep, though Sunghoon didn’t seem bothered by it, just nodding to what she was saying. Does she really have to be touchy?

You pouted to yourself, watching the scene in front of you, not knowing if you should let them be or approach them. Before you could even decide, Sunghoon has already spotted you, excusing himself.

“You ready to go and see more exhibits? There’s more upstairs.”

“Hmm, sure.”

Your voice came out soft and quiet, something out of the ordinary as you often talked with such excitement. His thick brows furrowed, but he pushed it off, nodding at you. Maybe you were just getting tired? He thought.

Crossing your arms, you began to walk to the escalator, Sunghoon following by your side. Who was that girl? Is that someone he knows? Or did they just met? Why were they smiling? They looked so happy together. Is that his ex? He never told you about an ex…

You shook your head to yourself, feeling yourself overthink. Stop it, yn.

“Hey… you alright? I can take you home if you’re feeling tired.” Sunghoon looked at you with such concern, both of you getting off the escalator as you got to the next floor up.

You looked up at him, quickly shaking your head. “No! Uh, I’m alright. Don’t worry. I want to see more of the exhibits.” You forced a grin, though it came out so fake that Sunghoon can sense something was definitely wrong.

You got startled when he took your hand, pulling you to the side. Your back was suddenly pressed on a wall, gasping softly as his hand found your hips, looking at him with wide eyes. Your cheeks reddened so quickly, heart beating hastily.

“Is something wrong? You can tell me.”

His eyes stayed on you, waiting for your response, though you felt your throat dry during to how close the two of you are. When you opened your lips, nothing came out.

“Nothing! I just- I…”

“You can tell me what’s wrong. I don’t like seeing you so quiet. It’s weird.”

That made your heart flutter, blinking up at him. He was so close that you could smell his sweet scent, making you feel fuzzy inside.

"I would rather hear you talk non-stop than be quiet. I like hearing you," he whispered softly, feeling his fingers run through your hair, making you feel giddy.

"It's just... it's nothing. It's stupid." you felt yourself pout softly, looking away from him, but you felt his hand grip your chin gently, making you look up at him. "Well it's not stupid if it's bothering you right?"

"The woman earlier. You know her? Is she-"

"She's a childhood friend during my ice skating years. We just quickly catched up, that's all."

Ah, right. You nodded, feeling yourself embarrassed.

"Were you… jealous?"

"What? Why would you ask that." you huffed, suddenly getting defensive. He found it cute how pouty you got, feeling himself smile down at you. Gosh, you're cute.

"You can be friends with anyone you want, I don't care. It's the same with me, I can be friends with whoever, talk to whoever I want. And also, why did she have to be touchy-"

Sunghoon looks at you with adoration, his eyes flickering between your eyes down to your lips. He loves it when you ramble, pouting your lips whenever you do. Your voice was going in from one of his ear to the other, everything in the background becoming a blur.

You were suddenly cut off by Sunghoon's soft lips, your eyes widening before they fluttered shut, putting your hands into a fist as you didn’t know what to do with it.

His lips were hot and plump, his hands going up to your waist, pulling you slightly up, causing you to go on your tippy toes.

You wish you could kiss him for longer, though he definitely took your breath away, pulling away from to the kiss to catch your breath. Your cheeks flushed, as well as your lips, and definitely swollen.

“Sorry. I couldn’t help it… you were talking too much.”

A giggle escaped your lips, looking up at him shyly. “I thought you weren’t a fan of PDA.” you teased, smiling shyly up at him.

“I could do much more if we weren’t in public.”

“Hoon!”

He grinned cheekily, his fangs on display, chuckling lowly. “Cute…”

Your cheeks felt as if they were on fire. He really knew how to make you fold, huh? His eyes never left yours, caressing your waist ever so gently, eyes full of love.

“Why don’t we just go back to my apartment?”

“Hm, are you tired?”

“No.”

“Then why? Aren’t we going to see more exhibits?”

“I did. But now all I want is to able to kiss my pretty girlfriend longer.”

[mins-fins]

119

&&. unfortunately you aren't as slick as you thought you were.

pairing: lee jeno x gn!reader

genre: fluffity fluff fluff fluff

warnings: sexual jokes, thats it 😚

word count: 1.2k

notes: jj spread the jeno bias disease i literally cant believe this 😭😭 hes so……….im abt to draft another long jeno fic + an smau + another stupid drabble and all of that fun stuff!! dont get it twisted jisung is still my ult though 😒 no ones ever replacing him, anyway this came from a prompt someone sent me, smth about "kissing someone on a ferris wheel" which i just LOVEEEED hello??? okay ik none of you care abt my words, love jeno, love nct dream, pray i get park jisung pcs 😇 good night now <33

you are going to murder na jaemin.

the moment you get off this ferris wheel your throwing up your guts all over his shirt, or punching him in his face, or strangling him to death, whatever. the moment you step off this ride you're making sure he doesn't open his eyes to see the rest of his fellow human beings ever again.

maybe if you were less awkward you'd actually be thanking him, but you take one side glance at the boy beside you and want to smash your head against the glass.

jeno doesn't notice your side glance (and thank goodness he doesn't because you probably would've died if he took so much as a glance at you), he's much too busy glancing at the view from the height your at. you assume that jeno likes ferris wheels, he probably likes them more than you do.

"are you alright?"

you mentally prepare yourself for the voice crack you know might escape your lips. just talk to him like a normal human being, y/n, yeah you're into him and shit but that doesn't mean you can be a weirdo.

"yeah" you finally respond, thank goodness the voice cracks don't come out. "just feeling a little nauseous".

jeno raises an eyebrow. "scared of heights?"

you only manage a curt nod, a nod that makes jeno scoot closer to you, his lips stretching into a smile. "it's alright, i'll protect you".

fuck you lee jeno, fuck you, fuck you, fuck yo—

your somehow able to chuckle, amused by his words. "it's not like i'm dying or anything".

jeno frowns. "so you don't want my protection?"

you pretend to think about it, pressing your lips together as your eyebrows furrow, avoiding eye contact with jeno at all costs. if you look at him, your going to fall and never get up. "i wouldn't be entirely against it".

jeno's shoulder nudges yours, nothing but a small touch that drives you crazy. you wonder if the mini breakdown your having is noticeable, if maybe, he's doing it on purpose, making your heart race to get a kick out of it.

but when you think about it further, it makes you giggle, because this is lee jeno, you could get down on one knee and propose to him yet he'd still be confused by how you feel for him.

if lee jeno knew how you felt for him really, you probably wouldn't have resisted the urge to make out with him on this fucking ride or already.

that was a strange thought, a stupid one even, but it's one manifested from your deepest desires.

when you think about it, though, you wouldn't exactly mind it.

"that's good" jeno snickers at you, eyes examining your face as if it's an interesting exhibit at an art museum. "you need me".

you feign a sigh of irritation. "of course, what would i do without you?"

"you'd die, clearly" jeno replies, tilting his head and reaching over to lace your fingers with his. the cold rings on his fingers feel like glass shards against your fingers, but his soft hands contrast his stabbing rings. "isn't this sort of romantic?"

you choke on your spit.

"romantic? roma— hah! what are you talking about? what is romantic about this?"

soooo natural, y/n.

jeno simply shrugs, suddenly very interested in the view of the carnival from the ferris wheel. "were on a ferris wheel together, stars before us, just the two of us, this would be like.. the perfect date".

you blink, the words making you pause and your head spin. is he serious? is he really serious?

"is this your way of asking me out?"

you manage to ask that without sounding like a pathetic idiot who wanted to hear those exact words, and your response gets the same reaction out of jeno, flushed cheeks with an awkward chuckle accompanying the sight. you would've thought you were a genius if you weren't as flustered as he was.

jeno is speechless, and he fumbles through his speech like someone's holding him at gunpoint or something. "i— no! no! ..maybe? kinda?"

you pause, all your former confidence suddenly withering away, the blood rushing to your cheeks in full force. you laugh, taking his words as a joke, but jeno keeps silent, and so do you.

"are you serious?"

jeno can't speak, so he just nods wordlessly.

you blink, glancing from side to side, this ferris wheel won't be on the ground soon, but at least this makes it a little more bearable. "did you just confess your feelings for me like that?"

"well to be fair—"

"i was supposed to do it first!" you yell in another fit of feigned irritation, your cheeks a color reminiscent of jeno's cherry red shirt. "that's not fair! you beat me to it!"

"well how was i supposed to know you liked me back?"

you scoff, and jeno goes silent again, embarrassed by the question he just asked.

"you're such an idiot lee jeno.."

"can i kiss you?"

the question is a blurt of pure desperation, pure honesty from the deepest corners of jeno's mind, an inquiry he's been dying to ask you ever since he found himself interested in staring at your lips.

you hope you don't faint from the scorching heat radiating off your face.

"it's romantic" he laughs, his best excuse for that random inquiry. "i've always wanted to kiss someone in a ferris wheel, unless you don't want to then—"

you (in the most cliche turn of events) cut jeno off with a kiss. though you'd love to keep your fingers intertwined, you let go of his hand to find purchase on his shoulder, then tug him closer to you with a light jerk. a small squeak emits from him, but he quickly relaxes into the kiss, giggling at your enthusiasm.

though he giggles, he isn't much better off. it's nothing but a small press of the lips, it's not intense or anything, but jeno feels his heart soar. hie face heats to overwhelming heights, and he loops his arm around your waist, pressing you against him, as if the idea of not feeling every part of you would be maddening.

you both are just as desperate as each other, there's no push, just pull. it's a playful competition, your waiting for the other to pull away, stop the kiss because they need breath, it's stubborn in an idiotic way.

but jeno loses your little battle, because he pulls away for air, as red as the sunset in the early morning.

and though you laugh at the sight, you aren't much better off yourself (if the heat continuing to permeate from your face is enough).

"was that romantic enough for you?"

even with how breathless he is, jeno still manages a stupid question.

he squeals when you land a slap on his shoulder.

and while you thought you two were slick about it, considering you were like five feet in the air with nobody to see you, your equally red faces and intertwined hands were enough to get feigned vomits from your friends.

jaemin snickers as he looks between you two, and you glare as you see him open his mouth.

"so what happened up there?"

"clearly they got it on".

upon hearing the words, you let go of jeno's hand to yell and chase after lee donghyuck, who squeals and sprints away, shouting for renjun to help him.

jaemin just sends jeno a knowing look, a look that the older pretends he isn't bothered by.

for once, one of his ploys finally worked.

[obey-me-disaster]

I saw the Mammon with a clingy MC headcannons and was wondering if you could please write those for the rest of the brothers?

Sure thing ^-^

This is the first I got to write after the hiatus. It was such a nice thing to work on in order to get back into writing.

Demon brothers with a very clingy MC

Lucifer

As much as he would love to indulge you, he is a busy demon. He can't always be by your side and sometimes, he needs his alone time to get rid of his nerves.

Still, he tries to make time for you cause he would hate if you started to feel neglected because of his work.

Usually when he invites you over to his room to listen to music or to talk about 'important matters' it just means you'll get to be as clingy as you want with him.

He takes advantage of those times to let go of all the stress and just relax with his lover. If he drinks enough he might start venting about either his brothers or Diavolo and be generally more open.

Sometimes, when he is doing paperwork, he will let you sit on his lap to cuddle him. From time to time he will stop to check on you and give you a kiss.

Unless he is doing really important work, he will let himself be dragged away from his office by a clingy MC without putting too much of a fight. As much as he may try not to show it, he adores you and he would be more than happy to indulge a clingy MC

If he is in demon form at an event, he likes to wrap on of his wings around you to bring you closer to him.

Mammon

Already done here

Leviathan

He adores it but he is not used to it!

He isn't used to the attention, the affection, and all the spending time together.

He is an introvert, from time to time he needs time some time alone in order to recharge his social batteries. Tho, as time passes, some of the 'time alone sessions' can be 'spending time in the same room but doing different things in silence' sessions.

He adores all the cuddles and attention, but it will take him some time to get fully comfortable. He will go through some phases where he feels guilty for not being all that comfortable from the get go but that's nothing a little bit of reassurance won't solve.

He likes to wrap his tail around you when play games, either around on of your legs or waist.

He tries to convince you to either wear one of his hoodies or for you to give him one of your jackets/hoodies. He tries...but he always gets embarrassed before really saying anything.

Once he gets used to all of the attention and affection he will start being clingy too, and actually be open about it!

Satan

It would hit him pretty hard that someone wants to be that close to him in that way. Sure, there have probably been demons and witches alike that wanted to be close with him for various reasons, but this was the first time when he felt so calm and warm about it.

This feeling didn't really hit him at first, he would just be close to MC while he was reading. It really hit him one random day when he realized how little his wrath was screaming inside of him.

Whenever you decide to cuddle him he treats the same way as if a cat would sit on his lap, he is no longer allowed to move.

Would honestly take a clingy MC to different museums or exhibitions in order to both satisfy your clinginess and his thirst for knowledge.

He is quite a romantic demon from all those novels he has read, so a lot of the things you two do, especially on the days you're especially clingy, would remind him of scenes from his favourite books.

Asmodeus

No matter how clingy you may be, Asmo has you beat in that category. He is honestly the best brother for a clingy MC.

He is clingy himself, would welcome with open arms all of your affection and doesn't have any emotional baggage holding him back from being affectionate with you.

You two are basically never separated after a while. You two might as well share a room and a closet. He has no qualms about sharing clothes with you.

He likes to think about what activities would bring you even closer. And of course, there will be tons of photos, both for Asmo's enjoyment and for devilgram.

The poor guy gets so used to having you always by his side that if he has to go through a day without you he will start complaining that his affection levels are low. He will start crying about dying if you don't shower him in your affection, so go wait him in his room won't you?

Beelzebub

Would be really chill about a clingy MC. If they wanted to, he could just carry them around. He enjoys their attention and food tastes better when they are with him.

Working out? Chances are you are being used as one of his weights. Eating? Sitting in his lap. 10/10 guy to cling to.

He prefers to carry you around cause he is aware of his one track mind. If he gets too focused about either one of his hobbies, food or working out, he fears he wouldn't be able to give you as much attention as you need.

Belphegor

Be prepared to be his pillow 24/7. He will fully take advantage of you being clingy towards him to make you his nap partner.

You can't exactly get too mad at him either...you get to be clingy and he gets his sleep, with how nice and soft he feels chances are you'll fall asleep too.

Even when he isn't asleep, he likes to lean against you and generally be really close with you. He is probably as clingy as you are.

Uses his younger brother privileges to get his brothers to leave the two of you alone.

Honestly, a lot of the time it would be enough if he was able to sleep in the same room you're in, even if you aren't cuddled up with him, but if he can convince you to put off for later whatever you were working on why wouldn't he? He is the avatar of sloth after all.

[pizzaapeteer]

A Night at the Museum

Blaise Zabini x F reader/pure fluff - 1.4k. This is a little special request fic for my sweet friend @thatdammchickennugget a very delayed birthday post. Where your boyfriend Blaise takes you for your birthday to your favourite place. Pretty divider found here.

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The bustling city of London nightlife rushes past you as the car pulls to a halt, the darkness of the window conceals the reveal of your location. You look over at Blaise sitting beside you, his hand enveloping yours, giving it a gentle squeeze and a soft smile before he exits the car. 

Blaise hadn’t let a word slip on what the plans for your birthday were, keeping it a complete surprise. Though you felt you already knew and you hated how you instantly felt disappointed. You had struggled to not show your dismay when all day there had been no mentions of leaving the castle. The only thing you'd asked for was a visit to see the dinosaur exhibit at the National History Museum. 

When Blaise had left out a gorgeous violet dress instructing you to be ready by seven, you only felt your heart plummet more at the thought of finishing your birthday with just a dinner. You were grateful nethertheless, but it stung thinking that Blaise had forgotten your wishes. 

Exiting the car, you thank the chauffeur as they hold the door for you, Blaise instantly appearing by your side, looping your arm with his. As your eyes gaze lovingly upwards, you drink in how bloody delicious Blaise looks in his suit. Never one to shy away from an opportunity of embellishment for any occasion, making sure he matched his tie with the colour of your dress. When his oh-so pretty brown eyes meet yours, you feel stupid for thinking so badly of his decisions, realising you can’t really complain with such pleasant company.  

As you walk with him, you turn your attention away from Blaise and take in the sight before you, a whirlwind of emotions hitting you. Your face contorts into a mix of delight and surprise when you realize you're standing outside the Museum. You grin excitedly, hearing Blaise chuckle at your adorable reaction. Before your face falls in confusion, “What are we doing here now? Isn’t it closed?”

Blaise rolls his eyes playfully, scoffing, “Come on now, it’s me. I have connections.” He then gives you a delectable grin, leading you up the grand stairs towards the entrance. His heart warms seeing how your eyes beam with warmth, a bubble of energy exploding out of you. His brow raises, feigning fake hurt as he adds, “Didn’t think I’d forget, did you, sweetheart?” 

A deep chuckle leaves his lips, seeing your guilty expression, his eyes zoning in on how you bite your lip sheepishly. Your shoulders pull, shrugging, as you squeeze his arm softly. A sweet smile convulsing from your previous expression, “Oops, maybe, but I’m so glad we’re here!” Blaise shakes his head, muttering at your lack of faith in him, teasing you softly, “How dare you doubt me.” His hands squeeze your waist, enticing a squeal of laughter bellowing out of you at the ticklish feeling. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” your words fall between laughs. "Will a kiss make you forgive me?” His hands fall from your waist at your offer, manoeuvring to take hold, caressing your face. He’s not one to ever turn down a kiss from you, and within seconds, his lips are on yours. Passion flushes through you at the quick but heated kiss, your lips not seeming to want to leave his. 

His eyes gleamed, relislishing in your eager reaction, “I’d love to keep kissing you till you melt like honey in my arms, but I have waiting plans for us. Come on.” 

Blaise loops his arms through yours, guiding you around, allowing the two of you to stop whenever something catches your eye. You’d been to the museum a few times but never had the chance to see the dinosaur exhibit yet. Your excitement levels reach new heights when Blaise leads you into the next room, revealing what you’ve been waiting for. 

Your eyes widen and you freeze in your tracks, taking in the magnificent sight of the large Tyrannosaurus Rex skeleton displayed in front of you. You move, leaving Blaise’s side, craning your neck upwards to inspect the 40 feet long bone structure. 

Marveling over the incredible skeleton, you stare up brightly with fascination, unable to hold back any ounces of happiness. You’d had a deep love for dinosaurs since you were a child, always dreaming of being able to discover life sized T-Rex bones. A wish that was forced to change to just seeing them up close in a museum after you found out about Hogwarts and witchcraft. 

Blaise follows slowly behind you, his hands slipping into his pockets, his eyes never leaving you, watching loving every moment of your reaction. The way your face lit up, unable to contain your giddiness as you gazed up at the dinosaur. Sparks heat within his chest, his love for you growing with every minute. “Wow! It's even bigger than I thought. It’s huge!” wonderment is laced within your words for the extraordinary extinct being. 

Blaise chuckles, his hands finding their natural spot on your waist as he stands behind you, “Pretty cool, huh.” He holds back any innuendos, not wanting to ruin the moment for you. He presses a soft kiss to your temple, whispering, “Happy Birthday, beautiful.” Your attention quickly recentered back towards your thoughtful boyfriend. 

Turning around in his arms, you grin happily, springing up on your tiptoes to pull him in for a sweet kiss, expressing your gratitude. “Thank you! Thank you! You’re truly the best!” 

He laughs at your cute appreciation, leaning down again to press a kiss to your forehead. “Come on, there's still more to see.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˚｡⋆ Sitting at the table dressed for two, you grin appreciatively admiring the bouquet of sunflowers Blaise had gifted you. Your gaze once again drifts from the beautiful candlelit dinner back up to the gigantic dinosaur hovering above the two of you. “I still can’t get over how you pulled this off!” It really was such a special gift, and you loved how well Blaise knew you. 

Blaise squeezes your hand gently, enjoying the warmth that spreads from your touch, his eyes twinkling at you still fanning over his present. His eyes soften, gazing at you with adoration, smiling lovingly. “Have I told you how gorgeous you look tonight?” 

Warm hints of chocolate fill your vision, your face flushing with heat as you grin back at him. “You have, but I'll never turn down a compliment from someone as handsome as you.” Blaise, being the gentleman he is, hadn’t even let you finish doing your hair before he was throwing compliment after compliment at you. 

As you finish your meal, you sit relaxed once again, unable to stop switching your gaze between marveling at the skeleton and your charming boyfriend. It was the perfect evening, and one of your best birthdays yet. The quietness of the museum never felt eerie, the space easily filled with wholesome conversation shared between the two of you. 

Blaise stands suddenly, checking the surroundings for any of the attending staff. Once he’s sure it's clear, he reaches his hand out for you. “Come on, I have one last surprise.” Startled by the sudden change of pace, your brows furrow as you accept his hand, being pulled gently behind him. 

Following behind Blaise, your curiosity peaks as he leads the two of you to a more secluded section of the museum. Cheeky thoughts spur through your mind, heat rushing up at what you could be doing. The dark room quickly is illuminated and you see Blaise raise his wand, enticing a gasp from you. “Put that away!” your eyes frantically search around for any muggles as you attempt to lower his wand. 

He chuckles, swatting your hands softly. “Trust me, woman.” With a flick of his wand, a small burst of light appears and you turn slowly at the sound of cracking bones. Having been too busy caught up in Blaise’s illegal actions, you hadn’t noticed where you now stood. 

Your eyes widening at the scene of a tiny baby fossilised Brontosaurus moving. The small thing stretches its long neck, the bones rattling, and it releases a loud coo. Your hands fly over your mouth in excitement as you squeeze Blaise’s arm. 

“What the heck this is so cool!” Giggling all worry about muggles thrown out the window as you grin, caught up in the amazement and the power of magic. 

Blaise leans over, kissing your head, his arm pulling you into his hard body for a quick embrace. He whispers, “You got two minutes before the spell wears off. I’ll distract the muggles.” He turns to leave, giving you a small wink, before he shuts the door, leaving you alone with your special gift. 

masterlist

[cameronspecial]

Loving the Zach stuff so far!!!

Could you maybe do something where yn hates his guts, but he is like in love with her and all her sass?? Then they're forced to go on some school trip together or something, and she realizes she likes him and a cute angry love confession, perhaps???

Danke 🫶🏼💐

Thank You, History Class

Pairing: Zach MacLaren x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.2K

Masterlist

Y/N and Zach have been running in the same friend group since Freshman year, but it doesn’t mean they necessarily get along. Well, it doesn’t mean that she likes him. His sarcasm and puppy dog vibe annoys her cool and distant personality. He’s always asking her how her day is going and trying to make her laugh with his stupid jokes. Zach, on the other hand, fell for her grumpy soul the moment he set eyes on her. Unlike most people, who don’t bother looking deeper into her personality, Zach could see the soft side that she held within and never let anyone see. He would always catch how she would stand up from her bus seat when she saw an elderly person. She wouldn’t let people around her know it was the reason, but she always did. He saw the little bowl of milk she left outside her house for a cat mother and her kittens. Finally, he saw how sweet she was to children whenever they were around her. 

Zach didn’t want to take a history class and he certainly didn’t feel like going on a field trip to a museum. It all felt very high school to him. The only upside about it: Y/N is also taking the same class. When he saw that he needed a history credit to graduate, he definitely didn’t go looking for what classes she was taking this semester to try and be in the same one. The cost was giving Jason access to his bathroom whenever he wanted, but it was worth it. He knows the field trip isn’t mandatory for any marks, yet he knows Y/N is going to be there. As he heads toward the Victorian house, he finds Y/N out front waiting for the professor to show up. Her clothing consists of black and brown colours as usual. Her hair was held back by a shiny black claw clip. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” he grins, coming to stand beside her. She gives him a side eye, “Could you be more cliche? Try something more original, would ya? I still can’t believe you are taking this class.” He doesn’t let her sour mood dampen his energy. “Come on, you know you like having me with you in this class. The only other people in this class are girls who have a romanticized view of the era, or guys, who have a history stick so far up their ass that they think a history degree will take them far in life,” he notes, turning to look at her. She looks him dead in the eyes, “I’m a history major. And I am neither of those things.” “I know, that’s because you are so much better than them. You are far too smart for them,” he flatters. She shakes her head, turning her attention to the professor who has just arrived, “Flattery won’t get you anywhere.” The professor leads them into the museum and begins his lecture. After ten minutes of listening to the man speak, both Y/N and Zach realized that coming was a big waste of time. He doesn’t know what he is talking about and Zach can hear Y/N constantly correcting the older man under her breath. 

He leans toward her, making sure his lips are close to her ear. “Wanna go on our own little tour? This man is getting half of this stuff wrong.” She thinks she has lost her mind because this must be the first thing Zach has said that she thought was a good idea. “That actually sounds kind of fun. They have a Victorian fashion exhibit I want to see, but I don’t think Professor Robo over there is going to take us to,” she whispers back. Her hand finds his and she hates to admit she likes the warmth of his in hers. They round the stairs to the exhibit. She looks delighted when she spots the first mannequin with clothes. Her feet find their way beside a girl about six years old, already looking at the dress. The child’s eyes find Y/N’s face and they smile at each other. “You know, this is an 1843 Evening dress. The bodice, the thing around the chest, is low off the shoulders. And they have lots of other skirts underneath to make it poofy,” Y/N softly explains to the little girl. 

They spent around thirty minutes in the small room. Y/N walks around with Willow and Zach, explaining each outfit to them. She is surprised that Zach seemed honestly engaged with what she was saying and would ask thoughtful questions. Eventually, Willow’s mother, an employee, came looking for her and took the girl to lunch. “Do you want to head to lunch?” she asks. He shakes his head, “Actually, I was hoping we could look at the Victorian sports exhibit. I brought some snacks, so if you are hungry, we can share.” He pulls out a bag of cucumbers shaped like hearts. She has to giggle at the sight because big jock Zach MacLaren likes to have his vegetable cut into shapes. 

“What?” he questions in fake offence, holding out the Ziploc to her. She shakes her head with a chuckle, “Nothing, just surprised your cucumbers look like an inaccurate depiction of a human organ.” “They make them taste better. Try,” he says with a shrug. He hands her a slice and listens to the sweet crunch of her biting into the vegetable. “Okay… I must admit it is more fun to eat it like a heart. I can pretend I’m a witch eating people’s hearts,” she agrees. He doesn’t look disturbed by her macabre comments, instead, he pretends to be ripping out his heart as he hands her another slice. She enjoys him playing with her deadly thoughts.

They spent about an hour looking at the different displays, eating his snacks and taking turns reading the display’s blurbs to each other. As they stand on the steps of the museum, Y/N towers over him from the step above. He looks up at her like she hangs the stars in the sky. “I hate to admit that you made this day pretty fun,” she confides. Her hands find their way behind her back, biting her lip as she looks into his eyes. His mouth turns into a crescent moon, “I’m really glad I did. I like spending time with you.” She takes a moment to think and moves her head away in frustration. Not at him, but at the turmoil inside her mind. Why is his charming smile suddenly getting to her? Why does she want to step into his warmth and let his arms bring her in? “Ugh, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I’m falling for you, MacLaren. So… would you want to go to dinner? Like on a date,” she confesses with a hint of annoyance in her tone that is just normally there. She is disgusted by the excitement that crosses his face. He gets off the steps, running around the green grass in front of the building. He jumps every so often with a little whoop let out as he does so. 

He rushes back to her, grabbing her around her waist and spinning her around. She finds the sound of her giggles odd but enjoys it nonetheless. “Way to keep a poker face,” she sasses, looking down at him. He doesn’t care though all he wants is a chance to be with her.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia

[dani3lricciard0]

Star Crossed | D. Ricciardo

Summary: You are attending the Met Gala. You've been several times before, but this year Anna Wintour has invited you to perform. You meet Daniel Ricciardo on the red carpet, and you spend the evening getting to know eachother.

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x singer!reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 1.3k

A/N This is my first time writing in a really long time so pls go easy on me, and let me know if you want part 2! This part is more of a prologue, it will get spicier as it develops in future parts

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Part 1

It's the first Monday in May; Met Gala day. I've been before, and it's always been one of my favourite events of the year, but this year is different. This year, I'm performing.

I shouldn't be nervous, I've performed in front of thousands of people worldwide, but as I pull up to the red carpet, I can't remember the last time I felt this nervous. I close my eyes and focus on my breathing, trying to shut out the conversations of my team around me.

"Y/n, it's time to go", my assistant calls, jolting me from my thoughts. My stylist fusses with my hair, and I stand to step out of the car. As I step onto the carpet, the flash of cameras illuminate the night, and I can't help but feel a rush of excitement.

I smooth down the delicate fabric of my gown, a 2001 Karl Lagerfeld dress, and begin to navigate my way towards the cameras. The flashes are almost blinding, and the paparazzi start shouting directions at me, telling me where to look. At first, red carpets and paparazzi were overwhelming, but it's become second nature to me by now.

I make my way across the carpet and up the steps, pausing every now and then for photos and to say hi to a few industry friends before making my way into the opulent halls of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

After catching up with an old friend, I hear an Australian voice calling my name. Glancing around, my eyes land on a familiar face, but one that I've only seen on television screens and in the pages of magazines.

Daniel Ricciardo.

He stands tall, making his way towards me. Despite attending a few races, I've never met him, and his easy smile draws me in like a magnet. I knew he was good-looking, but up close...

"Hi, I'm Daniel," he says, interrupting me from my thoughts and extending his right hand. I reach out and shake his hand, trying to ignore the shivers crawling up my arm at his touch.

"I'm a huge fan," he adds with a grin.

"Oh, you don't need to introduce yourself to me," I say, smiling back at him. "I'm a fan, too. Is this your first Met?"

"It is. Pretty crazy out there, right?" Daniel responds, gesturing towards the crowd outside.

"Sure is." I agree, nodding.

"I was just ahead of you on the carpet, you made it look easy," he says, beaming his signature grin again.

"Thank you," I chuckle. "It hasn't always come naturally, but y'know, it comes with the job. You must be used to it too, especially now you're a Netflix star."

"You watched Drive to Survive?" he asks, seeming surprised.

"Of course, like I said, I'm a fan too. It's great to meet you."

Our conversation flows effortlessly, spanning topics from our favourite tracks to travel adventures. Despite the glitz and glamour surrounding us, our interaction feels genuine, as if we've known each other for far longer than just a few minutes.

"So, what's it like performing in front of thousands of people?" Daniel asks, eyes sparkling with curiosity as we make our way around the exhibits.

"It's exhilarating," I reply, trying to mask the nerves that flutter in my stomach at the thought of tonight's performance. "But it can also be nerve-wracking. Tonight's no exception."

"I can imagine," he muses, leaning in slightly as if hanging on to my every word. "But I have no doubt you'll kill it out there."

His words offer a comforting reassurance, and I can't help but smile gratefully. "Thanks, Daniel. That means a lot." I say, as I see my assistant approaching from the corner of my eye. "That's my cue. It was great to meet you, Daniel." I say, not quite ready for the conversation to be over.

As I start to walk away, Daniel catches my arm gently, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through me. "Hey, if you need a distraction from the nerves, I'll be right here."

I chuckle nervously, grateful for his offer. "Thanks, I might take you up on that." With a final wave, I disappear into the backstage chaos, my mind buzzing with anticipation for the performance ahead.

As I take the stage, the bright lights momentarily blind me, but as my eyes adjust, I scan the crowd for familiar faces. And there, in the sea of Hollywood stars and models, I spot Daniel, his encouraging smile a beacon of support amidst the sea of faces.

Our eyes lock for a brief moment, and in that instant, I feel a surge of confidence wash over me. With his silent encouragement, I dive into the performance, pouring my heart and soul into each lyric. After my performance, I head back into the crowd to watch the other performers and catch up with a few friends, but I can't escape the disappointment in the back of my mind that I haven't bumped into Daniel again.

Later in the night, as I'm beginning to get bored of forced conversations, our paths cross again. Daniel's presence is like a magnet, drawing me in with his infectious energy and easy charm. We find ourselves laughing and sharing stories, the rest of the gala fading into the background as we lose ourselves in each other's company.

"So, what's next for you after tonight?" Daniel asks. I smile, feeling a rush of warmth at his interest. "Well, this was my last performance for a little while. I'm taking a break for a bit before heading to the studio to work on new music. What about you?"

Daniel shrugs casually. "Oh, same old. Just doing some promo stuff for Red Bull. I'm desperate to get back on the track."

Instinctively, I reach out and gently touch his arm. "I have no doubt you'll get there, you're a talented driver."

Before I can say anything else, Daniel reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. "Hey, would you mind if I got your number?" he asks, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

My heart skips a beat at his request, and I nod, trying to contain my excitement. "Of course," I reply, trying to keep my voice steady as I take the phone from his hands and enter my number.

"Thanks," Daniel says with a grateful smile as he takes his phone back. "I'd love to stay in touch."

The warmth in his voice sends a thrill through me, and I can't help but smile back. "Me too," I reply, my heart fluttering with anticipation.

As the night begins to wind down, the energy of the gala mellows into a gentle hum of conversation and soft music. Daniel and I linger for a while longer, savouring the final moments of the evening.

I glance at the time on my phone and realise that it's time for me to leave. "I hate to cut this short, but I should probably head out. Mind if we take a quick picture before I go?"

"Of course," he says warmly, leaning in as I snap a picture of the two of us at our table. "It's been an amazing night, thank you for making me feel welcome at my first Met."

"The pleasure was all mine. See you again soon?" I say, trying to hide the sadness creeping into my voice at the thought of saying goodbye.

"I hope so," he smiles, opening his arms and pulling me in to a gentle embrace. I reluctantly tear myself away, the lingering scent of his cologne leaving a bittersweet reminder of our evening together.

Settling into the backseat of my car, the picture of Daniel and I burns brightly on my phone screen. I decide to share the moment to my Instagram story, tagging Daniel alongside the honey and badger emojis. I place my phone in my bag to avoid the notifications that are sure to start rolling in, and rest my head against the window, shutting my eyes to replay the night in my head, wondering when I'll see Daniel again.

[sunhoures]

And It Was All Yellow

pairing: wonwoo (svt) + reader (fem.)

genre: fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, photographer!wonwoo, artist!reader (+ journalist!mingyu)

word count: ~5.7k

synopsis: wonwoo doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but he finds himself falling for you a lot sooner than he thought possible

inspired by: the text post pictured above ^^ & the song “yellow” by coldplay 💛

posted: august 21, 2023

The weather in Seoul was dull—gray clouds and scattered, drizzling rain suspended over the city since dawn had broken. Most people hated such weather, but Jeon Wonwoo was not one of those people. In fact, he found comfort in the gloominess. He enjoyed the idea of having an excuse to stay in. And if he did need to go outside, he liked that there was a lack of the usual crowd of people that would be around if the weather was more ideal. Traffic was less compacted. Lines of any kind were short (or non-existent). The city was quiet, just as he liked it.

On days like today, he preferred to spend his time inside with a book or playing video games. But work had been scarce for him these past few weeks, so when his best friend, Mingyu, had informed him of a job offer he had no choice but to accept it. That’s how he ended up at a local art museum downtown at 9:45 a.m. on a Thursday morning. Despite the doors not opening for another fifteen minutes, a worker had let him in through the front door when he got her attention and pointed to his camera bag. She realized he didn’t have an umbrella with him, and so she quickly let him in. Luckily he had a raincoat over his outfit and a hat to protect his hair, so the most he had to deal with was a little rain on the back of his neck. He thanked the worker, staying close to the door to get any glimpse of Mingyu arriving.

In the meantime, he watched the cars pass by outside, each one splashing water out of the puddle and onto the sidewalk just in front of the entrance to the museum. He noticed it had lightened up a bit outside, the sky turning from a darker gray to a lighter gray with wispy, white clouds. He wondered if anyone would even show up to this exhibit opening in such weather conditions.

About five minutes after he arrived, Mingyu came knocking on the door, covering his head with a magazine. The worker came back and opened the door for him, deciding to leave it unlocked. Wonwoo’s younger friend came in, complaining under his breath about forgetting his umbrella and getting wet. He shook the sopping magazine, droplets of water falling onto the concrete floor. His gray button-up was a darker gray on the shoulders and sleeves from the rain that seeped into it. Wonwoo noticed the worker glaring at his friend for dripping on the floor and tried not to let his amusement show.

“Forgot your umbrella too?” he questioned Mingyu, “Hopefully your notebook didn’t get ruined.”

His friend looked to the bag he had hanging from his shoulder. The bag didn’t have a zipper, but it did have a flap that fell over the opening to keep it “closed” in a sense. He quickly shoved his hand inside, feeling around for his notebook. When he felt the edges of the paper and confirmed they were dry, he smiled, “All good. And why so early? That’s unusual.”

“I’m never late,” Wonwoo defended.

“Yeah, but if I tell you to be somewhere at ten a.m. you usually don’t walk in until nine fifty-eight.”

The older of the two shrugged, “Got an early start today.”

The two men began their work day, Wonwoo fine-tuning the settings on his camera to his liking while Mingyu made some preliminary notes in his notebook. They set up together in the lobby, but once the artist had arrived, Mingyu excused himself to greet her. Wonwoo stayed in the lobby, taking a couple of test pictures to see if anything else needed to be adjusted. Around him several museum workers, journalists, and other photographers were gathering with the artist. Wonwoo wasn’t the biggest fan of interacting with strangers, so he kept to himself. Luckily, he busied himself with his camera which was enough to keep people from disrupting him.

Once Mingyu returned to his friend, the two joined the growing crowd waiting by the entrance to the new exhibit where a ceremonial ribbon cutting was about to take place. Wonwoo found the ribbon to be a bit superfluous. Nonetheless, he stood towards the back of the small crowd, arms crossed and camera slung around his neck by its strap. He was hired to take some pictures of the event and the art pieces for Mingyu’s article, and that was it. It was somewhat easy money for him, but it did take more time and social interaction than he liked. Truthfully, he couldn’t wait for this to be over and go home to edit.

He watched you, the artist, get behind the ribbon and make your speech thanking everyone for showing up. He snapped a couple pictures as you thanked the museum for giving your art a home temporarily. After a few minutes, you ended your speech by giving a small spiel about how art was therapeutic to you and it should be for everyone else. He found himself subconsciously nodding in agreement, because photography was a form of therapy for him as well.

The ribbon was cut after your speech, and the congregation of guests entered the exhibit for the first time. Mingyu and Wonwoo brought up the rear, but they were just as astonished as every single person ahead of them when they saw the art on display. Several paintings of various mediums hung on the walls, varying in size. The large columns in the middle of the room also held paintings on them, each piece of art accompanied by a small plaque with information about it—like the title and date. Mingyu, just like the other journalists, was already jotting down notes in his book, the tip of his tongue poking out of the corner of his pressed lips in concentration. Wonwoo peered around the room, simply taking everything in. His hands held his camera which was still hanging from his neck.

The two friends walked around together, patiently waiting for the other guests to continue on before taking their time in front of a piece to write or take pictures. As they got to the last few paintings, Mingyu made a comment about finding the bathroom, and that he would be back shortly. Wonwoo nodded and continued to snap a few pictures of the paintings before him. He came to a stop in front of a simple painting of sunflowers; the acrylic paint forming a kind of 3D effect on the canvas. He stared at that one for a moment longer than the rest of them, not for any particular reason, he supposed. It didn’t stand out from the others or anything, but he liked it for a reason he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Do you like sunflowers?”

Your voice startled him, though he didn’t show it. He merely turned to you, giving you a small nod of acknowledgement as well as a small, polite smile, “They’re fine I guess.”

“This was one of my first pieces I made in art school,” you explained, and it was then he noticed it did indeed have the earliest date posted among all of the canvases in the room.

“It’s nice,” he said, “Congratulations, by the way. You’re very talented.”

Your face broke into a sweet smile despite that being the nth compliment of this morning. Each one felt like a gold star being rewarded to you, and it filled you with happiness. You gestured to his camera, “Do you work for a magazine?”

“Um, sort of,” he shrugged, “My friend does, he just has me shoot pictures for his articles.”

“Oh, I do remember seeing you with someone,” you remembered, “Um, the tall one with the gray shirt, right?”

“Yes.”

“I see. I haven’t gotten to speak with him in depth yet, do you know if he’ll be back soon?”

“He should be returning from the bathroom soon,” he replied. Usually Wonwoo was terrible at making conversation with strangers. He dreaded it. But you gave off such a comforting, welcoming energy. He found himself wanting to talk to you about, well, anything, “This weather isn’t too ideal for this occasion, isn’t it?”

“The rain?” you asked, “Yeah, it’s a bummer, but the turn out was great still. I didn’t think so many people would come.”

“Why’s that?” his brow raised slightly in curiosity.

“I didn’t think my art was special enough to warrant such an exhibit. One of my mentors from art school is friends with the head of the museum, and he asked him for a favor. He’s put a lot of time and faith in me, but I don’t think my art is worth such a grandiose gesture,” you spoke so casually, as if it was fact. Wonwoo found your confession to be a little disheartening. Sure, the art might not have the prestige to qualify for the MoMA or the Louvre, but to someone like him who casually enjoyed art, your work was impressive.

“Well, I’m glad he did. Your work is amazing,” Wonwoo was a man of few words, but he hoped the few he could give would bring you some reassurance. And for the moment it did. You smiled warmly, perking up further when Mingyu returned to the both of you.

“Hello again, would you be able to spare a few minutes with me?” he asked you, already getting his notebook and pen from his bag. You agreed, and the two of you began a conversation while Wonwoo continued to snap some photos of the last paintings. When he was done, he waited patiently for you and Mingyu to finish your conversation. Around ten minutes passed, and the crowd was fluctuating as some people left and some newcomers joined. Wonwoo watched the guests observe the art, getting some inspiration to take photos of them as well. He figured some candid pictures would look nice too. He even got one of you and Mingyu discussing the sunflower piece before he approached the two of you again.

The three of you talked for what felt like hours but in reality was only twenty minutes. At some point the conversation had veered from art to your social lives. Mingyu was a very sociable, outgoing person, so it didn’t take long for him to strike a casual conversation with you. He had learned that the three of you frequented the same coffee shop a few streets away.

“We’ll have to get coffee together some time,” you said, “Should we swap numbers?”

Mingyu happily did so, and the two of you swapped phones to add each others contacts. You made a comment about getting with some other journalists, but you promised to stay in touch before leaving the two men with a “thank you for coming!”.

The rain had cleared up by the time the two friends left the museum. They walked together to the bus stop across the street, waiting for the bus that would be passing shortly. While they waited, they talked about the notes Mingyu got and the shots Wonwoo took.

“She was really sweet,” Mingyu said with a smile, “She told me she didn’t have many friends in the city. We’ll have to take her out with our friends some time soon.”

“Sure,” was all Wonwoo responded absentmindedly, replying to a text from his brother.

“She was pretty, too,” Mingyu added in a suggestive tone.

That made Wonwoo look up from his phone with a pointed look, “What are you implying?”

“Nothing,” his friend shrugged, but his expression was telling before his mouth was, “It’s just been a while since you’ve dated is all. You two seemed to be getting along well.”

The older man rolled his eyes, returning them to his phone as he opened Instagram and proceeded to scroll through his explore page, “I spoke to her for five minutes while you were in the bathroom. I’m not going to fall in love with her in five minutes.”

His friend sighed, “You’ll never fall in love if you’re not open to a potential relationship.”

Wonwoo got quiet then, and the conversation didn’t pick up again until shortly before the bus arrived. On the ride he thought about what Mingyu said. It was true, he hadn’t dated in a very long time, since college actually. Now that he was twenty-seven, it was getting harder and harder for him to find himself in a situation to meet someone. He rarely left his house. He spent his free time doing things alone, and when he did go out with his friends he stuck to them pretty closely. On top of all of that, he wasn’t the most approachable person. He wasn’t a cold person, or at least he didn’t consider himself one. But his looks gave the impression that he was, his sharp eyes and straight-drawn lips making him seem standoffish.

And unlike his friends, he didn’t believe in “love at first sight”. The idea of meeting someone for the first time and instantly being head over heels for them just didn’t connect with him. He didn’t understand how others felt that. When he dated in the past, it took weeks, even months to fall for the person he had a crush on. And he wasn’t necessarily upset with the way he lived; he didn’t mind being alone. Since he was a kid, he always felt more comfortable doing things by himself. But lately he realized his day-to-day did feel a little lonely, especially since most of his friends were settling down with their partners or moving away to pursue careers. Maybe Mingyu was right. Maybe he did need some kind of change.

The first time you hung out with the two men after meeting them at the museum, Mingyu had invited you to join them for lunch. The three of you ate Korean barbecue, learning a bit about each other over a few bottles of soju. Wonwoo didn’t do much talking that time, mostly speaking only when spoken to. You and Mingyu carried the conversations, not that either of you minded. You felt like Wonwoo would need time to open up to you, so you gave him that. Luckily, the two agreed to hang out with you again later in the week. Mingyu had to get some editing done, so he invited you and Wonwoo to keep him company at his apartment.

You were shocked when Wonwoo was the one to engage in conversation with you first, greeting you at the door and welcoming you in. He and Mingyu were preparing a simple dinner, so you sat at the kitchen island watching them cook. You noticed Wonwoo seemed more comfortable talking this time around. Maybe it was because you had hung out already, or maybe it was because he was in a familiar environment. Either way you liked seeing a little crack in the shell that kept his true personality shielded away from you.

Over a couple months the three of you became really close, and you had even met some of their other friends. Mingyu’s office wasn’t far from the art supply store you visited every week, so you made it a habit to visit him every Thursday on your supply runs. The two of you would get lunch or just sit in his office and talk during his break before you returned to your art studio. You really liked the friendship blossoming between you and the two men, but then one day something changed.

Wonwoo texted you out of the blue one Saturday mid-morning asking if you wanted to get some coffee with him. You found it odd that he texted you because he had never done that before. It was usually Mingyu who texted you, or they texted you in a group chat that you had together. Nonetheless, you responded with “of course!” and got dressed.

When you showed up to the café you were confused to see Wonwoo sitting at a two-seater table by himself. You noticed he looked like he put more effort into his appearance today. Normally when you hung out he was in lounging clothes—a simple shirt with sweatpants or maybe loose jeans. The only time you remembered seeing him dressed this nicely was the day you met, and he was working then. But he didn’t mention working today? So what could be the occasion for him to wear off-white pants, a mustard yellow sweater, and what looked like new shoes?

He was reading something on his phone when you approached him, the light from the screen reflecting on his thin-rimmed glasses. When you set your purse down, he looked up at you and gave you a small smile, “Hey.”

“Hi, is Mingyu not joining?” you asked curiously as you sat across from him. You didn’t notice when the corners of his mouth wavered for a second.

“No, he’s working. You’re stuck with just me today,” he joked.

You chuckled softly, “Don’t make it sound so bad. Was there a reason you wanted to hang out today though? I have to say I was a little shocked when you texted me.”

It was Mingyu’s idea, but Wonwoo didn’t want to admit that. His friend had pointed it out that the two of you had never hung out alone. He figured it might help Wonwoo warm up to you more if you spent some time together one-on-one. And even though he didn’t say it out loud, Wonwoo knew Mingyu secretly wanted the two of you to work out romantically—for whatever reason, he wasn’t sure. Wonwoo wasn’t completely closed off to the idea; you were gorgeous and friendly. But he knew it wasn’t going to be an overnight thing. It took weeks for him to feel comfortable with you as a friend, he could only imagine the time it would take to start a romantic relationship.

“I, um, just realized we never got a chance to hang out alone. We don’t really know much about each other outside of our hang outs with Mingyu,” he said. In that moment he also realized how tense he felt. His legs were stiff and knees were drawn in close together under the table. His fingers toyed with the wrapper of his straw from his iced americano. His shoulders were drawn in the slightest bit, and he could feel his posture was kind of terrible. He tried to relax without making it look obvious that he was tense in the first place.

“Yeah, I guess I figured you just didn’t like to socialize as much as Mingyu did.”

“I don’t, but I’m trying to be better about that,” he admitted, and you felt like you might actually be getting somewhere with him, “He teases me a lot about being a hermit.”

You laughed softly, and he smiled with you, “Well, it’s nice to see you coming out of your shell.”

After an appreciative look from him, you excused yourself to order a drink. Wonwoo immediately opened his phone and texted Mingyu.

wonu 🐈‍⬛: ok i’m here, now what do we talk about?

gyu 🐶: well first, don’t be on your phone smh. second, just ask her questions about herself. seem interested. try not to look bored like you always do

Wonwoo sighed in annoyance, ignoring the last part of his message as he turned his phone over on the table. You returned shortly after, also with an iced americano. He decided to give his friend’s advice a try, “Do you always order iced americanos?”

“Only sometimes. My go-to is usually a hot latte, but it’s a bit warm for that today,” you shrugged, taking a sip of your drink. He nodded in understanding, but he was unsure of what else to say. It was so much easier to converse with people you’ve been friends with for several years.

Luckily you had no issue with it, and you broke the awkward silence up for him, “How long have you been doing photography?”

“I’ve done it as a hobby since I was in high school, but after I graduated I started doing freelance work. So, almost ten years.”

“I’d love to see your work some time,” you spoke fondly, remembering the first time you met, “Your shots of my exhibit were amazing, so I can imagine the rest of your work is too.“

“My stuff doesn’t compare to the art you make,” he said it without even thinking. You weren’t sure if you should take it as a self-deprecating remark or flattery.

Your lips quipped into a thoughtful line before you derailed, “Okay, your turn. Ask me a question.”

“Oh, are we playing twenty questions?” Wonwoo joked, sitting back in his chair and sipping on his drink. The sunlight beamed directly across his right eye and onto his cheek. His eye was a deep chocolate brown color as opposed to the dark, cold, almost-black color it usually was. You wondered if his eyes were always that soft.

“Yeah, I’ve just decided. Your turn,” you repeated. You crossed your arms on top of the table, subtly leaning in as a sign of giving him all your attention. He fought the smile wanting to live on his lips, opting to look deep in thought. The two of you went back and forth for nearly half an hour, just asking each other questions. Some answers warranted tangents and story times before you went back to the questions, but you enjoyed it to the fullest. And truthfully, Wonwoo was too. He didn’t think he could get so much enjoyment from a game he used to play with his friends in grade school, yet here he was. On the verge of laughter as you told an embarrassing story from high school in which you were running late to school and didn’t realize until your second class that your underwear was stuck to the back of your shirt.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Wonwoo laughed softly, a crinkle appearing on the bridge of his nose, “I would’ve dropped out of school.”

“I thought about it,” you joked, a bashful smile on your lips as you remembered the story like it happened yesterday, “But yeah, if you’re going to get your clothes from the dryer, double check that your under garments aren’t stuck to them first.”

“Noted,” Wonwoo looked over and noticed that a new couple was sitting at the table behind you. That was the second time new people sat right there. He wondered how long you two had been sitting, but he didn’t want to check his phone in case you got the impression that he was in a rush to leave. Which he definitely wasn’t, “Okay, I think it’s your turn again.”

“Okay, um . . . “ your eyes searched the room for a question prompt, but you were grasping for straws- Wait, that’s it. Straws. The cups of plastic-covered straws on the counter were organized by color, one cup for each color they offered—pink, blue, and yellow, “What’s your favorite color?”

“Hm, why don’t you guess?” Wonwoo replied.

If he was honest, he didn’t really have a favorite color. He supposed if he considered it more he would settle for blue or purple, but he didn’t care enough either way. A good ninety-five percent of his wardrobe was black and five percent color, but he just liked black as a good neutral color to wear. He figured he would just let you guess until you decided to give up.

You thought about it for a moment, but no specific color came to mind immediately. His clothes were mostly black, but lots of people wore black clothing and had a favorite color that wasn’t black. His shirt was yellow as well as the straw for his americano, but there was no other indication that it would be his favorite color from what you could remember. Still, you figured it might be your best guess, “Yellow!”

Wonwoo couldn’t help but smile at your prideful declaration. You said it as if you knew it for a fact.

“Yeah.”

“Wait, really?” your eyes got wide and the grin on your face grew wide. Did you really guess it correctly in one try?

Even Wonwoo was shocked by his answer. Yellow wasn’t his favorite color. He didn’t have one. But you seemed so excited and hopeful and sure of yourself that he didn’t even think twice about his answer.

“Yeah, good job,” he praised you, and he had to admit to himself you looked really cute when you clapped your hands together in a small celebration for yourself, “What’s yours?”

“Pink,” you seemed visibly brighter when you answered. It made sense to Wonwoo. Pink was such a cute, bright, outgoing color. It signified friendliness and sweetness, and all of that just screamed you. Maybe he liked pink too. “It’s been my favorite since I was a kid. Everything I had was pink.”

“Pink suits you.”

You felt yourself flushing at the compliment, your smile turning sheepish, “I think yellow suits you, too. I’m picturing a nice pastel yellow for you. Very spring.”

He tried to picture it: him in a pastel yellow shirt. The mental image seemed foreign, since the mustard sweater he was currently wearing was the brightest color he had ever worn besides white. But he wouldn’t be opposed to it.

“Alright, your turn.”

A few more questions were exchanged between you two, long after your cups were emptied. The patrons of the café that had been present when you showed up were long gone, and new faces took their places. After a while you felt a little guilty for hogging the table for so long, even though it had only been a little under two hours. Wonwoo made a comment about heading out, so you both got up and threw your trash. He walked with you to the bus station, even though he had driven to the café in his own car. You thanked him for inviting you to hang out and told him that you enjoyed it.

“We’ll have to do this again some time, but maybe not tell Mingyu. He might get jealous,” you teased your non-present friend, making Wonwoo laugh softly. He knew for a fact that Mingyu would have no problem with it; he would probably encourage it, if anything.

“I don’t think he’d mind. He’s not usually the jealous type,” Wonwoo replied, stuffing his hands into his pants pockets. He tried to think of something you two could do together, and he recalled that during the twenty—more like fifty plus—questions you had said you liked video games too, “If you want, we could hang out at my apartment, play some video games. And order pizza or something?”

“That sounds like fun!” your eyes lit up at the idea. You had never actually been to his apartment before. Every time you hung out was at Mingyu’s place, your place, or somewhere in the city. You wondered what his apartment looked like. He seemed like the type to keep everything tidy and minimal, “I’ll be pretty busy this week, but maybe we can work something out for next weekend.”

“Cool,” he nodded and kept small talk until the bus arrived to pick you and a handful of other people up. He waved you off politely, and when you were out of sight, he let out a hefty sigh. It felt like a weight had been taken off his shoulders, but not in a bad way. He liked you, so there was this small, subconscious pressure that he felt to be more outgoing. He wanted you to like him too.

Over the next few weeks, there was a shift in the dynamic between the three of you, and it seemed to be obvious to everyone except Wonwoo. You and him had grown a lot closer as you started to hang out alone outside of your usual outings with Mingyu and their other friends. And it showed when the group was together. You always took the seat closest to Wonwoo. He laughed more at your jokes. You complimented his outfits—which were slowly but progressively becoming more colorful. He offered to walk you to your car or the bus or home whenever he could. Yet, still, when asked if anything was going on between you two, he seemed confused.

“It’s not like that,” he told Mingyu when the two were walking to a job they had booked one afternoon—a restaurant opening, “________ and I have gotten close, but not that close.”

“Hey, I know you wear glasses, but you can’t be this blind,” his friend retorted, “You two like each other.”

Wonwoo faltered a bit as he walked, but tried to play it off, “Did she say she liked me?”

“No, but she doesn’t need to. Neither do you, but as your best friend it would be nice if you told me these things.”

Wonwoo rolled his eyes, annoyed that Mingyu had made him think you had finally admitted having feelings for him.

“You two act like you’re in your own world all the time. The guys notice it, too, not just me,” Mingyu continued, “And since when do you like yellow so much?”

The question took Wonwoo so off guard that he laughed incredulously, “What?”

“She’s always giving you stuff that’s yellow. And you started wearing yellow clothes,” Mingyu pointed out. And it was true.

The first thing you had gifted him was a simple pen; it was a sunflower yellow color with black lettering etched on the side that said ‘hello, sunshine!’. He was confused when you had handed it to him that second time you hung out together to play video games. You showed up on his doorstep, telling him to close his eyes and put out his hands. When he had opened them again the pen was sat in his palms.

“What’s this for?”

“Nothing, I guess. I was at the supply store and noticed it by the check out, and I thought about you. So I got it for you. It’s cute, isn’t it?”

Wonwoo honestly had no reason to use such a pen since his day-to-day work required little writing. And most of his notes were made in his phone, but the sentiment behind your gift made his heart flutter, “It is. Thank you, _______.”

And nearly every time after then you had gifted him things similar. While at the park with him and Mingyu, you bought him a banana flavored popsicle, solely for the fact that it was yellow—and you were relieved to find out he liked the banana flavor. When you went bowling with their friends, you gave him the yellow ball and left yourself with the last one which was brown. When you went to Mingyu’s to see the two of them, you had brought them each a keychain from a new pop-up shop that was near your art studio. You gave Mingyu a red one that had a soccer ball on it while Wonwoo’s was yellow and had a sunflower on it. You had initially got it because of its color, but the flower reminded you of the day you met him, so it held even more sentiment.

And recently, Wonwoo’s favorite water bottle had broken, so while you were out shopping you had found one that was similar to it. The cap was a little different, but it had the same shape and size, and it was a golden yellow hue.

When you gave it to him, the two of you were about to leave his apartment to get some dinner at the fried chicken place down the street. You had mentioned that you had a surprise for him, then you fished the bottle out of your tote bag to show him. His heart skipped a beat and a smile crept onto his lips when he saw it.

“I know you probably won’t love it as much as your other bottle, but hopefully you still like it,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. He took it from your offering grasp and shook his head.

“I do love it,” he said.

“You can leave it here while we go eat,” you turned towards the door, pulling your bag more securely onto your shoulder. But just before you could reach for the doorknob, Wonwoo’s voice called your name, making you turn back to face him, “Hm?”

Your eyes widened when you realized he was a lot closer than you thought, just a foot or so away from you. His tall frame seemed to tower over you, causing you to have to look up at him. You could see a struggle happening behind his eyes, as if he was going back and forth in his mind trying to decide on something. You were about to question him when suddenly he leaned forward and placed a quick kiss to your cheek. The skin that he touched felt hot in his wake, the warmth spread across your face and ultimately your whole body felt heated under his gaze.

“Thank you, ________. For everything,” he spoke softly, his anxiety apparent in his tone. He averted his gaze, looking down at his hands. A bracelet that you had bought him last week was wrapped around his wrist—white beads and yellow smiley face charms decorating it. For some reason seeing the jewelry gave him the little boost of confidence he needed to ask, “Would you like to make this a date?”

Your eyes widened even further, but you couldn’t ignore the flurry of butterflies going wild inside your chest, their fluttering wings tickling your heart. Your crush on Wonwoo had started long before his crush on you had formed, but that didn’t bother you. Because you knew that he liked you now, and you couldn’t pass the opportunity to say, “Yes.”

A charming smile grew wide on his face, prompting you to grin too. Happiness bloomed inside you, and the two of you walked out of the apartment suddenly feeling shy after wordlessly admitting your feelings for each other. Despite his nerves, though, Wonwoo found the courage to take your hand in his as you walked down the sidewalk to the fried chicken place.

Along the way you pointed out some yellow canola flowers planted outside of an office building, and Wonwoo decided in that moment that he would never get tired of the color yellow. The way your face lit up when you saw it or gave him yellow-themed gifts, he would always find it cute. As far as he was concerned, the entire world could be covered in the color yellow, and he would be content just knowing it made you happy. He no longer would appreciate rain; instead, he would look forward to sunny days when the bright, yellow sunlight would remind him of you and your kind heart. Maybe yellow wasn’t his favorite color at first but, over time, it would be.

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[rubywonu]

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 - 𝘅𝘂 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗵𝗮𝗼

summary: in which minghao flirted with a woman at an art exhibition without realizing that she was the artist.

pairing: xu minghao x fem!reader

genre: meet cute, museum au!.

warnings: talks about struggles people face in life, kinds sad?

w/c: 0.9k

nia’s notes: i do not know where i was going with this, it may be rushed, idek anymore. but enjoy!!

this is part of cutetober!

if anyone knew minghao it was because of his crazy love for paintings and art museums. so it didn't come as a surprise when minghao decided to spend an entire day at the 'everything falls' art exhibition by yn.

even if someone was slightly interested in art, they knew of yn. so when the opportunity to visit one of your exhibitions minghao rushed to the museum. it always amused him how everyone knew of your name but not your face.

minghao walked inside the museum and just by seeing the hue of orange and brown in his peripheral view, he was sure that today was going to be amazing.

minghao slowly walked over to the first painting, basking in all the emotions. the first painting showed leaves falling from the sky, each of them more dry than the previous one. minghao took a look at the name of the painting, 'as time flies'. it was obvious what the painting was conveying but the way it portrayed the message intrigued minghao.

minghao walked to the next painting and his mouth was wide open. painted on the canvas, was a woman, her back bare as she stared at multiple mirrors, each being broken in different ways and the women in the mirrors being older or younger than another.

now minghao had gone to his share of muesems and exhibitions but they never had such a mind-blowing way to convey one's emotions.

"failed and flawed." minghao turned his head to the woman walking towards him. "it's my favorite painting." it was an understatement to say that the woman walking towards minghao was pretty, in his eyes that woman was drop-dead gorgeous.

"i haven't seen any more of them but this has to be the best one so far." minghao turned back to the canvas and each time he looked at it, a new meaning behind it evoked in him. "what's your interpretation?"

"my interpretation is that this young woman looks at herself through different eras of her life and she remembers all her failed attempts in life and how her life was flawed but they calm down after she realizes the beauty of the falls in her life." you finished still looking at the painting in front of you, minghao's eyes never left you though.

he never thought about it like that and it made so much more sense now that he understood yet another version of it. "it makes so much more sense after having a beautiful woman explain it to me."

if minghao could, he wanted to slap his face. he didn't know why he said that and more importantly he was worried how you would take the spontaneous flirting. to his surprise, you laughed and played along. "i hope so, i don't explain my thoughts about my paintings to anyone, you know."

just as minghao was going to continue, he stopped right in his tracks. "my paintings? what does that mean."

you smiled and turned towards minghao, putting your hand out for him to shake. "im yn, the artist of the 'everything fall' collection."

minghao's mouth for the second time that day was wide open. "oh my god." he rushed to shake your hand.

"you're yn? that's amazing. i love your work. and about the flirting im so sorry. minghao what were you thinking?" minghao started to ramble and it added to your entertainment as you laughed.

"it's alright. i actually enjoyed it, to be honest." you smiled at him, and minghao felt like the world was going to end. you looked like you deserved your own painting, you were stunning.

"if it's alright to ask you, what was your inspiration for such an intriguing collection." minghao asked you the question you tried to avoid for the evening but you wanted to spill it all out to him, he felt comfortable.

"it's ok, just don't sell it to a publisher." you joked around and minghao cracked a smile at your answer. "last year, i took a trip around the country and visited a bunch of villages. during my stay, i met a group of women from different places who told me about their lives and the lessons they learned during their time on this planet. they told me about incidents that changed the trajectory of their lives either for the better or worse. that's why i chose to paint this, i chose to express their grief in brush strokes and paint, i guess while listening to them, i found out about the struggles in my life as well, either i didn't want to confront them or i never knew they existed."

"if you look at all the paintings you can see how mellow the messages behind the paintings get. it starts off rough and dark but as you walk by the pictures you can the gradual calm settling in, it shows the emotions that people feel when negativity strikes their lives. it shows the way people deal with those emotions." you finished your little speech and minghao was awestruck.

you talked about your paintings and minghao felt like he could listen to them forever. although it was your first meeting, minghao felt like the two of you met a long time back, it felt like the two of you shared the same soul.

you didn't realize then but for the rest of your life, you and minghao would go on for hours about your interpretation of paintings. the only thing that changed was that instead of being strangers, the both of you would be soulmates, and the both of you would fall deep in love all because of some paintings.

taglist: @caratlibrary . @caratsland . @kflixnet . @jyiiscool . @readingaddict420 . @pixieskie . @@anemoiant . @horanghae8 . @boooooseun . @wonwooz1 . @xomingyu . @bangchansbae .@weird-bookworm .

[asterr1sk]

pretty as the paintings

⊹₊ ⋆ park seonghwa wc: 472 genre: pining, strangers to ??? a/n: i love my husband <33

you've always been fond of visual art, whether it be a painting or a sculpture. it was your source of happiness and stress relief, but now, as an art student, it just gives you more stress than ever. here you are, standing in front of an art museum, hoping that this might give you motivation for your next piece. as you entered, there were all kinds of displays, varying in era and style. you decided to go to one exhibit, walking around and inspecting the paintings. 

you felt someone stand next to you and peek at whoever that was. it was a tall man with long hair wearing a turtleneck, holding onto his coat. even from this angle, he looked pretty. you wondered if he went alone, just like you. the whole afternoon went on with you exploring the beautiful museum. you can’t help but notice that man was also coincidentally in the same places you went through. you are pretty sure he already knows of your existence, exchanging glances at each other but never making a move. it seemed like you weren’t paying attention to the displays anymore, except for that man.

you sat on a bench in an open area since you wanted a break from all that walking and searching. you took out your notebook and pencil to write some ideas. although, some of your doodles were of that man. you were determined not to think about him. you stood back up and grabbed your things to roam the other exhibits again.  

you were in the last exhibit, but your mind was definitely somewhere else. you walked around, trying to find that man again. it was your fourth loop around the exhibit already, and there was still no sign of him. you sighed as you thought maybe it was for the best. the only motivation you had on this trip was to talk to him. you finally decided that it was already time to go. 

you were having a last look at the museum when you felt a tap on your shoulder. 

“this may sound so sudden, but do you want to get something to eat? ” you turned your head, and to your surprise, it was him. now that he was actually facing you, the details of his face were like those of the displays you saw earlier. 

“since dinner time is near, we can go to a restaurant. you can choose if you’d like.” you answered back with a smile. he looked at his watch and nodded.

“i know this great restaurant nearby. we can go there. oh wait, i forgot,” he laughed at himself. “my name is seonghwa, by the way.”

“i’m y/n.” you were sure that you saw him turn red.

“nice to finally meet you, y/n. i’ll lead the way.”

[differenteagletragedy]

Two times you almost slept with Baxter and one time you did (hey-o)

Takes place during Step 3. As a Very Normal Person who thinks about this game in a normal way, I have been torn about how intimate MC and Baxter get if you do the romance route with him. Because our guy is such a flirt, but then no follow through? Suspicious.

So here's a possible scenario for all of that. Definitely not smut, but it's a little spicy!

The first time it almost happened was in Baxter's condo on a random Wednesday afternoon. You didn't have to work, Cove did and Baxter was, as he always liked to remind you, flexible, so you were sitting together on his couch, watching a movie.

The thing was that you'd never watched a movie with Baxter before, so you didn't know how bad he was at it. He was more concerned with making a cute little commentary than following the plot, and while it was cute -- it was Baxter, after all -- at a certain point you didn't know what was going on.

So you chose to pass the time in a different way.

Right after he cracked another lame joke and turned to give you a smirk, you met his lips with a kiss instead. It took him a moment to react as it usually did when you kissed him, but he got the hang of it before too long.

It started out a little slow and awkward -- you hadn't had had too many long kisses at this point, mostly more chaste pecks here and there -- but soon it was a full blown makeout session. You slipped your fingers through his hair and you felt a little sigh against your mouth. He was having fun.

Things got more intense, and you suddenly found his hand on the back of your thigh. Before you could say anything, he gripped it firmly and pulled you up so you were straddling his lap.

"This is new," you said, looking down at him nervously.

"It is," he agreed, the normal bravado in his voice replaced by a sort of excited uncertainty. "Is this all right?"

In response, you kissed him again and settled into the position. This way, you could feel just how much fun he was having. It was exciting.

Feeling a wave of boldness, you leaned back and took your shirt off. He gazed at your body openly, and with a tenderness you weren't expecting, his raised his hands off your hips to stroke your back.

You let out a low moan, and there it was -- that smirk that had been missing. Still with the same gentleness as before, he started placing soft kisses along your collarbone, moving lower down your chest.

While his mouth and hands were occupied elsewhere, you made quick work of the buttons of his shirt, and soon you slipped it off his shoulders and threw it behind you, then went in for another kiss, pressing your skin together.

After a nice little while of this, he leaned back again and found your eyes.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes," you told him plainly, not leaving anything up for interpretation.

You kissed for a while longer, then you felt his hand on your stomach. He held it there for just a moment, then started moving it lower. You felt his fingers move between the waistband of your shorts and your skin, and they worked their way lower and lower ...

All at once, you felt his body tense under yours, and he snatched his hand back like he'd been burnt. He gripped your shoulders and guided you off of him so you were sitting by his side again.

"Perhaps we should slow it down a bit, don't you agree?" he asked, an unmistakable shakiness to his voice.

"Sure, if that's what you want."

You both silently found the clothing you'd lost then started watching the movie again. He didn't have any cute comments this time around.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The second time was in your room. Your moms and Liz were out for the day, so you had the place to yourself. You'd been texting Baxter, spending a lazy day in your room, before finally just asking him to come over and hang out.

He'd only been in your room once or twice before, and he treated it like a museum exhibit. He was studying you.

"What's this?" he asked, pointing to a shelf.

He'd spotted your seashell collection, and you told him as much.

"I used to know all the scientific names and everything," you said, moving to stand beside him so you could look at your little display.

"Used to?" he questioned, cocking an eyebrow.

"Used to and still can," you corrected yourself, laughing.

"Tell me about them?"

You laughed more, then snuck a glance at him. He was smiling too, but it was a sincere request. So you did.

You told him not only the scientific facts you knew about your shells, but the memories you had of when you'd found them. You showed him the big orange one you'd found with Liz when you were little, and the pretty little pink one you and Cove had come across after he'd moved to town.

Maybe it was your impressive show of knowledge, or maybe the fondness in your voice as you spoke about all these people and places and things that were important to you, or maybe it was just that you cared enough to share any of it with him, but when you were done he wrapped his arms around you tightly and buried his face in the crook between your neck and shoulder.

You held him back, and then his lips found yours.

Usually you were the one who took the initiative for any sort of physical affection, but this time he led you to your bed, and you felt almost a sort of neediness in how he moved against you. After the back of your knees bumped against your mattress, he laid you down and climbed on top of you, situating his body between your legs and lowering himself to kiss you again.

This time, he let himself explore your body with his hands, and you gladly let him. Your shirts ended up tossed aside again, but this time he took your shorts off, too. Whether it was on your mouth, your neck, your chest or, for a few tantalizing moments, even lower, his never let his lips leave you for long.

It felt like he was desperate to be as close to you as he possibly could. Which was fine -- you were desperate too.

He looped his thumbs under the sides of your underwear, bunching them up in his hands and landing a kiss on your hip. You shuddered and moaned, saying his name, and that seemed to break whatever spell he'd let himself fall under.

Baxter sat up on his knees and looked off to the side, a mix of emotions clear on his face. You couldn't pick them all out, but you could tell he was cutting your encounter short again.

"What's wrong?" you asked.

"Nothing," he said quickly. "It just seems like maybe this isn't the best venue for ... this," he gestured to your partially unclothed bodies.

"Nobody's going to be home for a while," you assured him. You grabbed his hands and tried to guide him back down to you, but he kissed yours and let them go. He climbed gracefully over your leg and sat beside you on your bed.

"Perhaps we --" he began, but you cut him off.

"Perhaps you can tell me why you're doing this again."

He finally met your eyes. He looked confused.

"This time and before, at your place," you told him. "We started fooling around and you stopped it both times. I thought you just weren't ready the first time, but this time you started it and then ... I don't get it. Is it something I'm doing?"

"No, not at all," he said, moving closer to you. You were upset, and he didn't like that it was because of something he'd done. "You're doing everything perfectly. Don't worry about that, please."

"Then what?"

He considered things for a moment, then looked at you again. Before he began speaking, he laid down beside you and placed a careful arm around you.

"It's just that I so deeply don't want you to regret this," Baxter said softly, absentmindedly making shapes with his fingers on your side. "Any of this. We haven't known each other for very long, and it won't be very much longer before I'm gone. I don't want you to move too quickly and then look back on our summer together and wish you'd done things differently. I'm afraid that would break my heart."

He didn't look at you through any of this, but when he was done he glanced up and gave you a tight smile.

"I wouldn't," you said firmly. "i won't. I promise."

You could tell that he wasn't convinced, but at least he let himself stay there with you like that for a while. He kept stroking idly along your stomach, moving his head to rest on your shoulder. Eventually you both fell asleep.

It wasn't the sort of intimacy you'd thought you'd get, but it certainly wasn't unwelcome.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The third time ... well, as they say, the third time's the charm.

It was nearly the end of summer, about a week after Miranda's birthday party and your impromptu Summer Soiree. You hadn't been able to stop thinking about how sweet Baxter's reaction to the whole thing was or how much he'd loved being able to have a proper dance, so you'd decided to set up another little party for him.

This time, the guest list was even smaller.

You'd asked Baxter if he could hang out that night, and he agreed -- he always put you above any and all other plans, and you knew it. So you gathered some supplies from your house and headed down to the beach.

As the sun set, you laid out a blanket on the sand, then pulled out your phone and set up a little speaker that went with it. You had a few candles you'd swiped from around the house that you lit, hoping the wind wouldn't blow them out at least until Baxter got the full effect. You'd also brought some snacks that you placed on the blanket as well, but you were pretty sure you knew what he would want to do when he got there.

And you were right.

You sent a text, asking Baxter to meet you at the beach, and he promptly let you know he was on his way. Then you pulled up a playlist you'd compiled -- some more traditional ballroom dancing tunes and some slow songs you just liked -- and began playing it. The sound quality wasn't great, but you didn't think it would matter. You smoothed out your clothes, a little fancier than what you'd normally wear here, and waited.

When you saw him approaching, you smiled at him. He paused, taking it all in, then gave you what may have been the most tender look you'd ever seen a person make.

"What's all this?" he asked when he got to you.

"Summer Soiree, Part Two, The Reckoning," you answered, gesturing to your little spread. His face was filled with wonder at the scene, and when you held your hand up in a wordless invitation to dance, he positively beamed.

You danced together as the moon appeared over the water. He held you close, your hand in his clasped firmly to his chest. You stayed like that for a while, swaying back and forth in a cozy little silence, before Baxter spoke.

"I'm not quite sure what I did to deserve such a marvelous dance partner this summer, but sincerely, thank you for this. It means a great deal, more than I can say," he said.

"You're worth it," you told him. You moved your hand off his shoulder to ruffle his hair, and he nearly purred.

"I won't forget a moment of this, any of this," he went on. "When I'm old and grey -- properly grey -- I'll look back on the summer I spent in Sunset Bird with the utmost fondness." He paused, looking at you deeply, and added, "I won't forget you. Not ever."

You rolled your eyes affectionately at the monochrome joke, then said, "Of course you won't forget me. How could you?"

You shared a smile, then you leaned in for a kiss.

By that point in the summer, you knew that you liked Baxter, so much, and that you wanted him. It didn't matter that this was essentially a fling and that he would be leaving soon -- he was here now, and after all you'd shared with each other over the past few months, you wanted him to know that someone cared for him, that he could be appreciated and doted on and even loved. You wanted to show him.

"Can we go back to your place?" you asked, willing him to understand what you meant and to trust that you knew what was best for yourself.

He searched your eyes for a moment, and you didn't look away. He swallowed, then nodded.

You packed up your things together and he carried your bag as you walked back to the neighborhood hand in hand. When you made it through the doorway of his condo, he put your things down carefully, then turned to you.

Personally, you were done with being careful.

You crashed into him, pulling him around you, and after just a short moment of hesitation, he met your intensity. He kissed you hard, your teeth almost clanking together, but you didn't mind -- you wanted him to finally let loose.

And he did.

Both of you were down to your underwear by the time he'd led you to his bedroom, and before you got in bed, he'd removed the final layers. You were naked together for the first time, but you couldn't stop kissing each other to get a proper look.

"You're absolutely sure?" he asked breathlessly, forcing his hands to stop roaming you body until he could get your answer.

"Absolutely," you answered.

This time, that was enough for him.

You spent the night together, wrapped up in each other. Baxter was sometimes sweet and gentle, sometimes a bit rougher, but for once, all his hesitation was gone. He wanted you just as badly as you'd wanted him, and he finally let himself have you.

The next morning, you woke up before him -- no surprise there. He had firmly attached himself to you in his sleep, and you felt a bit of dampness by your head that you thought may have been drool, but you didn't care. Not when he looked so cute.

When he finally opened his eyes and saw you beside him, he grinned and snuggled up closer.

"Morning," he said, nearly slurring.

"Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

"Mmm," he hummed happily. He didn't want to greet the day just yet, and that was fine by you.

For the next little while, Baxter dozed next to you, sometimes waking up enough to have a bit of conversation before it fell off again. In the times when you heard a light snoring, you let your mind wander.

You knew he'd made it clear that this relationship was temporary -- that had been established time and time again. You didn't think last night had changed that, you had never lied when you told him that you understood, but as he slept naked beside you, you let yourself think that maybe whatever this was that you'd built this summer was strong enough to last.

Maybe not now, but that was ok. Maybe later, when you'd both solidly found your footing in the adult world. Maybe you could build a closer friendship while he was across the country in college, then you could come back together.

You resolved to talk to him about it when he woke up, but for now, you shut your eyes too and cuddled closer to him, content to laze away the morning in his arms.

[darsynia]

Hand(s) Off | Ch1: Agony

(Steve Rogers/f!Reader sex pollen-esque multichapter)

STORY MASTERLIST | STEVE MASTERLIST | NEXT

Summary: Bucky Barnes is the most important person in your life. When he confesses to you that he lives at the Avengers tower, and the 'Steve' you've been hearing about for months is actually Steve Rogers, you think that nothing can top that revelation-- and then you find yourself trapped in Captain America's bedroom getting a second-hand dose of NYC's favorite new aphrodisiac, Mistress.

Length | Warnings: 3,271 | None this chapter; story will contain explicit sex descriptions and situations, MINORS DNI

Note: I want to make clear that I'm treating the issues of consent with sensitivity. This is not even a dubious consent story in my eyes; the choices these characters make are kind, as clear-eyed as possible under the circumstances, and respectful.

Excerpt:

“You grew up with Captain America?” you ask, impressed. Bucky Barnes can really keep a secret.

“Not at all. I grew up with Steve. Skinny, brave Steve. Never backed down from a fight, and now he doesn’t have to. C’mon,” he says, nodding toward the Avengers tower that’s visible in the distance.

There’s something in the back of your mind that’s important, something-- “Oh my God, Bucky!” you gasp, almost stumbling in your shock. “I dragged you to that trivia night, and you did so badly on the Avengers questions! You let me answer the all Captain America ones myself! I totally went on and on about how wonderful and handsome Steve Rogers is. I talked about his ass-- and he’s your best friend?”

“You squeak any higher you’re going to start catching the attention of every purse dog in the city,” Bucky teases gruffly. You shoot a look over, noticing that he’s trying not to grin.

“You jerk!” you say, nudging his right arm with your left elbow. “Were you feeling me out?”

Bucky starts cough-laughing. “You’re going to have to define that one for me.”

Chapter One: Agony

He’s falling and you can’t do anything about it.

Bucky’s shirt catches on a stub of a branch on the way down. You, the child whose balloon he was retrieving, and the kid’s mother all rush over when he lands in a heap.

“Oh my god, are you--” the mom starts to say.

“Here you go, kid. Hold tight, I’m not going after it again,” Bucky interrupts, hauling himself to his feet. 

“Wow! That looks like it didn’t hurt at all!” the kid says.

“It hurts. Everything hurts. I’m just trying to impress her.” He nods in your direction.

Even though it makes you crack up (because he’s absolutely not), this seems to do the trick. The mom takes a minute to tie a more secure knot in the balloon string before smiling nervously at the two of you and leading her son away.

“I’m sorry,” you wince, taking a picture of the hand-sized rip at Bucky’s armpit that reveals the metal of his arm underneath. You’ve never seen the whole thing, but you’ve felt the arm through his sleeve a couple of times.

“Why are you sorry? You told me not to do it.”

“I’m sorry to have been right?”

“Yeah, okay,” he says grimly, scowling at the phone you handed him and reaching around to feel the edges of the tear. “It shows the join, doesn’t it?”

You’ve been trying not to look, because, yeah, it does. The skin edging the metal graft looks burned and painful, definitely not appropriate for your museum plans. Bucky takes in your uncomfortable nod and his jaw clenches.

“We don’t have to go,” you offer.

“We’re going. I just have to…” He trails off, twisting the shirt around to get a better look. The two of you had decided to take the long way through the park. There’s about an hour before the interactive exhibit opens, but it’s the last day. He wouldn’t even tell you how he got the tickets.

“Okay, what if we swing by a corner store so I can grab a sewing kit--”

Bucky interrupts in a firm voice. “No need to waste the money. I’ll head back home to change; we can get a taxi from there. It’s a bit of a walk.” He shrugs the shirt back into position and starts back the way you’d come.

You have to jog to catch up. “That works.” There are a million things you want to say, but it’s Bucky who speaks first, after fifteen minutes of silence. The two of you reach a crosswalk, and he stops you with his left arm, which in your opinion is a choice.

“Spit it out.”

“You were keeping things separate. You shouldn’t change your mind unless you want to,” you say quietly. He’d said he wanted to keep this friendship to himself for a while, with no connection to the past, and no expectation for the future. You’d found that unexpectedly refreshing at the time, and you still do.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Bucky says. “It’s time. I probably would have sat on it for another month anyway.”

It’s been a six month journey from friendly to friends to close friends for the two of you, and it’s only been two months since he’d opened up about his agonizing past. You don’t know everything yet, and that’s okay. You might never know. As long as Bucky knows he can trust you, that’s what matters.

The light changes, and he guides you across, his body language more relaxed now. Still, you want to make things as easy for him as possible.

“I can wait in the lobby--”

“Shit. That won’t help,” Bucky says, coming to a complete stop in the middle of the sidewalk. “Did you ever look me up?”

“No! You asked me not to.”

He looks at you like you’re some sort of rare creature for a minute, and a slow, appreciative smile grows on his face. You get it-- when he’d told you his actual birthdate, that he’d gone missing in the 40’s, you’d been tempted. But… when someone with a medically engineered metal arm asks you not to poke around in his past, you don’t. Not if you care about him.

“There was a good reason for that, I’m assuming?”

Bucky’s chuckle is deep and amused. “Yeah. I ah, live with the Avengers. Steve’s last name is Rogers. Steve Rogers.”

You’ve heard all about his best friend Steve, enough to feel affection for the man without ever having met him-- but this is not what you were expecting. At all.

“You grew up with Captain America?” you ask, impressed. Bucky Barnes can really keep a secret.

“Not at all. I grew up with Steve. Skinny, brave Steve. Never backed down from a fight, and now he doesn’t have to. C’mon,” he says, nodding toward the Avengers tower that’s visible in the distance.

There’s something in the back of your mind that’s important, something-- “Oh my God, Bucky!” you gasp, almost stumbling in your shock. “I dragged you to that trivia night, and you did so badly on the Avengers questions! You let me answer the all Captain America ones myself! I totally went on and on about how wonderful and handsome Steve Rogers is. I talked about his ass-- and he’s your best friend?”

“You squeak any higher you’re going to start catching the attention of every purse dog in the city,” Bucky teases gruffly. You shoot a look over, noticing that he’s trying not to grin.

“You jerk!” you say, nudging his right arm with your left elbow. “Were you feeling me out?”

Bucky starts cough-laughing. “You’re going to have to define that one for me.”

“--stop by, that’s all I ask. Redwing would love it,” Sam grins as he opens the door to Tony’s lab.

“I’ll try, but did you have to say it like that?” Steve groans before heading into Dr. Banner’s workspace right next door. A new street drug named Mistress has been causing concern, and with SHIELD still in transition, the government has called on the scientific wing of the Avengers to help figure out how to combat the substance. 

Mistress is an aphrodisiac, a potent one. Banner’s preliminary tests show that it’s likely not of Earth origin, which has slowed down their testing considerably due to safety concerns. That’s where Steve comes in; Bruce thinks his fast metabolism could be the key to figuring the stuff out without putting too many others at risk. That and his lack of a romantic partner. 

Apparently the drug enhances a person’s desire to have sex to a strong need, strong enough that there’s no data on what happens if they don’t. The stuff reportedly burns through people, causing dangerous fevers that have officials fearful that someone’s going to get dosed and killed, not to mention the consent issues.

“Hey, Steve,” Banner says. “I don’t know if you’ve met Doctor Lyonne?”

“I haven’t. First or last name?” Steve asks the attractive female doctor.

“Oh, nice one. ‘Lyonne’ is my married name, though. Sorry to possibly disappoint,” she says easily.

Banner smiles at Steve’s wave-off gesture and says, “I’ll leave you two experts to the interpersonal stuff.” He ignores them in favor of a large glass jar with a bunch of warning labels stuck to it. The liquid inside is clear, and all signs point to it being the drug in question. “All right,” Bruce finally says, stepping away and scratching out about four things on his clipboard. “The plan is to expose you in measured doses and observe the results. It’s pretty volatile-- works if ingested, soaks into the skin, and we think it’s capable of being aerosolized under certain conditions. Drinking it will be the most controlled method, so Dr. Lyonne is setting up dosing cups for me. She’s got a class to teach in about forty minutes, so--”

“That’s his delicate way of saying I’ll be out of your hair and unable to observe anything you’ll be going through over the course of the tests,” Lyonne interrupts.

The door that joins the two labs swings open before Steve can respond, and Tony leans his head in. He’s wearing one of his Iron Man suits. “Before you ramp up Icy Hot here, can I show you my new toy?”

“This is a segue to a sex toy joke, Steve. Retreat, retreat!” Sam calls out from behind Tony.

“I’m wounded!” Tony says, muttering, “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that first.” He walks in and grins, holding up his left arm. “Check it out. Nav is still a little spotty, but--”

Steve watches as a shape lifts up from Tony’s bicep area on the suit, similar to Redwing but oval and smaller. 

“Tony, I’d be happy to look at it pretty much any other time, but--”

“You have the whole rest of the day blocked out, Bruce, just give me this!”

The friendship between Stark and Banner always makes Steve nervous. They are the closest aligned in terms of work ethic and smarts, but farthest apart in temperament-- and that’s before the Hulk is brought into play. Steve inches closer to the large glass jug of Mistress as Tony gesticulates wildly, sending the drone careening around the room.

It starts beeping.

“Shit!” Tony shouts. “Uh… apparently something I did set the self-destruct?”

“Why does your drone have a self destruct, Tony?” 

Bruce sounds incredulous and angry, and Steve doesn’t have his shield. As though Tony had set up the whole situation for maximum drama, the thing is headed straight for the jug. Steve lunges to protect it as Bruce maneuvers himself to take the explosion for the team. Someone screams for JARVIS to lock down the building.

Steve lifts the drug container high, meaning to leap out of the way with it, but there’s nowhere to go. The drone’s explosive impact brings forth the Hulk-- which sends Steve and the jug flying backwards into the lab equipment.

Things turn a bit surreal when you enter the tower. Bucky takes you to a secret side entrance (to avoid the press, he says) but when he gets into the elevator, he seems confused when he can’t talk to it. You’re just about to make a Star Trek joke when he explains there’s usually an artificial intelligence that runs the building, but it’s not responding.

You’re used to pretty much anything apartment-related being out of order, so you’re not fazed. Once inside his apartment, you point out that there’s a sticky note on the opposite side of the door, and Bucky grabs it, his brows furrowing as he reads.

“Shit,” he grins, holding up the note. “Stay here? You’re not authorized for this area.”

“Better hurry!” The tickets for the exhibit are for 1:30, and it’s already 12:50. With a nod, he jogs back into the hallway toward the elevator, and just like that you’re alone in Bucky’s apartment.

It is immediately apparent that he doesn’t live here alone. Underneath a coat rack with multiple jackets is a shoe tray with at least five pairs of shoes in two different sizes. The living room is cozy and lived-in; you see the familiar sight of a bottle of Bucky’s favorite beer sitting on an end-table-- right beside a coaster.

You’re about to reach for it when an alarm sounds, accompanied by an urgent voice.

=Tier One protection activated. Retreat to an interior room and wait for further instructions. Attention: Tier One protection activated. Retreat to an interior room and wait for further instructions.=

You freeze in fear for a few seconds, but when the instruction repeats a few seconds later, you hear a grinding noise in the wall. It’s frightening enough that you dart into the hallway and inside the first open door. The reason for the sound becomes terrifyingly clear a few seconds later as a metal panel encased in the doorframe slides down, too quickly for you to slip out underneath it.

The room turns pitch black in the space between one frightened breath and the next.

After taking a minute to listen for danger, you make your way by feel to the far wall, looking for the light switch. On the way, you trip over something that turns out to be a pair of men’s slippers. You’re glad to let your eyes adjust to the light as you put them back, but when you straighten up, you immediately feel like you’re trespassing somewhere you do not belong.

The room is neat as hell, the kind of tidiness that must come from enjoying a clean space rather than a sense of obligation. However, you soon reassess: this is lived in, less frighteningly neat than well-designed. Everything has its place. It’s different from the easy chaos that Bucky has shown on the few times he’s slept over after movie marathons, so you’re pretty sure this isn’t his room. That, and the white cat plushie you gave him that he swears lives on his dresser? Isn’t there.

Instead, the tray with grooming materials in front of a small mirror are the only objects on the dresser top. There’s a low bookshelf next to an easy chair whose footrest has a worn-in divot. The nightstand is equally neat and functional, with a slightly askew sketchbook hinting that the room’s occupant is an artist.

Unfortunately, these observations are making you more nervous, not less. An intrusive thought that the alarm could be about a fire and there’s literally no way out sends you into a frenzy of banging on the inexorable metal slab. 

“Hello?? HELLO!? Please let me out, please, please let me out!” you scream, slamming your fists against the damned barrier until your hands hurt. You’re crying and frantic and yelling, and suddenly there’s someone else on the other side of the door also yelling, and in the next few minutes everything happens at once. 

You can’t see anything through your tears and fear; all you know is the feel and sound of strong hands and a soothing voice that isn’t Bucky but it should be. That thought sends you into more frightened tears, because he’ll be worried, he’ll be upset, and it might send him into a spiral like the one from a few months ago when he finally explained about his past.

Then, awfully, the grinding sound is back and the warm hands are gone.

You hear several shouted, imperative commands before the man falls silent. He’d set you down in a huddle on the bed wrapped in a blanket, and you kind of… drift back into awareness surrounded by the strong scent of coconut, with a not-unpleasant buzz of awareness deep in your gut.

You pull the blanket closer before you recognize it. You’d been working on it during the first few movie nights you and Bucky had shared, and he’d bought it as a gift for his best friend. That’s what brings you fully back to yourself: you’d handmade the thing that’s warming you up. You’ll be able to tell Bucky that. It’ll help, when the time comes.

Taking in a long, deep breath, you look around, expecting, since you’re no longer alone, to see anything but a metal panel completely covering the door. You’re wrong. There’s damage to the frame, as though someone had pried the previous slab out of the way-- but there’s once again a solid-looking metal barrier between you and freedom.

“Are you okay?” It’s Captain Am-- Rogers. Steve. Bucky’s Steve.

The unreality of your situation is fully hitting you now.

“That’s what you’re going with? Not ‘who are you?’ or ‘funny story about the door…’”

Rogers says, “I did. You were too upset to answer.” He’s tense, clearly uncomfortable, and his clothes are soaked. You wonder if that’s the source of the strange fruity smell. 

“Dee. I’m Dee.” It’s short for Chickadee, your stage-name-turned-favorite-nickname. You think you see recognition in his eyes. “Bucky needed to change his shirt. I didn’t mean-- you have to believe me, I never would have come in here, but he said he would just be a minute, and then a voice told me to hide and…” You’re babbling, but you feel like you’re out of your mind. Of all the people in the world, you’d probably pick Captain America as the one person you’d want to know that you’re eating your vegetables and being polite to your elders, that you wouldn’t invade someone’s private space. “Did something happen to the building?” you ask in a small voice.

“No, this--” Rogers winces. “Bucky asked for extra security or he wouldn’t move in. To slow him down.”

“The Soldier,” you whisper, closing your eyes tightly.

He makes a noise of understanding, then a louder, angry sound. “Everything has gone the exact worst-- I’m sorry,” he grits out. “I’m sorry.”

The depth to his voice prompts a heated curl of attraction that warms you from the inside out. It’s unexpected and strange, given the fear and confusion that’s ruled your reactions in the past minutes.

“I think I should be asking if you are okay.”

Rogers is looking at the floor now, his hands fisted in his pockets. “I was exposed to a… chemical. Tried to do everything right: activated security protocols, set the apartment Dark so I didn’t say or do anything I’d regret before the brain fog set in.”

“What happens when the brain fog sets in?” you whisper, sensing that the answer is what has this man’s body stiff as a board, in contrast with his broken and worried tone.

“How close are you with Buck?” Rogers lifts his head and the intensity in his eyes shoots you with an arrow of concern.

You lift your chin. “Truthfully? I consider him my best friend, why?”

“There’s nothing… more?”

There have been times, multiple times, when you’ve thought about it. But Bucky Barnes is a multifaceted man, and you don’t want to sully his progress towards becoming whole again by making things complicated.

“No,” you say, feeling heat in your chest from the look of understanding in his eyes. Your pause was unintentionally illustrative. “Why?”

“It’s important that I be honest with you: the building is on lockdown, its governing AI is too busy monitoring the Hulk to get us out of this room, and the chemical I was exposed to is Mistress.” He sounds like a soldier reciting battle parameters.

The name sounds familiar, but you can’t place it. Suddenly, you feel too vulnerable on the bed, his bed, so you slide over to the edge in preparation for getting up. The action bares your legs to mid-thigh, and Rogers immediately turns his back on you and hits the wall with the flat of his hand. 

That’s when you remember where you’d heard that name. Mistress. The aphrodisiac is the reason many women have flocked to your cousin’s restaurant to hang out, instead of at bars. Many establishments are offering complimentary test kits so their customers can ensure there’s no residue in their food and drinks. It’s become fashionable to carry around your own cups, just in case. Some bars are actually trying to skip requiring women to pay a cover charge, desperate to return to the status quo. Drinks containing coconut aren’t even served anymore, thanks to the scent association.

“Shit, I’m sorry!” you blurt out, rushing over to the easy chair and covering yourself with the blanket. Jesus, the whole room reeks of coconut. He’s practically steeped in the stuff. “What can I do?”

Steve Rogers’ voice is husky, but pained. “Don’t let today be your first impression of me.”

Next chapter...

[multific]

Love in Oil Colours

Chapter 2: The Mistery 

Astarion x Fem!Reader

Summary: You just wanted to see the paintings. To see what new exhibits there were. You never expected for a simple oil painting to reveal so much about you and your past.

You rushed home, needed to do research you read up on the painter.

A female painter who lived in the 19th century.

No name, no further info.

It was only her paintings which survived.

One of the most well-known female painters and yet there was no information on her or the painting.

You were mad.

The painting was making you mad.

Then you found a YouTube video on the painting.

"This particular painting titled - My Love  - amongst the others in the collection was all done by the same woman. According to our historians, the paintings have been sold to private collectors before they were discovered and collected for the public. We can only assume that this is not the full collection. According to the details we were able to collect, this woman lived in the middle of the 19th century in England, given how many of her landscapes are clearly recognisable from that era. We call her,  YN, given the initials at the back of the paintings. Her subjects were mainly flowers and landscapes but this particular one, the male, is assumed to be her husband or secret lover. The title is very straight to the point. We estimate this painting took the longest, given how detailed it is. So we can assume she cared deeply for this man. His clothes also match with the mid-19th century fashion so it confirms the timeline."

Well. That didn't exactly help.

Mid-19th century.

No specific date.

England, mid-19th century.

You felt even further than before.

But you needed to see it again.

See him again. 

There were these feelings inside you that you just couldn’t explain.

You barely slept. The only thing you could see every time you closed your eyes was the painting. 

You needed to know more.

And so, the next day, you went back to the museum.

A/N: This is going to be a 10+ part series with each Chapter being short just like this one. Hope you enjoyed it. Each Chapter will come out weekly. The series will have its own taglist, let me know below in the replies and I will add everyone!

The above photo is not mine! Credit goes to the owner!

Series Masterlist

Oil Taglist: @b33l1ghtfu11h0n3y @usuallyunlikelyfox

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak   @manduse   @jacalineiscomingforyou  @mandoloriancookie @noname2246

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

[nathaslosthershit]

Meet Cute

Mat Barzal x Hughes!sister

Part of the Birdie Hughes AU

Summary: In which Birdie goes to an art museum, is unimpressed, and runs off with someone more entertaining to look at.

The art was beautiful but after circling around once she had seen all she needed to. Making a few comments here and there with other visitors she finally decided it was well past her time to leave. She had been here long enough to have a few things to talk about with her coworker. 

But one man scowling at a painting caught her attention before she could make her way out. 

“You look unimpressed.” She says coming up to stand beside him. 

“Art isn’t really my thing, I'm here with friends who are here with girlfriends. I just don’t get the appeal of staring at it for minutes on end trying to understand it. I look at it, see if I think it's pretty, then move on. I’ve already looked at everything and have just been walking around.”

“Yeah I get it, certainly not everyone’s scene. If you don’t spend your days looking disinterested at art, what do you do?”

“I’m a hockey player.”

“Of course you are” Birdie mumbles. She can never get away from them.

“Huh?”

“Nothing.”

“What about you?”

“I work in a museum.” She says chuckling, knowing the reaction she is about to get.

“Oh fuck I’m so sorry. I totally just- is this- do you work here?” 

“Calm down. I work in a history museum. Art isn’t my thing that much either. One of my coworkers raved about this exhibit but I knew I wouldn’t like it. I don’t know why I felt the need to go.” Looking at the man beside her though, she was thankful she did.

“Thank god someone agrees. I felt like an asshole. Plus, I thought we were going to stay for 45 minutes tops and then get food but it's been over an hour. I’m starving.”

“There is a great Mexican place two blocks down if you’d like to try? Although maybe you should stay with your-”

“Sounds great, let's go. I like them but they all can fuck off for all I care right now, I am so hungry.” He laughs as they walk out into the night.

✺✺✺✺✺✺✺

The food was great, the conversation flowed easily, and Birdie had been sitting with one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen. 

“How can you come from such a talented hockey family and not play?” He asks, something many people do, something she asked herself when she decided she was done with the sport.

“I loved it, still do. And I was good, the Hughes genes didn’t miss me. But, I realized in high school I enjoyed playing with my family more. I am just not a competitive person and liked playing for fun rather than to win. Something my family didn’t understand for a while, which I don’t blame them for. I, of course, still watch and support my brothers. I love those idiots to death, but it wasn’t my scene.”

“So now you do museums?” Mat internally scolds himself at the stupidity of what he just said.

“Something like that.” She chuckles. “I am a museum educator. I help provide interactive experiences from young children to adults. I focus on history. So no art.”

“Good, I’m glad I didn’t offend you within seconds of meeting you.”

The night continued on like this till they were both bleary eyed and yawning. Deciding to end it with a quick kiss on the cheek and exchanged numbers, she felt giddy as she walked into her room.

She knew she had to call Quinn. 

Taglist: @tpwkstiles

A/N: Call with Quinn coming up next !