#i need to visit the museum and decide if i like it first before i even think about that and also factor in driving in big city traffic and

[kenobihater]

AUGH. was planning a trip to a big city memorial museum i've never been to before bc all my school field trips and countless later visits were to the main art and history museum. i just looked up the memorial museum, and not only do they have a REALLY cool exhibit coming up concerning a topic i'm interested in, not only do they also have a really extensive archive that available to both academics and the public upon appointment, but volunteer opportunities are available for several positions in the museum including archival assistance!!!

it's administrative duties rather than archival management (which good, people need qualifications for that) but that's literally what i'm considering getting a degree in!!! so it's not only something i'd be passionate about if my application was accepted, but if i decide to commit and enroll this fall, then that would be getting experience in the field!

[taylormarieee]

Dollar bills and love Billionaire!Miguel O'Hara

🎶I'ma take her bougie ass to Rodeo and then let her pick up whatever she want. CC, Gucci, hit Bottega, whatever she want She piss me off, somehow she still get whatever she want🎶

Summary: You were bratty all day, no matter what Miguel tried to do, take you shopping, buy you food, he even bought you puppies, you were still bratty so he decided maybe fucking it out of you would do the trick.

Pairing: Husband!Billionaire!Miguel x Fem!Entrepreneur!reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Dom!Miguel, sub!reader, annoyed Miguel, bratty reader, PiV sex, oral(f), rough sex, mentions of arguing, Miguel being considerate, Miguel being slightly mean, degrading kink, praise kink, pussy whipped Miggy, mentions of height difference (reader is 5'7 Miguel is a 6'9 kingggg!), established relationship(there married), kinda angst/sadness, animal awareness(please be kind to animals, there so precious and adorable, especially puppies.)

A/N: I'm in the writing mood lol, ENJOY!

Miguel was the best husband you honestly could ever ask for. He was kind and so loving and caring. He was the opposite of what you thought about him when you first saw him.

You own your own business called Size Flows. It's a business for making clothes for plus sized people. Many plus sized people don't get to have clothes like that.

They have to fit in clothes that don't define their curves and beauty properly because the clothes are made for skinnier people. So one day when you decided to throw a party for the celebration of your business being a success you didn't expect much.

Yes, you did send flyers out but you didn't think they were going to reach the higher-higher staff and people in the world. So when famous billionaires and Multi-billionaires and millionaires started showing up into your building, you were shocked,

One of those billionaires happened to be, Lord and Behold, Miguel O'Hara. You were intimidated by him for quite some time at the party. He was tall! That was a fact. He also looked annoyed and mean.

Not really engaging in a lot of conversation like the others did. I mean yeah, the party was at night but it wasn't that late and the party didn't go on for too long so people didn't start getting bored of each other in there.

Eventually you decided to make conversation with him because why not (though you did notice most people cowered and scurried away from him when walking by). So when you arrived at his feet it took about 3 looks to finally meet his eyesight.

He was staring down at you with a tight lipped smile and you looked at him with a wide, happy, inviting one. Your signature smile at most, as that's what your assistant Alexandria says.

"Hello! You must be Miguel! I've heard a lot about you and your work and I must say, I'm intrigued to know just a little at how your mind works.

Miguel had a completely different company from yours, obviously. Yours was about clothes, he built his own museum. It was about like history and about Aerodynamics. The museum was impressive and it was large. I'm talking like, really LARGE!

You honestly couldn't help yourself. You visited the museum about 13 times. A couple with your friends who were into that stuff and like twice with your family and other times with your co-workers who wanted to go on their lunch break. You introduced yourself by saying your name or at least trying to before he cut you off.

"I'm very pleased to meet you Miguel, my name is-" you start off.

"I know who you are hermosa. I've seen your face on the cameras at my museum every time you go." He says.

Your eyes widen. You were so shocked by the cameras bit you didn't even register the intimate name he gave you. 'He's in charge of the cameras. And he's seen me over and over again!?' you thought in shock.

"Your honestly probably one of my most frequent visitors besides a bunch of college boys." he says with a polite smile on his face that makes you feel the need to laugh. He chuckles and laughs with you.

"wow, so you're frequent with the cameras huh?" you ask in a playful tone. He chuckles as he takes a sip of his whiskey.

"Yea, if you say so. I like to make sure my museum is safe and the guests are happy." he responds with a seriousness in his tone.

"Well, I mean coming from number one guest, I must say... I'm extremely happy every time I see the front of the building. Just so eager to go inside."

He laughs again and for the first time, you see a twinkle in his eyes. You guys talk for the rest of the night to the point you're the only two left in the building.

He kindly walks you to your car, which you were forever grateful for and that night ended and more frequent ones with him in it began until you two finally got married.

You were more happy in your life now than you have ever been before. You have the hottest man in the world to wake up to every morning and to say goodnight to every night.

That was three years ago and now, your here dragging Miguel everywhere, looking and searching for stuff you don't need.

Miguel was pissed at you because you were being a bit bratty today. You weren't satisfied and you constantly gave him attitude and sass. He was slowly loosing his patience and his temper the more and more bratty you got.

It got to the point he yelled at you and told you to get in the car both of you arguing for a good 20 minutes on why you were being so bratty and why he was being so annoying and grumpy.

He took you to a pet store. He bought you a tiny little bedazzled blue collar and then told you, "Pick." he said just standing in front of the dog pen with a bunch of puppies running around your legs.

"w-what?" you ask quietly, some forms of your attitude gone. "Pick. One." he says sternly with his jaw clenched. You feel slight fear but get filled with excitement when you see the two puppies you've been wanting forever!

A Corgi and a Yorkshire terrier! They were the cutest puppies to you, well that's a lie, you wanted every puppy in this store but it's not that Miguel wouldn't buy them all, it's the responsibility and care you have to have for them.

The hours you work make it difficult to buy every single one. "Miggy," you start, batting your eyelashes at him, "Can I get them all?" you ask.

There were like 15 dogs in here and you wanted every single one. "mami, no. You can get 2." he negotiates. You pout and your bratty attitude comes back.

"no! I want them all! If not then how about like 8?" you argue the amount with him. He rolls his eyes, once filled with sincerity and love now filled with anger and annoyance.

He usually wasn't annoyed with you when you got like this sometimes but he had a really bad day a work and you arguing with him didn't make it any better.

"No, two. No more negotiating mama." he says as calmly as he can because the last thing he wanted was you flinching and crying at his temper and how scary he got.

He did that once and the last time he did it, you didn't utter a proper word to him face to face for a month. He made you so scared and for a second when he raised his hand you flinched.

You genuinely thought he was going to hit you. He immediately stopped raising his voice at you after that. You allow it sometimes when you're arguing but you don't raise your voice at him that much because you know his temper and his patience.

"ok, how about 4? is that ok??!" you ask with those puppy dog eyes and that cute little pout he loves to see in different circumstances if you know what I mean.

"ok mama, and that's it." You get 4 collars for their genders one pink, one red, one green, and one violet. You got a Dachshund, a Yorkshire terrier, and a French bulldog and a Shih Tzu.

-The Dachshund was a boy and you named him lucky. (he got the red collar.)

-The Shih Tzu was a girl and you named her princess. (she obvi got the pink collar)

-The French bulldog was also a girl and you named her cleo. (she got the purple collar)

-The Yorkshire terrier was the last you chose and he was a boy and you named him stripe. (the name is because he was black and had a brown stripe on his face and he obvi got the green collar)

"That'll be $1,375 sir. And would you like to donate to charity for dogs in need?" she asks with a smile on her face.

"Ok, and yes I would like to donate!" Miguel responds with a smile on his face matching hers.

"Oooo! No Miguel! Can I do it instead? Oh, please hermoso, lemme do it!" you beg you wanted to be part of that cause.

"Ok hermosa, go ahead but lemme pay for the doggy bowls and the food and all the beds and everything else ok?"

"Miguel that means i'll have to buy something! Leave the doggy bowls out, I'll buy them because you'll have to press decline." You explain to him.

"No, I'll pay some to charity and then you pay some." He says smiling glad that your attitude is over.

"If you both don't mind me asking, how much are you donating? I run the charity and I'm just curious." The lady who you now know her name to be Sam, asks.

"Oh I'm paying 500,000 dollars." Miguel says nonchalantly like it's nothing. Her mouth drops.

"And i'm paying 600,000." I add with a smile on my face. Miguel dips his head back down at me and narrows his eyes like it's a competetion.

"Never mind 700,000." he says eyeing me up and down.

"800,000"

"900,000"

"1,000,000" I say finally winning.

"I'll pay 900,00 Sam." Miguel says smiling at her. The lady is crying now and you rush over to hug her.

"Oh poor thing. I have just as much love for dogs as you do. My dog died a couple weeks ago and i've been dying for a new one. That's why we're here so i'm glad we were able to help." You reassure her hugging her.

She mutters a sorry for your loss as she's fighting back tears and you smile feeling tears run down you face as well. Animals were such a big part of life and they brought so many people happiness.

To see the way so many people mistreat animals really crushes your heart. You both pay and walk away with happy smiles and 4 happy puppies with a new home.

You wave to the other employees as they finally realize who you and Miguel were. They asked for pictures and hugs. You gave that to them and then bid them a farewell.

"Thank you Miguel, I really needed this." You say with more tears in your eyes. His face softens and he hugs you and kisses your head. "It's ok baby. I have one more surprise for you at home." He says with a smirk on his face.

You decided to be a tease. The entire car ride you acted bratty and all mad because he wouldn't let you get all the puppies.

You knew exactly what the surprise was so that's why you acted like this. The surprise was sex, you knew it was. That smirk he had on his face in the pet store showed it. He was horny and now frustrated so that only meant one thing...

ROUGH SEX! You loved rough sex with Miguel so much. He would always degrade you and then praise you. He was just so bipolar during sex but whenever you made him real mad and pushed his limits like you are right now,

It always led to hateful, angry sex, well maybe not hateful but really angry, rough sex.

"Get out." He says through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw. Your eye's go wide still keeping up with the act. "No Miguel! This conversation isn't over." You say stubbornly sitting in your seat.

"Fine. Then I'm getting out and I'm going to feed the dogs you're neglecting right now." He says with an eyebrow raised and a shrug.

You gasp and cross your arms over your chest. Your body and the car slightly shakes with Miguels slam to the door.

"what a jerk." You mutter under your breath but sometimes you forget your husband has super hearing and you also have a trunk, that happened to be open...

SMUT INCOMING: MDNI!!!!!

"Hmm love? What was that? Oh. I'm a jerk? mhmm mami, I'll show you a jerk." He says in that sultry smooth voice that had your knees buckling, every. single. time.

You let out a sigh as you watch him go into the house( aka a big ass mansion.) You wait until he goes fully inside. He closes the door but you still wait a little just for good measure.

When you walk in, something pushes you against the wall and Miguels lips are instantly on you roughly. You whimper and he grips your throat.

Your hand rushes to his hand around your throat and he growls biting your bottom lip, drawing it back before letting it spring back to it's original place.

His grip on your neck only tightens as he pushes his crotch against you. He flips you around roughly and your face and front part of your body hits the wall hard, his hand still on your neck.

You moan at the feeling of his crotch pressed against your ass now. "You wanted me to be a jerk right? Your so fucking ungrateful baby but damn are you beautiful." he growls in your ear, clearly fed up with your bratty attitude.

"Guess daddy is gonna have to fuck that attitude out of you huh? ¿Es eso lo que quieres, puta sucia?" He asks you. You loved when he dirty talked to you in spanish, it turned you on so much.

"Mhmm, want you to fuck it outta me papi." you say in return, your voice low and seductive. He grins against your neck before biting it roughly. causing you to. cry. out.

He licks over the bite and you whimper, your legs clenching to find some sort of friction. "Nuh uh mamacita, no trying to please your self. Spread em open baby." He says in a soft voice he didn't have a second ago.

You hesitantly oblige and spread your legs. "Good girl, look at that, mi niña bonita es tan buena para mí." he says proudly.

you smile to yourself before he's picking you up over his shoulder and carrying you up the stairs to your shared bedroom.

"Miggy, i-i'm sorry, I won't be bratty again! I promise." You beg him with pleading eyes when he rests you in the bedroom, on top of the bed as he slowly climbs on top of you.

"No. Don't do that. That's what you said last week, and last month. Every time you beg, I have mercy on you and let it slide, not today baby. Me lo tomarás como una buena chica, ¿verdad?"

"Yes daddy, I'll take it like a good girl for you! I promise, i'm sorry."you respond. His hand trails up. and down your body agonizingly slow and it's making you anxious and needy.

"mhm, daddy, can you fuck me now, please?" you beg. He looks at you and shakes his head.

"No, mi amor. Shut up, and maybe I will." He says roughly. Your eyes start to tear up, not from his words but from his actions.

I mean, I guess you deserve it but he didn't have to be this slow. You stay quiet for the next 20 minutes? you don't even know anymore cuz you lost count.

He finally dips his head, kissing down your stomach, your clothes long gone. He finally reaches where you want him. His warm tongue flat against your soaking cunt.

You let out a relieved sigh, "mhmm thank you thank you thank you miggy." you chant out breathlessly.

his tongue dips inside of you and that alone has you winded. Your breathing his ragged and your hands immediately flying to his hair as you tug on it.

"What'd I say, hmm love? shut up or I stop." He says sternly, your cunt now feeling empty without his tongue. He licked and sucked and prodded at your entrance multiple times.

Soon making you come undone. Your legs closed around his head and you cried out as he licked up every single drop you had, not letting any at all go to waste.

Once he stood back up and met your teary eyes, he smiled. Not a genuine, happy smile, no. It was this smirk that he made when he knew he won, when he knew that he had your little mind wrapped around his finger.

He begins moving the belt to his pants and all you hear is a grunt. You don't even register his cock slipping and sliding through your slick folds.

"Joder mi amor, te sientes tan apretado a mi alrededor." he moans out as he slides his cock into your entrance. You feel so tight around him. Like virgin tight.

"Gonna beat this pussy real nice baby, No quiero que camines por el resto del fin de semana. No walking at all mama." He whimpers when your walls clench around him.

He's pounding now. First it was small, slow thrusts to ease you into it but your pussy is just too addicting. Miguel was so lost in your pussy, he doesn't even realize how hard he's pounding in to you.

His pace unrelenting, even after he made you cum for a second time. Your pussy feeling overstimulated and sore but Miguel is too entranced to care, constantly muttering out cure words and how good you feel wrapped around him.

You felt your orgasm coming as your walls fluttered around him again. He groaned at the feeling and roughly thrusted into you yet again.

"This pussy is all mine, such a fucking brat. Now look who's a mess over my cock hmm hermosa? Mierda, eres una jodida puta para mí, cariño." he says aggressively, enunciating his words with his thrusts.

You scream out and chant Miguels name over and over again while your orgasm rushes through you. you claw at his back and pull on his hair. You've left little tiny crescent shapes in his biceps.

He finally cums inside you at the same time and he releases this animalistic, primal groan and you shudder at the sound. You moan when you feel his hot warm load burst inside you.

"Fuck Miguel." you pant out before sleep over comes you. You were so weak and so tired.

It's a little later in the night, 12:32 to be exact. You look at the clock and then look behind you to find a sleep Miguel with his arm under your head and the other keeping you close resting on your stomach.

You turn until your face is in his chest. You had Miguels shirt on and underwear. He's so sweet, he must've cleaned you up when you passed out.

Your hands run through his hair lightly and you smile at his resting face. You kiss his face, then his nose, then his lips and the his neck.

You loved everything about Miguel and you hope he knows it. How tall he was compared to you, how he had such a sweet soul behind that mean facade. Everything about him was drop-dead gorgeous.

If you had the option to relive one memory with Miguel, It would be the first time you met him. So kind and such a gentlemen.

Taglist: @oharaslover @ribbonprincess @willyoubemycherryy @cherryredstarsreblogs /@cherryredstars @versatilehater @dustbunniess / @evbunnie

[thebubblesareevil]

Family grows, it evolves…

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

There was a new exhibit on Ancient Greece at the museum, and as the resident expert Diana was given free range of the exhibit. Normally this wouldn’t be an issue, normally the League doesn’t find a clone of one of its founding members and spend a, frankly, ridiculous amount of time deciding how to proceed.

Diana sighed as she looked at the large room filled with artifacts needing to be catalogued before display. She lamented not having the same speed as the flash for but a moment before getting to work. It was 5:00, if she wanted to get any sleep tonight, she needed to get to work.

She steadily made her way through stacks of paperwork, working with the efficiency that was drilled into her since birth. It had been hours since she began her work, and though she tired, she resolved to head home to get changed for the next day. It wasn’t until she made her way from the basement that she realized something was off. Doris was sitting at reception, though she should have left at 8:00, the sun was still high in the sky, not yet ready to make its decent.

“Calling it an early night, Diana?” Doris asked “Big day tomorrow! Finally setting up the new exhibit. I can’t wait to take the kids, they’re so excited to see it.” She said with a wide smile. Diana surveyed the desk, catching a glance the clock. There in bold numbers and as 7:00pm, she smiled as she replied.

“I finished things up sooner than planned, so I thought I’d head out for the night. I need to get dinner started before my guest arrives.” Doris’ face nearly split in two.

“A guest, is he handsome, oh how could you hold out on me Diana!?” She said excitedly “I need all the details!” Diana laughed.

“Nothing like that, my Grandfather decided to pop in for a surprise visit. I haven’t seen him in quite some time, so it’s a lovely surprise.” Doris nodded along.

“You’re a good grandkid. I miss my grandparents everyday, you never know how much time you’ve got.” She said with a sigh. “Have a good night!”

“All the time in the world.” She said to herself, checking her watch and grinning. It read 4:30 am, she yawned as she left, making her way back to her apartment.

Everything thing was silent when she arrived, though that was to be expected at this point. She wade her way to the kitchen passing by the figure on the couch.

“Would you like some tea? Do you drink at all?” She inquired.

“I am perfectly capable, though I rarely indulge.” He replied in a monotone voice, if she had been anyone else she like would not have caught the edge of sadness clinging to his voice. Diana set the kettle on the stove and made her way over to the couch.

“Something troubles you, something big enough to approach me after all these years.” Clockwork smiled “You’re much sharper than your father ever was” the smile dropped.

“You are aware of the multiverse.” He said, Diana nodded. “As the Master of time, I bear witness to each world, each time line. There exists a world where humans built a bridge to the Infinite Realms, creating a being both born and killed by the infinite.” Diana gave him her upmost attention. “Sometime ago I was tasked with the elimination of this creature, this child, to prevent the tragedy he would bring upon that world.” He smiled “I was never one to listen to orders though, and instead I set the boy on a path that would bring about great change… it had unexpected side effects.”

“What kind of side effects?” Diana asked, worried.

“He began to cling to me, seeking me out for advice. I even found him asleep in my clock tower more than once. I have admittedly come to see him as my grandson.” Clockwork have a soft smile “He reminded me so much of you when we first met.” He sighed “I am here to ask a favor, young Danny is approaching a crossroads. There are two possible paths his timeline might take, one where he lives of the rest of his years moving between living in dead, his truth hidden from those who wish him harm. However there is another path, one I fear is becoming more and more likely than the last.” Diana had never seen her grandfather look so old, his entire form shifting to match his tone.

“What is it? What is going to happen?” Clockwork looked at her with sad, tired eyes.

“He will be betrayed, from this betrayal he will suffer such agony that the Realms themselves will retaliate. Then he will sleep eternal, bound to the infinite. His world destroyed.” Diana gasped. She placed a hand over his,

“What do you need me to do?” She asked firmly.

“Should the worst come about, I intend to steal him away from that world. Cutting off its connection to the realms permanently. However he is a being of both life and death, he cannot neglect his human half. What I ask of you is this, that you allow this boy to stay here, with you. There is no one else I would trust with such a task.” Diana hesitated.

She was a warrior, trained for battle from birth. She knew nothing of caring for a child. She thought her grandfather intended for her assist him in battle but this…. She looked at her grandfather, his sad eyes resigned, as though he expected her to refuse.

“Very well, on one condition.”

“Anything my dear.” She smiled.

“You must visit more, when last we met I told you I needed time. You gave me that, now I ask once more for time, time spent together.” She nearly jumped as his form shifted to that of a child.

“Nothing would please me more.”

“And grandfather? Should the worst not pass, I would still like to meet tho cousin of mine.” Clockwork froze, before he practically melted.

“Of course.” His form shifted once more to that of a young adult. Diana smiled pulling her grandfather into a hug.

“Thank you.” He whispered and he was gone. The kettle screamed. Diana got ready for a long nights rest.

—————————

A week passed before she heard anything from her grandfather. It was to the night before the opening of her new exhibit and she expected everything to go as planned. Just as she was picking out what she was going to wear to the gala, the sound of cars outside her window stopped.

“What do you think? Red or black?” She asked as she turned around holding the two dresses. Her grandfather stood tall, a stern look on his face. Diana set down the dresses. “It happened, didn’t it?” Clockwork nodded. Making his way towards the living room he stopped by the couch. There, asleep on her couch was a young teen, not much older than some of her teammates protégés. He had pitch black hair and pale skin, with lightning scars crawling up his neck. He chest did not move.

“He’s not breathing!” She turned to her grandfather, but he appeared unbothered. He smiled, watching the boy sleep.

“As I said before, he is a being of both life and death, sometime pieces of one form bleed into the other.” He turned to Diana, “He needs his rest, as for your first question, the blue dress will suit you much better on this occasion.” Diana gave him a soft smile.

“Come, I shall make us some tea while you tell me more about my cousin.” Clockwork nodded, taking a moment to readjust the blanket around the teen, before heading to the kitchen.

——————-

When Danny woke, to the sound of people talking he had a horrid migraine. He did his best to ignore the pain as he tried to remember where he was. The last thing he remembered was a dream of his parents yelling and the GIW knocking down their door. He slowly sat up, looking around the room, every wall was covered in pictures. Danny slowly stood and made his way over to the pictures. They all took place over varied times, ranging from, at the earliest, the 1920s all the way to the 2000s. All of the featured the same woman, she remained unchanged even as those around her grew old.

He listen to the voices, one familiar, one not, as he made his way towards the source of the noise. When he opened the door he was greeted by the familiar face of Clockwork. Next to him was the woman from the photos just as unchanged.

“Good afternoon Danny, did you rest well?” Danny did his best to disguise his flinch at the sound, grinning at the old ghost.

“Just fine thanks, what….what exactly happened? Where are we?” Confusion dripping from his voice.

Clockwork looked Danny in the eye, what he said next nearly broke him.

“I’m so sorry, Danny.”

Danny’s legs almost gave out under him. “It happened didn’t it? They tried to turn me in, to the GIW. That wasn’t a dream.” The ancient stayed silent, Danny's eyes went wide. "Is Jazz okay!? She... she was upstairs... if they hurt her!" Clockwork stopped him.

"Your sister is fine, they were only there for you." Danny took a deep breath, trying to process everything.

"So what comes next? Where are we?" Clockwork looked at him with a deep sadness.

"We are in a world separate from your own, connected by the Infinite Realms. I saw the possibility of what was to come and made arrangements. Due to the crimes of your world against you, the Observants and myself decided the best course of action would be to remove you from your world, and cut the living off from the Infinite Realms entirely." Danny looked down, resigned to knowledge of what they planned to do to him. "As you know, as a half-ghost you must tend to both sides of your being." Clockwork turned to the woman, "Danny, this is my granddaughter, Princess Diana of Themascyra. She has agreed to have you stay here, with her." Danny frowned.

"Your granddaughter? But she's...uhh" he paused, not sure how to continue. Diana laughed.

"Alive? Yes, I do believe I am. I'm assuming my grandfather has neglected to explain his past life" Danny nodded "How much do you know of the stories Ancient Greece?"

"More than most I think, there are a lot of constellations named after the myths. That and it's hard to visit Pandora and NOT get an hour lecture on Greece" Diana's eyes went wide.

"You know Lady Pandora? How wonderful, I grew up hearing stories of her bravery!” She smiled “That being said, that will make things a bit easier. My mother is Hippolyta, her desire to have a daughter was so great that she molded me from sand, Zeus, king of the gods, used his power to give me life.” Danny blinked once, then twice.

“So…you’re a Demi-god? I don’t understand how that makes you Clockworks granddaughter.” Diana smiled. “I mean, I know Clockwork probably used to be Chronos, Jazz and I had a whole debate about that, but what does that have to do with Zeus?” Diana smiled patiently.

“Danny, Chronos is the primordial god of time, yes?” Danny nodded “Okay, well he is also the primordial form of Kronos, the father of Zeus, my father.” Danny froze, looking over to Clockwork who merely nodded, as though Danny’s brain was currently trying to shut down. After a moment the dots finally seemed to click.

“YOU ATE YOUR KIDS?!?!”

Clockwork sighed, Diana laughed, Danny had a mental breakdown.

It took close to five minutes for Clockwork to fully explain as Diana grinned in the background drinking her tea. Once he calmed down, Clockwork finished continued expaining.

"As for your ghostly half, I will be providing plenty of ectoplasm for you to eat as well as bringing you to the Infinite realms each week until you learn to create portals of your own." Danny nodded.

"What about school? Or hell, anything really. I don't exist in this world, how exactly do I go about doing anything?" Clockwork smiled.

"I called on the power of the ghost writer for any legal documents and I personally filed them in the proper time period to ensure you have what you need. I have given those to Diana" she nodded "as well as giving her legal custody of you. As far as the law is concerned you are her recently orphaned cousin. Son of her estranged Uncle Haiden and Aunt Penelope, who tragically died a few days ago." Clockwork smiled, rising from his seat.

"I'm afraid I have over stayed my welcome, I think it's best I take my leave and allow the two of you time to acquaint yourselves better." Danny stopped Clockwork, giving him a hug he whispered.

"Thank you." Clockwork gently carded his fingers through his hair before stepping back.

"If either of you need anything, just ask." and he was gone. Suddenly there was an influx of noise coming from outside, just enough to tell them that the world outside was moving once more.

Danny stood awkwardly by the chair their grandfather was occupying.

"You know, I don't bite." Diana said, trying to break the ice.

"I do." Danny replied on reflex, before covering his mouth. He looked at Diana, she looked back before they both burst out in peals of laughter.

"This is so weird, what even is my life?" Diana wiped a tear from her eye.

"Well, considering one of my teammates dresses up as a bat and beats up criminals, while another talks to fish, I think it's safe to say neither of our lives can be considered normal." Danny broke out in another fit of laughter.

"No shit?" he asked. Diana lifted a single brow at the term.

"No shit."

"What kind of team are you on exactly? Extreme cosplaying? Underwater battle royale?" Diana smirked.

"How about we get you some food and I tell you all about it?"

Danny smiled "Sounds like a plan."

@a-salty-sal@impulsiveasshole@meira-3919@alcorbearson@cute6troll@samgirl98@skulld3mort-1fan@addie-lover-of-stories@amercurio@chronicallyonline-fandomwh0r3 @heirxofxtime @gin2212 @thegatorsgoose@wanderer-of-worlds@terzatheunderscorerima@bright-shade@satanicrutialspecialist@mur-ururu@birdie-24-05@ascetic-orange@cyber-geist@thatrandomsarahchick

[wildestdreamsblog]

I'm Yoongi's bitch so I can have one “What was supposed to be a one night stand with a member turned out to be more when he couldn’t let go” with him?

Where You Belong

Pairing: CEO!Min Yoongi x Secretary!Reader

Warnings: Soft Yandere, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Light Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: I too am Yoongi’s bitch. Also I wrote this while I had six glasses of whiskey if there’s error, pls do forgive sksks. I hope you enjoy this! <3

3000 celebration

“Fucking finally,” Min Yoongi growled as he thrusted his hard member into you. The loud sound of flesh slapping against each other was loud in his bedroom. He had always thought it would be good with you, but fuck if he expected it to be this fucking good.

You were like a custom made for him, like one of those bespoke suits he was always fond of. The moment you entered in his office four years ago, he had felt the growing attraction he had tried to squash to no avail. Min Yoongi had tried so many things, but you were engraved in his skin…so deep that he knew removing you would be fatal to him.

You were his trusty secretary, someone he could really leaned on. But you were more than that. You proved to be more than that. You were his friend, his confidant, someone who took care of him when he overworked himself which he tended to do a lot.

You were his.

Simply his.

Yet the moment you casually mentioned that some other firm reached out to you to recruit you, he lost it.

Yoongi really thought he could rein his intrusive emotions, but he was proven wrong.

It was late at night when the two of you reached the hotel. You were in another city after finishing closing a partnership when you quietly brought it up to your cold boss. You wanted to slowly integrate him to the thought of you leaving, knowing full well that he didn’t do well with sudden changes.

Not when it came to you.

Never when it came to you.

You had developed feelings for him two years ago, and you knew it wasn’t healthy for you to stay. It wasn’t good for you to wait for him, not when he proved time after time that you were just a secretary to him. Not when he looked at you as though he never saw you for who you were.

You needed to move on from this stupid crush.

Having just finish debriefing with him, you thought that now was a good time to tell him your intentions slowly.

Yoongi closed his laptop, the workaholic in him finally feeling at ease now that the contract was done, and it was all because of your hard work. He looked at you with his dark eyes, admiring your strength and professionalism- yet he knew he couldn’t cross the line…unless you did first.

“Let’s go to the museum you want to visit tomorrow-“

“Enhypen company reached out to me,” you cut him off, your voice strong despite feeling the exact opposite. You almost wanted to take the words back when you saw his face lost all its emotions. You were now facing the Yoongi that people feared.

“Excuse me?”

“T-they want to interview me next week-“

Yoongi chuckled lowly before slowly placing his laptop on the coffee table. He loosened his tie, his movements precise even as his eyes were on you. “And what did you say, kitten? I hope you put them down gently…”

You gulped as he stared at you as though he could see through your soul, as though he knew the secrets you kept.

As though he knew you were in love with him long before you admitted it to yourself. And it was because of that that you knew you had to leave this stupid crush behind and move on with your life. “I told them…” you trailed off when you saw him tilted his head, his dark eyebrow raised as he waited for you to continue with nonchalance in his movements. He leaned in, his elbows resting on his knees as he waited for you to decide on his face.

“Yes, kitten? You told them no, right? That’s good. No one deserves you as much as I-“

“I told them I’ll go next week.”

You could hear a pin drop in the room. The silence was suffocating, his glare was like vines keeping you in place. It took forever before he scoffed. He couldn’t believe you were considering leaving him.

“No.”

You blinked owlishly at the man sitting in front of you. “No?”

“You heard me,” he postulated as though it was a done deal. “You’re not going to that fucking interview. You’re not going to leave. You’re going to stay by my side.”

Your could feel your heart beat faster as though it was warning you of the danger that was slowly standing and sauntering to you.

And when he was close enough, he leaned in to whisper, “No one can have you but me.”

You cried in pleasure as Yoongi drew another orgasm from you. He was relentless when he heard you would leave him, became unhinged with the thought of never seeing you again.

He couldn’t have that, could he?

Yet, the moment he fell asleep, you knew you had to leave. You couldn’t survive when morning came and he looked at you with indifference once again.

Or when he would tell you it was a mistake.

You just couldn’t.

And so you left his embrace that felt like home.

“Where is she?” Yoongi asked in barely contained anger as he looked at your direct subordinate. It was nine o’clock and yet, you were nowhere to be seen. You were usually here by seven in the morning. When he woke up without you, he lost it. The hotel room was the telltale sign of him losing his ever loving composure. It took you running to crumble his nonchalant facade.

“S-she resigned, sir-“

“You’re fired.”

But the letter neatly placed on his desk was notice enough of you leaving the company, of you leaving him.

As if you could.

He would make sure there was no place on earth you could hide from him.

“Are you insane?” You seethed as you saw him. He was calmly sat down, his evil lawyer looking at you with soulless eyes. “Fifty million just because I left?”

Min Yoongi shrugged, his eyes looked bored. But he was anything but bored. He felt alive now that he could finally see you.

It took tons of lawsuit before you agreed to meet with him.

“You breached the contract.”

“It specifically said that I can leave whenever I want!”

“Tsk tsk,” Yoongi shook his head in faux sadness before smirking at you. “You should have read the contract carefully, my kitten. It says here you can’t leave me. Ever.”

You slammed your hands on the desk, your anger getting the best of you. Couldn’t you just moved on in peace?!

“I know what I signed! This isn’t it!”

“Then prove it.”

But how could you when he had all the resources in the world to make you stay? He knew it. You knew it. That smug smirk of his was a sign he knew he had you cornered.

Kitten, you really should have known you couldn’t leave. Not when he finally understood what he felt for you, not now. Not ever.

At your defeated expression, he softened his expression and reached out his long, veiny hand to clasp yours. “Or come back to me. This is the only way, kitten.”

Come back, and he swore that he would always make you happy.

That he would be the best husband for you.

That you would never, ever want to leave him.

[its-all-stardust]

Sugar || 4

Masterlist || Part Three || Part Five

Steven Grant/Sugar Mommy!Reader

Word count: 5.6k

Series Summary: You meet Steven in a museum gift shop and feel an instant connection. Before you walk out the door you decide, perhaps against your better judgment, that you need him to be your sugar baby. Now you just need him to let you treat him right.

It’s only been a few days since Steven officially became your baby, and you’re already eager to see him again. You’ve texted a couple of times since, though not much. You’re still trying to get to know him, and while you’re excited to have him, Steven is still a stranger.

A stranger, despite whatever kinship you feel toward him, you know practically nothing about.

You’ve decided against a background check, trying to let yourself be more open and less afraid of letting people in. After all, normal people don’t do background checks on every person they meet, at least not to the level you can pay for. You want to trust Steven, so you do.

But still, after your shopping trip, you’d slipped in an oh-so-casual, “So, have you ever been arrested for anything?” before you and Steven parted ways.

“That’s not your way of saying you have, is it?” Steven asked with a laugh. “Because I know I’m not that exciting.”

You assured him that no, you’ve never been arrested for anything, and you gave him a lingering hug. Stranger he may be, you weren’t letting a chance at physical touch pass you by.

And now, after a few days of going without, you need the sort of pick-me-up that only your baby can provide. You texted him in the morning, telling him to wear one of the new outfits you bought for him.

At first, you thought about telling him to send you a picture—proof that he did as he was told and something nice for you to look at—but then decided a surprise visit would be even better.

Seeing Steven in the sleek, form-fitting clothes sent heat rushing to your cheeks when he tried them on at the store you took him to. You found him attractive before. Cute, really. But something about the darker clothing you picked out suited him, even though he kept tugging at the shirt, unused to the fit.

The clothes were more for any dates than for work. You’re familiar with the itch of ill-fitting clothing yourself. You just want to see Steven in them in person, knowing he’s wearing them because of you. You also want to see how well he obeys when you’re not around.

Walking into the museum on your extended lunch break, you head straight for the gift shop. Steven gave you his schedule for the next two weeks, so you know he should currently be manning the register.

You spot him immediately, the all-black outfit—a button-down shirt and slacks—making him stand out against the white walls of the museum. With a stray curl falling over his forehead, he is an absolute vision. You didn’t choose Steven for his looks, but it certainly is a nice bonus for him to be so handsome.

There’s no one else in the gift shop, so as you walk up to the counter where Steven is fiddling with some candy, you say, “Hi, baby.”

Steven’s eyes shoot up to meet yours, face flushed and a small smile on his lips. He opens his mouth to say something, but you reach across the counter to brush your fingers against his cheek.

“Are you feeling alright? You look warm,” you tease.

“Just surprised to see you, is all,” he says with a light laugh.

You take your hand away and place your arms on the counter, leaning forward. “I just wanted to see how well you listen to me.”

Your eyes fall down his form, catching on his silver name tag. The metal flashes nicely against the dark background of his chest.

“Isn’t that the whole point? Why wouldn’t I listen to you?”

“Some babies like to be brats. With the right mommy or daddy, it works out. But I need to know you can listen before you start testing limits.” Steven’s eyes darken ever so slightly.

“And what’ll happen if I ever decide not to listen?” he asks lowly, leaning close to you.

Your heart pounds in your chest. “Then mommy will have to teach her baby a lesson.”

The door to the backroom suddenly opens, making Steven jump back and rob you of his reaction. He goes back to moving the candy around, pretending to look busy while you stay leaning on the counter.

“You realize you’ve got a customer, Stevie?” Donna says as she walks past, making your eye twitch. You wonder if she’s like this with everyone or just Steven.

“He’s already waiting on me,” you say, making sure your tone is low and disinterested, showing her that you don’t care about what she’s saying.

At Steven’s confused look, you continue, speaking much more sweetly to your baby. “He’s picking out candy for me.”

He immediately starts playing along. “Yes. Here you are, ma’am,” he says, putting down two random bags. One contains chocolate scarabs that you’re sure Steven’s told you tastes like wax and a bag of sour gummy mummies that apparently aren’t very sour and could be mistaken for rubber.

Steven rings you up, continuing the charade. After he hands you the receipt, you glance over your shoulder at Donna. Her back is turned, but that doesn’t mean she’s not listening. You’ll have to ask Steven how nosey she is.

Turning back around, you brush your hand against his where it lays on the counter.

“I have to go back to work,” you whisper. “But you’ll call me later.”

“I will,” Steven nods, and you’re pleased he understands it isn’t a question. You give him one last smile and leave the gift shop with your bag of souvenir candy in hand.

“Why do they even sell this stuff?” you ask, phone pressed to your ear with one hand while you eat another gummy mummy with the other. “They’re horrible.”

“I told you not to eat them,” Steven says on the other end of the line. He timed the call perfectly, your phone ringing as soon as you walked through your door. You’ve told him roughly the exact minute you get home every day just so he could do this. “Are you still eating them?”

“I’m trying to figure out why they’re crunchy.” Steven gags.

“Why don’t you make yourself real food instead of eating some extremely questionable sweets?”

You pause for a moment before tossing the bag aside. “Is my baby trying to tell me what to do?” You’re not mad, but you’re definitely not passing up an opportunity to tease him.

“N-no?” Steven answers, sounding unsure.

“Is that a question or an answer?”

“I—well, I just worry that you’re not going to have a proper dinner,” Steven says. A perfect way of saying yes without saying yes.

Amused, you say, “Aw, that’s sweet of you to worry. Thank you, baby.” You think you hear him sigh in relief. Done with your teasing, for now, you move on. “I haven’t asked: how was your day?”

“Not bad, actually,” he answers, sounding a little surprised about it. “Everyone was really nice today. Nicer than normal anyway.”

“Oh? Why do you think that is?” You get up from the couch, grabbing the offensive candy to throw away.

“Haven’t a clue,” Steven says, flabbergasted. “Some of the kids’ mums were smiling at me a lot, too.”

This makes you pause. “Steven, do you really not know?” you ask with a laugh and lean against the counter.

“Know what?”

“They thought you looked good. Guess I’m not the only one who sees how pretty my baby is,” you purr. You don’t mind other people admiring Steven; he’s certainly deserving of it.

“No,” he denies. “That couldn’t— People don’t— Not about me.”

“That outfit I had you wear probably had something to with it. It shows you off more than your other clothes.” He doesn’t say anything. “Steven?”

“Just feels strange. I’m…not used to it.”

You hum. “And do you like it? The attention?”

You’re about to remind him that he needs to answer you when you hear a quiet “Yes.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting attention, Steven,” you assure him. “Why do you think I have sugar babies?”

He’s still quiet. You’ll have to do something about his confidence, convince him of the effect he can have on people. You drop the topic for now, though, knowing that it’s not something that can be forced.

“I want you to come over for dinner this weekend,” you say. 

“Oh?” Is all Steven says, having been lost in thought.

“Yes, so you need to tell me what kind of food you like so I can figure out what to make.”

“You don’t have to make anything for me,” Steven says quickly. “I can just—”

“Steven,” you cut him off. Standing in your kitchen with Steven only on a phone call instead of a video chat, all you have to glare at are your cupboards. “Why did I ask you to be my baby?”

“Because…” The question seems to stump him. You stay silent, letting him think. “Because you want to take care of me?”

“Exactly.”

“It’s just…some of the things I read…,” Steven stutters. “Aren’t I supposed to be doing things for you?”

“You do do things for me, Steven. I don’t want you to wait on me hand and foot. Everybody else already does that for me. I want your attention. Your affection. I want to spoil you and show you that you deserve everything. If you ever decide you genuinely want to do something like that, you can, but not because you feel like you have to. That’s not your job here, do you understand?”

After a moment, “Yes.”

“Good boy.” Steven lets out a cough that sounds like he’s trying to cover something up. A grin finds its way across your lips. “Oh? Do you like it when I call you a good boy?”

“Mhmm.”

“What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes,” Steven says so quickly, so quietly, you almost miss it.

Your first impression of him wasn’t wrong; Steven is so much fun.

You hate cooking. Well, it’s not so bad when the recipe is easy, and you’re not making very much. When it’s more complicated, you get annoyed at all the work you have to do, especially when you’re cooking alone.

By the time you sit down to eat, you’re fine, but that doesn’t stop your grumbling every time you do it. It’s gotten easier over the years of cooking just for yourself, but it doesn’t mean you’ve come to enjoy it.

Because of that, you nearly wish you had asked Steven to arrive early to help you. But you didn’t. Couldn’t. This is for him, and you don’t want him to worry about a thing. With how he reacted to you wanting to cook for him, you suspect he’s used to putting people before himself. Either feeling like he’s an inconvenience or because he genuinely would rather do things for others, you’re not sure.

By the time he arrives, you have everything done and left on the stove to keep warm.

When he walks in, he’s already wide-eyed. Your apartment is large and spacious, with tall windows to let the light in. The decorations are a combination of help from a professional interior designer and your own eclectic preferences. Admittedly, it all clashes, but you like it. It gives your home a lived-in feeling as opposed to the sterile stock image look you see other people’s apartments and houses have.

“Your apartment has an upstairs,” are the first words out of Steven’s mouth, his eyes locking on the staircase at the other end of the room.

“Yeah, but it’s just the master bedroom and a little bit of extra space.” The extra space is the walk-in closet, but he’ll find that out when you give him the tour.

You take Steven’s hand and lead him to the kitchen and your small table. “Come on. Let’s eat, and I’ll show you around after.”

And if you thought he was gaping at your home, he looks even more in awe when he sees what you prepared for him.

Nothing fancy, in your opinion, though it certainly looks it. Steven looks amazed—touched at the sight of everything you have set out on the counter and stove.

“You made all this for me?”

All this being ratatouille with polenta and some seasoned rice. There’s also a baguette you had your assistant buy for you in the morning since the bakery usually sells out long before the end of the day. A fairly easy meal once you got past all the vegetables that needed to be chopped. And you’re certainly not going to admit that after several Google searches, you only picked ratatouille because you recognized it from a movie.

“Of course I did it all for you,” you say. “Did you think I wouldn’t make something nice for you?”

“It’s not that…” Steven starts before pausing. Then, taking a breath, he looks into your eyes and squeezes your hand. “Thank you.”

You beam at him, happy that he likes what you’ve done for him, that he appreciates it. You tilt your face up and press a soft kiss to Steven’s cheek. “You’re welcome, baby,” you whisper, your lips brushing his skin.

When you pull away, you see Steven’s face is flushed. He stares down at you wide-eyed and shifts a little, looking like he’s about to lean toward you, but stops himself.

“You know,” you say slowly, “You can do that to me, too, if you’d like.”

You’ve noticed that you’re initiating contact between the two of you, and you wouldn’t mind at all if Steven reciprocated. Especially since, if you’re reading him right, he looks like he wants to.

“Yeah?” he says softly, pupils a little wider than before.

You nod and wait.

Then, ever so slowly, Steven leans down and presses a swift, chaste kiss to your cheek.

“Thank you,” you whisper when he pulls back. Steven smiles shyly at you. Tilting your head toward your kitchen table, you say, “Let’s eat.”

Steven adored the dinner you made for him and, by extension, adored you. His expression was soft, sweet, and unbelieving when he looked at you. Every time he looked away, he seemed surprised to find you still there when he looked back.

The same adoration was in your eyes. You love giving your babies new experiences and how grateful they were to you for it. For Steven, it’s that and more. He acts like no one has ever made him a meal before. Like no one has ever thought of him and what he might like.

Perhaps no one has.

And that makes this all more special for you, makes Steven all the more important. If that is true, if Steven really has been lacking such kindness, you’re glad you found him, glad that he agreed to be your baby. Whatever his past may have been like, you’re here now to show him that he can have and deserve such nice—and, at times, simple—things.

After dinner and dessert—a specialty vegan cake your assistant also bought as there was no way you could take on the already complicated science of baking and make it more difficult by making it vegan—Steven insisted on helping you clean up. You weren’t going to argue, not when you hate cleaning up more than cooking alone. And besides, just because you want to care for Steven doesn’t mean you want him to laze about and become someone who expects everything to be handed to him. You don’t like your babies suddenly losing their morals when money comes into the equation.

“There’s something I want to show you,” you say as you put the last dish in the dishwasher.

“Oh? Time for the grand tour?” Steven asks as he stands up straight, having put the leftovers in the fridge for you.

You nod and take Steven’s hand. He happily follows you as you pull him toward the living room, intertwining his fingers with yours.

He marvels at everything, from the size to the view to even the furniture. Part of you understands why he would be so astounded; your apartment is quite large compared to more affordable ones in the city, but it still feels small to you. Though that’s more likely because you’ve been in the sprawling homes of your associates where most of the rooms are for display rather than use.

You show him your office, the bathroom, and the spare room. You don’t consider any of it all that fascinating and are more interested in taking him upstairs, but you give him time to admire everything all the same.

As you both start towards your bedroom, you feel Steven slow, his hand pulling in yours as he hesitates but not enough to force either of you to let go.

“You said your bedroom was up here?” Steven asks, sounding nervous. You know immediately what he must be thinking.

“I’m not trying to sleep with you,” you assure him. “There is genuinely something I want to show you. I suppose I could have done it downstairs, but I think my closet is the best place.”

“Your closet?” Steven’s shoulders slump, the tension draining from them, but his nervousness is replaced by confusion. Even so, he takes a step up, willing to follow you.

“You’ll see,” is all you say.

You don’t linger in the bedroom, not even allowing Steven to marvel at your large bed or the ensuite bathroom. Instead, you take him straight to your walk-in closet, flicking on the light as soon as you walk through the doorway.

Steven stops in his tracks, and here you let him look around. Dropping his hand, you step forward, walking toward the middle of the room.

“I’m pretty sure your closet is as big as my entire flat,” he says, staring at your racks of clothes, the shelves holding shoes and handbags, and the slim locked drawers you use to hold just some of your jewelry.

“Do you want a bigger place?” You assume he will; all of your babies do.

“Oh, no, that’s alright. It’s not too bad, and then I’d worry about Gus. Wouldn’t want him getting upset at a sudden move,” Steven laughs and you let out a light one of your own. You make a mental note, though, to look for something for him. If his apartment really is as big as your closet, you want Steven to live somewhere more comfortable.

“What I want to show you is over here,” you say, gesturing to the semicircle of three mirrors placed in the wall in the middle of the room.

Steven’s brow furrows, but he steps forward anyway. You take him by the shoulders and turn him toward the mirrors. Then you make him step forward so he’s standing right in front of them with you plastered to his side.

“Tell me what you see.” Keeping your hands on his shoulders, you meet his eye through the mirror.

“...Me?” Steven answers after a moment, still confused.

“Describe yourself,” you gently order. “How do you look?”

“I look alright, I suppose,” Steven starts slowly. “My hair’s a bit of a mess, but when isn’t it?” He laughs lightly, brushing the curls away from his forehead only for them to fall back into place.

You hum but don’t say anything. Your hands slide down to his upper arms, and you press yourself close to him.

“I…probably look a mess most of the time, actually,” Steven quietly admits. “My clothes are a little odd. Even you think so, what with all those clothes you bought for me. I don’t think—”

“Do you think you’re attractive?” you interrupt. You’ve heard enough and don’t want Steven voicing more self-perceived flaws.

Steven looks away from his reflection. “I-I don’t look bad, but I wouldn’t say—”

“But you like it when people find you attractive.” Steven doesn’t say anything, but you don’t need him to; he already told you he did the other night.

“Is it because it makes you feel desired? Wanted?”

Steven tenses underneath your hands but still doesn’t speak.

You look away from the mirror to look at his face directly, even though you only see the side profile.

“Do you not feel wanted, Steven? Is that why you enjoy attention from strangers?” you ask, your voice soft, quiet.

“I’m just not…good with people,” Steven finally says. “It’s hard, and I haven’t got an—a lot of friends. Most people I meet end up thinking something about me is odd…”

“I’m like that too,” you tell him, turning back to the mirror to look at yourself, to look at who you’ve become, who you are. You didn’t get to where you are by forcing yourself to be what others wanted you to be. “But that doesn’t mean you’re worth less than other people or that nobody wants you. It just means that you have to find the right kind of people to connect with and who will understand you. Forget the rest of them.”

Turning back to Steven, you reach up with one hand, placing your fingers under his chin to tilt his face up. “Stop looking at yourself how other people see you. Do you see anything different?”

Steven looks up, glancing at all three mirrors. He seemingly does a double-take when looking into the one on his right but recovers after a moment. “Not really,” he says, but something in his voice is different, making you think you’re getting through to him.

“I’ll tell you what I see then. I see a man who’s a delightful mix of adorable and dangerously handsome, a powerful combination if he learns how to control it. I like his messy hair.” You run a hand through his hair, starting at the back of his head and raking your fingers along his scalp. Steven lets out a soft gasp and shivers under your touch as you drag your fingers back down the same way.

“And I like his odd clothes and how at home he looks in them. How he isn’t trying to be someone else with what he wears.” You trace the back of a finger down his cheek. “I like how soft his face gets when he smiles, the lines that show his old joys and his new.”

Steven flushes under all your words and ministrations.

“But I think the thing that most attracts me to Steven Grant is his mind.” That, at least, makes Steven react. He doesn’t look at you through the mirror like he did earlier but instead twists around to see you from your spot just behind him.

“I like the way he speaks so fast when he’s talking about something he loves, how he can ramble for hours about it,” you continue, meeting his confused yet hopeful gaze. “How he thinks he says the wrong thing, but he’s just saying the honest thing. I like the way he looks at and experiences the world because I view it the same way. I see all of that, and it makes me want him, and I don’t understand how other people don’t.”

You pause, looking over his face to make sure he’s still listening. Then, you continue, the words soft and earnest. “You’re something special, Steven.”

When you finish, Steven is silent, his eyes flicking back and forth between yours is his only moment.

Then he surges forward, his lips crashing into yours. His nose bumps against yours, and his teeth unintentionally catch your lip. It’s awkward and unpracticed, but it steals your breath all the same.

Just as your hands move to rest on his chest, as you try to tilt your head to kiss him properly, Steven pulls away.

“I’m sorry!” he apologizes, but you note that he makes no attempt to step away from you. “I shouldn’t have done that. It’s too soon for me to be doing that, isn’t it?”

Despite his words, you only see the barest hint of regret on his face. Mainly, you see hope.

Giving him a soft smile, you say, “There’s no such thing as too soon in a relationship like this.”

Taking Steven’s face in your hand, you pull him back to you. He breathes a heavy sigh against your cheek as soon as your lips touch. His eyes slip closed as he falls into the sensation, letting you take the lead. Your hand stays on his cheek while the other rests on his chest, where you can feel his heart pounding. His hands tentatively rest on your waist before he tightens his hold.

Not wanting to overwhelm him, you keep the kiss light and slow. You want to devour him, but there will be plenty of time for that in the future. Yes, there’s no such thing as too soon, but you want to savor every first you have with Steven.

When you pull away, you swear you hear a slight groan come from the back of Steven’s throat as his lips chase yours.

You try to hide your smirk when you say, “Let’s go back downstairs.”

Steven seems a little disappointed but follows you nonetheless as you take his hand and lead him to your living room. There, you curl up together on the couch with Steven pressed to your side, leaning into you.

You don’t kiss again, though you desperately want to. You need to make sure, even though he initiated it and was very receptive when you kissed him, that Steven is comfortable with the pace of the relationship. You need to know that kissing you wasn’t something done out of overwhelming emotion that he wouldn’t repeat if he had been thinking clearly. 

You set the standard that nothing had to happen between the two of you after all.

The evening wears on and eventually slips into night, with you and Steven alternating between talking and watching some random show you put on. Not once does he try to leave your side.

It’s comfortable, relaxing. More importantly, it makes you happy. Happy to be here with Steven, happy that he’s yours.

You don’t ever want to let him go.

“Stay the night?” you offer him once it’s deemed too late for him to return to his place. “I have the guest room set up for you.”

Steven looks at you, an eyebrow raised. “Did you plan this?” he asks, a smile creeping across his lips.

You had, in fact, planned this. The guest bedroom has always been for your babies, but you were especially excited to set it up for Steven. You kept the decorations sparse and more like what can be found in the rest of the apartment. You don’t make the room too personal to you in case your baby wants to personalize it for themselves.

But despite eagerly anticipating his first night in your home, you didn’t want to order him to stay. You figured if he really wanted to leave, he would have said something sooner or even turned you down now. Much like with the kiss, you want Steven to make certain moves even though he’s the baby in this relationship. But spending the night in your apartment, in separate beds with no intention of having him crawl into yours, is something you’re willing to push on a little bit.

You shrug instead of answering Steven, though the truth is obvious. “You don’t start until eleven tomorrow, so you don’t have to rush to get home in the morning,” you say, trying to convince him.

Steven just shakes his head and smiles. “I would say I don’t have clothes or anything, but I suspect you’ve already taken care of that.”

“What kind of sugar mommy would I be if I hadn’t?” You stand and start toward the guest bedroom. “Come on and tell me how I did.”

Steven dutifully follows you before stepping past when you pause in the doorway. He goes to the closet first, having already glanced around the room during the tour. It’s not a walk-in like yours, but it’s still large with double doors. Steven grabs both handles and pulls the doors wide to dramatically reveal the contents.

He pauses at the sight of the wide assortment of clothes, and your heart beats nervously in your chest. You think he’ll like everything, but you need him to tell you. Steven reaches in and pulls out one of the many patterned shirts he’s favored every time you’ve seen him. There are also solid colors to give him variety, as well as dressier pieces that match what he took home with him, but you’re most proud of the patterns, having picked them all out yourself.

“Try it on. Make sure it fits,” you say, though you already know it will. You were there when his measurements were taken at the boutique.

Steven doesn’t put it on, though you see him check the size. He already knows how it’ll fit, too. You made sure to check his preferred size for his old clothes when he was trying on the things you selected while shopping, knowing it was different than the more form-fitting clothes you picked out.

“This is like my clothes,” he says softly, looking over at you as he pulls at the hem of the shirt he’s currently wearing, another slightly oversized, oddly patterned piece.

“I like your clothes,” you tell him honestly, repeating your earlier sentiments as you approach him. “I’ll still have you in the nicer stuff on occasion, but I like seeing you in this kind of stuff more. It suits you.” You run a hand down his chest, admiring how the shirt looks on him.

“Thank you,” Steven says, sounding breathless.

Despite wanting to wait for Steven to kiss you again, you reach for him anyway. You control yourself, though, and place a tame kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“You’re welcome, baby,” you say softly, your lips so close to his.

“I feel like I’ve been dreaming ever since I met you,” Steven whispers, sounding as if he’s afraid he’ll wake up any moment.

“And you haven’t even experienced the half of it yet,” you tease, wrapping your arms around his middle. “So I take it I did a good job?”

Steven’s free hands come to rest on your back, his fingers lightly stroking back and forth as he flexes them. “I love it,” he says, looking at you like you hung the moon.

Smiling at him, you press a quick kiss to his cheek and step away. “I’ll let you get some sleep. You should have everything you need either in here or in the bathroom.”

“You’re leaving?” Steven asks, not wanting to let you go.

“Do you want me to tuck you in?” You say it jokingly, but you would have no issue making sure Steven was snuggled up in bed and giving him a goodnight kiss.

Steven flushes and mumbles, “I-I don’t need…” before trailing off. Not quite a no, but not a yes either. You tuck that information in the back of your mind for later.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” you tell him, stepping out of his grasp.

“Wait!” he calls as you reach the door. You pause, turning back to face him. “Can I…kiss you again?”

You try to hide your excitement. “Of course you can.” You don’t move from your spot in the doorway, wanting Steven to come to you.

He puts the shirt back in the closet and slowly steps close to you. He gazes down at you for a moment, and you notice how wide his pupils are, engulfing the brown almost entirely. When Steven’s lips touch yours for the third time tonight, your skin starts to buzz. You need to leave before you push your sweet boy too far.

Your skin is thoroughly heated when he pulls away, and you’re both left breathless despite the relative sweetness of the kiss.

“Goodnight, Steven,” you whisper, forcing yourself to take a step back.

“Goodnight,” he says back. 

You force yourself to turn and walk away, and you notice you don’t hear the sound of the bedroom door closing until you’re up the stairs and out of sight.

You don’t sleep in. You couldn’t even if you wanted to, not with Steven in the room below you, so close at hand. It’s early yet, but you want to make him breakfast before he has to leave. He has to feed Gus, so you doubt he’ll be able to stay long. You want to spend as much time with him as you can today.

Quickly making yourself presentable in case Steven is already awake, you rush down the stairs. You glance toward the bedroom before heading toward the kitchen but pause when you see the door has been left open.

The bathroom door is also open, showing he’s not in there. In fact, after a quick glance around your apartment, you don’t see Steven anywhere. The floor plan is relatively open, even with the wall separating the living and dining rooms. There are few places to hide.

Confused, you call out, “Steven?”

There’s no response, but you can’t say you expected one.

Walking into his bedroom, you see the pile of his clothes from yesterday on the floor near the foot of the bed. The sheets are pulled into place but mussed enough to tell you that someone other than your cleaning lady has touched them.

You run your hand along the spot where Steven presumably slept, but the sheets feel cool to the touch.

Steven is gone and has been for a while.

Series taglist: @multific @uncle-eggy @kezibear @local-mr-frog @peachyrue-777 (unable to tag)

if you can't be tagged, check your privacy settings

[slvt4felix]

Inspired by the Masters

Pairing -> Artist!Hyunjin x reader WC -> ~ 2,400 words Includes -> maybe fem!reader considering they do wear a skirt but gender isn't really mentioned, strangers to friends (to lovers in the future), fluff, meet-cute Summary -> Your local art museum was your home away from home. Your favorite place to go and you can't help but visit when you need inspiration for a new art project. With a sketchbook in one hand and your backpack in the other, you enter the elegant building not expecting anything more than to admire the artwork. However, you soon find yourself admiring something else, or perhaps someone else... Author's note -> Lets just pretend that this isn't entirely self indulgent and written pretty much for my enjoyment. But I hope you manage to enjoy anyway! Thanks for reading! ♡ Masterlist ♡

You push open the heavy door, light nearly blinding your eyes as you walk back into the fresh air. It's one of the rougher days of the week. You just got out of one of your many stem classes, and are exhausted.

You're a junior in college, excited to take on the world, but first, you need to get through the education part of life. And let's just say it isn't easy. The building behind you is one of the many science buildings at your university. Although you despise the boring lectures held there, you can't help but admire the architecture. Your university was built a long time ago, and you feel beyond lucky to have gotten accepted here. You hadn't realized until late in your high school career what exactly you wanted to do with your life or if you even wanted to go to college at all. But ultimately, you decided on psychology. But upon starting school, you realized something was missing. That's when you enrolled in an art minor. It's been one of your obsessions since you were young. You had never even considered adding it to your schooling until the idea had been placed in your head by your high school art teacher. You had quickly gotten in touch with your advisors and changed your major. It just wasn't like you to not have anything creative on your schedule.

But today was one of your unlucky days. It was pure science labs and lectures all day long. It was now midafternoon, and there was some time to kill before your last class of the day.

Your first thought would, typically, be to head back to your dorm. It is shared between you, your high school best friend and two other people you met last year. Despite the fun times you have there, it was the last place you wanted to be today. Your roommates have been constantly arguing against each other, and you need some quiet time, especially after the grueling day you had.

You step away from the antique building to a bench next to the sidewalk a few feet away. Sitting down, you pull your phone from your pocket, unsurprised to see no messages. You haven't made many friends yet, but it's not all that shocking due to your reserved personality. Nonetheless, you open your messages, sending a quick text letting your best friend know you won't be home until later.

You put your phone away again, hands rubbing against your skirt, hoping to regain warmth. The heat in your class doesn't work well and, unfortunately, the heat from summer has faded. Reminiscent only in the nearly bare trees and brown leaves blowing in the soft wind.

Slipping your headphones back over your ears, you stand up and start the short walk to what's practically your home away from home. It's your favorite place to go, especially when seeking refuge from the chaos within your life. There's even a little cafe to get snacks or study in. Not to mention how beautiful it is. You can't help but be drawn to the beauty of it as an artist.

You walk up the glossy white stairs, excited to see the art within. Luckily, you get into your city's art museum for free. Upon walking in, your jaw nearly falls open like it always does. The beautiful cream walls and intricate paintings on the ceiling. You stop at each and every sculpture on the way in, eagerly reading about the pieces. You can never learn enough from the masters, and luckily enough for you, art is your favorite thing to study. Yes, it was your minor, but it was also your favorite hobby.

Strolling through the cool halls, you start to search for a painting to sketch out. With an upcoming art assignment due next week, you need to find inspiration and fast. You have been in a bit of an art slump for a few weeks now which is really hard when it's a quarter of your schooling. Hopefully recreating some beautiful paintings will be able to help you get back into your groove.

You walk into a well-lit room and are shocked to see new artwork mounted to the walls. They must have changed this room out recently; maybe it was a new exhibit. The thought excites you, your feet instantly shuffling closer to get a better look.

After taking a quick glance at some of the descriptions, you begin to realize it's an exhibit containing all local artists, the artwork absolutely gorgeous.

However, you were instantly drawn to a painting just about in the center of the long wall. The blood-red roses were noticeable from all the way across the room. As you get closer, you notice it's a stunning oil painting, the flowers depicted with heavy, but thoughtful, brush strokes. It was full of stark highlights and shadows, a delicate crystal vase holding the roses up. You can't help, but be in awe of the artist's talent. For the first time in a while, you don't feel reluctant to draw.

Thankfully there's a bench directly across from the artwork. You take a seat, smoothening your skirt. You set your backpack down beside you, reaching inside and retrieving your sketchbook. The inside contains various things. From journals to notes for your psychology classes, to actual drawings, the notebook is nearly filled to the brim. It may seem random, but the small notebook was essential for you.

Taking your pencil out from your bag, you start on the sketch. You'll have to be quick since you only have about an hour before class. Hopefully, you won't lose track of time.

You slowly get absorbed in the drawing. Beginning with the roses and making your way down, adding emphasis to the dark shadows. You barely notice as another person walks up to admire the art. But it's hard to stay concentrated after you first glance up.

A young man is standing off to the side, looking at the same painting. His jet black hair is slicked back slightly with gel, leaving a couple framing pieces in the front. He was dressed oddly nice, immediately drawing your attention. Although it was an art museum and people do tend to dress up more, you're starting to see fewer people make that effort. So it's interesting to see the man dressed in a designer black suit. You know it's rude to stare, but you simply cannot look away. Some people just draw attention like that.

He starts to turn around and you quickly look back down into your lap where your abandoned sketch sits. It was going well, but now looking back on it, something is off, you're just not sure what. You notice movement next to you and glance back up to see the man taking a seat next to you.

The two of you make eye contact and he smiles kindly, sending butterflies into your stomach. You return the smile before returning to your drawing. You gingerly trace over some of the lines of the roses trying to figure out what could be the issue.

"Beautiful painting, isn't it?" you say trying to keep the air from turning awkward. He simply hums a bit, with a small smirk appearing on his face. He glances down at your notebook and his eyes widen a bit.

"Your sketch is just as amazing," he says with his eyebrow quirking up. The compliment instantly makes blood rush to your cheeks. You can't help but notice how attractive the man is.

"Thank you," you reply, genuinely. You don't really show your art off to anyone so you take any and all compliments.

"It's not much so far, but it was just something to help pass the time," you explain, hoping he won't judge it too harshly. You shake your head slightly, annoyed at how strangely eager you are to please this random stranger.

He nods back in understanding giving you the idea that maybe he’s done similar things before. The two of you sit in silence after your bit of conversation. Somehow, it’s surprisingly not awkward. It's obvious that he’s simply enjoying the peace and seems to like watching you draw. You’ve never really minded having people watch you in your hobby. Despite the few nerves it adds, you feel proud when people like to see what you’re working on.

You sigh quietly, annoyed that the problem with your drawing is not going away.

"Something feels off, but I can't seem to figure it out," you admit to him in defeat. He nods and you watch as his eyes scan over your drawing. He leans a little closer, trying to get a better look and almost loses his balance for a second. It's endearing to see the confident man lose his composure even for even just a second. You lightly grip his shoulder steadying him with a soft giggle.

"Sorry, I just-," he starts a little flustered, "can I?" You're a little confused at first about what he is actually asking you and his eyes staring directly back at yours isn't doing much to help your comprehension skills. You can see him start to get a little nervous when you don't answer right away, his hands fiddling with his sleeves. His eyes dart down to your notebook, and a light bulb goes off in your head. You smile, a little embarrassed, and hand him your sketch.

"Yeah, of course," you respond. It was you who asked for help in the first place, so it would be silly for you to mind letting him see your drawing. He takes it from your hands carefully. He can tell how much it means to you from how tight your grip has been on the notebook since he came to see the painting.

"Oh I see," he exclaims, excited to have found the issue, "May I?" You are surprised when he turns to you with the question, his eyes shining eagerly in the bright lights of the museum. His hand reaches for your pencil and you instantly go to hand it to him. Your hand slightly grazes his as you release the pencil, making your heart flutter. He smiles in thanks and goes back to analyze your sketch while his other hand reaches up, rubbing the back of his neck.

'Oh my god,' you think, hoping he doesn't realize you are panicking internally. You glance away, trying to calm yourself down. You would hate to look like an idiot.

The man notices the distance and glances over, seeing you discreetly covering your mouth. He nearly laughs, finding your actions endearing, but he manages to hold it back. He quickly looks back down, so you won't catch him staring.

He brings your pencil to your sketch and goes over the petals, bringing the edges in a bit with more of a curve. Then he moves to the vase and erases a little of one of the shadows to lighten it up. You watch all the while, amazed at how he figured out and fixed the issue so quickly.

When he finishes adding his touches, he holds the sketch out in front of him, trying to see it with a new eye to check if it looks the way it should. He nods his head, content with the result.

"Wow, you fixed it. It looks amazing!" You compliment, extremely impressed.

"It was no big deal," he brushes it off, "sometimes you just need a fresh pair of eyes to see something."

"I'm Hyunjin by the way," he says, introducing himself, "Hwang Hyunjin." You're a little confused when he gives his last name, but you don't think too hard about it. I mean, it was kind of cute of him to be so formal anyway. He stands up from the bench and you follow, aware that you have to get going sometime soon.

"Y/n, nice to meet you," you respond, excited to have made a new friend. All of your friends were majors in engineering and other sorts of classes. None of them really enjoyed the same things you do, so you can't believe you've managed to find someone who seems to be into similar things.

Hyunjin reaches into his pockets, pulling out his phone. He takes a second to unlock it and looks at you in hope.

"Could I get your number? Maybe we could do this again sometime. I’d love to have someone to paint with," he asks shyly, extending his arm out for you to grab his phone. You accept his offer and put your number in, sending yourself a text so you'll have his number, too.

After you hand his phone back, his eyebrows shoot up upon realizing the time written at the top of the screen. You can tell he panics a bit, immediately slipping his phone away.

"I actually have somewhere to be, but I'll see you again, yeah?" He asks, trying to make sure you feel the same way. He starts to walk backward, albeit a little clumsily, while awaiting your answer with a charming smile painted on his face.

"For sure," you tell him with a smile, and he turns around and walks away. You watch his retreating form, shocked at what just happened.

"Oh my god," you whisper as you celebrate a little. You start to realize how many other people are in the room and take a deep breath, not wanting to embarrass yourself. You're just so excited and to be honest, Hyunjin was breathtaking.

You calm down a little and walk back up to the painting, wanting to admire it one last time before you have to leave. Not only is it one of the best paintings you have ever seen but it also happened to start a very interesting conversation and bring you a new friend. Maybe it was fate.

As you go to turn away, the silver of the plaque beneath the painting catches your eye, and you realize that you never read it like you typically try to. You love to see where and who all the beautiful artworks come from. You lean down a bit, trying to read the small black print. Since it's only a temporary exhibit the descriptions weren't anything too fancy.

Your mouth falls open within seconds of reading it. Your expression quickly turns into one of amusement thinking back on your latest interaction. You shake your head slightly in disbelief.

There, written as the artist of the piece was the one and only...

Hwang Hyunjin.

[copperbadge]

I went to the library this afternoon, intending to get a study room and do some work on the novel, but I got distracted and ended up spending the two hours working on a short story instead.

Georgie has said that Michaelis hired her after she rescued his friend's child from a kidnapping, and it was suggested to me recently that the friend could be Oliver McAllister, Michaelis's old school mate from Pirates of the Riviera. I was skeptical because the timing didn't quite work out, but I couldn't stop thinking about the idea, so I decided to try making it work.

And let me tell you, these messy bitches.

In 2015, Michaelis is deep in his Kingbot 3000 phase so he doesn't have to Have Feelings, and Gregory has coerced him into taking a vacation by threatening a coup. Meanwhile, Olly is fresh from his second divorce, from a woman who just tried to kidnap their child. Georgie is the most together person in the room and she's an unemployed twentysomething who just beat three men unconscious to prevent said kidnapping.

And the most amusing part to me is that because of how I set it up, Michaelis is just trying to be friendly but inadvertently keeps coming across like he's trying to seduce Georgie. Which also makes Georgie joking about trying to marry him for his money in Royals/Ramblers even funnier.

"Ma'am, the police would like to take a statement," Lael said to Georgie.

"I can have Lael find you a lawyer if you want," Michaelis added. She gave him a sardonic look. 

"All right, let's get it over with," she sighed. "There goes my visit to the Musee D'Orsay."

"We'll give you the room. Olly, why don't you go in with your boy, so the police can speak with you if needed. Lael and I will be at the cafe next door when you've finished."

Georgie nodded, but he stopped as he passed her and put a hand on her arm.

"Come see us when you're done," he said quietly, ducking his head so the police at the doorway couldn't see their faces. "And cancel your job interview in London."

"Excuse me?" she asked.

"Stay in Paris. You can see the museum this weekend. The palace will cover your lodging and food."

"I...don't want to offend," she said slowly, "but I'm not -- " 

"I'm not flirting with you," he said, realizing belatedly how it might seem to her, and taking his hand from her arm. She looked faintly relieved. "I'm going to spend the time you're giving a statement assembling a job offer for you with my security office. Any young woman who can spot a kidnapping before it happens and soundly beat three grown men should not be leaving Askazer-Shivadlakia to do a job she hates in London. Now, regardless of that, and I say this as a concerned friend, not as king or employer: be honest and helpful with the police, but...economical."

"Just the facts?" she asked. 

"Exactly." He gave her an approving nod and followed Lael out. They were silent in the hallway and lobby, until they stepped out into the street and Lael exhaled.

"That was impressive," he said. "Young lady has a great right hook."

"She's certainly very alert," Michaelis agreed.

"It's been a long time since I've seen someone throw a punch like that."

"Say it and you're fired," Michaelis said good-naturedly. He'd known Lael since the head of security had been a young palace aide during Michaelis's first days as king -- if still years older than the king himself -- and he knew what was coming. 

"Not since our last trip to Galia," Lael said, voice full of relish. "That time a young hothead punched Duke Tomas in the face."

"Utterly fired. I've found your replacement. I'm putting you out to pasture with no pension." 

"You think she'd make a good successor to me?" Lael asked. He was joking but, simultaneously, he was not -- they were both getting older, and Lael was as aware as Michaelis that when a new king was elected in a few years, whoever it was, they would need someone younger, someone who could more easily keep up with them. 

"You tell me," Michaelis said. "You're the expert." 

"Oh, I've been fired, clearly my opinion isn't wanted," Lael said, as they settled into a table at the cafe, Lael with his back to the wall, eyes always scanning behind Michaelis. There had never, at least as far as Michaelis knew, been an attempt on his life, but he'd become used to never getting direct eye contact in public from the man whose job it was, after all, to watch his back. 

"Fine, I withdraw your firing. I suspect purely on her ability to sass me, she is your equal if not your better," he added, as the waitress approached. He ordered coffee and pastries briskly, then turned back to Lael. 

"Well, it's difficult to tell on two minutes' acquaintance," Lael replied, "but actions do speak louder than words." 

"Agreed. Perhaps a contingent offer? She has a law degree; she could likely earn more than we could offer her for a job like yours, but I think she's looking for the right job, not the right pay. Say three months of probation with guaranteed six months of pay to ensure she takes it, and a firm permanent offer at the end if you approve? Conditions non-negotiable but a bit of wiggle room in the salary, I think." 

Lael considered it, then nodded. "I suppose it's paranoia to imagine she might have arranged all this to get into the Palace employ."

"As what, a spy? I love a thriller novel, Lael, but they are fiction," Michaelis replied, amused.

[midnightsnyx]

Hi :) can you do a meet cute with Nico? Like maybe they meet at a museum or something in NYC? I just have this thought that he’d love an art museum. And maybe she starts the conversation first about an art piece he’s been staring at for a few minutes?

disclaimer: i know nothing about art museums lol or art in general so anything here i googled

hope u like it!! i feel like there’s potential for a p2 so lmk

requests are open

he’s lost, that much you’ve gathered while watching him wander around the museum. most people come here for the quiet, besides the art.

you could spend hours staring at paintings and drawings, it’s your favourite thing to do when you visit the city. there’s just something about the peace and quiet that attracts you.

you’re also a people watcher. you like to study people as much as art, and there’s no better place to watch people than an art museum where they are all occupied. it’s probably a tad creepy, but you don’t care. especially since it’s led you to this guy.

there’s something about him that catches your eye, and it’s not just the lost gold retriever energy he’s giving off… there’s something else. you just can’t quite put your finger on it.

he’s been standing in front of a piece of art on the wall when you finally approach him.

“kenturah davis,” you say, feeling only slightly bad when he nearly jumps out of his skin.

he studies you for a moment before turning back to the black and white drawing of a woman.

“the artist?” he clarifies, tilting his head slightly as if it’s giving him a different view. “it’s not very colourful.”

“yeah, she works between los angeles, new haven, and chana,” you tell him and then look at him from the corner of your eye. “something doesn’t need to be colourful to be beautiful.”

“no,” he agrees. “it doesn’t.”

when he looks at you again, his gaze is more focused on you than the art around him. the corner of his mouth quirks up.

“have anymore interesting facts?” he asks, and offers his hand to you to shake. “i’m nico.”

you take his hand in yours, feeling the callouses. he definitely works with his hands but you still can’t figure out where you recognize him from. you’re tempted to ask his last name because maybe that would put the puzzle pieces together.

but you decide it doesn’t matter. so you introduce yourself and at the end of the day when he asks you to dinner, you realize it doesn’t bother you one bit.

[qaxqxd]

Colorful Confession

♡Pair: Spider-noir x spider!female!reader

Genre: barely any angst / fluff

Warning: Injuries, fluff

A/n: just enjoy (wrote on phone that's why it's a little weird)

Summary: You're taking a break from being spider-man. Noir decided to visit your dimension, and he seems to have something to confess.

-----------------------------------------------------

Being spider-man was your job, your first job. But you picked up a hobby. Painting was something you liked to do in your free time, but it was also somewhat of a job. You weren’t a famous painter, but you still made money from the paintings you’ve done.

You decide to take a break from being spider-man. Not from your dimension, but just the whole spider-multiverse madness. You just wanted the week off painting, watching movies, and etc.

It's not like you hated staying at Spider HQ, it was just sometimes unbearable. With your boss, Miguel O’hara being all pissy.

There is one spider-man who catches your eyes a lot. Spider-Noir. You’ve only been on one to two missions with him, or you would catch him around the hallways. His trench coat and fashionable fedora make him look amazing.

He was also pretty sweet too. Lovely person you could say. A total gentleman. And maybe you had a little crush on him? No it was pretty big, you couldn’t even breathe when he was around you.

You wanted to draw him at every chance you got, but never had time. Now you finally have the time to do it.

You walked into your small studio, placing your canvas down. You needed a sketch of him. You sat on your stool. Trying to recollect what he looked like.

Blank.

You couldn’t draw an image in your head. It's probably because you don’t see him often. You sigh in slight frustration, before an image of him appears in your thoughts. Your face turned slightly red, since it was somewhat unholy.

You sketch out a few references into your spare notebook. Before actually placing the design onto the canvas. You were going to paint it too, so it’d have some color instead of it being plain.

You put the image of him onto the canvas. Starting with a circle and working your way making a spider-man figure. You made sure to sketch his trench coat and his fedora.

By the time you're done it's midnight. You decide to paint him since the image of him was still fresh in your mind. Before you could place down your first stroke of paint. An orange portal opens up.

Spider-noir?

What is he doing here?

"Hello!" He spoke, his voice a little monotone.

"Noir? What are you doing here?" You spoke trying to hide your canvas.

"I— uhm well." His words were stuttering. Both of your watches lit up for an anomaly. "I'm here for an anomaly!" He quickly said.

"Oh, would you like help then?" You asked. You needed more references of Noir's fighting.

"Yes! I mean— absolutely that would be lovely." You couldn't see that he was smiling, but you could tell he was. You let out a chuckle. Which got him a little red.

"Let me get my suit, requick." You rush to your room to put on your suit and rushed out.

"Ready?" He had his hands in his trench coat. His goggles shining in the light. You gave him a nod and he slid your window open. You both hop out the window and swung to where the anomaly was at.

The anomaly sighting was at an art museum. It was a Vulture. A weird looking purple one. It didn't look like your dimension Vulture. It seems rageful. You looked at Noir.

As he gives you a nod and you both lunge at the Vulture. The Vulture shook Noir off and Noir landed somewhere through the wall. You jump off of the Vulture. Swinging your webs to Noir.

"Noir!" You shove the broken parts of the wall off of him. You were kneeling down to him. His suit seems scratched, but not too badly. Just minor scratches.

"Are you alright?" You helped him up.

"I'm fine." He dusted himself off. You got close to him to see a scar on his neck. You placed your hand on his neck. He leans into your touch. You touch around his scar and examine it.

Noir wincing at your touch but not pulling away. It wasn't a great scar.

"Cmon' let's finish this so I can patch you up." You spoke, clearly concerned about his wounds even if they were small. He nodded, holding onto your hand. You thought he wanted you to remove your hand, so you did just that.

You two got back to the Vulture and took care of him. Lunging at him again and pushing him down enough to web his wings. You called Lyla to take care of the situation, and you both headed back to your place.

"Sit" you pointed to the couch in your art studio, taking off your spider-mask. You went to grab your medkit. When you got back to the studio, Noir had his mask off and his glasses on. His fedora in his lap.

He looked.. so very handsome.

You could quite literally look at him all day. You shook the thought out of your head, blushing slightly. You watched Noir remove his trench coat.

You took the cotton balls out of the kit, you applied some liquid on the cotton balls. Before rubbing it onto Noir's scars. You could hear him hiss in pain, but he's trying his best to sit still.

It was time to clean the scar close to his neck.

"Hey Noir, mind if I get closer?" You asked slightly nervously.

"Ah, if you want to. I don't mind." He spoke. His lap was the closest you could get to his neck, so you scooted onto it. He shifted his legs slightly, moving his fedora.

"A— Are you uncomfortable?" You asked, wanting to know if it was okay.

"It's. Fine, don't worry about it, doll." He spoke with his hand on his mouth. He made room for you to sit on his lap. The nickname he gave you made you more red.

You could feel his hot breath on your forehead, as you tried to clean the scar on his neck. You could feel his breath hitch in pain. You would then wrap his wounds up with band-aids.

"Hey, (Y/n)?" He asked.

"Yes?" You looked around him.

"You draw pretty great."

"W-What?"

"I like that drawing. I looked really nice." He pointed to your canvas.

Oh right. You forgot to throw a blanket over that. He wasn't meant to see it, but he liked it. So… he probably didn't think you were creepy and weird for drawing him.

"You don't think it's weird?" You asked him.

"No, I think it's really lovely. You have great talent." He smiled.

He got your face to turn into a deep red. You were still in his lap. You could feel his heat radiant off. As you put everything back in the kit. Getting off his lap.

"Right, one more thing." You lean down to place a kiss on his head. "That's for being a great patient." You walked out the room, blushing like crazy. You couldn't believe you just did that.

You peek into the room to see Noir's reaction. He was also blushing. As you put up the medkit, you come back to the room.

Noir was still sitting there, flustered.

"You could stay a little longer if you like." You sit on your stool to continue painting, as you apply the first stroke of paint. Noir pulled up a stool right next to you.

"Could I— hold you?" He asked, you obviously said yes to it. And he held you by the waist. His head on your shoulder. You two were blushing like crazy. You couldn't even think about painting.

You applied yellow to the canvas next.

"Is that purple?" He asked, which earn him a giggle from you. You forgot he wasn't the best at colors.

"No, it's yellow." You smiled at the flustered man.

"I knew that, doll." He mumble.

"What about that one?"

"Blue?" He was correct. You gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Good job." You said. Before you could get another word out. Noir place his lips onto yours.

You both let go to catch air.

"I love you." He uttered.

"Me too."

-

W.C 1.4k

[vikintor]

The Githyanki map and an idea about the community

"Githmap" is the silly way I'm calling my GZdoom map for now. 

It's is short map where you explore a Githyanki stronghold in first person (playing as a Githyanki as well), made in the Doom Engine. I don't have plans to release it for now, as I'm making it in a way to learn GZdoom.

But because I'm thinking a lot about my Gith OC's Jez'rathki, Draa'zvir and a lot of cool characters made by other kind Gith-enjoyers I'm considering not making this short map as something about me and only for myself but something for the community, a small gift perhaps, I will try to explain my idea below:

Imagine something that looks like Daggerfall but it is just a simple short visit to a virtual museum where you can explore a bit, see the paintings of other people's OCs on the walls, and talk to other Githyanki OCs to know their lore, their favorite food, besides getting the their creators @ (if they want).

That's my idea, reaching out to more Githyanki/Githzerai fans out there and asking if they want to add their OC character as a guest appearance, or opening a way to let everyone sign to participate with their GithOC.

The stronghold from my map is formed by rebels, spies, and simple Gith seeking sanctuary, with the context being inspired by "The Lich-queen's beloved". 

I still need to prepare a mini Tutorial on how to get the raw assets ready for me to export them to GZdoom (As I'm doing all the code) for everyone interested in having their OC there.

I don't feel so comfortable now reaching everyone without everything ready (just give a time to prepare a better post) 

But I can share the basic concept of how it works:

GRAPHICS

I took screenshots of this character screen of my OCs and NPC's in 5 Directions each (So I will cut the background and convert the sprites)

DIALOGUE TREE

Every NPC OC has a dialogue tree in the Githmap. For that one, I will prepare a series of questions your OC can answer (They can be friendly or rude about it) plus you can also provide additional questions (and answers) for your own OC so I can add them as well. 

Each question from my questionnaire is something the player character can choose to ask your OC, stuff like "What do they do for a living?", "what is their story, etc". Your custom questions can go deep on your OC story, like if you want the player to ask "What is the story behind their scars" etc.

I believe the best approach for now is making the map to be set before the events of BG3, because it would be odd if a bunch of OC's lore starts to reference cannon characters in different and contratitory ways, but It will have a few exceptions as I didn't decided everything yet (I need to add a Voss reference sorry). 

VOICE PERFORMANCE

Just a warning: Voices are not necessary. I just adding voices if I receive then, If I don't, its fine.

My OC's and NPC's don't have voices in-game , but if someone want to add voice to their OC there's ways do to it:

Recording an mp3 of a greetings message for the player to listen to when talking with your OC for the first time. 

Or recording some generic lines that go on most answers.

Or fully recording lines. 

CREDITS

As a short one map fangame, I will be credited as the programmer and organizer of the project, each asset used is credited to its original authors, and each person OC and asset will also be credited in two places, in the credits and the in-game dialogue alongside the OC name (example: Draa'zvir [by @vikintor]), because if I add other people OC in the game I want other players to know who created that OC, making it more like a connected experience and giving more musseum vibes.

[rxgnor0k]

A Stroll Around Paris — J.Quinn

Masterlist➢𖤓

Summary: <You and Joseph take a night walk down the streets of Paris, but end up confessing your love for each other >

Pairings: <Joseph Quinn x costar!reader>

Warnings: <fluff, pining, kissing>

a/n: <NOT PROOFREAD. some more Joseph content for the people who love Joseph, go check my other Joseph fic too!!! I hope you like it! >

⚠️ i will not allow anyone copy and pasting my work into any other social platform or site without consulting with me first ⚠️

꧁❦꧂

Normally the skies were full of clouds, and perhaps covered up the beauty of the whole sky. But tonight. Tonight was different. The dead and new born stars twinkled under the moon light, and complemented the shining lights upon the city of life.

It was long before you and Joseph had to fly back to London for more press tour things promoting the newest season of the Netflix hit show, Stranger Things. The two of you could’ve been planning for your trip to England, but instead, you both took a stroll around Paris. You couldn’t resist the urge to take a breathe of the air, and take in all the memories you’ve made here. This could possibly be your last chance to peer at the beautiful city before getting back to work with other film projects.

The cars drove by as the wind howled into the dark lovely night. The ends of your long, beige jacket flipped upwards by the wind, as you cling to Joseph’s arm, intertwining your arms to his.

It was a particularly colder night than the rest you’ve experienced. Usually it was a bit warmer, but the weather decided to switch up. Though you weren’t mad, it was a bit calming. It added a bit of an aesthetically pleasing feeling to the stressful interviews you had to do all day.

All you did was hang out with Joseph all day. Your characters, Jen and Eddie, were very close in the show, so why wouldn’t you be close with Joseph. There were days where you’d just sit around and talk all day, but other days you would go out to see a ballet or visit the infamous art museum, the Louvre Museum.

Though lately, you noticed things were quite different. You noticed the twinkle in his eyes that wasn’t shown before, or the way he’d smile at you when you were passionately explaining something. You could tell that there was some kind of love between the two of you, but you couldn’t own up to it. You were afraid of the rejection that you could possibly face. Which is why, in your final night in Paris, you were going to confess to your love for Joseph. You needed to face your fears and get it over with before it was too late.

Stopping at the end of a pathway in the middle of the park, you and Joseph go to sit down on a bench with a nice view of the overlay of the scenery. It was a bit dark, but that was what you wanted. The two of you sat in silence, admiring the other’s presence.

“The star’s are beautiful aren’t they,” Joseph says, glancing up at the stars overhead. “I admire them.”

“Why is that?” you ask.

“They remind me of someone,” he replies, looking straight at you. “Someone I love very much.”

“Oh,” was all you could say. “Oh.”

Joseph grinned as he took your hands in his. He could tell there was something you wanted to say, and he knew exactly what it was.

“Is there something on your mind, Y/n?” he asks. “Something that you want to throw out of your mind?”

“Yes, but I can’t say it.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I’m afraid. I’m afraid of what they’ll think.”

“You can’t tell me anything, you that right?” he says, seemingly genuine.

You hesitate at first, but relax as you fell Joseph’s hand on your shoulder, easing you.

“Jo, there’s no other way to say this, but… I love you. I have for a very long time.”

Joseph sat up straight, facing forward and not directly at you. He chewed his bottom lip in an happy manner.

This made you nervous. Had you just risked everything and confessed to the love of your life? Maybe now wasn’t the right time to say things, but it certainly was.

Joseph took your hands in his again, and looked at you straight in the eyes with a happy grin.

“I love you too, Y/n.”

You heart stopped for a second before it began racing. If there was a camera that was hidden in your minds, loads of fireworks of gone off like it was new years celebration. The words that came out of his mouth made you melt like the butter in an heated pan.

You grabbed the collar of his jacket and engulfed him in a deep kiss. He caressed the side did your face, and slid a hand around your waist, deepening the kiss. By now you were both practically on top of each other. You both pulled away, wiping off the saliva from the others mouth. The only thing you could hear was the breathes that came out of your mouth. You went back in, but instead of kissing him, you embraced him in an hug. It took him a second to respond, but he did the same.

“I don’t think you understand how long, I’ve wanted to do that, Jo,” you say, nuzzling you face into the crook of his neck.

“I’ve wanted to say those words, since our first interview together, Y/n.”

And so on, the two of you began the flourishing relationship, which took a toll on the fans. There was nothing more than the live you received from Joseph. It was like a dream come true with all the press and stuff. Right now, you were the happiest you could ever be.

꧁❦꧂

a/n: <I wrote this one in a night, not my best work, but I'm kinda of please with it. Pls don't mind the amount of spelling mistakes I've made in this. Byeee!>

Reposts and requests are always welcomed! Make sure to go check ou my other stuff! My masterlist is linked at th top of the page! Thank you for reading my fan fic!

[artificial-transmutations]

Two sides of the same coin - Ancestral Roots

The idea had been unusual enough to get Dylan to agree, but his first intuition had proven to be right. Visiting a museum, let alone a museum of anthropology really *was* a horrible idea for a first date.

His date, Henry, on the other hand seemed to be enjoying the place immensely. Looking at Henry, Dylan wouldn't have guessed that the other man was a history nerd, but apparently, not all nerds wore thick glasses and oversized hoodies. In fact, Henry was pretty good looking: tall and slim, with brown hair and blue eyes.

They were both standing in front of a large display case which displayed various tools from prehistoric times, mostly made of stone or bone.

"Don't you find that fascinating? How people used to live back then, what tools they used, what they wore?"

Henry had a shine in his eyes, while he looked at every single exhibit with enthusiasm.

Dylan on the other hand found the whole thing a bit boring, if he was being honest. Going through the exhibition for half an hour could have been kind of interesting, but they were here for at least two hours now, and only halfway through.

When they moved to the next room, that was African themed, Henry asked: "What do you think, who were your distant ancestors? What did they do every day?"

Dylan was only half listening because he had found something on the floor that caught his interest. He picked up a curious coin and pocketed it. He would need to show it to the curator later, perhaps it was a piece from the exhibition that fell to the ground.

"Sorry what? Oh, what my ancestors were doing. Well..."

He looked around in the room and answered: "Human beings came from Africa at some point, right? So, I guess one of my ancestors was a tribesman."

Henry nodded, excitedly. "That is very possible, yes! What do you think that man did for a living?"

Even though it was just completely fabricated, Dylan liked the question so much that he thought about it for a moment. He imagined himself as a Black skinned primitive man before deciding: "He was probably a tribal warrior. There were many things to fight back then, so it makes sense."

Henry looked at him with wide eyes and a big smile. He said, in a lower voice so only Dylan could hear it. "That sounds pretty hot to me, don't you think?"

Well, this was a kink Dylan hadn't yet heard about, but he had to admit, it was a nice fantasy.

"Yes, just imagine,", he answered in the same low voice, "the big muscles under the black skin, and the paintings on his body..."

Dylan grinned as he could clearly see the other man's groin twitch. He was getting into it a lot as well and needed to readjust himself in order to make his boner less noticeable.

"And how did he look like?" Henry continued to whisper.

"He had short black hair and dark brown eyes. He must have been strong, and he wears animal skins and carries a spear."

Henry gave an involuntary low moan, and Dylan also felt surprisingly aroused by the very short exchange.

"I... need to visit the bathroom" said Henry in a husky voice and hurried towards the next men's room sign. Before he entered the door, however, he turned around again to Dylan, who understood the move just then.

It was clear to him now, what Henry was going at, and Dylan was torn. On one hand, he never had much of a thing for sex in public places, let alone a museum bathroom, but on the other hand, he could very well relate to Henry. His cock was throbbing in the confines of his underwear, and he would go crazy if he didn't get release soon.

So, after a short consideration, he followed the tall man to the bathroom, soon enough to see Henry go into one of the stalls. At least, the bathroom was empty except for them right now.

He followed Henry into the stall and locked the door behind them. Immediately, he found himself thrown against the thin separator walls by Henry, who started to make out passionately. Dylan, too, was horny beyond measure. They kissed deeply, hungrily, and their hands roamed each other’s bodies. Dylan couldn't help himself when he reached down and felt the hard bulge in Henry's pants. He stroked it slowly through the fabric until he could feel it more clearly.

"You're so fucking hot", he whispered in Henry's ear while undoing his belt and opening his fly.

Henry was busy getting rid of his own shirt and pants, which wasn't easy, since he was lip-locked with Dylan most of the time. In-between, he moaned: "Just... imagine. How hot you would be."

Kinky! Henry wanted to role-play this. Dylan was immediately on board. "*I am* hot. I'm the hottest guy from my tribe! And I'm proud of it!"

Instinctively, Dylan widened his stance and shifted the dynamics of their interaction slightly. He was no longer the one pressed against the stall wall, but he was standing upright and tall, while Henry was the one who had to move around him.

Henry was completely naked by now, his clothes scattered on the ground, easy to see for anyone who entered the bathroom. He didn't care, though. All he cared about was the horny high he was on right now.

"Oh God, you're so strong. Tell me how strong you are!", Henry moaned while he removed Dylan's shirt and jacket.

"I am the strongest warrior of my tribe. No one can defeat me in battle."

Dylan flexed his arms as if to show off his strength.

Surprisingly enough, as he flexed his now naked arms, muscles bulged under his skin, popping into existence where there were only thin arms before. It felt so... Right!

"I can run for miles without tiring and I can swim in the strongest current!"

Dylan puffed out his chest proudly, a chest that quickly packed on definition. His stomach was adorned by cobblestone abs that paved the way from his impressive pecs into his pants.

On those same pants, Henry was unbuttoning them with his left hand. The right hand was busy pumping his own member, he just couldn't stop himself.

In-between, he encouraged Dylan to go on: "And you're not any man, but you're a Black man from Africa?"

"You haven't seen a blacker man than me!" Dylan said proudly, as his skin was darkening rapidly. Dylan, too, was now completely naked in the stall, and his loud and proud voice didn't care if anyone was listening. His ginger hair darkened and became black, while his facial structure rearranged to show his African roots more clearly.

"And you know what they say about Black men. It's all true, we really are so big down there. And I have the biggest cock of them all."

Although it stayed unclear if it really was the biggest cock of them all, his hard and throbbing member grew significantly, almost poking one of Henry's eyes out in the progress.

Henry couldn't constrain himself any longer. He needed to have that cock in his mouth now and never let go. As he closed his lips around the shaft, he didn't notice his own body changing, simplifying and focusing on his arms around Dylan's waist and his face that was buried in Dylan's groin.

Breathlessly, he asked: "And you are one of the early humans?" before getting back to pleasuring the superior man.

"You bet!" answered Dylan. "To be honest, I am, as my whole tribe is, pretty primitive. I am not really smart, and, uh, my equi... my stuff is very basic."

Dylan closed his eyes for a moment, and when Dyalo opened his brown eyes again, all the modern knowledge was gone, replaced by survival skills and instincts long forgotten. He grabbed Henry's head with his strong hand and pressed it to his groin, flattening him in the process until Hen... he... *it* was nothing more than his leather loincloth. With a few quick strokes, he finished and came in a wide arc with a grunt into the vegetation that had replaced the stall walls.

Dyalo grabbed his spear and turned around. It was time to return to his tribe, to his roots.

If you liked this story and want to read new stories as soon as I've written them, consider joining my riot page!

Also, if objectified guys are the best guys, be sure to read my other two sides of the same coin stories!

[bro-atz]

pretty like passion for art

pair: non-idol!sumin/gn!reader

word count: 1.1k

content: fluff, artistic sumin, ft. jinsik

rating: PG/PG-13 | safe for work!

pretty like masterlist

You worried for your boyfriend sometimes. Sure, he was a really great boyfriend, and he was super sweet, super reliable, super funny— the list goes on and on. The problem was when he got in the zone.

You loved his passion for art. Actually, it was his passion for art that brought the two of you together in the first place. You were both at the same art museum one day— you were there because your friend invited you, and Sumin was there to see the new exhibit— and you bumped right into him while he observed the subtle brushstrokes of the artwork before him. To him, the art was gorgeous, but you were even more stunning from the first time he laid eyes on you, and that was that.

The two of you spent a lot of time together for the most part, but he never allowed you to step foot in his personal studio. You never really understood why, but you didn't bother asking him because you figured that he would tell you one day when the time was right since he was candid about literally everything else.

When Sumin locked himself in the studio, he would go days without texting you. He would respond to you if you texted him, but he never texted first when he was there, and it took him hours to respond when you did text him. You got especially worried one day when you texted him and he didn't respond. You waited a couple hours and got no response. Then, you waited an entire day, but you got no response. To be honest, "worried" was a bit of an understatement— you were scared out of your mind when he didn't respond.

So, you decided to visit him at his studio, but you had one problem—  you had no freaking clue where his studio was since he had never told you.

"Jinsik, I am freaking out!" you shrilled into the phone the second his best friend picked up. "Has he done this before?!"

"He does this all the time, Y/N, you need to relax—"

"Okay, but is he sleeping? Eating? Drinking water? Breathing? Alive?!"

"Y/N, calm down!"

"I don't think I can until he texts me back," you said with a deep sigh. "Has he texted you at all since the start of this session?"

"Uh, lemme check," Jinsik muttered, his voice getting further away as he moved his phone from his ear. "No, he hasn't."

"Alright, gimme the address."

"Just wait—"

"I don't care, Jinsik. Give me the address now."

And that was how you found yourself in front of Sumin's art studio, which just so happened to be right next to his apartment. Honestly, you felt a little idiotic when you found out, but that was a problem for another time. Your priority was making sure Sumin was alive and well.

Knocking on the door, you said quietly but strongly, "Sumin? It's me. You better open up."

You heard shuffling and the sounds of cans and other items that you couldn't really place fall to the ground before the door opened before you. There he was alive, well, shining due to the slightest bit of sweat decorating his face, and in a pair of coveralls, one of the sleeves off his arm, exposing his bare torso and arm. He was so breathtaking that you felt all the wind get knocked out of your lungs, and you honestly didn't even know where to look because his work outfit had your heart racing at the speed of light.

"Y/N! Baby!" Sumin greeted cheerfully; you were grateful that he was happy to see you considering that you dropped by his studio unannounced. "Come in."

He opened the door for you fully, allowing you to enter. You were about to go off on him, but the second you walked into the studio, you were in awe. The walls were covered with his art. Some of his paintings were resting on the ground haphazardly— he didn't like those ones, but you thought they were some of the most beautiful works of art you had ever seen.

"Sorry for the mess," he said with a chuckle. "Well, it's a studio... It's going to be messy... But I'm sorry that you have to walk through it. I honestly wanted to clean it up before I showed you, which is why I didn't tell you the address."

"Why on Earth would I mind the mess? Also, no offense, but your room is more unkempt because of your clothes."

Sumin couldn't help but laugh— that was a fair hit. He took your hand in his and walked you over to a huge easel in the corner of the room to show you his latest piece, something that looked eerily familiar.

"I've been working on this for, like, a week now, and I'm still struggling with the sketch," he admitted. "So that's why I've been unresponsive."

"Have you been eating and sleeping properly, though?" you asked him, your hand automatically reaching to cup his cheek so you could inspect his face.

"Yes, baby," he laughed. "I promise, I have been."

"Good," you smiled and patted his cheek, his smile only growing bigger.

You turned back to the canvas and looked a little closer at the sketch. The sketch wasn't just eerily familiar— it was you. You looked around the studio to see if he was using a reference picture or anything, but there was nothing in sight, not even his phone.

"This is me..." you breathed out.

"Yes, it is."

"What reference picture are you using for this? I've... I've never seen this picture of myself before."

"I actually haven't been using a reference picture," Sumin chuckled lightly was instinctually rubbing the back of his neck as an embarrassment reflex.

"You're telling me you're doing this from memory?"

"Yes."

You were astounded. The fact that Sumin had memorized all the little details of your face from the way your eyes turned into crescents to the way your nose wrinkled while you laughed made your heart swell up to the point where you nearly started crying from happiness.

"Baby, what— Why are you crying?!" Sumin started panicking when he saw the fattest tear escape your eye and roll down your cheek.

"Sumin," you turned around and hugged him tightly, your face buried in his chest. Your words got muffled as you uttered to him for the first time, "I love you."

Sumin dried your tear before hugging you back, his hand petting the back of your head comfortingly.

"I love you too, baby."

pretty like masterlist

pretty like tag list: @eyeryis @sinnarols @cake1box @hunchan444

xikers perm tag list: @dutchessskarma @kookieswithjung @hyunukitty @bsehindu @yessa-vie

@ninoshome1 (honorary @nebulousbrainsoup tag wink wonk)

network: @houseoftricky

[wormstacheangel]

Day five: Portrait

“Thank you for visiting!” Dean waved from the front door of the Novak Manor where he worked as a museum guide and historian. “Come again!”

“Our haunting hour tours start this weekend for Halloween!” He heard his coworker, Charlie, cheerfully remind them as she stepped outside. 

The group all excitedly mumbled to each other about the invite and it made Dean roll his eyes. He went back inside, leaving Charlie to lock up the door. 

“I don’t know why we are advertising that crap.” Dean undid his tie and walked behind the desk to check the emails. “This place isn’t even haunted. It’s just old.”

“Yeah. Yeah. We get it you don’t believe in the spooky supernatural.” Charlie waved her fingers toward Dean before she leaned across the front desk to look at Dean. “But we both know it’s these extra ghost hunters that are keeping this place going. We need cash and they need evidence.” 

“Whatever.” Dean mumbled, before watching the last slot of the night tour fill up. “We’re fully booked.”

“Really?!” Dean turns the screen toward her and she cheers, patting herself in the back. “Good job, Charlie.” She mimics Dean’s voice. “Thanks, boss.”

Dean rolls his eyes with a smile, “Fine. Maybe it was a great idea. Good job, Charles. I’ll get you a treat tomorrow.” 

“Iced and lots of caramel please.”

“Got it.” 

Charlie went home after that, Dean could do the locking up himself. It was second nature to him after all these years. 

He started on the third floor; locking windows, emptying trash cans, and making sure everything was in its place. He was about to go downstairs, turning off the last light in the hallway, when he heard something rumbling in the attic above. 

He turned on the light quickly and cursed. He didn’t want to deal with a damn raccoon right now. Dean wanted to go home and finally eat some dinner while he rewatched Friends for the hundredth time. 

He patted his pocket for his mini flashlight and debated on calling Charlie now or animal control. He decided on neither. He should first make sure it is a raccoon and not something just falling. 

The attic is not for the public, it was used for storage by the family and it’s used for storage by the museum. Nothing special. 

Dean kept cursing as he unlocked the door that hid the narrow stairway. One he would usually send Charlie or even Garth because he was too damn tall for it to be comfortable. But he went, turning on the one light bulb that made the stairway an ugly orange color, and unlocked the door at the top. 

He patted his pockets for his phone, ready to call 911 if the damn raccoon decides to jump him, and slowly opened the door. 

It was dark but the moonlight spilled through the one stained glass window. Making the floor look almost like water. It was beautiful.

He was so dazed that he didn't notice the figure by the window. A figure that made no shadow. 

“Oh!” The voice startled Dean. He looked up to see a familiar man smile towards him. “Hello, Dean. It’s always nice to see you.” The man sighed sadly. “Or anyone.”

Dean said nothing. Just stared in shock while trying to figure out if he could run fast enough downstairs and grab his car keys.

The man looked concerned taking a small step towards Dean before his eyes widened. “Can you…Dean, are you looking at me?”

Dean responds with a stiff nod. Watching as the man smiles, giggling just a little bit, before he takes a longer stride towards Dean. 

“I can’t believe it!” The man yells in excitement and Dean has had enough. 

He turns on his heels and quickly runs down the narrow stairway. Not slowing down when he runs down to the front desk to get his care keys. On his way out the back door, he froze. 

Walking back into the main living room, he came face to face with a portrait of a familiar man. A man that was just talking to him up in the attic. 

Dean didn’t believe in ghosts. He believed that death was just eternal sleep and that’s it. No spirits or any other mambo jumbo. Just forever worm food. 

But he also believed in what he saw with his own eyes. 

He took a deep breath. “This is so fucking stupid.” And forced himself back upstairs. Back up the narrow hallway and into the attic, where the man stood by the window again. Looking out of it like a sad Victorian woman.

Lonely.

It took all the courage Dean could muster to call out, “Castiel?” 

The man turned, smiling but looking apologetic. “I haven't had someone say my name to me in years.” Castiel made a move to walk towards Dean but then stopped. “I, um, I apologize for startling you earlier. I was just so very excited.”

Dean didn’t really hear the apology he was still so shocked. The man was a spitting image of Castiel. How can that be possible? “Are you really him?”

“I am.” Castiel took a careful step towards Dean and held out his hand. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean took the hand, solid in his grip but then felt nothing but cold air a second later. As if he just went right through him. “Hiya, Cas.”

[its-all-stardust]

Sugar || 1

Masterlist || Part Two

Steven Grant/Sugar Mommy!Reader

Word count: 1.9k

Summary: You meet Steven in a museum gift shop and feel an instant connection. Before you walk out the door you decide, perhaps against your better judgment, that you need him to be your sugar baby. Now you just need him to let you treat him right.

Author's note: hello and welcome to the most unoriginal title ever. this was originally intended to be a oneshot, but just as I was about to finish what ended up being this first part, I realized that would be impossible (unless I wanted an insanely long oneshot, which i did not). to be honest, i don't have a real plan for this series. i don't expect it to be very long, and there may be some Marc/Reader in the future, but for now, this is just about our boy Steven.

Series note: Set before the events of the Moon Knight series. I haven't decided yet if this is going to be following canon in regards to the powers/Avatar aspect but I'll let you know whenever I decide. Steven is still an alter, Marc still has DID, and assume Marc and Jake are around and know what Steven is getting up to.

It’s not like you were looking for someone when you visited the museum that day. Typically, when you do look for a new baby, you go through the regular channels. Word of mouth, the specific sites—the free ones and the paid ones. You’ve never just seen someone out in the world and thought Them.

It just wasn’t something that was done. It wasn’t something that you do. There’s no way to vet someone you met in person, and you don’t conveniently have all their personal details laid out in a neat format sent directly to you with the results of their background check.

You always thought picking someone you met randomly was a bad idea despite the fact that you haven’t exactly heard horror stories from others in these circles. You suppose it comes to the arrangement being based on trust. And you don’t exactly trust most people.

That is until you laid eyes on Steven, the slightly mousy yet also impertinent gift shop clerk.

You walked into the gift shop looking for a bottle of water. You had spent the last couple of hours wandering the Ancient Egyptian exhibit and needed a break before walking through the rest of the exhibits on display. You don’t know when you’ll next make it to the National Art Gallery, so you figured you’d make a day of it since you didn’t have any meetings to attend or calls to make.

You aren’t exactly impressed with the man when you first walk in. In an attempt to help another customer, he bumped into one of the displays and knocked down some of the figurines, smashing them on the floor.

“I’m so sorry!” he says, falling to his knees to start cleaning up his mess while the woman he was speaking to takes her child by the arm and steps away. But then he seems to change his mind and stands again. Looking over the display, he grabs one of the surviving figurines. “Here, this one’s perfectly fine.”

“That’s okay. I think he changed his mind,” the woman says, gesturing to her son. She then quickly leaves the shop without buying anything.

The man sighs, his shoulders dropping as he sets the figurine down and mutters himself. He then walks away from the mess on the floor to the back room.

When he’s out of sight, you step up to the display. Broken pieces of several figurines depicting a bird of some sort stare up at you helplessly.

You pick up one that appears intact, examining it. Although you just came from the Ancient Egyptian exhibit, you can’t tell which god the white plaster bird is meant to be. To you, it’s simply a bird of prey; its sharp beak and talons give it away, but it lacks any particular godly features.

Finding no fault other than that it’s a rather generic figurine, you set it back on the display with the other surviving merchandise. You’re about to pick up another from the floor, hoping to make the clerk’s job a little easier, when a voice stops you.

“Oh, no, you don’t need to do that.” It’s the clerk, having returned with a broom and dustpan in hand without you noticing.

“Thought you could use a hand, is all,” you say, smiling at him as you step away from the pile of broken figurines.

The man stares at you for a moment, frozen, giving you time to study him.

Curly hair falling over his forehead, large, dark eyes, clean-shaven, and baggy clothes that don’t quite fit him properly. 

Your eyes catch his name tag.

Steven.

All of a sudden, the man—Steven seems to flinch. You see a slight flush to his cheeks before he tilts his head down, hiding his face from view.

“Sorry,” he says as he starts to sweep up bits of several birds, though you’re not sure what he’s apologizing for. “Let me just clean this up, and I’ll be right with you.”

“Thank you,” you say as you wander away to look at the other souvenirs on display. You keep glancing at Steven, though, finding your interest piqued by him. 

“Make a mess again, Stevie?” a woman calls as she walks into the shop.

“You know that’s not my name, Donna,” he says as the woman walks past him into the back room. He follows, though he doesn’t look happy about it.

Steven comes back quickly, now missing the broom and dustpan, and when he spots you, the tension drains out of him, if only slightly.

“Sorry about that. Do you need help with anything?” He steps close to you, though still far enough away to maintain a respectful distance.

You just need your water, and you’ll be back out in the museum in no time. With your tight schedule, you shouldn’t waste a minute if you want to actually enjoy all the exhibits. But something in you, something about Steven, makes you stay.

“Actually, I wanted to ask,” you start as you lead Steven back to the display of figurines. “Who is this even supposed to be? It doesn’t look like one of the gods.” You point to the birds he knocked down.

“Horus, if you can believe it.” He scoffs as if personally offended. “Honestly, I wouldn’t look for anything in this shop to be all that accurate,” he whispers conspiratorially. 

“The gift shop in a popular museum can’t even be bothered to pay for accuracy?” you ask, even though you’re not surprised. The best way for businesses to make quick profit is to sell cheap products for far more than they’re worth.

Steven steps closer, keeping his voice low, not wanting to be overheard.

“My manager, Donna.” He gestures toward the backroom with a jerk of his head. “She’s in charge of ordering everything. When I saw she had picked out these, I tried telling her how inaccurate they were, that nobody would know who it was and have no reason to buy them. All she said was, ‘Nobody’s going to care, Stevie.’” He raises the pitch of his voice, a mocking impression of the woman in the other room.

“But you care.” It’s easy to see how much he does. Not everyone would get so worked up over an overpriced souvenir at a museum gift shop.

“Of course I do!” Steven says emphatically. “It’s why I work here. Well, not here here. Can’t say the gift shop is my favorite, but the museum—” He suddenly stops, cutting himself off as he stares at you.

You would think you’ve done something wrong, except all you’ve done is smile at him, the expression still on your face even now. Then you notice Steven is flushed again, and you can’t help but be pleased at the sight.

“Sorry, I’m just talking your ear off. You should have stopped me,” Steven says with an awkward laugh.

“I don’t mind listening to you speak.” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. Usually, you’re in better control of yourself, your words. You have to be.

Thankfully, Steven doesn’t find your honesty off-putting as some others have. He laughs again, this time with disbelief and a smile playing on his lips.

“You’re just saying that,” he says.

“You’re getting paid to sell things, Stevie, not to stand around flapping your lips,” Donna says as she walks out of the backroom, a box of merchandise in her arms to restock one of the shelves lining the walls.

“But I am getting paid to be nice to the customers, yeah?” Steven replies. Donna only rolls her eyes, a look he copies when she turns in the other direction.

You like seeing that he isn’t cowed by his frankly rude manager, even if he can’t exactly square up to her, not without likely risking his job.

What’s he like outside the gift shop when he doesn’t have to hold back? When he can say what he wants without being afraid of offending someone?

You push the thought away. You shouldn’t be thinking like that. Thoughts along those lines should be reserved for people you’ve properly vetted.

“Sorry about her. She’s…” Steven whispers, trailing off when he can’t find anything charitable to say.

“A bitch?” you supply. You don’t have to worry about offending Donna.

“Keep your voice down!” he half-heartedly scolds, placing a hand on your arm as he tries to suppress a grin. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, but I’d rather not get caught, thank you.”

You’re about to say something else when Steven’s face falls, horror replacing the glee. He quickly snatches his hand away, stepping back as he realizes how close he is to you.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—” He gestures to your arm but quickly drops his hand as if afraid he’ll touch you again.

“It’s okay,” you assure him. “I didn’t mind.” You would have minded if it had been any other man, but Steven…

Stop it.

“You’re sure?” he asks tentatively, looking like a puppy about to be told he’s a good boy, eyes lit up hopefully.

You can feel yourself starting to burn with an overwhelming want.

“Absolutely,” you say, and Steven sighs in palpable relief.

“Oh, good. Still sorry, though. For not thinking and all.”

And though you tried to deny it, you can’t stop thinking that Steven…could be fun. Something alights in you the more you look at him. The different sides you’ve already seen. His helpfulness, his genuine interest, and knowledge about the place he works. The roll of his eyes and complaints about a manager. A man who’ll snark back, but only just enough to keep from getting into trouble. How he spoke to you as if you were friends before the slight mortification hit, and he realized the two of you are nothing but strangers.

You recognize something in him, and it makes you want him. Want to lavish him with affection and praise and gifts. Want him to give that same affection back to you. You want him on your arm. You want to play with him, see what makes him tick.

You want to give him all you’ve never had.

You shouldn’t think about him like this, not when you don’t know anything about him.

But you know enough. Enough to intrigue you. And he intrigues you more than any of the others you’ve been with. None of them have sparked this deep desire, not so instantaneously, not until they worked out exactly what you wanted and played that role. They weren’t like this naturally.

They weren’t like you.

But it has to be a no. You can’t. You have rules.

And yet…

You glance at your watch, the thin band flashing gold on your wrist, the crystal face sparkling up at you in the light.

“I have to get going,” you say regretfully, and Steven looks slightly disappointed. You want to keep talking to him and wipe that look from his face. You have to force yourself to take a step back.

“But I’ll see you around, Stevie.” You’re practically possessed as the nickname rolls from your lips, even though you know, based on his interaction with Donna, that he doesn’t like it.

You just need to see that fire. Need to know what it’s like when it’s directed at you.

“It’s Steven, actually,” he corrects with a slight annoyance that he tries to cover with a smile. He even taps his name tag a little more forcefully than he needs to, as if to make sure you get the point. He may like you well enough to have a chat, but he won’t put up with things that displease him, either.

Oh, he will be so much fun.

You try to smile sweetly at him, but it feels more like a predatory grin spreading across your face. “Sorry. See you around, Steven.”

[asherbakugou]

Date Outfit and Location

Kai Kalama | (She/They)

Burgundy red dress that falls just past their knees with a boob slit held together by simple straight gold clasps. The sides, starting just below her ribcage and reaching to her waist, have a gap with three simple gold chains attached. Overtop they wore a cropped black leather jacket that reaches just past her boobs. She chose to pair it with golden sun earrings and gold rings to bring attention to their black nails as well as black ankle strap heels.

Kai chose to take Reader to Morimoto's, a fancy and expensive sushi restaraunt that can take months to get a reservation at. It happens to be Reader's dream restaraunt to visit but they've never had a chance to go to because of the prices.

Zane Julien | (She/her)

Pale blue circle skirt with snowdrops sewn along the right side, with a white off-shoulder cardigan, paired with blue converse. Simple clay earrings made to look like snowdrops, and a simple necklace with a shard of diamond bring the entire outfit together.

Zane chose to take Reader to an Interactive Museum because of their mutual love of museums and Readers natural curiosity. It is one of the largest museums in the country of Ninjago and incredibly popular with an aquariam inside.

Cole Brookstone | (They/them)

Deep cut silk white blouse over a black, sleeveless turtleneck paired with a simple silver chain, and a singular black pearl hanging from his earlobe. They wore black jeans with it as well, a wallet chain, and black boots.

Reader decided on the Food Festival, a time when people from all over Ninjago Country gather in the streets and set up stalls, a good opportunity for Cole's first dip back into festivals.

Jay Walker | (She/Her)

Simple blue jeans with bluberry bushes sewn up the calves, tight white sleeveless turtleneck, with a baby blue cardigan that she can easily take off. She paired it with white sneakers, a blue bead anklet, and a string pearl necklace.

Reader chose to take Jay out to a Trampoline Park, the largest in Ninjago, since they both enjoy fun and it has multiple different sections that include laser tag, putt putt, and an obstacle course she hopes to challenge him in.

Lloyd Garmadon | (She/her)

Calf length, tight black turtleneck dress with golden designs along the chest and green glass beads to further bring the designs to life, and off the shoulder loose sleeves with a cuff to keep it from spilling over hands. Black kitten pumps, a gold lotus wrap bracelet, and emerald drop earrings bring the entire outfit together.

Lloyd chose to take Reader out to a fancy restaruant in one of the most expensive places to impress her, even though he doesn't need too. But she is excited to have a date with him, and has never been wined and dined before.

Morro | (She/her)

Ankle length sheer black skirt with pale pink cherry blossoms over black leggings and pale pink sneakers. A pale pink silk wrap around shirt with kimono-esque sleeves and cloud designs along the bottom of the sleeves, paired with a simple silver ring and cherry blossom earrings.

Morro chose to take Reader to a Lantern Festival being hosted in Ninjaho's National Park. The park itself is huge, and so is the Lantern Festival, but its also a little pricey so Reader never had the opportunity to go, even though she wished to.

A/n: The actual dates will be posted one by one as I hope for them to be more detailed, but hope you all enjoy this little tidbit.