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fluentmoviequoter · 29 days

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Good Luck Charm

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: At a Dodgers game, you meet Tim Bradford, who thinks you're a good luck charm for the Dodgers.

Warnings: pure fluff!

Word Count: 1.4k+ words

A/N: @bradleybeachbabe inspired me to write this (as well as Eric Winter posting about the Dodgers)! I hope you enjoy the game you're going to soon, Rachel!!!💙

Today’s date has been circled on your calendar for months. The Dodgers are playing at home in LA, and you got tickets behind home base. Since scoring the tickets, you’ve been counting down the moments, using this game to get you through tough days and long nights. Now that it’s finally here, you can forget about everything else for the evening and enjoy the game, hoping for another exciting evening like the tiebreaking two-run homer you watched on TV last week. Dressed in your favorite Dodgers shirt, you leave for Dodgers Stadium happier than you’ve been in weeks. Something in the Los Angeles air makes you think it will be a great night.

“Lucy, if I had an extra ticket, I’d sell it,” Tim sighs as he parks at Dodgers Stadium. “If you want to be at this game so badly, ask Thorsen. If anyone can get you a last-minute ticket, it’s him.”

“But he’s already at the game,” Lucy laments over the phone.

“So am I!”

“Yeah, but that’s different.”

“How is that-“ Tim stops and shakes his head. “Lucy, I hope you can figure something out. If not, I’ll tell you all about the game at work.”

“Ugh, you’re such a man.”

“Thanks. Bye.”

Tim ends the call before Lucy can explain that she did not mean that as a compliment. It’s been a tough week at the Mid-Wilshire station, and Tim wants to watch a good game, cheer for his team, and unwind.

Tim smiles as he makes his way to his seat: an unexpected but highly appreciated upgrade to home base. Coming into Dodgers Stadium feels like coming home, and Tim thinks tonight will be a good game. At least until he sees that the seat beside him, which he expected to be empty, is occupied by a woman scrolling on her phone rather than enjoying the pre-game activities. He ignores his disappointment at being in the section with a disinterested neighbor as he watches warmups.

You look up from the detailed roster file you keep on your phone. Gavin Lux, an infielder who is a left-hand batter and right-hand thrower, is wearing his glove on his right hand for warmups. As you scroll through your newest notes, glancing up at the team every few swipes, someone sits beside you.

“Left, right,” you murmur to yourself.

“Excuse me?” the man asks.

You lift your gaze from your phone, then freeze when you see the attractive man occupying the seat to your right.

“Sorry, I’m talking to myself. Lux is just… never mind, sorry.”

As you turn back toward the field, he asks, “Lux is?”

“He’s warming up with his glove on his throwing hand.”

The man looks out into the field, locates Lux, and nods. “He is. Any idea why?”

You shake your head. “I thought maybe I was remembering his stats wrong, but I double-checked and he’s warming up opposite.”

“Interesting. Think we can win with him off his game?”

Pursing your lips, you shrug. “I don’t think he’s the player that makes or breaks a game. Unless he tries to bat right-handed, we should be okay.”

“I’m Tim,” he introduces, offering his hand.

You shake his hand as you tell him your name, surprised by how he holds your hand in his just a moment longer than is usually acceptable. You don’t mind, especially when he smiles and asks if you’ve noticed anything else.

“Is this your usual seat?” you inquire after a few minutes of discussing the players and their techniques.

“No, my season pass gets me over first base,” Tim answers. “You?”

“One-night only. I’d love to get a season pass someday.”

“If we win tonight, they should give you one on principle.”

You laugh as you ask, “Why?”

“If we win tonight after that tenth inning save last week, with our infielders off their game, and you just happen to be in the crowd? You’d have to be good luck.”

“Maybe it’s just a good day,” you counter softly.

Tim smiles as he agrees, “Maybe.”

“Stop letting the ball play you!” someone behind you yells. “This is why they should have left you in the minors!”

You stifle a laugh at their enthusiasm but agree with them. Tim sighs beside you and checks the score.

“Just one can of corn, is that too much to ask?” Tim grumbles.

“Wow,” you exclaim. “You really just used that term.”

“You disagree?”

“Not at all, just haven’t heard someone younger than Babe Ruth call it that.”

“Then, what do we do? We’re going to lose at this rate.”

You shrug and offer, “Guess I’m not very good luck, after all.”

Tim wants to disagree but decides that it’s not his place. If the Dodgers win, then he’ll tell you that he’s impressed by you, drawn to you, but otherwise, you’ll go your separate ways, never to see one another again.

“I don’t want to watch this, Tim,” you say with a pout.

The Dodgers are tied in the bottom of the ninth in a concerning parallel to their previous game. You don’t trust them to get the ball where it needs to be to win, not after their lackluster performance in the first few innings.

“Wish them luck,” Tim encourages, standing beside you as the crowd roars. “C’mon, give into the superstition once. What’s the worst that happens?”

“We lose, and my night of relaxation becomes me wondering if you put a curse of the team by saying good luck in these sacred walls.”

“I never thought I’d be the one to say this, but it’s a baseball game. It’s not that serious.”

You try to ignore Tim, but the smile on his face is too hard to look away from. To appease him and partially because you love hearing him say you are good luck, you whisper a wish of good luck, boys through the net separating you from foul balls.

And, somehow, between when you speak and when the stadium silences, Mookie Betts hits a homerun that echoes throughout Los Angeles, and the Dodgers perform another walk-off.

“You did it!” Tim yells as the crowd erupts into cheers.

He pulls you into his arms, completely forgetting his prior hesitance to tell you how much you affected him, and you throw your arms over his shoulders as he spins you. When your feet are on the ground again, you cup Tim’s jaw and smile.

“We won!” you cheer as fireworks boom overhead.

“You really are good luck,” Tim replies.

“Maybe you’re the good luck."

Tim shakes his head and leans closer to you. The stadium around you is completely forgotten, entirely focused on the man before you. His hands are on your waist, yours are framing his face, and you can’t wait to hear what he says next.

“Will you go out with me? I think we could both use some more good luck,” he proposes.

Your smile widens as you nod. “I’d love to.”

Tim pulls you against his side, his arm warm and steady over your shoulders as you cheer for your home team and yourself.

Bonus:

“So, how was the game, Tim?” Lucy asks before roll call.

“It was great, after we caught up, at least,” Tim answers. “Did you watch it?”

“Yeah, Aaron pulled through and got me a ticket. Over the outfield but still better than anything I could’ve gotten on my own.”

Tim nods, but she doesn’t move out of the doorway so he can walk inside.

“What?” he asks.

“I saw something else at the game. Someone made it onto the jumbotron,” Lucy sing-songs. “You’re trending on ClipTok. Everyone’s talking about the mystery couple who celebrated the win.”

Tim narrows his gaze at Lucy, who shrugs and invites him to check for himself before she enters the roll call room. He pulls his phone from his pocket, surprised to see a text from you.

We’re trending. I don’t know if I should be more upset by all the people shamelessly looking for us or that they’re calling you ‘gorgeous’ and I’m ‘that girl hugging him.’

Tim rolls his eyes and answers:

Wait until they find out why we won.

You don’t acknowledge the implication that he’ll tell someone (Lucy, who will undoubtedly put it on ClipTok); instead, you tell him you’re looking forward to dinner tonight. What was supposed to be a relaxing evening at a baseball game for you and Tim turned into something so much more. If that’s not good luck, you don’t know what is.

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford fic #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x you #tim bradford x fem!reader #the rookie #the rookie x reader #the rookie abc #fem!reader #hanna writes✯

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the-californicationist · 3 months

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Hi! I’m not sure if you’re doing request if you aren’t don’t worry but If you are could you please write whatever you’re down for, a little Drabble of Simon and reader going yarn shopping! I just came back yarn shopping myself and I’ve been giggling at the names! One I picked is called “tutti frutie

Thank you so much for the ask!! This is such a cute idea. Hope you enjoy the story <3

Twelve Row Repeat

Your wonderful man, Simon Riley, has his heart set on a sweater for Christmas. So, you drag him to the yarn shop to make him squish the skeins.

“And you’re sure you want this one? There are some other —”

Simon reached over you, towering behind you in his motorcycle gear and black medical mask, snatching the paper pattern from the small rack,

“This is it.”

“Okay,” you flipped open the small pattern booklet, “Great.”

This was not great.

Simon had only been asking for one thing all year. Each time Christmas came up in conversation, he’d just shrug and mention his sweater. It was your own fault, really. You’d been frequenting a new local yarn shop by your flat, and he’d begrudgingly tag along. His big brown eyes would cut over a sharp glance to you when the price rang up on the till, but he didn’t complain. One night, while you were scrolling through heirloom-style sweater patterns on your phone, daydreaming about the knitter you would someday be, he stopped you, pressing his thick fingerpad to the screen,

“Aye. That’ll do me.”

“Si,” you shook your head, “I’m not that good, yet. Those are much harder than they look.”

“Nah, you’re brilliant,” he planted a chaste kiss on your mouth, silencing your protests, and left it at that.

So, now, here you were, hunched over the small pattern library of your favorite shop, digging through the advanced section of Aran sweaters, staring at sleeves with cables and twelve-row repeats. It was enough to make your mouth dry.

But, he believed in you, and you wanted to trust yourself that you could handle it. Bucking up the courage, you grabbed a few notions and headed over to the yarn wall, dragging Simon behind you.

You stood side by side as you stared at the collection. It was organized by weight and brand, color-coded for fiber type. It was one of your favorite places on earth. Sometimes, even when you didn’t bring your man with you, you’d come and dig through the cubbies, squishing the cakes and skeins, letting them whisper to you about what they wanted to be. It was important to you that you listened to the yarn. Just because you wanted to make a blanket with a particular yarn didn’t necessarily mean it would feel good on your needles. You needed to listen and feel… and most importantly — squeeze for softness.

“Alright,” you said, galvanized, “What color?”

“Black.”

“No.”

There was no way in hell you were spending six months staring into the blackness trying to decipher the knits and purls and cables of a Level 4 sweater.

Simon huffed, but he was smiling. You could see the way his cheek creased up underneath his eyes.

“Green,” he relented, then grabbed your arm in his gloved hand, snatching you away from a pretty sage color wool, “Dark green.”

You glared up at him, but you set your sights on a dark green merino. It called to you like a siren’s song. And, at the price per skein that you assumed that it was, you were about to help Simon find out just what kind of gift he was asking you for.

Your hand reached out to grab the carefully wound ball. It was soft, with a very slight halo, and the emerald hues varied only a little through the strands, letting you know that it had been hand-dyed with the utmost care. You flipped it over to read the name: Spruced Up. As your fist delicately closed around the skein, you nearly sighed from the plushness of it. You wanted to bury your face in it already, and it wasn’t even knitted up.

You checked the weight. After measuring Simon at home, you knew you needed to over buy. Who knows? You told yourself. Maybe I’ll even get some gloves out of this. It would be fun to match with him.

“Okay, tiger,” you smiled up at him, “We need thirteen of these.”

He grabbed the ball from you and checked the tag,

“Thirteen? Are you havin’ a laugh?”

“You’re a big bloke,” you shrugged, “And this is a complex pattern. Just give me your hand. I want you to feel it.”

He hesitated, doing the mental math for the cost in his head. But, he gave you his hand and let you remove his glove.

You placed the skein back into his palm, staring in wonder at the sheer size of it, and told him,

“Okay, now squish.”

Simon squished. He was careful, now that he knew the price of what he was holding, and he looked down at it in surprise.

“Soft…” He commented in a half-whisper, looking up into your gaze with amused surprise. Then, he squished again, indulgently, and his timbre changed to something a little more insidious, “Soft like you, lamb.”

Your pet name rumbled out of his mouth as no small threat. You saw him reaching for you, and you caught him before he could snake his other hand fully under your dress, grabbing for your thighs to tease the soft, plump flesh there.

“Hey! If you get me kicked out, you definitely won’t get your sweater.” You smirked, bumping him with your hip, promising him he could be naughty later, just not here.

Simon helped you haul your purchases up to the counter and paid for the entire lot, not even grimacing at the final total. He patiently waited while you used their in-store winder and swift. You enjoyed the way he studied you as you practiced the skills of your craft. His faith in your abilities really made you feel like you could accomplish anything you set your mind to.

Finally, with your yarn and notions packed and stowed carefully in his bike’s saddle bags, Simon handed you your helmet and commented,

“Looking forward to seeing your progress, love.”

“I’ll keep you posted. Might even let you squish my yarn again…” You winked when his head turned back to you, getting excited by your tone.

“It’s not the yarn I want in my hands, little lamb. Get on this bike before you get yourself into trouble.”

AO3 Link

*Sorry, my knitting knowledge is basic, but I tried to do my homework. I can make a scarf and that's about it!

#call of duty fanfic #simon ghost riley #simon “ghost” riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost simon riley #ghost fluff

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plutoccult · 4 months

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NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOR LEVI

pairing: levi ackerman x gender neutral reader

description: modern au headcanons of levi as your next-door neighbor.

author’s note: HEY??? it’s been a long, long time. i’m not guaranteeing a comeback to this account, but i have missed posting on here. with the way my adult life has become, i don’t have the time to write like i used to, and i find myself caught up in other things now. i wrote these headcanons a long time ago, but with some changes. maybe someday i’ll write again! but for now, i hope you all enjoy, and i’ve missed you guys!!!!

tags: @solefleurs @heavenfilm @mayariviolet @todorokiskitten @jeanboyjean @cowgirlikets @dawnthequeen @urhotgfmelz @0p1umz @lykak

taglist form here

— next-door neighbor levi who watched from his front porch with a cup of tea in hand as a handful of movers carried countless boxes into the house next door, the change all happening so fast after the old man who once inhabited it passed away.

— next-door neighbor levi who rolled his eyes upon realizing a young woman had taken over the property, anticipating nights where he struggled to fall asleep thanks to loud music blaring.

— next-door neighbor levi who wasn’t prepared for you to knock on his door, introducing yourself as his new neighbor and explaining that you had inherited your grandfather’s home after his death.

— next-door neighbor levi who felt bad for judging before ever meeting you, welcoming you to the neighborhood and keeping an eye on you from that moment forth, but not in a creepy way. it’s not like a soft spot for you had quickly developed. definitely not that.

— next-door neighbor levi who began to find himself saying good morning to you before you both left for work, you joking that the two of you “need to stop bumping into each other like this.” shockingly enough, levi laughed at such a joke, a rarity from him.

— next-door neighbor levi who noticed your lawn was an atrocious mess and feared you’d get a fine as a result, later knocking on your door and asking if you would like him to cut your lawn for you as he had a mower of his own. when you tried to offer him cash for doing such a thing, saying you had been trying to find someone to do it for ages, he refused, insisting it’s the neighborly thing to do.

— next-door neighbor levi who hated grass, but for some reason he didn’t mind getting a little messy if it was for your sake. it was all about keeping the neighborhood as clean as possible, right?

— next-door neighbor levi who was invited over for dinner after mowing your lawn. although hesitant, he accepted and later came over after washing the smell of grass off of himself.

— next-door neighbor levi who you noticed almost always wore a button up, even now as he entered your place with a bag of tea leaves, one you didn’t ask for him to bring. you were trying to do something nice for him in return for what he’s done for you, but he always seemed to keep on sharing the wealth.

— next-door neighbor levi who was amazed by your tea collection in the kitchen, you explaining how your grandparents loved to drink tea and that you probably got your love for it and also murder mysteries from them.

— next-door neighbor levi who found himself blushing around you that night, unable to pinpoint why he was feeling this way. he wanted to blame the burning sensation in his cheeks on the steaming ramen you cooked, which tasted absolutely delicious, by the way.

— next-door neighbor levi who stayed at your place past his typical bedtime, finding himself in the midst of a murder she wrote marathon with you close to midnight, only leaving because you realized how late the two of you had stayed up, knowing you both had to work the next day.

— next-door neighbor levi who knew after that night he had become smitten by you, but refused to do a thing about it. he didn’t want to end up ruining the friendship you were starting to build and turn into your creepy neighbor instead.

— next-door neighbor levi who tried his best to not overstep any boundaries, the only way he knew how being to keep his distance. he figured it was the safest way to go.

— next-door neighbor levi who hated moments not spent with you. as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was completely head over feet.

— next-door neighbor levi who was surprised on a sunday morning when you confronted him and asked if you did something wrong. he hadn’t realized his avoidance was so cold and regretted it upon seeing the frown on your face.

— next-door neighbor levi who knew he couldn’t run from these feelings he was saddled with any longer. the least he had to do was try, and if you were to say no, then so be it.

— next-door neighbor levi who confessed his attraction towards you, although looking away in shame as his face became scalding hot.

— next-door neighbor levi who was taken aback when you cupped his face so he could look at you, his shock even more evident when you kissed him on the cheek and said you were glad he felt that way.

— next-door neighbor levi who later down the line became boyfriend levi, eventually selling his home in favor of sharing one with you, his future wife.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #aot x reader #snk x reader #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader #aot headcanons #snk headcanons #attack on titan headcanons #shingeki no kyojin headcanons #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman headcanons #levi headcanons #pluto writes 📝

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augustghosts · 8 months

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Stewy Hosseini x female reader

A classic tale of fucking your ex at your friends wedding. We’ve all been there, I think.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: 18+ pls, minors will be blocked! Not proofread which is defo a warning, lmk if you spot anything ive missed. Smut. Oral f!recieving and protected pinv. Alcohol and drugs are mentioned slightly.

Little authors note sorry: Hey everyone i am actually alive lol. 5 months later i return writing for someone new… not out of character for me. I watched succession for the first time recently (late asf to the party i know) and i read some amazing stewy fics so i thought i’d add my piece because i’m obsessed with him. Sorry to all my tommy miller babes on here, i swear i tried writing for him again but my inspiration for tommy fics seems to have gotten lost. I really struggled when i tried finishing my half way done tommy series lol. But when i started writing this one it just floooowed and i finished it in like a few hours. Maybe my tommy love will come back someday but for now…. This. Hope someone out there enjoys lol <3

You’ve felt eyes on you all night. Everywhere you go you end up meeting his eyes across the room. Eveytime you look over at him, he’s already looking. He should be the one that's embarrassed, you’ve caught him looking at you multiple times, but you’re always the one who ends up looking away first and feeling your skin heat with the embarrassment of being caught. While he shamelessly stares at you over the rim of his glass, that awful fucking smirk gracing his lips and he watches you squirm. Honestly, it’s kinda creepy. And you almost hope he approaches you so you can tell him that.

Towards the end of the night he starts to close in, starts inching closer to you. He starts making conversation with the people around you, people at the bar next to you, and eventually your friends. Asking them how they are, how it’s been such a long time. Then, he finally gets to you. He takes his time looking you over before he speaks and you’re determined not to be the first one to talk, so you let him stare. Both of you standing in silence for a few seconds before he finally speaks.

“You look great.”

”Thanks.” Keeping it simple seems safe. You want to tell him he looks good too because fuck, he does. He always does. He notices your eyes drifting over his suit and tie and he chuckles.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“Uhm,” He trails off - pretends to think. “I’m at a fucking wedding, and i’m enjoying myself.”

”Yeah?” You ask, he nods in agreement. The way his eyebrows raise tells you he’s still being sarcastic, still mocking you. “Watching my every move all night is how you enjoy yourself?”

“Actually, yes.” He confirms. “Watching you squirm all night was pretty fun.”

”I wasn’t.” You attempt to defend yourself, downing your drink. “I was just-“

“I’ll get you another.” He cuts you off, snatching your glass out of your hand - not even bothering to ask. You almost try to protest, but you don’t see the point. You know him too well, you know how stubborn he is, once he gets an idea it’s hard for him to let it go. If the idea he’s got tonight is paying for your drinks, then so be it - who were you to complain. You sit down on the stool next to you, watching as Stewy makes the bartender laugh as he orders your drinks. You're kind of pissed that you still can’t figure him out sometimes, you know him better than most people - maybe better than anyone, but he still confuses you. It has been a while since you last saw him, but you conclude that he hasn’t changed much.

When he comes back with your drinks he puts yours down in front of you and asks: “Still your favorite?”

You nod, kind of pissed that he got it right. You try to convince yourself that he didn’t actually remember that small detail. That he’s just been watching you order them all night during your staring competition.

“So, how’s your family?” You ask, cringing at how lame you sound. You just don’t want to let him start a conversation you don’t want to have.

He smiles, because he knows what you're doing. “They’re fine. I still don’t see them much, but they’re good.”

”You’re still too busy to see your family?” You joke.

“Mhm,” His smile almost looks genuine as you joke with each other. “I’m always busy.”

“Busy stealing people's money?”

He laughs then, a genuine laugh that makes you laugh as well. God, you don’t want to admit that you missed him. But everyone else just seems so boring after him, you’ve never found the same thing you’d had with him with anyone else.

“You never really understood business did you?” He laughs.

“I understand perfectly.”

“Sure,” He agrees. “I explained it to you enough times.”

“Yeah, and bored me to death.”

”Is that why you broke up with me?”

His question completely catches you off guard and you almost choke on your drink. You almost want to ask him if he purposefully said that while you were taking a sip, but you’re too busy trying to supress your coughing.

“Jesus, it was just a question.” Stewy laughs at you again, his warm hand coming to rest on your back as he watches you almost choke.

“Fuck you.” You say pointedly, after getting yourself back under control. ”You know why we broke up. Also, I broke up with you?”

”You did.”

“Stewy, it was amicable.”

“Was it?” His face goes serious again and you instantly miss the sound of his laugh. You just sigh, taking another sip of your drink. This was exactly the conversation you didn’t want to have.

“I thought you said you were enjoying yourself,” You say after a few moments of silence. “Don’t ruin it now.”

”I lied.” He says. “I always hated those two, I can't believe they actually got married.”

”Match made in hell.” You agree, both of you laugh softly again.

“You know I also lied earlier when I said you looked great.” He says, surprising you. You brace yourself for whatever joke he’s going to make about you, you shouldn't have pissed him off, he can get mean when he’s pissed off. It’s not his fault, it’s just his defense mechanism - but nevertheless you brace yourself for his comment - and he surprises you again by saying: “You look fucking incredible.”

You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out. You opt for another sip of your drink instead and he watches you in amusement.

“I only came because I hoped you would be here,” He continued. You still can’t tell if he’s being serious or not, that damned smirk on his face makes you think he’s making fun of you, but those big brown eyes look so sincere.

“Stewy, stop.” You sigh.

“Come on, baby.” He murmurs, he leans forward in his chair and places his hand on your knee. The nickname makes you tense up. Makes a familiar heat spread through you. “Let me get you another drink and take you up to my room.”

Fuck. He’s fucking good at this, and he knows it. He knows exactly how to get you. You’re trying to think, but the alcohol and the way his thumb is rubbing your knee is clouding your mind. He waits patiently, watching as you look down at his hand and back up to his face. Your eyes stop at his lips before meeting his gaze.

“Alright,” You say, you swear you can actually see his eyes light up. “Go get me another drink and show me your room. Then I'll decide.”

“You got it.” He grins and practically jumps out of his seat. When he returns he holds out his hand to help you off your stool, the heels you decided to wear and the drinks weren’t a good match. He hands you your drink, although you don’t really want it now. His hand finds its place on the small of your back and a fire lights up somewhere inside of you. His touch feels so familiar - comforting. He leads you out of the bar and to the elevators. Punching in the right number before the doors close, leaving you both alone in the small space. It suddenly feels too quiet.

You want to touch him, but once again you don’t want to be the one to make the first move. You don't want him to know how desperate you are for him, although you think he already knows. He’s watching you in silence, his eyes dark and wanting. A look you’ve seen a million times before - a look that makes you excited. The elevator ride is short, Stewy isn’t the type to kiss you in an elevator, and you know that, so you’re not disappointed when the doors open and he hasn’t touched you or said a word.

He gestures for you to leave first, putting his hand on the door so they don’t close on you, or him. Some people would find this strange, the silence, but it’s a game you’ve both played with each other before. A game you both enjoy. He guides you to his room with a hand on your back, just like before. When he unlocks the door and opens it for you, you suppress a gasp. As usual, Stewy needs to have the best of the best. The bride and groom's room probably isn’t even this nice. They probably couldn’t afford it - Stewy can.

“Well?” His voice sounds from behind you.

“Hm?”

”What do you think? You said you would decide when you saw the room. Is it good enough for you?”

”Uhm,” You pretend to think as you set your drink down on the dresser, turning around to dramatically inspect the room. It earns a playful eye roll from Stewy. He knows what impresses you and he knows he already has you. He already had you down at the bar.

“I think it’s okay.” You conclude, turning to face him. He hums in sarcastic agreement, looking you up and down. He’s playing the game again, who is going to end it first. Who is going to lose. You don’t like losing, and neither does he. But honestly, haven’t you already lost? He has you in his room for christ sake. He has you standing in front of him, already dripping and all he’s done is touch your leg a little and look at you the right way. So you put aside your pride and step towards him, you bring your hands up to his cheeks and roughly bring his face down to your, finally connecting your lips.

His hands immediately find their home at your hips, pulling you tightly against him. The kiss immediately turns from an innocent kiss to a hungry and passionate one, his tongue dominating your mouth. You both know each other's bodies so well, there's no need for taking it slow or asking questions.

“Fuck, Stewy.” You sigh as he backs you towards the bed, gently setting you down and climbing over you. Kissing every inch of your skin.

“God, I missed that.” He groans, marveling over the way you sigh his name. “I missed you, baby. I can admit it. I want you so badly.”

You moan softly at his words, at the way his lips feel on your neck - at how right this feels. You had missed him too. He catches you off guard when he pulls away to ask, ”Have you been fucking other people?”

“Sorry?” You giggle, “Why are you asking me that now?”

”Have you?” He presses.

“I ju- maybe.” You stutter, already missing his lips.

”Maybe?”

”I know you’ve been fucking as well.” You accuse, suddenly defensive. You push yourself up onto your elbows, despite still being trapped underneath him.

“Yeah, I have.” He says coolly.

“So?” You ask, irritated. Why was he doing this?

“So, none of them were as good as you.” His words earn an eye roll from you. “Nothing can compare to this pussy.” He adds, his hand sliding down to roughly grip your thigh and bring it over his waist. Oh, shit. His half hard cock is pressing perfectly against your pussy in this new position, the material of your dress and his suit pants keeping you apart. “And, i bet none of those guys fucked you the way i do.” One of his hands comes up to grip your chin, his other keeping him above you. He forces you to look him in the eyes as he asks, “Did they?”

“No.” You practically squeak. “None of them were like you. No one is like you, Stewy.”

You’re not even lying, after having sex with Stewy for so long nothing compared. You had gotten accustomed to a man who knew what he was doing, to a man who was generous in bed. You had gotten used to a man who could make you cum. No one had achieved that after him. Your answer obviously pleases him, he grins and leans down to kiss you again.

He ends the kiss and stands up leaving you spread out on the bed, you whine underneath him, chasing for more. He ignores you and slips off his suit jacket. He makes a show of undoing the top button of his shirt and loosening his sleeves in order to push them up to his elbows. Fuck, he looks so good. You almost want to tell him, but you don;t need to. He can see the way you're watching him, that look in your eye. He knows what you look like when you’re turned on - and this is it. He grabs your thighs and pushes your dress up to your waist, getting a good look before sliding your panties down your legs, throwing them over his shoulder somewhere.

“I’m gonna fuck you like you deserve, baby. I know what you need. I can’t wait to taste you.” He rambles as you whimper in anticipation, he presses a kiss to your ankle as he watches you buck your hips.

He has his mouth on you before you can respond. Just as you remember, he is painfully and infuriatingly good at it. He still eats pussy like it's his second nature. He still looks up at you through his gorgeous lashes as he traces your clit with his tongue. He has to hold back from grinning against you as you writhe and whimper. He groans as you sigh his name and run your hand through his hair. You remember how much you love it when he’s like this, when he's animalistic and loses his composure.

Your legs tighten around his head as he digs his fingers into the flesh of your thighs. It’s fucking embarassing how quickly you barrel towards your climax, but it has been a while. And no one else devours you like this, no one else is this good. You should have expected it. He recognizes it immediately, breaking away from you for a second to speak.

“Are you gonna come for me, baby?”

“Yes! Please, Stew.” You moan, your hands grabbing at his hair attempting to push him back down. He smiles wickedly, licking his lips as he watches you.

“God, I love it when you beg for me.” He mumbles before diving back in, allowing you to push his head down and maneuver him.

"Please make me come," you groan, arching your back. “I'm so close, don’t stop.”

And he doesn’t stop, he continues to lap at you and work you though your orgasm as you come against his mouth. His beard delightfully scratches your sensitive skin, leaving behind a delicious burning feeling. He’s painfully hard now, after watching you come and hearing you moan his name. You begin to push at his head when you come down, usually he would tease you a little now, knowing how sensitive you are and make the most of it. But he’s so fucking desprate for you, he has been all night. He’s been dreaming about being inside of you for hours now.

He’s instantly on his feet, undoing his belt and undressing. You follow suit, weakly sitting up - doing the best your legs can do when they feel like jelly, you lift your dress over your head and throw it on the floor with his clothes. He’s climbing back on top of you, kissing you hungrily. His lips and chin are still wet with your juices and you moan into his mouth as you taste yourself on his lips.

“How do you want me?” You ask breathlessly, fully prepared to submit to him- to do whatever he asks.

“Fuck,” He groans at your words, having to pause for a second. “Can you turn over for me?”

You smile, leaning up to kiss him one more time before turning over and crawling to the middle of the bed, pushing yourself up onto your knees and holding yourself up on your elbows, so your back is deliciously arched the way you know he likes. You grin as you hear him groan behind you, his hand petting your ass before he delivers a light slap to it. He steps away from you and you hear the rustling of a condom wrapper, did he have that in his fucking pocket? His words from earlier repeat in your head, ‘I only came because I hoped you would be here.’

“Plese fuck me, Stewy.” You moan softly, knowing exactly what he wants to hear. “I need you.”

”How bad?” He teases. The head of his cock is ever so slightly pressing against your entrance, he’s hardly holding back as he waits for your answer, pushing in slightly.

“So bad,” You sigh, pushing back on him so he slips easily inside of you. You both moan loudly, you love that he’s so loud and shameless in bed. He stays still once he’s bottomed out.

“Yeah?” He says through gritted teeth.

“Yes! Please move. I need to be fucked properly, only you can do it.”

The sound he makes behind you is heavenly, you knew that would work. He pulls out of you before pushing back in slowly. He always does this, he starts slow and then builds up to a bruising pace. All you can do is whimper beneath him and beg for him to fuck you faster. Your pussy sucks him in greedily, his cock pushing against that spongy spot inside of you with every thrust.

“You take me so fucking well. Like you were fucking made for me.” His voice is deep and raw.

”I think I am,” You moan. “You feel so fucking good!”

“Are you gonna come for me again, sweetheart? Gonna soak my cock?”

All you can do is furiously nod your head and moan beneath him, the sounds of your pussy squelching as he fucks you is almost embarassing. You don’t have time to think about it because he’s pulling out of you and gently flipping you over onto your back. He lifts your legs and rests his knees on the bed, throwing your feet over his shoulders and he leans over you. He guides his cock back into you and dives down to kiss you, his tongue pushing past your lips in a messy kiss. You’re both moaning into each other's mouths, not minding when your teeth momentarily clack together.

“Come on gorgeous,” He groans, he’s breathless - pressing kisses to your face between his words. You can tell he’s close too. “Come for me. Squeeze my cock. Let me fucking have it.”

He feels you tighten around him as you come, his name leaving your lips like a fucking prayer. Your hands tightening around his neck, nails digging into his skin.

“Fuck, that’s it. You look so beautiful, baby.” He talks you through it, still fucking you as you come around him.

“Oh my god,” You moan. “Come inside of me, Stewy.”

You know he’s wearing a condom, but the dirty talk is hot. He thinks so too, because that's all it takes for him to come. His head is buried in your neck, his teeth biting into the soft skin under your ear. No doubt leaving a mark, but you’ll worry about that tomorrow. Right now all you can think about is how hot he sounds when he comes, you love that he isn’t quiet, that he isn’t afraid to groan your name into your neck.

He stays still for a second, lifting his head and kissing you - gently this time, before he pulls out. You rest for a minute while he discards the condom. You hear rustling and sniffing while he’s in the bathroom and you almost want to yell out to him - this is why we broke up. But you ignore it, getting up from the bed and breezing past him as he leaves the bathroom. You close the door behind you, taking the hotel robe off the back of the door and cleaning yourself up, doing what you need to do. You wonder if you should shower, but decide you should probably go back to your own room to do that.

When you leave the bathroom he’s sitting in the bed under the covers, the tv remote in his hand. Your dress and underwear have been picked up and folded on the chair beside the bed. It makes you smile, how can someone be so thoughtful but so selfish at the same time. That’s why you broke up, you need to keep reminding yourself.

“So, I guess I'm gonna go back to my own room.” You say as you gather your things. You’re on your way back to the bathroom with your clothes when he speaks up.

“Okay,” He says, respecting your decision. “Why?”

”Why?” You repeat, stopping your tracks. “Don’t you want me to go?”

”No. I want you to watch tv with me.”

”Seriously?” You laugh before you realize he’s being serious.

“Yeah, seriously.” His face is impassive, and hard to read. But you can’t resist those big brown eyes and you drop your clothes back onto the floor and slip into bed with him.

“Hey,” He whines as he looks at your dress. “I picked that up and folded it for you and you just threw it on the floor again.”

“Sorry, how rude of me.” You laugh at the mock pout on his face. You’ve sat pretty far away from him and he eyes the space between you.

“Come here.” He says lifting up his arm so you can cuddle into his side. God, you shouldn’t be doing this, you should have left. But he smells good and this bed is so comfortable.

“Will you stay the night here?” He asks quietly

”I shouldn’t.” You sigh.

“I know.” He agrees.

Of course you end up staying the night, Stewy is very convincing. With his promise of round two and a warm shower in the morning, it’s hard to resist. He also promises an expensive breakfast after the shower, but he says, ‘only if you behave yourself.’ You spend the whole night talking and laughing with him. Not only is he the best fuck you’ve ever had, he’s also the funniest person on earth. He’s got the kindest eyes you’ve ever seen but he’s also the biggest assole you’ve ever met. He’s so confusing, but that night you decide that maybe taking a little more time to try and figure him out won’t be so bad - only time will tell.

#i couldnt think of a title btw so…. yea #im RUUSSTTYY i havent written in months lmao #apologies in advance i guess #if anyone even reads this lmao #stewy hosseini #stewy hosseini x reader #stewy hosseini x fem reader #stewy hosseini fan fiction #stewy hosseini smut #succession #succession fanfiction #fanfiction #smut #female reader #x reader

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in1-nutshell · 2 months

Note

Hello teacher I'm just resending my request cause I remember you said some of the request you get from other followers disappears and I haven't seen the other request that I have send you when your request box was open

So I took the liberty of myself when your request box was open to copy and paste my requests so here they are

1.) Not too sure where this idea came from but I would like request a (our world buddy again) who happens to have a great fatherly like relationship with Prime Verse megatron who ends up meeting IDW Optimus who actually is her adopted dad he has the papers and data pads to prove everything and Prime megatron and his decepticons decided they were gonna fight IDW Optimus for custody of buddy and it ended somewhere along the line of Prime megatron ended up in the medbay completely unconscious and half of his army traumatized after they found out what an how angry a prime who is a father can really get (technically related to my story)

2.) Don't really know what to think for this one but what about IDW Bots meet G1 bots?

3.) Buddy from our world meet team prime and team megatron from cyber verse world? I would love that interaction

Oh and cyber verse starscream got really attached to her to the point he doesn't like sharing her attention which buddy has no problems with cause she knows why he is the way is. And maybe megatron and sound wave got attached too and devised plans to steal her and keep her the nemesis for a little while cause it's not everyday you meet someone who show so much affection

P.S feel free to write these last cause I know you are busy😃✌

This is a pretty big list, so I went with number 2, minus the Cyberverse part. I don't write for Cyberverse as of now.

Hope you enjoy!

Human Buddy from the real world meeting Team Prime

SFW, Platonic, Human reader

TFP

Buddy was starting to think that maybe the new coffee mixture they had made was really an elixir to travel dimensions.

They didn’t know how hard they hit their head when they saw Wheeljack arguing with Ultra Magnus.

The two bots didn’t even notice the human until they came literally running to Magnus’s pede and hugged him the best they could.

Buddy hugging Magnus’s pede: “If this is a dream I don’t want to wake up!” Magnus nearly jumps feeling the random human hug his pede. Wheeljack looks like he is going to glitch, though he doesn’t know for what reason. Wheeljack: “Hey… umm, kid what are you—” They turned their head so fast Wheeljack was sure that he heard a snap. The human starts running up to him rapidly shaking their fist in excitement: “Wheeljack! I can’t believe I’m actually talking to you! Either that or I may have found the limit of coffee I am allowed to drink.” Ultra Magnus and Wheeljack: “What?” Buddy: “Hey, aren’t you supposed to take me to meet the rest of the team? Isn’t it like, the whole protocol?” Ultra Magnus gives Wheeljack an uneasy look: “You seem to know quite a bit…” Buddy waving their hand: “I’ll explain that later, now, who am I climbing in?!”

When they arrive to the base, they are practically bouncing off the walls.

They are even more excited than when Miko first showed up.

In fact, the new human is excited to meet the kids, Fowler and June just as much as they are excited to meet the bots.

Miko has a taste of her own medicine and feels the need to apologize… someday.

Buddy does calm down when explaining how they know who they are and how they had been through a similar situation like this before.

That leads to more questions, but Buddy refuses to answer them.

Something about ‘Not wanting to mess with the universes’.

Buddy: “Anyways I need to keep you guys from finding out about some spoilers, like Bee’s voice coming back. Team Prime: “WHAT?!” Bumblebee: BEEP!? (MY VOICE?!)” Buddy: “…Rats…”

Optimus does allow Buddy to stay on the base while they wait until they return back home.

Most of the team thinks that another Miko is among them now.

And to a point they are right.

But Buddy also knows when to stop and tries to be useful around the base.

Buddy sweeping the human area. Miko: “This has been the third time you’ve cleaned this place this week. You can leave some stuff around you know?” Buddy still sweeping: “Ratchet finds the mess distracting; I’m just trying to lighten some of the load.” Ratchet, who overhears this now has to rethink his opinion of Buddy.

More respect is earned when they see Buddy football tackle Miko from going into the groundbrigde.

Many hugs are given on what seem like random days.

Those days turn out to be heavier than others and Buddy is always behind the bot ready to hug or do whatever they can to make them feel better.

Smokescreen walks into the base with his doorwings a bit drooped. Buddy running over to him: “Hey Smokes.” Smokescreen puts on a fake smile: “what’s up Buddy?” Buddy patting his pede and giving a genuine smile: “You’re doing great.” Smokescreen just nods because he doesn’t want to cry in front of Optimus. Later�� Ratchet still on the main console. Buddy grabbing a blanket and places it nearby. Ratchet: “And what are you doing? You should be in bed.” Buddy: “That’s where you should be too.” Ratchet scoffs and continues working. Buddy: “Don’t think I didn’t see you put back your rations today.” Ratchet stops mid key stroke. Buddy: “I am NOT going to sleep until you get some energon and go to sleep.” Ratchet: “Well then prepare to stay awake for a long time.” Buddy cracking their knuckles: “Bring it! I’ve been awake for 3 days and 3 nights straight during exam week!” Ratchet suddenly worried for Buddy’s health: “…You win this round.” Buddy laughs in sleep deprived.

The bots are wrong to assume that Buddy wouldn’t pull a Miko.

… and now some are considering bringing them out with them.

Buddy fan almost as much as they do with the bots and some cons are now afraid of getting the feral human on them.

But Buddy has also thrown rocks at certain cons out of pure spite.

Buddy throwing some rocks at Breakdown: “SWALLOW YOUR PRIDE AND JOIN US!” Breakdown looking at the human questioning: “What?” Buddy still chucking rocks: “YOU COULD BE A GREAT AUTOBOT WITH YOUR POTENTIAL! BRING KNOCKOUT TOO!” Knockout: “I think this human lost it.” Buddy: “DO NOT LET YOUR MAN GO OUT HUNTING THAT TRAITOROUS SPIDER!” Arcee: “Finally something we agree on.”

#transformers x reader #maccadam #tfp #tfp x reader #tfp x platonic reader #human buddy

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neo404 · 6 months

Note

trans ftm dom nick bf smut? extra points if its rough degrading and filthy (if ur comfortable ofc if not i can give u more fluff prompts)

Eye roll.

Summary: you have been teasing (bf) Nick, he has been busy all day editing and recording, so when Matt and Chris leave to get food at night, Nick desides to make you regret your desitions.

Tw: degradation, cursing.

Note: this IS nsfw, if you don’t like it just don’t read. It’s MY FIRST TIME WRITING NSFW so maybe its not that good.

Note 2: reader IS FTM, so afab body parts will be used to describe their body, but I didn’t got into many ditails. Also, reader wears a binder.

It’s 8 in the morning and I’m looking at the tshirts infront of me, I don’t wanna wear any of them, I look at myself in the mirror, maybe I can just spend the day like this, its not like anyone in the house will care, besides, we have all been good friends since we were kids. I grab my pants and put them on, I look good.

‘’Are you coming to eat or not?’’ my boyfriend Nick enters his room and looks at me up and down. ‘’And your shirt?’’

‘’Didn’t feel like wearing one right now.’’ He closes the door behind him and walks over, standing behind me and wraping his strong arms around me. ‘’Is that so?’’ he whispers in my ear with a low voice sending shivers down my spine.

‘’Yeah… something wrong?’’ he leans down, his head resting in my shoulder leaving kisses on it.

‘’Nothing, you just look so fucking hot and its breakfast time not turn me on time.’’ His hands start trailing from my waist to my hips pressing me against him. ‘’But we have to go now, or I won’t stop.’’ He gives me a kiss on the cheek and walks to the door.

After breakfast and talking for a while with the guys, I help Matt clean the table. Chris is in his room playing videogames and Nick on the leaving room editing their last car video.

‘’And that’s what I bought this weekend, I think I can make great outfits out of those things, don’t you think so?’’ Matt talks as he finishes cleaning the spilled juice.

‘’Yeah, those are great clothing items. I love thrifting.’’ I smile at him. ‘’We should go together someday.’’

‘’Yes, that would be so fun. I’ll be going to my room now, see you around.’’

‘’All right, bye Matty.’’ As he leaves to his room, I turn around to see Nick sitting in the couch with his headphones off and a frown on his face. I walk to him and sit by his side. ‘’everything all right?’’

‘’I don’t know, why don’t you ask Matty?’’ he raises one eyebrow and I let out a short laugh. ‘’What’s so funny?’’

‘’Are you really grumpy because I talked with Matt?’’ Nick doesn’t say anything, he just shrugs his shoulder and crosses his arms over his chest.

‘’Baby, come on, we are friends. Besides, I’m dating the most handsome guy on earth, there is no one I would rather spend my time with.’’ I say as I kiss his cheek and play with his hair. I grab him by the cheek and make him face me, kissing his lips with passion. He leans back, putting his laptop to the side and grabbing my waist firmly pulling me against him until I’m on top of him.

‘’You are mine.’’ He says between kisses.

‘’I know.’’ I murmur back and stand up with a grin on my face.

‘’What the fuck? Why are you standing up? Come here.’’ He seems confused and annoyed.

‘’No, you have to finish editing the video.’’ He lets out a groan and I give him a kiss on his forehead. ‘’You can do it.’’ I say and start walking to the kitchen to grab him a drink, I see him adjust himself in the couch trying to hide the bulge between his pants.

It’s night time, I’m sitting on Nicks lap as he answers e-mail about collabs and up coming photoshoots. I start to get bored of scrolling on my phone and looking at the screen of his laptop, so I start nibbling at his neck and jaw, I feel his body tense up.

‘’Stop that.’’ He says serious.

‘’I’m not doing anything.’’ I say ‘innocently’ and keep giving him kisses and bites.

‘’Behave. Or you’ll regret it.’’

‘’You are no fun Nick.’’ I roll my eyes and cross my arms.

‘’Don’t roll your eyes at me or I’ll make them roll all night.’’ He looks at me dead in the eyes, my cheeks are red and I look away from him. I was gonna say something but Chris and Matt’s voice sound from the front door.

‘’We going out for dinner, I think we’ll take a while.’’ Chris screams.

‘’All right, we’ll order food, take care.’’ Nick screams back.

‘’M’kay, bye.’’ The door shuts and the engine of the car starts rumbling.

‘’As I was saying.’’ Nick grabs my jaw with one hand and makes me look at him. ‘’Behave, or you’ll regret it.’’

‘’Whatever.’’ I mumble and roll my eyes at him again.

‘’Okay, that’s enough.’’ He shuts his laptop and carries me over his shoulder into his room throwing me into the bed. ‘’I have been waiting for this all day.’’ He says more to himself than to me and climbs into bed.

Nick is now on top of me, kissing me roughly. I feel his hands going up and down my waist and legs until he breaks the kiss to take off my pants and hoodie that he gave at some point in the day. He grabs my legs and opens them up.

‘’I swear, I’ll make you scream so hard the neighbors will know that you are a whore for my dick.’’ He whispers against my ear and start kissing my neck, leaving marks all over it, he starts trailing his kisses down my chest, ribs, stomach, until he reaches my boxers which he takes off quickly.

He begins kissing my thighs leaving bite marks all over them, he gives my clit a kiss and then he starts licking and kissing it. My back arches and my hips move uncontrollably against his tongue, my hand pushing and pulling him by the hair.

‘’Please, please.’’ the room is filled with my moans and sloppy noises.

‘’Please what, baby?’’ he murmurs between licks.

‘’Need you, need you inside.’’

‘’Aren’t you so fucking needy? Always wanting to be fucked and filled. Does my fucktoy want me inside of him?’’ He grins looking down at me, I nod eagerly. ‘’Come on doll, use your words, or you won’t get anything.’’

‘’Please, want you inside, need you inside.’’ I slur out, Nick grabs me by the chin and kisses me roughly before spanking my thigh.

‘’That’s it, that’s my slut.’’

thats it, idk how to continue. again, this is my firts time writing smut or nsfw so its not the best. but i tried my best.

feel free to seend all the requests you want and ill try my best to do them as soon as i can.

take care and be kind.

#nick sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo x you #nick sturniolo x male reader #sturniolo triplets x reader #nick sturniolo smut

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strawberryya · 9 months

Text

The art of seduction - part one

pairing: jeong yunho x reader

synopsis: Since she left you, it feels like your life has been turned upside down, and you're struggling to find your footing. He sees that, and he wants to help. Or maybe it's not as pure as that. Perhaps he's just looking for a new plaything — an artist to inspire, or someone to slowly destroy.

word count: 4.5k

genre/cw: angst, smut, suggestive, fantasy, thriller and/or romance, yandere themes, supernatural au, faery au, leanan sídhe!yunho, human!reader, they/them pronounces for reader, I tried my best to keep all descriptions gn as well - I welcome all feedback on this area ofc, grief and death depicted/mentioned, specific smut warnings will be listed in each part.

rating: 18+

a/n: this has been a big project for so many people this year, and I would like to thank all of the inspiring people in this collab for all the fantastic ideas that has been contributed to make all of these fics possible. it has been a journey writing this, but this fic is only the beginning of the even longer journey that yunho and our mc will be going on ;)

this is part one of my first fic for the wonderful collaboration thrill of the hunt, hosted by @cultofdionysusnet - check out the other exciting and thrilling stories on the official master list here!

the second part to this story will be found here once it's posted. if you wish to be tagged in the continuation you can dm me, send an ask, or comment on this post <3

network tagging: @svthub @cultofdionysusnet @k-labels @kvanity-main

“Oh, he’s the most wonderful man I’ve ever met, y/n! He’s perfect… I didn’t think anyone could be so perfect until he came into my life. He makes me feel like I’ll never need anything ever again… like he and I are enough forever. I need you to meet him someday soon! I wanna introduce you to him, I promise you’ll love him too!”

You never got the chance to meet him. The more you think about it, the more you regret not making more of an effort to do so. Your best friend Anna had been in love with someone, and you hadn’t even had the chance to meet the man she spoke so fondly of.

“I haven’t been feeling very good lately, y/n… I’ve been to the doctors and they say there’s nothing wrong. They said it’s all in my head, that I should go talk to someone… y/n, do you also think I’m making myself sick?”

She only got weaker after that.

And he had seemingly fallen off the face of the earth after she became bedridden.

She said he came to visit, but she wasn’t in her right mind in those final weeks. Nobody had signed in at the reception. Nobody had seen a beautiful man with dark brown hair that gleamed blood-red when the sun shone. During all that time when she was admitted into the psychological ward at the city’s second-largest hospital you and Anna’s mom were the only visitors.

They said she was mad…

You had wondered a lot about who he might’ve been during those times when she had talked about him as if she had just spoken to him, but nobody had seen anyone in her room. Had he been a fraction of her imagination the entire time? Or had her mind created a lie based on a man who had left her before her illness took over her mind and body?

When she passed he was the one piece of the puzzle that you couldn’t let go of. If you had tried harder to meet him, would her illness have been caught earlier? Could it have been found and treated before it took her life…?

You’ve been staying late at the studio lately, trying to get through your feelings about losing her through your art. The shadows in the room seem to close in on you at every chance they get, and you don’t fight them. Hugged by the darkness is somehow better than being left so completely alone.

The brush strokes soothe you like nothing else is able to. Fizzling seas crash along the shore, a looming tree stands barren and alone, and her face appears in the dark clouds.

The only things you know to be true are that: she is gone, you are in pain, and you can only paint this one single picture. The lonesome tree at the cliff, watching the storms and waves trying to pull the ground away from beneath the large oak tree. You paint it over and over again, day after day, and you haven’t even paid any mind to when other artists have come and gone through the studio. People painted right next to you, people posed on the podium in front of you, and you didn’t care about any of it. All that matters to you is that you have been left all alone.

Your best friend has died, and you can’t even do the one thing you have been able to do your entire life ー paint. You had pursued your passion fiercely, not budging even as your parents pleaded with you to be reasonable and try “having a career worth having”, and let painting stay as a hobby. It was how you had met Anna. She was a dancer, and she had gotten into the same art college as you. Back then you had both been carefree young adults, simply trying your best to survive on your own for the first time in your lives. Now, she has left you, with the bittersweet taste of the last conversations you had had with her on your tongue.

“He inspires me you know, I’m just a dancer anymore when he looks at me, I become the air itself.”

You had smiled and nodded at her nonsense, she seemed to be dreaming of it. Her limbs were too weak to be of use, but she had the same smile on her lips as when she performed. You had tried your best not to be mad at her for only speaking of this man even as she lay dying in a hospital, dreaming of her passion was at least better than dreaming of him. The tears had stung your eyes as you held her hand before leaving her to her rambling.

It has been a while since her funeral, and you have practically been living at the studio. Home doesn’t make you feel any better, so you sleep on the small pullout couch in the corner instead. It isn’t meant to be slept on and your back is sore from the many nights in a row you have spent on it. But the art studio is at least comforting you more than home. You have too many memories of Anna in your apartment. Here you can focus on your art. At least, that’s the idea. You have had no inspiration since her death. It’s strange, she hadn’t exactly been the reason you painted, but everything that happened still affected even that part of you.

You had begun questioning if you should give it all up, move home to your parents for a few months, and go back to your waitress job until you had processed all of this. But could you give up on your passion? After years of struggling to pass courses and hustling on the side of your studies just to make it all work? What would Anna say if she knew…?

You aren’t sure how it happened, it might've been a dream. It’s barely been three weeks since Anna’s funeral and you woke up with the clearest picture of a man you had never met in your mind.

He’s handsome, just like she had told you. He has gentle features, and dark, captivating eyes that catch hold of your mind and refuse to let go. You can’t seem to escape the image of the stranger you know in your bones is the same man Anna had known.

Sometime after the day you had first seen him in your mind, after hours in front of your easel and a blank canvas, you finally force yourself to pick up the brush. This couldn’t be the end of pursuing the only career you had ever wanted. You need to get over it and paint something, other than that stubborn tree and the punishing sea. His features burn your eyelids, and you see him as you blink and dream of him as you sleep. You can’t escape the visions, so you make him real, tangible. You create a portrait of the man in your head. Watching the finished portrait once you put down the brush.

You look at it until it gets dark again, staring into his eyes until you fall asleep on the couch in the corner.

You wake up with a headache. You groan quietly since you neither have the energy nor the will to get up and take something for the throbbing pain stemming from the sides of your head. Before you could even summon the will to get up despite this, you almost jumped off the couch in surprise. There is another person in the room. You’re still in the corner of the room, so the stranger might’ve missed that you were even there, you reason. It looks like a man from behind. His short dark hair lay in a rather messy way against the back of his head. He’s turned away from you, watching the painting you had fallen asleep staring at. He’s tall, his shoulders are broad. You panic, because what did this man want, and why was he here in the middle of the night?

“Who are you?” you ask breathlessly, jumping up from the couch, trying to see if he’s someone you know in the dim light. Could he be another artist here to paint at an odd hour? You don’t recognize him, but you aren’t the best at remembering people, so you’re not sure if you should be screaming or apologizing for your hostile greeting.

The man didn’t even flinch at the sound of your voice. He didn’t seem like a threat, but then again, something about him creeped you out. You ignore the fact that he also intrigued you, and try to catch his attention again. “Hey, I asked you a question.” In response, he simply raises a hand as if to shush you.

This man hadn’t just broken into the studio late at night – he was also incredibly rude. The air around him is so still, so calm that it’s giving you chills. You want to see his face. If he was going to murder you, you want to have looked the fucker in the eye so you can, at least, curse his existence. You take a step forward, grabbing a long paintbrush from the drying rack. Maybe you can get his eye if you’re fast enough.

“So aggressive, little dove,” the man finally says. His voice is smooth and deep. It’s an attractive voice, at least your murderer has a nice voice, not that that makes this situation salvageable. You’re still prepared to stab him with the wooden brush in your hand.

“Wouldn’t you be aggressive if you woke up to a stranger in your bedroom as well?”

You had tried putting on a brave face, hoping that he wouldn’t notice how scared you were. He seemed to see through this facade easily though, chuckling at your attempt instead of turning around to face you. “Not your bedroom. I’ve been to your bedroom and this isn’t it. Also, not really a stranger, am I?”

Your breath won’t calm down, and your heart is beating mercilessly in your chest. This man had been in your apartment? And you know him? What the hell is he talking about? “Are you some kind of stalker you fucking creep?” you wheeze out, taking a step away from him.

You desperately wish for this to be some kind of nightmare.

When he turns around you’re sure it is because there’s no way the man you see in front of you isn’t just a fiction of your imagination. Dark hair, streaks of red when the light from the window hits it. Perfect lips, and captivating eyes. It’s him. The man in your painting, alive right in front of you. Your grip on the brush tightens, the bristles folding backward from the pressure of your palm. The world began to spin, he wasn’t real, he couldn’t be real. You see the edges of your vision blur and his smile widens at the visible panic you were displaying.

He was right, he isn’t a stranger.

“I think you might’ve heard about me, little dove. She used to talk about you ー the talented artist she had met in college.”

It couldn’t be, you hear the blood rushing in your ears like thunder. “Who?”

He smiled innocently, “Don’t you remember your friend? Anna, I think her name was.”

No. It couldn’t be true. The brush fell from your hand as you fell to the ground. Your already sleep-deprived mind couldn’t handle the thought that maybe the man Anna had spoken about was real, and right in front of you. Knocking yourself unconscious was the only thing your body could do to stop your heart from giving out.

Have you gone mad as well? Maybe this was your way of grieving? Should you go to the hospital?

The questions spun in your mind. He was gone when you woke up. But the long brush in your hand and the bruises on your knees and shoulder felt like substantial proof that you had not lost your mind. He had been here, you know it, but who would believe you if you told them? Who would even care?

You decide to let it go, instead, you force yourself to go back to your apartment. A change of clothes was needed and you know that the lady down the hallway will be worried after not having seen you for days yet again. She had been at Anna’s funeral, wondering how and why your roommate had passed so quickly at such a young age. You hadn’t known what to answer. You still didn’t have your own answers as to “how” or “why”. At least, none that you could share…

You had managed to shower and get into some clothes when your neighbor knocked on the door.

“Hi, Auntie,” you greet her as she had insisted you do ever since you and Anna had first moved in. She’s older than any of your real aunts, but remarking on that had felt incredibly inappropriate, so you had both simply accepted your fate and begun calling her “Auntie”.

"Darling!" How are you? I haven't seen you here in days! I was beginning to worry. You know, this was just how it was with Anna, I didn’t see her for days and then she would show up saying she had been busy practicing and dating and whatnot!”

You don’t respond, forcing a smile. She meant well, but when she insisted on bringing you some food you wanted to refuse her. She didn’t mind your protests, “Oh, dear child, you don’t even know how sunken your face looks. You need some of my home-cooked food to get your spirits back up!”

In the end, your refrigerator was filled with casseroles and little boxes of different dishes, and a bitter feeling, knowing you wouldn’t be here to eat it. You left your apartment as swiftly as you had arrived, not wanting to stick around long enough to see the traces of a life lived – a life you didn’t feel belonged to you anymore. You brought what you could carry in your bag back to the studio.

You fall asleep again, after hours of trying to create something, only creating more pain in your back from sitting on the wooden stool all afternoon instead. It’s not like you hadn’t tried your best to think about anything else besides him, you had actually tried your very best! But in the end, your mind kept wandering back to the dip of his lips, and the grin on his face as you fainted. You painted the outline of his lips, over and over again.

You hated him.

Would he come back?

He had mocked you with his words.

Why had you felt such a rush when he spoke?

You never wanted to see his perfect face ever again.

Why couldn’t you stop wishing to see him just one more time?

You woke from a cool hand on your hair. Slowly and gently he patted your head until you opened your eyes. It was still dark out, and he was back. Leaning over your sleeping body, a large hand caressing the side of your head. You scream, and he smirks. He shushes you, and you push him away angrily.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” you shout.

“You wanted to see me again, I thought it best to wake you so your wishes could be fulfilled.” His voice coursed through you, giving you goosebumps again. “Don’t be angry with me, little dove.”

“I don’t want you here.”

“Don’t lie. It’s not polite,” he retorts as soon as the words leave your mouth.

“I don’t care, I hate you. Leave me alone!” You bark out the words, tears stinging your eyes. You don’t know why you’re reacting so strongly to him.

His tongue darts out to lick at his lips in annoyance. “Little dove,” he chirps menacingly, “Lie one more time and I won’t help you anymore.”

He terrifies you. He’s beautiful, but nothing about him feels true. He’s like those beautiful flowers forever trapped inside glass orbs. You wanted to protect the frozen beauty from getting the slightest scratch and smash it to pieces, all at once.

“Help me…?”

The gentle smile on his lips came back when you revealed that he had managed to pique your interest. “Mm, I help people. Artists, especially… it’s an interest of mine, the arts.” He winked at you, which caught you off guard.

“And you came here to help me?”

He nodded, but you weren’t convinced.

“Why? I didn’t ask for any help from you.”

He looked around the room, gaze wandering over the canvasses you had painted in the last couple of weeks, all depicting the shore and the dead tree. All except two. The portrait of him, and the sketches of his lips.

“You did that?” You ask incredulously. His gaze snaps back to you sharply.

“Of course. Didn’t it feel different? It felt like you had been inspired by something again, did it not?” His voice is honey in your ears, but the sticky feeling is making you want to flee for your life. You don’t.

“Want me to prove it?”

You frown, “What do you mean prove it? Are you going to inspire me to paint something on the spot in the middle of the night?”

“Tell me you want it and I’ll make sure you feel inspired for the rest of your miserable human life, little dove.”

His wording is so unnatural, you think for just a moment. You don’t trust him one bit, but perhaps this is the way to convince yourself that he is indeed just some creep that you need to get away from. You take a deep breath before answering, “I’ll agree if you tell me your name.”

The man stepped back, you had made him flinch. You don’t know why you made that exact demand. Maybe you had just really wanted to call him something other than “the one Anna spoke of” in your mind. It hurt each time you remembered her name.

“A name can be more powerful than you think, little dove,” his tone warned you of something. He seems on edge for the first time since you met him.

You don’t budge, his reaction only makes you more sure that you need to follow your gut. “Tell me, and you can help me.”

He hesitated before seemingly giving in to some innate need that you didn’t understand yet. “Yunho. That’s one of my names… Use it with care, little dove.”

You turned his name around in your mind, tasting the sweet taste on your tongue as you said it out loud. “Yunho… Sure, help me find inspiration to paint again.”

The same excited and menacing grin he had worn the last time you spoke now grace his lips again, and you feel you have committed a horrible mistake.

You look around the room, the sun is rising and casting long shadows from the easels placed around the podium. How has the entire night already passed you by? You have no memory of sleeping. You look at your hands, they are covered in paint. Why had you been so messy? You couldn’t remember right away. You know that you have painted. Yunho had kissed your hand, you can still remember the heat of his breath on your skin. Then you had picked up your brush. You hadn’t been frightened by the fact that you weren’t in control of your actions. After the weeks of forcing yourself to do the most basic human functions to stay alive, having something else move your hand in your stead was somehow freeing.

When you look at the canvas your breath stops. It’s him, you have painted him again. He’s not completely like himself, however, he is just as captivating in the picture as he is in reality. You had managed to capture his beautiful features, from the way his cupid’s bow dips graciously on his lips, to the way his hair gleams blood red when light shines through it. But behind him is something new, something you have never seen belonging to a human before. Wings, almost translucent wings, appearing on the canvas as a shimmer of light blue and white, adorned with shimmering ruby gemstones. He looked magnificent.

“Pretty,” you hear his voice whisper on your neck before you feel his soft lips press against your skin. You shiver, it feels good but you’re still in shock, watching the man who’s behind you on the canvas in front of you.

“How is this possible?” you mumble.

“You were inspired,” he responds calmly, brushing your hair away from your face from behind. “Did you enjoy it?”

You have a feeling that the answer to that is yes, but you also know you shouldn’t reveal that. “I don’t remember.”

“I think you did… I know you did.”

The way he seems to know everything, even the things you don’t, scares you a bit. But you might be addicted to the feeling of his touch, you’re addicted to what he can do to you, addicted to what he makes you feel deep inside. He has given you your passion back, he has helped you paint again, and you had enjoyed it this time. This shouldn’t be possible. Why does this man have so much power over you that he could help you paint as you had used to, for the first time since Anna’s passing?

There’s no way he’s human, no human looked like he did. In the morning light, he was even more dashing, even more unreal. You want to smash his perfect exterior to pieces and see the flower inside rot as the air hits its delicate petals.

“Go away. I don’t want this,” you choke out, pushing down the sobs that threaten to escape your throat. He kisses your neck again, but you don’t move. “I think I’ll die if I don’t end this Yunho. Please, just leave me alone.”

“It’s possible, but maybe you’ll be the one who makes it out alive.” His honey voice rang in your ears as the day began and his touch against your back disappeared. You cried yourself to sleep. You knew everything was wrong, Yunho was wrong. But there was nothing you could do about it anymore.

Two days passed without so much as a glimpse of Yunho. The hours of the night when he didn’t come to see you had almost been enough to convince you that you had truly gone mad. But then, suddenly, there he was, as dashing as ever. Pretty eyes watching you stare at an empty easel.

A chilling chuckle escaped him, nothing more. He stands and gazes upon your hopeless state for a while in silence. You will never get rid of him, you realize. You’re not upset about it. You can’t be upset. Nothing feels real anymore.

Yunho circles you, a predator watching his prey. You don’t flinch under his gaze this time. When he leans his lean body against the stool next to yours you feel disgusted. You weren’t upset that he would never leave you alone, but you deserved to know why, at least.

“What do you want from me?”

“Want?” He sounds almost offended.

“You’re not here just because it’s fun to sit around and watch me paint all day.”

He didn’t give you an answer, he just smiled at you with that perfectly enchanting smile of his. He’s dangerous, his beauty is dangerous. He leans forward on the stool, his face now scarily close to yours. Will he kiss you…? You can feel Yunho’s breath, hot against your lips, his gaze burning as he stares into your eyes and flickers down to your mouth. Do you want him to kiss you…?

What do you want from him?

You almost forget that he hasn’t given you an answer when he bends forward, his lips inches away from yours. This time you do flinch. Can he read your mind too? No, your eyes stare right back into his, a flash of maroon tints his irises an unnatural color before it disappears just as fast as it showed up.

His thumb drags across the side of your cheek, a small smirk plays on Yunho’s deceptive lips. “I’ll make you a promise,” he whispers, “I promise to make sure you’re motivated to do what you love the most, for the rest of your life.”

His breath burns hot against your wet lips. You want to kiss him. “A promise…?” you exhale, mind not quite able to focus on his words, but they sound good to you right now. You swallow, eyes flickering to his perfectly shaped cupid bow, his rosy lips, and the tongue that teases behind his plump lips. “What… what would I have to do…?”

“A clever dove, I knew you would ask the right questions.”

You didn’t truly understand though, too distracted by Yunho’s eyes mirroring your flickering gaze, teasingly watching the way your hands fiddled with the brush in your hand.

“All you have to do in return is say that you agree, and I will fulfill all of your wishes.” His soothing hand moves around to the nape of your neck, his grip gentle but secure.

Will he fulfill them all?

Does it even matter? Almost anything would be good enough to accept right now, at least you can’t think of something that would be worse than walking through life as the zombie you had been since… Since Anna’s death. If you accept his proposal, will you find out what happened to her?

“I agree.”

Your stomach flips when plush lips are pressed against yours. It seems he had already begun living up to his word. At least he wasn’t playing a trick on you when it came to that part. His hands travel over your body, he knows exactly how to touch you the way you like it. Has he been watching you for a long time? Or is it something magical, like those shimmery wings you had imagined he had? You’re not sure, but knowing could wait until later. Right now you have a couple of needs. Needs that Yunho had promised to fulfill. His leg firmly presses open your legs, strong muscle relieving some of the intense pressure that had built up in your lower abdomen since the thought of having him in this way had sprouted in your mind. You need more. You close your eyes even tighter as you let the brush fall from your grip. Hands moving across Yunho’s perfect form without hesitation.

The sound of the brush hitting the floor didn’t reach your ears. You were already lost to the world of humans.

“Do you believe in fairies? I do. I think there are things we don’t know in this world. Magical things. If I could go there I would, I think it’s a beautiful place, nothing like Earth. I’d want to dance for them…”

Reblogging and commenting is highly appreciated!! Hearing what you thought is what makes writing and being here overall so much fun! Ty and ily 💕

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