#asks are still open btw!! just no anon ones

[grady1285]

turning off anonymous asks. got too many spam/scam fundraiser asks

[pyrodolls]

hi i was wondering if you would do headcannons of the yan!fanboy if reader actually noticed him coming to all their shows and events

OBSESSED (SUPERFAN! YANDERE BOY X POPSTAR! READER)

WARNINGS: stalking, average yandere tendencies, nsfw, perverted yandere, gender neutral reader, mentions of naked reader but no genitalia addressed, dom reader, reader is compliant with the yandere and teases him a ton, lowercase intended. btw i do not condone yanderes irl.

A/N: i hope y'all know i read every single one of your asks, comments, and reblogs. i appreciate them all and they do brighten my day. i'm just saying this so y'all know that the stuff you send to other writers (not just me) matters a lot!! when you interact it gives them inspiration!!! and motivation!! me personally sometimes i see ONE kind reblog and i immediately get my ass up and start writing something just because of that one person. don't get me wrong, i still love all my lurkers that silently like a ton of my stuff, y'all are important too. anyways i'll shut up now onto the hcs. (btw this ended up being a fic instead of hcs i apologize. i went crazy over this i'm sorry anon LMAO)

"hey, you look pretty familiar. have you been to a few shows before?" you asked kindly, facing the short man in the front row of the audience.

bayani froze as the stadium's screens pointed to him. he opened his mouth in an attempt to say something, but nothing came out. his face went red and his throat went dry. did you actually notice him, or was he just dreaming?

after a few seconds of waiting for an answer, you shrugged. "sorry, maybe i mistook you for someone else. anyways..."

the yandere boy still didn't move, with his mouth agape, as you continued on with your show. the people around bayani didn't seem to care, assuming that he was just a starstruck fan. but it was more than that. much more than that.

out of the millions of fans that attend your shows and events, you recognized him among them. you noticed him. and he didn't know how to handle it. what was he supposed to say? what would you even talk about? sure, he's seen all of your interviews and heard your music and dissected your lyrics for hours every single day, but would you ever want to interact with him as much as he wanted to interact with you? he was just a lowlife. he had an average job, average amount of money, he lived in a shitty apartment, and he had no friends or major accomplishments. all of his free time outside of work was spent on you. spent on following your every move and investigating everything you've put your hands on. if you ever spoke to him, you'd probably think he was some sort of pathetic stalker.

that thought drove him mad. he couldn't even focus on the rest of your concert. he didn't hear the blaring music and screams from the crowd. he wasn't paying attention to your performance, either.

he could only stand there and imagine the punishments you'd inflict on him if you found out about his obsession. would you call your security to take him away? he'd hope not. if he's going to be kicked and pushed around, perhaps even handcuffed, he'd rather you do the job rather than some random guard. but maybe he'd accept the punishment, only because you were the one who deemed it necessary. he takes your word like gospel, so he'll take whatever punishment you want, even though he would prefer your hands on him while you do it.

his imagination ran wild as your concert finished and you walked off the stage with your dancers. the crowd of fans in the stadium dispersed around him, moving along with their day. but bayani couldn't just move on with his day knowing that you know he exists now. how is he supposed to simply move on from that? he spent a long time making sure you never noticed him. even though he attended every single one of your concerts and events, he did not want to be noticed. he knew he wouldn't be able to handle it. but it finally happened. he finally got a taste of what it's like to be seen by the love of his life. he couldn't just leave it at that. he had to do something about it.

being under your gaze, even if it was only a few seconds, made him feel like he went to heaven. it made all of the hundreds of dollars he spent on you worth it. all of the hours he spent listening to your music and watching videos of you was worth it. it was like he awoke from a slumber. a long, miserable slumber. he had to find a way to thank you. say something to you. he messed up when he simply froze after you saw him. who knows when he'll get another chance like that?

it took a few hours for the stadium to be empty, and the security started to shoo bayani away. but when he went outside, the parking lot was still full. your concert ended hours ago, but there was still loads of cars trying to leave. it would be frustrating, but bayani had to find a way out quickly.

he climbed on the back of a nearby truck and rested his legs there, waiting patiently for the vehicle to move out of the traffic. even though he knew the truck wouldn't go anywhere near your mansion, he knew how to get to your house on foot. he only needed to rest on the truck until the traffic was gone.

after a few hours on the road, he jumped out of the vehicle, and started to walk to your mansion on foot. he didn't need to look up the location online, because he already knew where it was. he visited your home many times in the past, he just never attempted to go inside before.

his veins were on fire and he started to sweat the closer he got. he was starting to have second thoughts about his idea. but there was no time to go back, because he already showed up to your house before he could change his plans.

to get inside, he had to climb up a tree, jump off of it, and land in your backyard. he used that trick often in the past, since it was not his first time going to your house. he often snuck on your property to watch or take pictures of you while you slept.

he tried opening your bedroom window, but it was locked. he had to try a different one.

he went over to a window beside your bedroom, and thankfully, it was unlocked. but the moment he opened the window, he heard the sound of water running and your familiar voice humming a song. were you in the shower?

bayani climbed inside as quietly as possible, and closed the window behind him. his suspicions were correct. he was in your bathroom, and you were taking a shower. your curtains covered up your figure, so he couldn't see you.

bayani looked to the side of the room and saw a pile of your dirty clothes on the floor. he ran up to it and immediately took a large whiff at the pile. it smelled divine to him. he couldn't get enough of it. he quickly spotted your used underwear in the pile and snatched it without thinking, then he stuffed it in his pocket. you wouldn't notice, right?

before he could take the rest of your clothes, the water suddenly stopped. bayani ran to hide, in a spot where you couldn't see him but he could see you. you opened the shower curtains and stepped out with a towel in your hands. you were completely naked, and still drenched in water. bayani felt like he died and went to heaven again that day. he couldn't believe what he was seeing. you were completely naked, right in front of his eyes. ignoring the puddle in his pants, he nervously fumbled around his pockets, trying to find his phone. there was no way he could pass up an opportunity like this. without hesitation, he snapped a photo of you.

but he didn't notice that the flash was on.

he froze, and you looked towards him. neither of you said a word, and bayani saw his future flash before his eyes. you would probably scream for security and he would get taken away to prison, never to see your face again. his life would be over.

"you're the guy i've been seeing everywhere, huh?" you whispered.

"...are you going to, uh... send me away?" bayani gulped.

you thought about it for a moment. this guy clearly cared a lot about you, because you saw him literally everywhere you went. no matter what country you visited, he was always there. even if you didn't tell a single soul where you were going, he was somehow always there. you even saw him on your property a few times, so you knew how crazy he was. but you still let him do it. and you never reported him, either. you knew exactly what he wanted. you could always hear him moaning outside your window, knowing he would have one hand down his pants and a camera on the other.

he was cute, so why not have some fun with him?

"come here." you commanded. he followed your order without thinking, immediately falling down to his knees in front of you.

you grabbed his chin, and made him look up at you. he felt hot tears well up in his eyes as you stared him down. he didn't say a word, but you knew exactly what he was thinking.

you pressed your knee against the wet stain on his pants, and he let out a pathetic whimper. he was getting off on it.

he didn't know what to do. his dreams were finally coming true. he got noticed by you, got into your house, saw you naked, and you finally touched him. he was overwhelmed, and started crying. he didn't mean to look so weak in front of you for a first impression, but he couldn't help it. besides, he'd make a fool out of himself any day for you.

"you're so pathetic.. you've been stalking me for so long, and now you break into my house to see me naked. i could call the police and have you arrested..." you whispered, as you started putting more pressure on his crotch, moving your knee up and down on it, and inching your face closer to his.

he sobbed, “please, don't! i promise, it'll never happen again. i'll stop, i'll do whatever you want, i'll-"

you cut him off by connecting your lips to his, setting his heart on fire. you pulled away after a few seconds, leaving him speechless. there's no way you just kissed him. he had to be dreaming.

and then you moved your knee away from his crotch right before he could cum, making him let out a whimper and crumble to the ground.

"thanks for letting me have some fun with you. we can do this again soon.. if you be a good boy and return my underwear." you winked, walking away and leaving bayani a hard, pathetic, leaking mess on your bathroom floor.

[fixated-cookies]

Ok but I NEED Dark Cacao carnally. This man is a DILF! I want to ride this old man until he is wheezing. I want him to keep cumming til i give him a second child. I want to annoy the shit outta him til he puts me in my place. Do you see the vision?

No wife + overworking = backed up to hell and I am willing to unclog his plumbing

OH I SEE THE VISION BTW ANON THIS IS SO RUSHED IM SO SORRY

MDNI

teasing with dark cacao cookie?

He’s not easily riled by bratty little words. He’s used to politics, war, and endless noise. But what he’s not used to…?

Pretty little thing with hands that linger on his arm for just a second too long, brushing against his thigh as you sit beside him like it’s nothing. A gentle pat on his chest when you laugh. A hand to his shoulder when you leave the room. Always touching, always lingering, always just a little too close.

And the worst part?

You don’t even realize what you’re doing to him. Not really. You’re always hanging around the war table, swinging your legs, tracing your fingers along the edges of scrolls you have no business touching, glancing up at him with those big eyes and that smirking little mouth. "You’ve been growling all day. Maybe you need to get laid instead of lecturing everyone."

He grits his teeth. Every. Time. But he says nothing.

Until you lean over his shoulder to "look at the map," your hand brushing his thigh, your breath warm against his ear, and— That’s it. That’s the last straw. He grabs your wrist. Slowly. Firmly. Turns in his seat to look you dead in the eyes. "Are you aware of what you’re doing?" You blink. Tilt your head. Maybe laugh. "What, this? I’m just being friendly." And his eye twitches. Just once.

"You’ve been testing me. Brushing against me. Pressing those little hands where they don’t belong. Did you think there would be no consequences?" You don’t even know what’s happening until you’re backed against a stone pillar, his massive frame shadowing yours, his voice low and dangerously controlled. You open your mouth—something sharp, probably. But then? He grabs your thigh, lifts it, and presses his knee between your legs.

"Speak again, and I’ll remind you how your mouth is better used." Your back presses against the cold stone, and his massive hand is braced beside your head. The other? Gripping your thigh, holding you open against his knee—just enough pressure to make you squirm, not enough to relieve the ache quickly building between your legs.

You try to speak. Maybe to sass back. Maybe to apologize.But he doesn't let you. Instead, he presses forward—his hips flush to yours, one hand gripping your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. "Mouthy little thing. You want attention so badly?" he breathes close."You’ll get it." He kisses you. Hard. Deep. Claiming.

His mouth is hot and demanding, and the moment you gasp, he devours the sound. He doesn’t move gently—he presses you into the pillar, lips bruising, tongue dominant, tasting your surprise and stealing your air. His hands roam now—gripping your ass, tugging you flush to him. You can feel him. Thick. Heavy. Rock-hard. Grinding against you with slow, agonizing pressure, dragging along your clothed heat like it’s his personal war drum.

"This is what you want, isn't it?" he growls against your lips. "To be handled. Pinned. Bred." "You think teasing me earns you control?" "No. It earns you this."

He lifts you. Lifts. You. As if you weigh nothing.Your legs wrap instinctively around his waist, and his hands hold you there—so easily, like you were meant to be there—grinding you down against the sharp heat of his cock, still fully clothed, letting you feel the outline of what he’s going to ruin you with. Now he’s carrying you to his bed like you’re nothing but a needy little thing in heat—because you are. And the moment your back hits those thick, fur-lined pelts and his armor drops to the floor with a heavy clang? You get exactly what you asked for.

He stands at the edge of the bed, fully bare now, broad and powerful and so hard it’s almost painful to look at. His body is scarred, worn from centuries of battle—and every inch of it is carved like stone, heavy muscle and old strength that shouldn’t be this beautiful. "Is this what you wanted?" he rumbles, voice low and already strained, chest rising with controlled breaths. "To ride your king? To milk him dry until you’re full?" He climbs onto the bed, looming over you—but instead of taking control, he settles against the headboard, legs spread, arms resting heavy at his sides.

And he waits. "Go on."

And oh, you do.You climb into his lap, trembling, soaked, guiding him to your entrance—thick, heavy, hot—and when you sink down? Both of you groan. You feel everything.The stretch. The heat. The depth. He fills you entirely—like your womb remembers him, aches for him, was made for this. "Tight little thing," he groans, head falling back, muscles tense. "You love this. I can feel it." And you ride him. Rocking your hips in tight, grinding circles. Bouncing. Gasping. Letting your hands press to his chest as you work him to the edge.He’s gritting his teeth, trying to hold it back—but you see it.

The sweat. The shaky breath.

The wheezing groan that rumbles up from deep in his chest when you clench around him just right."D-Don't— nghh—don’t do that again. I'll finish too fast—" But you do it again. And again. Until this mountain of a man is gripping your hips, eyes wide, panting into your shoulder, barely able to thrust up into you without shuddering.

"Y-you want it that badly? Then take it. Take everything. Every drop. Every seed."

And when he finishes?

It doesn’t stop. Hot, heavy, pulsing release that leaves you full. Stuffed. So much it leaks out before he even softens.

And you? You collapse forward. Breathless. Shaking. But he wraps his arms around you, buries his face in your neck, and whispers:

"You’ll give me another child." "You’ll stay here. Beside me. In my bed." "No more teasing, no more running. Just this. Again. And again."

DILF RIDER DILF RIDER DILF RIDDEERRRR. THIS IS SOO SHORT OMG IM SO ASHAMED. REQUEST ARE OPENNN

[muqingslover]

Your latest fic destroyed me (in the best possible way, im weak to angst) and I've been binge reading the other stuff you have here in order to console myself lol (love it all btw!!)

What I wanted to ask is, what features do you think lads' kids would inherit from them? In the case of the guys that want kids ofc. I have this hc that Caleb's genes are stubborn af, and all his kids have his eye colour copy paste. (If you're open to requests, that is!!)

[ Thank you for your kind words anon! 💕💕 I'm always happy to hear that you guys enjoy my work! For those who are curious, this is the fic anon is referring to!

Your request ended being quite short though bc there really wasn't much for me to elaborate (⁠^⁠～⁠^⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ I've mentioned before I don't see some of the boys with children, but I did them anyway for you to make up for the length! ]

⊹ His physical traits gene is like a Russian roulette, but his personality genes are unbeatable.

⊹ If Xavier was to have children they'd be as sleepy and clingy as their father.

⊹ They miiiight get his hair color, but the rest? A carbon copy of you.

⊹ I also feel like his children would be really whiny in a super cute, not annoying-toddler way.

⊹ The most adorable puppy eyes and pouty face. It feels impossible to say no to them.

⊹ The strongest genes known to man.

⊹ His children are literal copy-paste of himself. White hair, red eyes, dragon traits, ECT.

⊹ They however have your personality plus are also very, very high energy.

⊹ He absolutely adores them of course, but Sylus would ask to keep trying until he gets a mini version of yourself. What can he say, he loves you.

⊹ Oh and they're super high maintenance, much more than most kids. The twins do very little to actually help and just add to the chaos for most part.

⊹ The perfect balance of the two of you.

⊹ The little girl would have his green eyes with your hair and is just gorgeous.

⊹ The personality is a mix of both, except she is as smart as her father.

⊹ If you're an extroverted then she might be more outgoing compared to Zayne, though still enjoys sitting and playing by herself.

⊹ Annoying father = Annoying children.

⊹ Okay okay I'm joking! Kind of. The children all get his purple hair and dramatic flair.

⊹ And that my friends results in the little ones and their dad to butt heads all the damn time.

⊹ The only person they listen to is mommy, including Rafayel.

⊹ The mermaid lineage is also very strong so invest in a much bigger bathtub and prepare your heart for the water bill.

⊹ I totally agree with you that this man's genes are very stubborn.

⊹ You get a literal duplicate of him when that sweet little boy is born, personality and all.

⊹ This extends to his obsession with his mama and their silly banter over who gets to cuddle you to sleep. (He lets the little one wins because his heart is weak)

⊹ Personally though? Caleb wants a perfect mix of the two of you if you're willing to keep trying.

[seokminfilm]

positions | lee seokmin

🪄 pairing, lee seokmin x reader

🪄 warnings, newlyweds au, baby fever, sweet seokmin, pet names (seokmin uses baby, reader uses sweetheart), mentions of children, mentions of baby fever, reader is called a pretty mother, lots of kissing and loving on each other, seokmin soft hours

🪄 summary, seokmin had to have this conversation with you at one point, but he didn't think it would be this soon and this desperate, either.

🪄 author's note, this was suggested by a lyrnon (lyr + anon = lyrnon btw)! i saw this and knew i had to do it because my life would not be complete without this fic in it....anyways, enjoy!! (dad seokmin ftw)

🪄 now playing, positions, ariana grande

🪄 word count, 1004 (omg jeonghan's birthday i'm going insane...) | for @kstrucknet

"They kept telling us congratulations over and over and over again," Seokmin laughs lightly, and you nod, blushing as you settle into bed. No matter how long you and Seokmin are married, you'll never get tired of this giddy feeling you get in your stomach when you get ready to sleep.

"They were all so cute though. I love your nieces and nephews." You sigh, and Seokmin nods as he lays on your chest. You curl his soft, brown strands between your fingers, humming a tune as Seokmin strips himself of his black frames, revealing his pretty eyes and even prettier beauty mark.

Your husband, Seokmin (wow, that was still really weird to even think), had finally taken you to meet his extended side of the family today.

The joy-filled wedding had taken a toll on you, and you had been stuck at home for the past week, sick with a surprise cold (to which Seokmin quickly stepped into his husbandly duties and took care of you to the best of his ability).

Even now, he was still so tender with you, kissing you with little force and always asking to hold your hand wherever and whenever he wanted to. His touch felt different─it was sure and stable, and you loved the feeling of his fingers encasing yours at the most intimate times you think you've ever had with him.

"Seokmin?" You ask softly, scared he's fallen asleep. He's been quiet for the past five minutes, still, warm body against yours.

"I'm still awake, baby, I'm sorry. I'm just thinking." Seokmin's voice is soft, hushed in the sweetest way you think you've ever heard it be. Smiling, you press a kiss to Seokmin's scalp, breathing in his lavender-scented shampoo.

"Thinking?" You repeat, and Seokmin nods, slowly sitting up and taking his head off of your chest as he turns to look at you.

"Thinking about what, sweetheart?" You ask, and Seokmin studies you for a second, his dark brown eyes raking over your figure dwarfed in his windbreaker. It sends him spiraling, feeling like a teenager in high school with the way he's staring at you.

"I'm thinking about you," Seokmin answers, and you smile, grabbing a decorative pillow as you place it in your lap. "What about me?" Teasing, you tilt your head to the side a bit, reveling in the way Seokmin smiles at you.

"It may be too soon though." Seokmin frowns just slightly, pretty face falling just a bit as you shake your head, nervousness building in your chest nevertheless as you shake your head.

"Don't say that, Min. You haven't even told me what it is yet." You smile simply, patting the top of Seokmin's hand as you twist the ring on his finger─your vow and promise to him.

"What if you're not saying that when I actually tell you what I'm thinking about?" Seokmin pouts, lips jutted out as you lean in, giving them a quick peck as you smile.

"No way," You whisper, fingertips grazing Seokmin's jawline as you sigh dreamily, obviously in love with him. "Tell me, Seokmin. Please?"

The question at the end of your confirmation breaks Seokmin even more, and he can't stop himself, finally opening his mouth as he glances away for a split second, as if to try to recollect himself. After a few seconds of silence, Seokmin looks back to you, trying not to shudder when you lean your head on his shoulder, warm breath tickling his neck.

"You'd be such a pretty mother, baby. I just...I feel it in my soul." Seokmin's statement makes your face heat up faster than you thought it would, and you inhale sharply, holding your breath.

"Me? A pretty mother?" You ask in disbelief, and Seokmin smiles, nodding as he shyly looks at the ground.

"When you were taking care of my sister's newborn daughter, I─" Seokmin sighs, eyes locked on yours as he chews at your lip. "I thought of you with my baby in your arms."

You fall silent, unable to really form proper words. You had never seen this side of Seokmin before─it was new, seeing him so flustered and so hushed about one of his many thoughts. He always was one to voice his ideas and voice them loudly, but this...this was different from anything he's ever told you.

"It's really weird, I know. I just..." Seokmin trails off, face heating up as he swallows. "I just really want us to start a family. It would be nice."

Eyes falling to the sheets, your cheeks start to hurt from how wide you're smiling, and you look back up at Seokmin, nearly flinging yourself on him as you hug him tightly. He's obviously surprised, gasp escaping him as you kiss his neck, and he giggles just seconds later, obviously enamored with your reaction.

"How would this be too soon, Seokkie?" You ask, and Seokmin shakes his head, looking down bashfully as he huffs.

"I don't know, I just...I didn't think you would want to take it that far just yet." Seokmin's voice is soft and innocent, and it makes you smile, taking his chin in your hand as you tilt his face up to look at it. His big brown eyes are sparkling with the light of the bedroom, and you can see the sparkles in it as you shake your head.

"I'm ready for anything you are. I love you so much I'd do anything you ask me without thought." You say softly, leaning in as your lips softly graze Seokmin's. His eyes flutter shut, and he sighs under you, hands placed in your lap as he brushes his hands over your thighs.

"Anything?" He asks quietly, voice a low rumble as his thick eyebrows raise into his bangs. You nod, smiling as you kiss the tip of his pointed nose.

"Absolutely anything, Seokmin."

The smile that comes on your husband's face suddenly makes your will to live for him a little bit longer (as if it wasn't already infinitely long).

[lidiasloca]

Hey, love!

I have this thought. So, Azriel and Reader have accepted the mating bond and Azriel is in his Frenzy, but it’s been like two weeks. Reader (AFAB) is exhausted. She has barely slept and she loves Azriel but she needs a moment to sleep. She convinces Azriel to leave their little hideaway in the cabin in the mountains, and they return to the House of Wind. Reader hunts down Rhysand and Feyre for assistance. Begging Rhys to send Azriel on a mission just for a day or two so she can sleep. However, once he gets back, Rhys confesses to Azriel what is going on.

az during mating bond frenzy

azriel x reader

part one

a/n: anon, this is just part one of the fic, the following part will anwser your request faithfully (i promise!). thanku for requesting btw, love the idea :).

Azriel lets the door open so you can step into the warmth of the foyer. You wait for Az to close the door and lead you to the living room, his hand securely in yours.

The duality of your nerves has you on edge. You are excited to see your friends again after weeks without seeing the Inner Circle. However, you fear the tactless jokes Cassian and Rhys might throw at your mate’s way. And worse, you fear the reaction Az could have.

The frenzy of the recent mating bond is unpredictable. Would he snicker? Would he fly you back to your apartment? Or would he put up a fight?

The latter seems the more likely.

“Well, well. Look who’s back.”

You can’t help but grin unashamedly at Cassian, who responds with his signature smile.

“Cassian,” Azriel greets his brother, still not leaving your side, not letting go of your hand.

“No hug, Az?” Cassian pretends to be offended, but your mate gives no reaction. Then Cass’ eyes find yours again. “Hello to you too, sweetheart.”

You feel Azriel’s grip tighten. Your other hand moves to his shoulder, gently stroking in an attempt to calm him.

He seems to loosen up, and you cannot help but lean your head into his arm, relieved. He looks down at you, a soft smile on his lips. When he sends warm love down the bond, you smile back at him.

But the moment is broken by the sound of steady footsteps.

Rhys appears in the living room with a wide grin when he sees the pair of you. “Az, brother. Y/N, Y/N you look… nice. The mating bond suits you both well.”

Cassian tries to suppress a laugh. He fails.

Rhys turns to Cass, and you seize the opportunity to tug Azriel’s sleeve, trying to gauge how he is handling both Cassian and Rhys being in the room.

Quite literally, the two most shamelessly flirtatious males on earth.

But Az’s eyes remain fixed in a glare toward his brothers.

“She looks good, doesn’t she?” Rhys asks Cassian, and by his smirk, you know this is all meant to rile Azriel up. “I mean, she always does, Az. Don’t get me wrong, you’ve sure bagged a gorgeous one.”

Maybe you’re the one about to hit him.

“Yes, he has. Gorgeous. But don’t tell Ness I said that though.” Cassian doesn’t back down, not even when Az takes a step toward them, letting go of your hand. “Actually, maybe do tell her. I have the feeling she’s interested in… sharing.” Cassian’s eyes move to yours, assessing you from head to toe. “I may be interested in sharing as well.”

“Shut up,” Azriel barks, making your breath catch. “Shut up now, Cassian.” He keeps walking toward him, arms tensed as he moves, and then he is in front of Cass, looking as though he’s about to strike.

But Cassian’s smirk only grows as he hears Rhys chuckle. 

Illyrian stupid babies.

-Charcaters by Sarah J Maas

azriel masterlist

[cosmiclily]

hii - jst wanted to say girl Ur writing is *chef's kiss* okok so i saw requests were open and im a SUCKER for actors au arcane soooo could u write a actor vi x co star!fem reader?? could it be a lil not like enemies but at first their energies don't match, but they soon learn to like eachother. on the premiere they were seen together and get asked questions abt eachother. vi keeps her hand on co star's waist whispering in her ear. idkkk jst some fluff plsss

- btw i was the anon who asked for the domestic vi teehee 🤭

love your work, xx

play pretend

✰ vi x f!reader

wc: 6.2k

notes: (snoopy pfp twins!!!) first of all, thank you !!!!!! and also your requests are so good i always have fun writing them😭😭 second, kinda got a little too excited about the request lol

If anyone watched Complex without doing any prior research, they would undoubtedly say that you and Vi had undeniable chemistry. The tension, the longing glances, the way you played off each other—it was electric. So electric that after the movie was released, the audience wanted more and more from the two of you.

But off-screen? Things weren’t nearly as perfect.

At first, Vi had been thrilled to work with you. She had been a fan for years, and when her manager called her about the role—and, more importantly, who she’d be working with—she couldn’t say yes fast enough. She had pictured smooth sailing, late-night script reads, inside jokes, maybe even the start of a great friendship.

What she hadn’t pictured was the absolute nightmare that was your first meeting.

You were thirty minutes late to the chemistry read, walking in with a sour expression and barely sparing her a glance. No pleasantries, no introductions—you simply read your lines (flawlessly, of course), nodded at the director, and walked right back out. Vi had sat there, script still in hand, completely thrown.

Things did not get better from there.

The two of you bickered about everything. Blocking, line delivery, even what music should play between takes. It was like you had been designed to push each other’s buttons.

And then there was the first kiss rehearsal.

Vi, in all her brilliance, had eaten a tuna sandwich right before the scene.

The second you leaned in and caught the scent, you recoiled so fast you nearly toppled over. "Are you serious?!" you had shouted, fanning your face as if that would somehow make the stench disappear.

Vi? She had lost it.

She laughed so hard she had to physically hold onto the set piece to keep herself upright. It took a full ten minutes and an entire pack of breath mints for you to even consider going through with the scene.

But as much as you bickered, there was no denying it—the chemistry was off the charts. The moment the cameras started rolling and you weren’t Y/N and Vi anymore, something clicked. Suddenly, you were two best friends hopelessly in love, bound by circumstances that would never allow them to be together. It was raw, it was emotional, and it was so frustrating for the director.

"Cut!" Frank shouted, exasperation dripping from his voice. As soon as the word left his mouth, you immediately stepped away from Vi, your longing expression vanishing like it had never been there.

"You delivered your last line too late," you huffed, flipping through your script. "The silence was awkward."

Vi rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "It’s called dramatic tension. Like my character is hesitating before saying it. You don’t know art."

You scoffed. "That’s bullshit."

"Oh my god," Frank groaned, rubbing his temples. "Can’t the two of you just stop?"

Both of you turned to face him, blinking as if you hadn’t just spent the last five minutes arguing.

"If I hadn’t sunk so much goddamn money into this movie," he continued, his face red with frustration, "and if your chemistry on screen wasn’t so damn perfect, I would’ve fired you both by now! This is insane! You can’t go three seconds without fighting!"

You and Vi exchanged a glance—one that probably lasted all of two seconds before she smirked and you scoffed again.

This was going to be a long shoot.

Later, after finally wrapping for the day, you were in your dressing room, peeling off your character’s persona and replacing it with your own. You had just finished touching up your lipstick in the bright vanity mirror when your manager, Mel, stormed in—her expression immediately telling you she did not bring good news.

"Frank is fuming," she announced, crossing her arms. "Livid. He says you're a brat who thinks she runs the set, and that Vi has the humor of a twelve-year-old boy."

You let out a small snort, not even bothering to look at her. "Well, he’s not wrong about Vi."

Mel shot you a glare. "What the hell are you two doing? How are you supposed to promote this movie when you can’t even be in the same room for five minutes without arguing?"

You sighed dramatically, turning back to the mirror as you fixed a stray hair. "Well, if she wasn’t so damn stubborn and stupid, I wouldn’t have a problem with her."

Mel groaned, rubbing her temples as if you were single-handedly giving her a migraine. "You know what? That’s it. I was talking to Vander, and he agreed—the two of you need figure this thing out, go out together or something."

That caught your attention. You turned to her, brows furrowing. "Go out together? Like what? A forced bonding exercise?"

"Yes, exactly," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Then she pointed a perfectly manicured finger at you. "And don’t look at me like that. I wanted to lock you two in a room for the entire weekend, but Vander thought “hanging out” was a better option."

Your lips parted slightly in disbelief. "That was your suggestion?"

Mel shrugged. "It would've worked."

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. "What exactly are we supposed to do together?"

Mel smirked. "That’s for you and Vi to figure out."

Mel had given you Vi’s number—which you didn’t have after working with her for more than a month—and told you to text her. She even threatened to call your mom if you didn’t, which, honestly, was a low blow.

Naturally, you did not text Vi.

By the time you got home, showered, and settled into bed with a book you’d been dying to read, you were so ready to ignore the outside world for the next three hours. But, of course, your phone pinged with a notification from an unknown number.

(Unknown Number)

hey

(it’s vi by the way)

vander said i have to text you and we have to go out together ?

You sighed, rolling onto your back before lazily typing out a response.

You:

yeah, mel said the exact same thing to me. not that i’m too excited about it.

Violet Lane:

i know you hate me and stuff, but if we could just get this over with it would be better lol

You frowned.

You:

?

i don’t hate you?

Violet Lane:

you don’t like me either

anyway, we can just go to a restaurant or something, talk this over and “bond” (or whatever)

You stared at your screen for a moment, chewing on your lip. Did Vi really think you hated her? Sure, you bickered—a lot—but that was just how you two were. You pushed, she pushed back. It was an endless back and forth, but hate? That was a strong word.

You hesitated before typing.

You:

fine. tomorrow at 7?

Violet Lane:

cool. see you then.

You sighed, tossing your phone onto your nightstand and staring at the ceiling.

Yeah. This was either going to be a complete disaster or the longest two hours of your life.

──────────────────────

At 6:35 p.m., you were already ready—probably too ready. You had checked and rechecked your outfit, adjusted your hair at least five times, and debated whether your makeup was too casual or too much.

Your stomach was tight with nerves, anxiety creeping up for no reason at all. It was just dinner. Just a casual outing with a coworker who thought you hated her (and who, admittedly, got on your nerves more often than not). You were only doing this because Mel and Vander had threatened you into it.

Still, you found yourself sitting on the couch, staring at the time on your phone like it would magically change.

Should I text her?

Would that be weird?

Would it be even weirder if I just showed up at the restaurant early?

Before you could second-guess yourself, you opened your messages.

You:

i know i said 7, but i finished the things i had to do earlier, so i’m ready. do you wanna meet there or go together?

(Lie. You had absolutely nothing to do today—but Vi didn’t need to know that.)

A response came quickly.

Violet Lane:

i can pick you up, if you want. i’m ready as well.

You blinked. That was… unexpectedly nice of her.

You:

k

[your address]

As soon as you sent it, you tossed your phone onto the couch and exhaled, running a hand through your hair.

Okay. No big deal. You were just getting dinner.

Then why the hell did it feel like you were about to go on a date?

──────────────────────

Vi picked you up, and the drive to the restaurant was… painfully awkward. You slid into the passenger seat, muttered a quiet hey, and she responded with a nod and a simple hey back. And then… nothing.

No music. No conversation. Just the sound of the road beneath the tires and the occasional glance exchanged between you two.

At the restaurant, things weren’t much better. You placed your orders, handed the menus back to the waitress, and then sat there—staring at each other like you were both waiting for the other person to break the silence.

You cleared your throat, shifting slightly in your seat. This is ridiculous.

“Soo…” you started, grasping for anything remotely close to small talk. “Anything good happening these days?”

Vi shrugged, leaning back against her chair. “Nah. Just working, you know.”

Riveting.

“Right. Of course.” You nodded “Me too.”

Another pause.

You took a sip of your drink. Vi did the same.

This was painful.

You were supposed to be bonding, fixing the weird tension between you, but so far, it felt like the two of you were just tolerating each other's presence.

Vi exhaled through her nose, drumming her fingers against the table. “Okay, this is weird, right?”

You let out a breathy laugh. “Oh, so weird.”

Vi cracked a small grin, shaking her head. “Alright, let’s just—be normal. For once.”

You raised an eyebrow. “For once?”

“You did spend the first two weeks acting like I personally offended your ancestors.”

Your mouth dropped open. “I did not!”

Vi shot you a knowing look.

“…Okay, maybe I wasn’t the most welcoming.” You rolled your eyes. “But you were annoying as hell.”

Vi smirked. “Still am.”

“Unfortunately.”

And from then on, you actually talked.

Your food arrived, and for the first time since you started working together, the conversation flowed easily. You talked about why you got into acting, your dream roles, the best and worst people you’d worked with, the projects you would never do, and the actors you’d always wanted to work with.

“Well, I always wanted to work with you.” Vi’s voice was softer now, a little hesitant, as she cut into her steak.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged, avoiding your eyes as if embarrassed to admit it. “One of the reasons I took this role was because your name was already on it.”

That was… surprising. Vi, who you were sure couldn’t stand you, had actually wanted to work with you?

“I always admired your work,” she added, still not quite meeting your gaze. “Your performances always felt so real—like you weren’t just acting, you were that person. I thought, ‘damn, if I ever get the chance to work with her, I have to take it.’”

For a moment, you just stared at her, unsure how to respond. This was the same Vi who had laughed for ten minutes over a tuna sandwich before your first kiss rehearsal. The same Vi who had argued with you over every minor detail on set. The same Vi who, up until an hour ago, you were convinced didn’t even like you.

And yet, here she was, admitting that she’d taken this role, in part, because of you.

You swallowed, setting your fork down. “I—wow. I didn’t know that.”

Vi finally glanced up, offering a small, almost sheepish smile. “Well… now you do.”

And maybe—just maybe—you could actually make this work.

──────────────────────

After that dinner, work became bearable.

Frank no longer looked like he was on the verge of a mental breakdown every time you and Vi were in the same room. You still bickered, but now it was more playful than anything—teasing quips, exaggerated eye rolls, and smirks exchanged between takes.

And, to your absolute horror, you actually laughed at one of her jokes.

“I can’t believe my eyes!” Vi exclaimed dramatically, pointing at you like you were a rare species on display. “She’s actually laughing at my joke! Somebody get a camera, this is a historic moment!”

“Shut up!” you said between chuckles, trying (and failing) to regain your composure.

After that, things just… shifted.

Vi started bringing you coffee in the mornings—because apparently, she noticed that your usual sour mood could be fixed with a large caramel macchiato. She never said anything about it, just handed you the cup with a smirk like it was no big deal.

And maybe it wasn’t a big deal.

Maybe it also wasn’t a big deal that you’d started looking forward to seeing her face every morning. Or that you caught yourself glancing at her between takes, watching the way she effortlessly charmed the crew with her stupid jokes and easygoing attitude.

It was not a big deal.

Until one of your last scenes together.

Vi’s character was leaving. It was an emotional scene—there were tears, there was rain, there was heartbreak. The two of you stood on a dimly lit train platform, the cold air thick with tension, with unsaid words.

And then you ran to her, your shoes splashing against the wet pavement as you grabbed her arm, desperation spilling from your lips.

“You can’t leave me in this town,” you pleaded, breathless, water dripping from your soaked hair. “It’s not fair. They can’t make you do this!”

Vi turned to you, her face half-lit by the flickering station lights, raindrops clinging to her lashes. “It’s not their choice,” she said, voice unsteady, tears mixing with the artificial rain. “I want to leave.” Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. “I can’t keep living this lie. I can’t be myself here.”

Your breath hitched. You shook your head, your hands trembling as they clutched the fabric of her soaked jacket. “Please,” you sobbed, the cold making you shake, but not nearly as much as the emotions clawing their way out of you. “I—I love you.”

The words came out like a confession, like a wound torn open.

And for a moment—just a moment—you weren’t sure if the silence between you was scripted or not.

Vi’s eyes locked onto yours, her breath shallow, her lips parted slightly. You could hear the rain hitting the pavement, the distant sound of a train horn echoing through the empty station.

Then, she kissed you.

You had kissed before. Countless times, in countless takes. But this? This was different.

Her hands found your waist, pulling you in, grounding you in the middle of the storm. One of them trailed up, fingertips ghosting along your skin before settling at the back of your neck, holding you like you were something fragile.

You melted into her, fingers curling into the damp fabric of her shirt, letting yourself sink into the warmth of her despite the freezing rain.

And then, just as suddenly, she pulled away—her breath ragged, forehead resting against yours.

“I love you too,” she said, softer than she should have. “But not enough to stay.”

And just like that, she was gone.

She turned, stepping onto the train, leaving you standing on that rain-soaked platform, crumbling from the inside out.

When Frank called cut, the entire set fell into stunned silence.

No one moved. No one spoke. The only sound was the steady patter of artificial rain against the pavement, mixing with the remnants of your ragged breathing.

Then, as if snapping out of a trance, crew members rushed forward, wrapping warm towels around your trembling frame, fussing over you, making sure you weren’t too cold.

But none of it registered.

Because your eyes were still on her.

Vi stood a few feet away, drenched, her chest still rising and falling from the weight of the scene. Strands of wet hair clung to her forehead, rain trailing down the curve of her jaw, but she didn’t move to wipe it away. She just looked at you.

It was a silent conversation, one you weren’t sure you understood.

And then, just like that, someone called her name, and the moment was gone.

──────────────────────

After wrapping up filming and sending the movie into post-production, you and Vi barely kept in contact.

It wasn’t intentional—at least, that’s what you told yourself.

Life simply got busy. You had new projects to consider, meetings to attend, scripts to read. You were thrown back into the chaotic whirlwind of the industry, and Vi… well, Vi had her own life.

But that didn’t stop the weird feeling in your chest. The absence of her was something you noticed, in ways you didn’t expect.

Her face wasn’t the first thing you saw when you walked on set every morning, You no longer groggily accept the caramel macchiato she always brought you with that smug little smirk. You didn’t hear her humming on set, or listen to her dumb jokes between takes.

The worst part? You caught yourself missing it.

You missed the way she’d argue with you over the most insignificant things, how her eyes would light up whenever she got you to crack a smile, how easy it had become to just be around her.

And maybe that was why, after a month of telling yourself you were too busy to reach out, you found yourself sitting in Mel’s office, trying—and failing—to make it sound like you weren’t fishing for an excuse.

“Have you heard from Frank?” you asked, leaning casually against her desk, as if this were just a passing thought.

Mel didn’t even look up from the magazine she was reading—the one that featured an interview you had given a few weeks ago. “About?”

“Post-production for Complex,” you said, picking at the edge of a business card on her desk. “We must be starting promotions soon, right?”

That finally made her glance up, one perfectly arched brow raising as she studied you. The sharp gold liner on her eyelids made her green eyes look even more piercing.

“You know you don’t need an excuse to talk to her, right?”

Your hand froze mid-pick.

You let out a nervous laugh. “What do you mean by that? I’m asking about the movie.”

“Uh-huh.” Mel’s lips curled into a knowing smirk as she lazily flipped another page. “Everything’s on track. Frank said you should hear about it soon. The movie trailer should be out in a week or two.”

You nodded, trying to keep your expression neutral. That was good. That meant press tours, interviews, red carpets—things that would inevitably bring you and Vi back into each other’s orbit.

You should have been focusing on that.

But all you could think about was your phone, sitting in your pocket. And the fact that nothing was stopping you from pulling it out, scrolling to her name, and just—

You swallowed, pushing the thought away.

You weren’t sure if you were ready for that yet.

──────────────────────

After the movie trailer was released, you filmed a couple of interviews, and suddenly, it felt like you were whole again.

Vi’s presence was there—her lazy smirk, the sarcasm wrapped in dry humor, the way she’d nudge you under the table just to see if she could get a reaction.

It was like nothing had changed.

Like you hadn’t spent weeks pretending you weren’t waiting for a message from her. Like you hadn’t caught yourself missing her laugh in the middle of a quiet afternoon. Like there wasn’t something undeniably different lingering between you, hidden beneath the playful banter and easy rhythm you fell back into so effortlessly.

But it was different.

Because now, every stolen glance lasted a second too long. Every brush of her fingers against yours felt intentional. And every time she looked at you—really looked at you—you swore you could still feel the ghost of that last kiss, the way her hands had held you like she was afraid to let go.

And you didn’t know if you were imagining it, if you were just hoping for something more than what it really was, if you were being downright delusional.

But if it meant she would be around you for longer, you would be the most delusional person in the world.

“Earth to Y/N.” Vi’s voice cut through your thoughts, and you blinked rapidly, turning to face her. She was looking at you with a knowing smirk, her elbow propped on the armrest between you. “You good over there? Looked like you were having a moment or something.”

You scoffed, leaning back in your chair. “Just thinking about how much I regret agreeing to this interview with you.”

Vi gasped, placing a hand over her heart in mock offense. “And here I was, so excited to see you again.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that.”

The interviewer, who had been watching your interaction with amusement, cleared her throat. “It’s clear you two have amazing chemistry, both on-screen and off. Was it always like this during filming?”

Vi grinned, glancing at you. “Oh, absolutely not. Y/N hated me at first.”

You groaned. “I did not hate you!”

“She totally did.” Vi turned back to the interviewer, ignoring your protests. “She was all serious and broody, barely talked to me for the first couple of weeks. But then I broke her.” She smirked, tilting her head toward you. “Didn’t I?”

You gave her a flat look, but you couldn’t stop the warmth spreading through your chest. “You wish.”

The interviewer laughed. “Well, whatever the process was, it clearly worked, because your performances in Complex are incredible.”

Vi nodded. “What can I say? We’re just that good.”

And maybe she was right. Maybe this—whatever this was—was just the natural result of spending so much time together. Of playing two people desperately in love.

But then Vi glanced at you again, her expression softer this time, her arm brushing against yours on the armrest.

And suddenly, you weren’t so sure.

The next interviews were all like that—her lingering touches, the way her fingers would find the small of your back when she guided you through a crowd, the way she’d stare at you like you were the only person in the room.

It was weird. Even for Vi.

Sure, you were both actors, but she couldn’t be acting all of it. Not when her hand rested on your waist a second longer than necessary. Not when she looked at you like she was memorizing your face.

And yet, you kept telling yourself you were imagining things.

Until one particular interview made it impossible to ignore.

“So, we heard rumors about your interactions on set,” the interviewer, a short blonde girl with an overly cheerful tone, began, her eyes locked onto Vi. “How you bickered all the time and made the director go nuts. What do you have to say about that, Vi?”

She acted like you didn’t even exist.

Almost all the questions were directed at Vi, and even when you did answer something, she barely spared you a glance, her attention fixed entirely on Vi, nodding eagerly at every word she said.

You tried not to let it bother you, but with every passing minute, you felt yourself shrinking in your chair.

By the time you left the studio, you were fuming.

Vi, however, was thoroughly entertained.

She gave you a ride home, and the moment you got into the car, you turned to her with an exaggerated voice.

“What do you have to say about that, Vi?” you mocked the interviewer’s tone. “Oh, I think you’re so hot, and I’m going to ignore Y/N while I talk to you!”

Vi chuckled, shaking her head as she started the engine. “Damn, that’s pretty good. You should do impressions more often.”

You crossed your arms, glaring at her.

“What?” She smirked, sparing you a glance. “Are you jealous?”

Your cheeks burned instantly.

“Of course I am! She ignored me the whole time!”

Vi snorted, her grip tightening around the steering wheel. “Yeah, because she was too busy flirting with me.”

You huffed, looking out the window. “Could’ve at least redirected a question or two…”

Vi was quiet for a moment before she said, voice laced with amusement, “Didn’t know you cared so much about my attention, princess.”

You turned to glare at her again, but she was grinning, eyes still on the road.

“Shut up.”

Vi only laughed, shaking her head.

And when her hand dropped from the gear shift, resting just close enough to your thigh, you didn’t move away.

The rest of the ride passed in comfortable silence. The night air was crisp, the windows rolled down just enough for the wind to kiss your face, ruffling your hair as the city lights blurred past.

For a moment, it almost felt like old times—like the months apart hadn’t left a hollow space in your chest, like you hadn’t spent too many nights staring at your phone, hesitating over an unsent message.

And then, just before Vi pulled up in front of your place, she spoke.

“Why didn’t you text me?” Her voice was casual, like she was asking about the weather, like it didn’t really matter. She kept her eyes on the road, fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel. “Or call?”

Your breath hitched, caught off guard by the question—by the way it hung between you, heavier than it should be.

You turned to look at her, studying her profile, the soft glow of the streetlights casting shadows across her face.

“Why didn’t you?”

Vi finally glanced at you, just for a second, but there was something in her expression—something unreadable, something that made your chest tighten.

She let out a soft scoff, shaking her head as she pulled the car into park.

“Touché” she muttered.

Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke.

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was charged—like a question waiting to be answered, like a decision waiting to be made.

Then you opened the door.

Pausing for just a second, you glanced back at her. Vi was watching you now, her fingers still drumming against the steering wheel, jaw tense like she had something to say but wasn’t sure if she should.

You offered a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“See you on the premiere.”

And with that, you stepped out, closing the door behind you.

──────────────────────

On the day of the premiere, a driver picked you and Mel up. She spent the entire drive coaching you—how to answer questions, how to walk, how to carry yourself—but none of it stuck. Her voice was just background noise, drowned out by the only thought looping in your mind.

Vi.

How would she act? Would she pretend like nothing was going on? Would she ignore you? Would the two of you just be professional—smiling for the cameras, standing side by side like coworkers instead of... whatever it was you had become?

The knot in your stomach tightened with every mile closer to the venue. Your palms were damp, your heart hammering against your ribs.

“Are you even listening to me?” Mel’s voice finally broke through your daze.

You blinked, turning to her. “Huh?”

She sighed, exasperated but amused. “That’s what I thought.” Then, with a knowing smirk, she added, “She’s probably thinking about you just as much as you’re thinking about her.”

You scoffed, looking away. It was like Mel had a sixth sense.

She just chuckled, shaking her head. “Hopeless.”

The car slowed to a stop, and suddenly, it was time.

Blinding flashes erupted from every direction, a chorus of voices calling your name. You moved with practiced ease—smiling, posing, keeping your posture pristine as you stepped onto the red carpet.

But your mind was elsewhere.

Your eyes scanned the crowd, searching. Looking for her.

If Vi had arrived, you couldn’t see her. And that realization made the knot in your stomach twist just a little tighter.

You spotted Frank mid-interview and took the opportunity to approach him.

“Hii!” You waved, making your presence known.

“Oh, there she is! One of our stars of the night!” Frank beamed, his entire demeanor much warmer than the no-nonsense director you were used to seeing on set. “She’s one of the reasons we’re standing here tonight!”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Don’t flatter yourself, Frankie. Without you, this project never would’ve happened.”

The interviewer smiled at your exchange, clearly entertained. “The chemistry in Complex felt so real—especially between you and Vi. What was it like working so closely together?”

At the mention of her name, you hesitated for just a second—just long enough for Frankie to notice.

“Ah,” he teased, nudging you lightly, “now that’s a question.”

You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to focus. “Vi is... incredible. She’s the kind of actress that makes you better just by being in the scene with you.”

The interviewer nodded eagerly. “And off-camera?”

Your lips parted, but before you could say anything—

“Why don’t you ask me that?”

Your breath caught.

Because there she was.

Vi strolled up beside you, effortlessly charming, effortlessly her—a lazy smirk playing at her lips, the sharp cut of her suit fitting her entirely too well.

And just like that, the entire world shrank down to her.

She stopped beside you, her hand instinctively finding your waist—like it belonged there. A gentle squeeze, warm and grounding, as she turned to answer the question.

“I’m wonderful to work with. Ask anyone, they’ll tell you.” She smirked, her tone playful, but you barely registered her words.

Because damn.

She looked stunning.

The open-back suit she wore left little to the imagination, her toned muscles on full display beneath the flashing lights. It wasn’t fair—nothing about her was fair.

Your focus shattered, your train of thought completely derailed.

The interviewer laughed, oblivious to the way your eyes shamelessly roamed over Vi. “And what about her?” she asked, motioning to you. “What was she like to work with?”

Vi tilted her head slightly, considering. Then, as if she hadn’t just ruined your ability to form a coherent sentence, she murmured

“She makes it easy.”

Your breath hitched.

She wasn’t looking at the interviewer. She was looking at you.

And you felt it—like a spark catching fire, like something you couldn’t ignore anymore.

After countless photos, interviews, and polite smiles, the entire cast finally made their way inside the theater for the screening. But Vi was still glued to you—her hand finding your waist, her fingers brushing against yours, her presence a constant, undeniable force.

So you did the only thing that made sense.

You grabbed her wrist and dragged her toward the nearest bathroom.

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” Vi chuckled, but followed you without hesitation.

You pushed open the door, stepped inside, and locked it behind you.

Then you turned to her, frustration boiling over. “Okay,” you started, jabbing a finger into her chest, “I need you to be sohonest with me right now.”

Vi raised an amused brow but said nothing, letting you continue.

“Are you being serious or is this just for the movie?” You demanded, your heart racing. “Because I swear to God, Vi, you’re giving me serious mixed signals, and I don’t know if I’m being down-right delusional or—”

And she had the audacity to smirk at you.

That damn smirk. The one that made your stomach flip. The one made impossibly more infuriating by the bold red of her lipstick.

Vi took a step closer, slow and deliberate, her voice dropping into something almost dangerous.

“What if I am being serious?”

Your pulse skyrocketed. The air between you felt thick, charged with something that had been simmering for too long.

“Then we need to do something about it,” you said, inhaling sharply—your lungs burned like you had been holding your breath for weeks. “Because I’m tired of you joking around and then holding me like you want me, looking at me like that…”

Vi tilted her head slightly, her smirk softening into something real. Something that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Like what?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. “Like you feel something,” you admitted, forcing yourself to meet her gaze. “Like you want this as much as I do.”

She exhaled, long and slow, her fingers twitching at her sides—like she was holding herself back.

Then, so quietly it almost got lost in the space between you, she said, “I do.”

You barely had time to process it before her hands were on you, pulling you in, closing the distance in a way that left no room for uncertainty.

Her lips crashed into yours, and this time, there was nothing to hide behind. No cameras, no script, no excuses. Just her. Just you. And the way she kissed you like she had been waiting for this moment just as desperately as you had.

Your hands went straight to the opening of her suit, fingertips dragging down the exposed skin of her back, desperate, needing to hold her—to make sure she was real and not just another scene you’d have to pretend didn’t mean anything.

Your back hit the door you had locked only moments ago, the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat pooling between you. Vi’s hands were everywhere—on your neck, slipping under the fabric of your dress, gripping the back of your thigh as she lifted it around her waist. The only sound in the bathroom was your breathless kisses, the rustling of clothes, the quiet hum of a moment neither of you wanted to end.

Until your phone started ringing.

You groaned against her lips, fumbling for the device in your purse without pulling away completely. Vi kissed down your neck, her lips never leaving your skin as you glanced down at the screen.

Mel’s name flashed on the display.

“Fuck,” you exhaled.

Vi huffed out a breath, her thumb brushing over your hip, her smirk returning. “You gonna get that?”

You hesitated. No, you really didn’t want to.

But Mel was persistent, and if you didn’t pick up, she’d probably barge into the bathroom herself.

With a groan, you answered, trying—and failing—to steady your breathing. “Mel—”

“Where the hell are you?” she hissed. “The movie is about to start! I swear to God, if you and Vi are off somewhere being unprofessional—”

You locked eyes with Vi, her smirk only growing.

“We’re coming” you said quickly, voice slightly breathless.

“You better.” And with that, Mel hung up.

Vi chuckled, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Guess we should go be professional, huh?”

You sighed, reluctantly letting her step back, already missing the warmth of her. But as you looked at her—lipstick smudged, pupils blown, her suit out of place from where your hands had been—you knew there was no more pretending.

Something had changed.

And this time, neither of you wanted to run from it.

──────────────────────

You fixed yourself as best as you could, smoothing out your dress, running your fingers through your hair, and dabbing at your lips to make sure they weren’t too swollen. But Vi—Vi was a mess. Her lipstick was completely gone, her eyeliner smudged just slightly at the edges, and the faint red marks on her back, stark against her skin, were impossible to ignore.

“Why did you wear this stupid suit?” you muttered under your breath, practically dragging her toward the theater.

Vi chuckled, completely unbothered. “You liked it, didn’t you?”

You shot her a glare, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you.

By the time you slipped inside, the room was dim, the screen displaying the production company logos as the final guests settled in their seats. You spotted Mel near the middle row and made a beeline for her, thanking God that Vander was still across the room, too deep in conversation with Frank to pay you or Vi any mind.

Mel barely spared you a glance as you slid into the seat beside her, Vi dropping into the one next to you. Then, without missing a beat, she leaned in and whisper-yelled, “Where were you? Actually—” she held up a hand before you could answer, “don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

You pressed your lips together, fighting back a smirk.

“Just sit down,” she sighed, adjusting in her seat. “You’re lucky Frank decided to give a speech before it started.”

Vi leaned in, just enough that only you could hear. “See? We are professionals.”

You rolled your eyes, but when her hand held yours on the armrest, when she shot you that look, like this was your little secret, you knew—tonight wasn’t just about the movie.

It was about you and her.

──────────────────────

masterlist

[rivendell-poet]

Omg okay… so I had this thought randomly and now I wanted to know if you were open to writing the scenario… The Hobbit/Lord of the rings… Thranduil, Legolas, Kili (and honestly anyone else you want who isn’t human if you’d like) and their reaction to their pregnant human s/o’s cravings. Like I don’t know if pregnant elves and dwarves had those cravings (they probably do??) but like their reactions to the really weird human cravings, because I bet there is definitely ones they aren’t used to due to cultural differences, right? So like those cravings that genuinely make them question and maybe cringe because it seems so gross to them?? Genuinely just those weird food combo cravings lmaoo.

No pressure to write this btw! I don’t know if your request are even open?? If they aren’t then please ignore this- I’m so sorry 😭! Either way I love your writing/posts and have a great day🥺🥰.

Hi anon - and yes, I am willing to do so. I imagine elves and dwarves probably do have pregnancy cravings, although this was written more on the idea that they don't. Also, I have never been pregnant. I have incredibly limited experience when it comes to pregnancy, so I am so sorry if this is inaccurate. Hope people still enjoy!

(this fic is also centred a lot more around support and reactions than actual pregnancy)

*･༓˚✧ ❝𝐧𝐨𝐧-𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ����𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬❞ ‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « headcanons »

○ Thranduil ○ Legolas ○ Lindir ○ Elrond ○ Thorin ○ Kíli ○

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐢𝐥

✧ Probably the most concerned out of all of the elves.

✧ Thranduil has experienced a loved one having a pregnancy before, of course. But it’s still so… different.

✧ He still loves you, of course, but when he first encounters it there is heavy staring. A brief ask of if you are okay.

✧ When you explain it’s just a sign of human pregnancy then he nods, before realising no-one has told him this.

✧ You only seem him immediately leave (off to yell at the royal doctors for not informing him of this. And asking what other details they are holding back.)

✧ Comes back a little later with a checklist of different symptoms, and asking if they are happening or might happen.

✧ Does consistently get a curious face when he sees you do something.

✧ As you’re eating an odd craving you can tell if he’s there, because you suddenly feel watched. Thranduil doesn’t seem to entirely realise how off-putting this is.

✧ After hearing reports of you sneaking into the royal kitchens to grab a specific sauce (to put on your blackberries, of all things). He quietly pulls you aside and says that you don’t have to sneak around.

✧ All cooks and kitchen workers are under royal orders to make you whatever (there’s a slight haunted look as he says that word) you please.

✧ Will also certainly import a specific food if it cannot easily be found in Mirkwood.

𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬

✧ Definitely depends on the time being post or pre-Fellowship.

✧ If it’s pre-Fellowship he’s a lot more perplexed by it. He won’t question you, but he’s politely curious about it.

✧ “You mean to say that these things… taste nice together? But, meleth nîn, how?”

✧ Goes to ask his father. Which is entirely unhelpful, as Thranduil has few answers either - at least on the odd cravings side of pregnancy.

✧ Comes back to you with a smile, and whatever food you’d recently been angling, before presenting it to you and giving you a small kiss. 

✧ “I hope you enjoy it, my cestaedas.”

✧ Post-Fellowship he’s a lot more accepting and less immediately confused about it.

✧ You want a flavour combination that he would only eat a knife-point? You have most adventurous taste, and of course he’d be happy to get it for you.

✧ Will sometimes try a bit of your random concoctions if you allow him (he has a surprisingly good record, helped mainly by the use of puppy-dog eyes).

✧ It always makes you smile to see his face afterwards, either a polite attempt to hide disgust or genuine, obvious shock that it tastes nice.

✧ Has joked once or twice, while eating one of your cravings he enjoys, that you’re corrupting him.

𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ Lindir really, truly loves you. Which is why he’s willing to put up with all of the combinations that you’re craving.

✧ As an elf, he has heightened senses. Heightened senses that do not particularly agree with some of the combinations you consume.

✧ He’s slightly more sensitive to the aromas (and imagined tastes) than some elves are, so it can occasionally be a struggle for him depending on what you’re eating.

✧ Still completely supports you, and reminds you everyday that just because his body reacts adversely to it doesn’t mean he loves you any less.

✧ (Also makes you promise to indulge your cravings if you want to; don’t make his slightly discomfort a priority in your pregnancy.)

✧ Privately, he asks Elrond if cravings are a sign of anything wrong. Feels better after being well-informed, that it’s natural. A sign that often comes up in a healthy pregnancy.

✧ Stands up against the watching eyes in Rivendell as well. None of the elves are judgemental - merely curious - but he knows how eyes on you can feel.

✧ Validates any worries or insecurities that it’s wrong or gross very well, with reassurances that all of this is natural, and that he loves you regardless.

𝐄𝐥𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐝

✧ Has witnessed enough pregnancies to know the body can be… unusual during the time period.

✧ Also researches a lot about human pregnancies to ensure that he can safely provide for you.

✧ So, when cravings come he’s prepared for it. And slightly… disturbed isn’t the right word.

✧ Because he knows it’s natural, but in all the pregnancies he’s assisted it hasn’t really happened. So he simply refers to it as ‘new’.

✧ There’s also a tiny bit of curiosity as a healer. Some questions are peppered in here and there, because you are his living, breathing loved one - not just some words on a page.

✧ If you mention you have a craving, it’s often him who will go and get something for you.

✧ Becomes a usual sight to see Lord Elrond in the kitchen, with ingredients that only look slightly insane, while muttering something and taking far too much care in their preparation.

✧ Sometimes, he’ll try and present this dish formally (he’s the kind of person to make a decorative fruit plate with apples carved into swans and so on).

✧ Is rewarded by your slight laugh, which in returns puts a large smile on his face.

𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐧

✧ Is a lot less concerned that most of the elves are.

✧ That still doesn't mean that - the first time you tell him about a craving - he’s not slightly concerned.

✧ Of course he’ll help get it for you, but why. Why do you need this?

✧ As you dig into your food, you see him watching you out of the corner of his eye. A small smile on his face as he watches.

✧ When confronted he simply says he’s curious, and that you look so happy. Even when eating… that.

✧ Thorin does ask the royal physician afterwards, but he does so privately. Still makes quite a lot of notes on it.

✧ Whenever you ask for something, he will always make sure that you can get it as fast as you can.

✧ Even if that means importing things - Erebor isn’t great for a lot of foods - because it’s worth it for his queen.

𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐢

✧ Only thing he’d be truly concerned about is if you started craving non-edible items.

✧ He reads up on a few journals, and discovers some accounts of pregnant women asking for clay or coal.

✧ Does take you by surprise when he asks, with complete sincerity, for you to not eat any minerals while you’re pregnant. Or to at least let a doctor examine them first.

✧ Kíli doesn’t get why you’re so confused when he says it, and he explains to you the journals he’s read.

✧ After preparing for you to eat rocks or dirt for a week or so, Kíli is fairly unfazed by most of your requests after that.

✧ Often he’ll be the person getting your new combos for you - it always makes him smile when you light up at the sight of whatever food he’s made you.

✧ Of everyone, he is also most likely to try and steal it.

✧ “Please, can I just have a little taste? If you and the baby like it so much I’m sure I will!”

A/N : Also - just a heads up, while writing this I've come to the realisation I don't particularly like writing pregnancy fics, and I won't be writing any more centred around pregnancy. I'm pretty sure I'm fine with kid fics, or fics asking what a certain character would be like as a parent - but I don't enjoy writing the pregnancy aspect. Thanks for understanding, and hopefully some people can still enjoy this.

Oh - I forgot to say this, but the term Legolas uses (cestaedas) is intended to mean curiosity, although technically it's a neologisms from various other reconstructions, so this is not official tolkien Sindarin. Still, it's a pretty interesting word.

« masterlist » thank you for reading *･༓˚✧

[artsyannierose]

Do you think it’s in-character for Sonic to like Amy back? I’m curious because some may think it’s not. I’d love to know your thoughts!

HELLO ANON IM GLAD YOU ASKED I HAVE AN EXCUSE TO RANT ABOUT SONIC’S CHARACTER BC I LOVE HIM A LOT AND I FEEL LIKE NO ONE REALLY WANTS TO THINK ABOUT HIM ON HIS OWN!!

short answer: absolutely BUT whether it’s in-character depends on the way his feelings are portrayed.

long answer: Have you ever wondered why everyone has their own personal love language? In this essay I will-

anyway

let’s take a step back and just overview sonic’s character a little bit:

(amy got him those…btw…)

Essentially, at his core, Sonic is a character who values his freedom and the freedom of others at his very core. His main drive to keep moving is motivated by his love for adventure and that thrill of adventure. Romance is never and will never be his top priority, it’ll always be adventure, so y’all gotta understand that first. But his friends come to a close second.

And that’s where the line between romance and friendship starts to blur a little bit. What do I mean by that?

Well let’s look at his relationship with Amy purely as a platonic relationship: Sonic and Amy are the best of friends.

Argue with the wall if you don’t agree idgaf

They hang out quite a bit more than Sonic does with other characters, and Amy is the closest non-sibling relationship that Sonic has. Tails is his little brother; yes they’re close and yes they hang out a lot, but again it’s a very sibling-like bond. That’s not necessarily a bad thing and I’m not dismissing it—I really, REALLY appreciate Tails and Sonic’s relationship. It’s very cute and a very mutual thing in my opinion. A lot of people might say that Sonic only inspires Tails while Tails provides gadgets and brainpower for Sonic, but that’s just not true. FOR ONE SONIC’S CANON IQ LEVEL IS LIKE 178 IF IIRC HE’S SMART GUYS. HE DOES NOT NEED TAILS TO BE HIS BRAIN. HE MADE HIS OWN FRICKING PLANE. But Tails is the person he can always rely on and pretty much talk to about anything. PRETTY much. But there’s also that small underlying role model that Sonic should be for Tails to some extent, because he is Tails’ older brother.

Knuckles is #2 out of Sonic’s closest friends, and his main role is being a rival/challenge to sonic without being a threat to him. They’re still extremely close friends who would die for each other after all. They bicker and Sonic does love to tease knuckles quite a bit since knux is so quick to get angry. But they still respect each other and know that they can rely on each other. Also lowkey they’re kinda the not-so-friendly homie relationship; if tails and sonic are wholesome homies, knux and sonic are the “we beat each other up /aff” homies

and then we have Amy. Sonic’s closest female friend. genuinely argue with the wall if you can’t see that. SONIC DOES NOT HATE AMY HE VALUES HER AS A FRIEND AND CLOSE COMRADE sorry i hate people who say sonic can’t stand amy are you guys THAT media illiterate

So Amy is the closest thing that Sonic has to a friend who is a complete equal to Sonic, and let me explain why I say that AMY is his equal, and not someone like Metal Sonic or Shadow.

First off, Amy is not in any way a rival to Sonic. Sure she’s been paired against him multiple times in Team Sonic vs Team Rose, but it’s all on friendly terms and sillies. Second, she’s the one of the ONLY character who shares the exact same thirst for adventure that Sonic does. Heck i’m pretty sure one of her opening lines in Sonic Adventure was something along the lines of “it’s so boring when Sonic’s not around.” She doesn‘t care much for a normal, mundane lifestyle anymore than Sonic does. yes she’s a little more grounded than Sonic is in general and likes doing stationary things like baking and gardening, but she still gets bored easily. Her idea of fun can consist of picking flowers or decimating badniks (i love her sm)

Lastly there’s no strings attached to her love for Sonic, she just loves him for who he is and who he inspires her to be. Her favorite thing about him is his free spirit, which heaven forbid she ever tie down. The second she expressed that to Sonic, he was IMMEDIATELY became much more comfortable around her, because he understood where she was coming from and what her true intentions were. After that he started hanging out with her way more often and he was also really comfortable with her in general (i’m talking specifically about the idw comics here). He can talk to her about just about any problem because she understands; she’s been with him much longer than most others. Bro she was introduced before Knuckles, technically speaking…and she’s gone through the same experiences and adventures that he has. The only thing that Tails has different from Amy in terms of being able to talk about problems is that in the past I feel like Sonic has wanted to protect Tails from certain things (though this seems to have changed in Frontiers with Tails’ whole thing being more independent and growing up) but he really doesn’t have to do that with Amy because he doesn’t have the same older sibling urges if ykwim.

tldr: amy’s sonic’s bestie that is most like him who’s also on equal footing with him

(rip tails in the bg)

Okay then, now let’s talk rOmAnCE

Sonic’s history in the romance department has been….messy to say the least. Always baffles me because Amy has been right there the whole time…

And it seems to me that each time Sonic is depicted in a steady, strong relationship, at least some part of his core character is sacrificed for that. I feel like this is especially evident in the Archie Comics, like, you mean to tell me Sonic willingly accepts becoming king and staying tied to a kingdom?? Like that’s not inherently wrong but that’s definitely not game Sonic—that is Archie Sonic AND THATS FINE. its just a different iteration of Sonic, like how movie Sonic is drastically different from game Sonic

yeah this?? i hate this. a lot. why was he such a ladies’ man in the pre-reboot archie comics 😭 ALSO DONT TELL HIM TO SLOW DOWN STOP THAT

DONT KILL ME HANG ON, I ACTUALLY LIKE REBOOT SONALLY. I THINK ITS VERY CUTE

this? this is adorable and feels like sonic⬆️

this?? sorry i cant take it seriously

im not talking about sonelise tyvm

And that’s why I don’t even like the idea of sonic really settling down with amy perse idk if that’s a hot take 🫣

he needs someone who’s willing to basically either drop everything and travel wherever he goes or be willing to tag along whenever needed even if they’re busy, and amy does that pretty well

Amy doesn’t mind following Sonic to the ends of the earth and to hell and back if needed. which sonic team knew exactly what they were doing crafting her character to fit sonic’s its literally a match made in heaven aksjfnhehgfrlsfnegraojvr

Anyways’s the big question:

Is it in character for Sonic to like Amy?

Well why don’t we look at a few examples where his feelings are either strongly hinted at or outright shown

Ima start with Frontiers cause it’s the most recent mainline content we have

I hope we all know about the (scrapped?) open-world voicelines…

”Wish we were sharing an umbrella Amy…”

…sir?? sonic?? sonic the hedgehog?????? WOULD YOU LIKE TO REPEAT THAT-

sonic is originally japanese. sharing an umbrella in japan means you’re a couple. i rest my case.

I REST MY CASE

do i. even have to elaborate.

thanks sonic for being so dense for 3 decades😒

so essentially that indicates that he HAS made up his mind now? and it’s pretty obvious as to what considering the way he treated her pretty much the entirety of Frontiers

mostly the thing with frontiers sonic is that all of this is to himeslf, like a soliloquy…more on that in a sec

~

We could talk about the IDW comics but most of that is a little too subtle for me to call really “returning the feelings” and im lowkey too lazy to go find the panels im thinking of so maybe i’ll do that some other time

however i’ll just leave this:

casual familiarity how i adore you (HE JUST GRABS HER NO SECOND THOUGHTS IM CRYING)

~

you think i was gonna make a long essay post on sonamy and not talk about sonic x?? did you?? DID YA???

*explodes*

HOW IS IT THAT THIS WAS LIKE IN 2003 AND WE STILL HAVENT GOTTEN A BETTER SONAMY MOMENT THAN THIS ITS TRULY TIMELESS…

BIG INHALE OKAY SO i think the major takeaways from this are

This is a private moment

Amy matters a LOT to Sonic

Sonic’s not one for words but rather actions

One, yeah, this is something that is special to Amy and Sonic, to the point where even the audience doesn’t know what he said to her because its muted (stellar choice in my opinion because it adds a lot more weight to them) but its pretty obvious that he either said “Aishiteru, Emi” or “Daisuki, Emi”, both of which mean “i love you Amy” on a pretty deep level. But the point is that its between them and between them only. Even later in season 3 when Amy talks about it, she’s deliberately cut off before she can repeat what Sonic said to her that day. Obviously this isn’t supposed to be public knowledge

Two, the context is that Sonic has literally been stuck on another planet for quite some time, and most people either gave up on him ever returning or thought he was dead. But not Amy. And guess what? The first place he goes to—he literally BEELINES there as Super Sonic—is straight to Amy’s house. He wanted to see her first and likely reassure him that he was okay because he knew that she’d be worried sick. Also I think he just missed her in general…

Three, he knows what a white (or lavender idc) rose means and deliberately chose that flower to give to her upon his return. And again with the muted words, his actions speak louder to us as an audience than a simple “i looooove you amyyy” and this is generally a common theme with Sonic, especially in Sonic X (probably the most accurate representation of Sonic outside the games).

btw this can be taken as platonic but man do i want to yap about it:

amy KNOWS sonic can’t swim and even in her barely conscious state she tells him to basically leave her for dead. HIS SAFETY IS STILL HER TOP PRIORITY. but does sonic listen? nahhh. there were literally hundreds of other people perfectly capable of rescuing amy but noooo he went in and dove after her because HIS top priority was HER safety

again, actions speak louder than words

also the whole thing how he didn’t just restring the bracelet she made him, no, her tied a new string to the original ones and went and got more shells?? that are found next to his biggest fear??? yeah that speaks volumes about how much he treasures that lil gift of hers

lastly its kind of small but i really appreciate how he just lets her hug him and reciprocates too? it’s very adorable

so more sonamy huggies for the soul <3

THE “AMES” GET ME EVERYTIME AAAAAAAAAAA

and actually sonic doesn’t really do physical intimacy that isn’t teasing, like remember when TAILS’ GIRLFRIEND JUST D I E D AND HE DIDNT HUG HIM (i have a bone to pick with sonic here)..

idk sonic is generally a not very emotional character; he can’t cry, he doesn’t get angry, he can’t blush, all these mandates indicating he keeps his emotions to himself

the largest range of emotions we see in sonic are whenever he’s with amy; confusion, fear, embarassment, flusteredness, etc.

~

most other iterations of sonic are some sort of au or canon divergent so i wont talk about those buuut lmk if i missed something im sure i did

SO. IN CONCLUSION.

what have we learned? (i sound like a teacher)

Sonic values freedom over everything

amy doesn’t want to take away Sonic’s freedom, she wants to join him

Sonic doesn’t mind Amy’s affection as long as she’s not overwhelming

sonic is pretty private when it comes to his feelings or intimate moments with amy or anything else really

and i have one final thing that i want to bring up to drive my point home that some people may not take as canon but hey it exists

well there you go! that’s sonic’s characterization. yes he likes amy but isn’t showy about it. that’s essentially what i’ve been building up to.

he’s not gonna go yell to the world that he loves his girlfriend sososososo much but like in private? hell yeah (though rn its more like they both know that amy loves sonic, duh, but they also both know that sonic likes amy and they’re just chilling with it, not quite dating but two friends that know they like each other)

And me personally? i like to see them as top notch battle couple with an hair tearing amount of romantic tension lol cause yeah thats my jammm

oh and then theres boom sonamy with the most amount of sexual tension ive ever seen between cartoon hedgehogs

So to answer your question directly: yes it’s in character for sonic to like amy as long as it’s mostly a private thing between him and her <3

my lang teacher wishes i could write with this much passion on my argumentative essays

ok bye thanks for coming to my ted talk have an absopositively splenderrific day 🙈

[maxinesgun]

hii, i loveddd ur last fic and was wondering if u could write jealous (but sweet) shane?? if ur up for it ofc ! either way btw I LOVE UR WRITING + THANK U FOR WRITING SHANE HER FICS ARE SO RARE

jealousy, jealousy ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

shane mccutcheon x fem!reader

jealous!shane, smoking, some fluff, established relationship, oblivious reader, implied nsfw at the end. wc 2.1k ᡣ𐭩

a/n: tysm anon!! love this request because i was definitely planning to write jealous shane are you kidding me? also sorry that the writing has slowed down, school has started back up again and I've been sick for the last week so I've been fighting for my life

It was almost the last straw for you when you reached into your bag and found that your wallet wasn’t there.

The first had been sleeping through your alarm, and the second was when someone had cut you off on the road, prompting you to let out a very rational string of curses. After throwing on the fist decent outfit you’d found in your closet and rushing out of the house faster than you probably ever had in your life, all you wanted was coffee to give you the strength to last through this day. That was why you’d taken your lunch break to head to your and Shane’s favourite coffee shop, conveniently close to your place of work and the gym she frequented.

Apparently, some caffeine was too much to ask for.

“God, I’m sorry, I must have forgotten my wallet,” you sighed to the guy behind the register, feeling more defeated than annoyed as you continued to rummage through your purse, as if expecting it to suddenly appear. You cast a glance over your shoulder to the glass doors hopefully, but Shane wasn’t here yet. She’d texted you saying she’d be there in five minutes or so.

You gave him an apologetic smile and were about to go sit and wait at one of the tables when a voice and a light tap on your shoulder drew your attention. “Excuse me, is this yours?”

The voice belonged to a pretty woman with blonde hair tied up in a ponytail and a smattering of freckles across her high cheekbones. Her smile was sweet and friendly, and she was holding out to you what was, sure enough, your wallet. 

You let out a relieved breath, giving her a look of gratitude as you took it from her. “Wow, I thought I lost it. Thank you. Seriously.”

“Found it out in the parking lot,” she said, pointing a thumb over her shoulder. “Trust me, it’s happened to me a few times.” The small laugh she let out was bubbly, the kind that made you want to automatically return it.

“You’re a lifesaver,” you said, holding up the wallet and flashing her a grin before moving back to the register to order your and Shane’s regulars. 

You stood by the counter to wait, and when the woman finished ordering for herself, she moved to stand beside you. 

“Heading to work?” she asked conversationally, her eyes flicking over your work attire.

You nodded, glancing down at yourself briefly. “Yeah. I’m on my break, actually,” you said with a smile. “I needed a coffee fix. If one more thing went wrong for me today, I’d be driving off a cliff right now.” 

She laughed again, a little too hard, in your opinion, at what hadn’t even been all that funny. Still, the smile on your lips grew a bit. Maybe you were just underestimating your own charm, here. “So you work around here?” she asked, to which you nodded. “So do I, actually. I own a flower shop on Millers.”

“No way! I’m down there a lot. You’ll have to tell me what it’s called so I can check it out sometime.”

The conversation flowed easily, drifting from discussing work to what you did for fun nearby. You were a little surprised by how easy it was, normally not being one for small talk in the slightest, but she was warm and attentive, reaching over to touch your arm once or twice as she laughed at some small quip you made.

The door swung open in your peripheral, and you glanced over to see Shane striding over to you with that relaxed, easy swagger she had. You shot her a grin as she made her way over, and she returned it, the corner of her lips crooking up, though you noticed that her eyes were flicking between you and the woman in front of you questioningly.

“Hey,” you greeted her, holding out the coffee you’d ordered for her.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” she said a little breathlessly, her hand brushing over your back lightly as she took the cup. A light, casually intimate touch. You were so caught up in smiling up at her in admiration that you’d forgotten momentarily that there was someone else standing right there. “Who’s this?” Shane asked, looking from you to the woman with an unreadable expression on her face.

“Oh! Right. This is…” you gestured to the woman, who was now glancing between you and Shane with a faint smile, but your words trailed off as you drew a blank. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I got your name,” you said with a laugh.

“It’s Sam,” she offered with a chuckle. “Or Samantha. But Sam’s fine.”

“Shane,” she introduced herself with a tight smile when Sam’s eyes turned back to her expectantly.

“Sam found my wallet. Apparently I dropped it in the parking lot,” you told Shane, who was taking a sip of her coffee, eyes roving over Sam as if sizing her up. “She was just telling me about the flower shop she owns downtown. We probably passed it before. Isn’t that cool?”

“Very cool,” Shane said in a noncommittal tone, eyebrows raising slightly. 

“You should definitely drop by sometime! I’d love to see you there,” Sam said brightly, eyes focused on you. “Bright yellow awning. Can’t miss it. Here, I’ll give you my card.” She began digging around in the satchel hanging from her shoulder. As she did, you felt Shane’s hand on your back again. It snaked around your waist, tugging you against her subtly.

When Sam straightened up, holding out a small business card between two fingers, you took it, eyes scanning over the picture on the front. “Don’t feel obligated to come, of course. I just thought… you know,” she said. You could feel her eyes on you as you flipped it over, murmuring your compliments about how it looked like a cute place. “That is such a pretty necklace on you, by the way,” she smiled, causing you to look up in some surprise as you touched a hand to your chest, flattered by the sudden compliment.

You thanked her just as Shane abruptly turned to you, reaching out to take the business card. “Can I see this?” She took it, studying it for all of two seconds. “Yep, there it is. Yellow awning,” she said flatly, her tone dripping sarcasm as she held up the card. She was smiling, but it was unnaturally tense—the kind of smile you plastered on to hide your irritation. “That is really great. Would you excuse us for a second?”

You looked at her, your brows slightly narrowed in confusion. She clearly wasn’t happy, you could see that much, but you didn’t know why she’d be in such a mood. Before you could open your mouth to say something to her, Sam did first.

“Of course, you probably have somewhere to be! Don’t let me hold you up.” She flashed another sweet smile at the both of you, picking up her coffee. “So nice to meet you!”

You had hardly finished returning her goodbye before you were practically being whisked out the door by Shane, her hand on your waist gentle but firm. “Hey—What are you doing? We just got here,” you protested as she pushed the door open, leading you outside.

“We can sit in my car,” she responded shortly, as if that made any sense at all. You relented, following her over to her car and watching as she pulled the door open and ducked in. You slid into the passenger seat beside her, the doors kept wide open.

You watched as she set her coffee down in the cupholder and immediately began rummaging around in the armrest, the sharp line of her jaw tensed. “Shane,” you said, but either she didn’t hear you or was too distracted to respond as she pulled out her pack of cigarettes, promptly pulling one out and sticking it between her lips.

Your brows raised slightly as she grabbed her lighter and lit up. She rarely smoked in the middle of the day like this. “Shane,” you repeated, a bit louder this time.

“What?” she asked innocently, looking over at you with the cigarette dangling from her lips.

“You want to tell me what that was? What, you didn’t like her?”

She took a long drag before just staring at you for a moment, as if unable to tell whether or not you were joking. “She was hitting on you.”

“What?” You laughed in disbelief. “No she wasn’t.” Sure, she’d been all smiles and had paid you a nice compliment, but that didn’t mean it was flirting.

Shane gave you that deadpan look again. “Yes, she was.”

“Maybe she was just being friendly. How do you know she’s not straight?”

She scoffed. “She’s not straight.”

“She could be straight.”

“I saw where her eyes were going.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, attempting to play at indignant but unable to help the grin that played across your lips. “What are you talking about?” 

Shane exhaled, a puff of smoke unfurling from her lips, as her gaze fell very pointedly to your chest before moving back up, the motion exaggerated. 

“She was looking at my necklace. She complimented it,” you protested, rolling your eyes.

“Are you kidding? That’s, like, the oldest trick in the book,” Shane pointed out, exasperated. “You want to check out someone’s tits, but you can’t be too obvious, so you focus on the jewelry. ‘Oh, hey, I like your necklace. It looks so pretty on you.’ See what I did there?”

Your gaze trailed from her to a spot out the window as you fell back against your seat, considering her words. It did make sense. And Shane would know, after all. She had probably pulled it herself once or twice. 

“Huh,” was all you said, your mind turning over the previous interaction in light of this new information. You weren’t displeased by it; it had been awhile since you’d been flirted with. Or maybe you got hit on all the time but just completely failed to notice, if today was any indication.

“Yeah. Huh.” You felt her gaze lingering on you for a few moments before she turned back to the window, taking another drag. “N’ since when have you ever wanted to go to a flower shop?” she mumbled, disgruntled.

The grouchiness in the remark caught your attention, and you breathed a laugh, leaning over on the armrest. “Oh, come on,” you said teasingly, your grin only growing when she shot you an unamused look. You couldn’t help it—it was cute, the way she was pouting, the little scowl on her face. “I don’t, babe.”

“That’s not what you said in there,” she said stubbornly.

“I promise.” You leaned forward to pinch her cheeks in your hand, just to make her pay attention to you, to which she batted your hand away lightly. Your heart gave a sudden clench of affection as your eyes roamed over her face. “I do kinda like it when you’re jealous, though.” Your voice was soft, teasing.

“I’m not jealous,” she muttered, huffing a little. “I just didn’t like seeing her be all… touchy. And smiley.” She made a face.

You plucked the cigarette out of her hand, leaning back in your seat. With a sound of protest, Shane reached for it, grinning despite herself as she practically fell over you. She braced herself with an arm against the seat, your faces inches apart. “Give that back.”

You held the cigarette out of reach, your other hand coming up to cup her face, your thumb brushing over her lips. God, she was pretty. “You’re right. Only you get to do those things,” you said as you pressed a soft kiss to her mouth. “No one else.” You kissed her again, a little longer this time, and you heard her give a low grumble in her throat as she kissed you back. At the same time, her hand tangled with yours to retrieve the cigarette.

“Yeah?” she said in a low voice when she pulled back, her eyes still glued to your mouth. Her head lifted briefly to give a quick glance around before looking back down at you, that familiar mischievous glint in her eyes. “You want to prove it to me?”

The corner of your lips quirked up, your stomach giving a little flutter at the way she was staring at you. “Prove it to you how?”

She smirked, knowing you knew exactly what she meant. “How much time do you have left?”

You quickly dug around for your phone, clicking it on to check the time, then promptly dropped it back into your purse. You grabbed her cigarette again, this time earning no protest, and tossed it out the door, swinging a leg out and using the heel of your boot to grind it into the pavement. “Enough.”

[yan-randomfandom]

HIIIIIIII I love your writing alot!!!! Soo, I wanna request something:3

Maybe a Yandere Stanford Pines x GN reader who only saw him as a close friend? They became friends when they were still in high-school up to this day! (Yes, reader did sort of wait 30 years for Ford and never forgot about him)

Maybe just Stanford obsessing over Reader romantically, and Reader just think him as the greatest best-friend ever!!

I LOVE ONE SIDED PINNING OKAY????

Stanford Pines x GN!Reader

UM UH,,, IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG ANON— and it's something I'm not even proud of 😭😭

context btw; reader doesn't know about weirdmaggedon or fake death or entire lore, they dont tell them anything uhhh idk anymore

You took the bus to Gravity Falls! Stanley reached out to you after decades of not having contact. It was a bit sudden, but there's no way you're going to ignore his call.

Stanley Pines was the first man you saw when the Mystery Shack's door opened. Wrinkly, exhausted widened eyes looked at you in silence. He looked unprepared... kind of crusty musty... and very unhygienic.

"You look disgusting! I'm gonna hug you anyway!" you beamed, pulling him in for a big hug. Unwillingly, a strong whiff of his scent hits your nose. "You stink too! You haven't changed a bit, Stanley."

"Glad to know ya missed me," he laughed, giving you an affectionate noogie.

When Stan finally let you go, you looked up to see Ford. He stood in front of you, speechless as he stared into your eyes.

"...Ford," you grinned, walking towards him. In curiosity, you placed your palms on both his cheeks. He seemed to relax with your touch. "You changed a lot."

Your eyes, while they've wrinkled, are as warm as the day he last saw them. He smiled back, his large hand covering one of yours. Your smile widened when you saw his fingers. "And you aged beautifully."

Poetic as always! A laugh bubbled up your throat as you wrapped your arms around him.

He quickly returned the gesture, burying his face into your neck. He missed this. He missed you.

Your warmth didn't change. Fascinating.

"I missed you, man! How come you're such a silver fox now? Good for you!"

"I still have no idea what a silver fox is," he chuckled, already longing for you the second you pulled away from him.

Ford merely stood there for a few moments before he grimaced. Damn it. He still likes you, doesn't he?

It's been more than thirty years already. He thought he would have moved on, especially after the whole weirdmaggedon thing. Why would Stanley ever get the idea of calling you back here??

All of you now sat at the table with you in between the Pines twins. Mabel wore an apron, sophisticatedly offering you tea. The sweetheart made the recipe herself!

"So, how have you been doing these days?" Ford asked, resting his cheek on his palm. Every passing second with you, he gets reminded more and more of why he used to like you.

You are, after all, the first and only person to not call him any sort of names because of his hands.

"Oh, I mean, I've been financially doing well, and it's been a bit difficult to settle down with a partner... but," you blushed. "I think I finally found the one."

Ford coughed out violently, pounding a fist against his chest. He really shouldn't be surprised. He really shouldn't! You're bound to have found someone!

Get a grip. Fourty. Years.

...He truly had missed out on this dimension for such a long time.

...

The sky is dark. Dipper told you about the roof spot at the shack, and now you're here, thinking about life.

"Dipper said you'd be here," a voice murmured. You looked up and saw Ford walking up to you. Chuckling, you offered him a non-alcoholic drink.

"How many days will you be staying here again?" Ford asked as he sat next to you, sparing a small space between.

"A week at most," you shrugged, kicking your legs at the edge. Ford simply stared at you.

"I guess it'll be forever before we see you again, huh?" he mumbled.

You turned to him with a smile. "Of course not. You guys are invited to my wedding."

... Wedding.

A small huff left your lips. "We're so old now. I still remember being in high school and grouping up with you and Stan for a trio. Good times."

Ford continued staring at you.

"You guys are my best friends. Probably not now, I mean, been decades since we last talked. That reminds me, what made you call—"

Ford suddenly interrupted you with a hug.

"Woah, Fordsy, you miss me that much?" you laughed, hugging him back.

Don't call him that. His arms around you tightened.

You simply let him hug you.

It was such a long one.

And it only grew tighter by the second.

Like he never wanted to let you go again.

but his aim is getting better 🗣️

i love your idea so much btw, i too am a fan of one-sided pining.... the desperation yk.. I THINK I JUST SUCK AT WRITING FOR THAT WHAT 😟 (says the yandere blog)

[aviiarie]

Hiiiii, if you don't mind, can I please ask for something romantic with Blade in a soulmates au? Being his soulmate seems like such a doomed concept, lol

“𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄.” — feat. blade.

synopsis. you are blade's soulmate. and you pay the price for it, over and over again.

✦ contents. tw: slightly graphic blood & violence, and a lot of death. soulmates au. gn!reader. angst, no comfort. slightly open-ended. 1.8k words.

✦ notes. requested by anon for my event! i saw the words 'soulmates' and 'doomed' and didn't think twice. um this kind of ends on a cliff-hanger? or unsatisfyingly at least. that was intentional btw. idk how happy i am with how it turned out though.

The day Blade met you for the very first time, was the day you bled out in his arms. 

You were a stranger; a forgettable face, amidst a sea of even more forgettable faces. There was no reason for him to care when he heard your scream, cutting across the battlefield like a siren. The sound melted into the clamour of scraping metal and wounded cries, as easily as a single note of a flute disappears within a symphony.

And yet, it made him pause. 

His own sword was slick with blood, having already carved a gruesome path across the battlefield. There were bodies at his feet–some still wheezing out their final breaths, others already gone–but it was you who caught his attention. The cry was harrowing, rendering every other noise forgotten.

The haze in his vision began to clear, the mara loosened its hold, and for the first time in a while he felt something odd: clarity.

A strange, prickly sensation settled a layer beneath his skin, urging him to go, find them, help them, help them, help them. It was as if his limbs were tied with puppet strings, forcing him into a run towards the source of the scream. All around him, the fighting continued, but no one paid him any mind as he tore through the battle.

He found you on the other side of the field, lying on the grass with a closed fist pressed to your side. An arc of red dripped from your fingers to the ground, forming a sickly puddle under your shredded armour. As he fell to his knees by your side, compelled by something he couldn’t properly describe if he tried, you looked up and met his eye, mouth falling open.

“Oh…” You murmured, gazing at him like he was an angel. “Oh… oh, I didn’t know… it’s you.”

Blade’s throat tightened, as he glanced between your watery eyes and the wound you were holding. He didn’t understand it; he was a witness to death more times than he could count, the source of it in many instances. There was no reason for your death to be any different, so why did he feel like he was going to throw up?

“It’s you, isn’t it?” You choked up, tears welling in your eyes. The sight made him sick. “Soulmate?”

Soulmate. A foreign concept, but one he was acquainted with. It was intertwined with Destiny itself, written into the scripts that ‘he’ pored over so obsessively.

“Soulmate?” He croaked out. You smiled weakly, reaching out your free hand to touch his cheek.

“Soulmate,” You agreed, moving to rest your palm on his chest, right over the spot where his heart was pounding. “You feel it too, don’t you? The… the feeling pulling us together?”

He did. All of the puppet strings–destiny, fate, or whatever they were to be called–were pulling him towards you. Blade nodded stiffly, and you breathed out a wheezing laugh.

“S-So that’s it, then…” You sighed, releasing your hold on your wound and letting your arms fall loose like a ragdoll. Without your fist blocking his view, Blade could see just how bad the injury was. “I’ve always wanted to meet you. I was scared I was going to die before I did. But… I guess this is fine…”

“No…” Blade murmured, every sense in his body screaming at him to save them, help them, soulmate, soulmate, soulmate. “No… you can’t die. Not when I’ve just met you.”

It’s a laugh that you responded with, but the sound was bittersweet. “I don’t think I have a choice.” 

“No!” Blade’s voice was desperate. “No, no. There has to be another way.”

“Meet me again, okay? In the next life…” You coughed weakly, blood dribbling down the corner of lips and down your chin. Blade gently wipes away the streak of red, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “B-Buy me flowers… take me out for dinner... and we’ll try again.”

“No…” Blade mumbled. He tugged you into his arms, so you were practically splayed out across his lap. Another cough worked its way past your lips, and he pulled you even closer. “Please…”

“Next time…” You breathed out. Your chest rose and fell with every breath stuttered out, slowly and weakening, until it stopped altogether. 

—

When Blade meets you again, you are not a soldier. Your face has changed, as well your hairstyle and attire, but the insistent tug in his chest is the exact same feeling he felt all those years ago. Even in a crowded town square, on a planet he couldn’t remember the name of, the outline of your soul glows in his mind, shining like a beacon.

He stops in his tracks, scanning the shops and stalls on either side to find some trace of the soul he sensed. You were so close, he could practically reach out and grasp your hand, and yet he couldn’t quite pinpoint where.

There.

He broke into a run, his mission left far behind as he followed his instincts. They pulled him through the crowd, by shopkeepers and civilians that grumbled as he pushed past, leading to a cozy flower stand at the end of the street.

You look up at his approach, almost dropping the flowers in your hands. Your mouth is agape, and your eyes are teary, but there is familiarity staring back at him.

“Oh, it’s you. I was wondering when I would meet you,” You laugh, and Blade’s heart soars.

It’s a blur, the conversation that follows. He learns your name, and he learns you are nothing more than a merchant selling flowers. Quietly, he is grateful for the humble life you seemed to be leading. It was nothing like your previous self, in all your bloodstained, armour-clothed glory, and he couldn’t be more thankful.

“Tell me about yourself, though.” You finally pause your rambling, smiling with flushed cheeks. “I’ve talked about myself enough. What about you?”

“I…” Blade trails off, considering what he could say. His life was one that was long and wrought with destruction, and you were a perfectly unblemished flower, whose petals would crumple under his touch. Seeking you out was selfish enough, letting you carve his place in your life would only taint it.  

“I am unimportant. You’d best not be concerned about who I am.” Blade says simply, moving slightly away, so you were out of his reach. “I need to leave.”

You frown, stepping closer. “That’s not fair. Don’t I get to know your name, at least? Soulmate?”

“You may call me Blade,” He says, without any more explanation. “I must be going.”

“W-Wait!” You call out, breaking out of your stupor to catch his sleeve. As he turns, you press a delicate white lily into his hands. “Take this. When it wilts… find me again, and I’ll give you a new one.”

Blade stares at the flower, running a thumb down the stem and over the soft petals. It is dainty, fragile. In his hands, it would only be ruined.

And yet, he tucks it into his sleeve anyway.

You smile at him as he leaves, something sad in your eyes that he doesn’t have the heart to unravel. As he turns his back, he can still feel your gaze on his retreating form, watching as he disappears into the street.

It ends, predictably.

He is a half-second too late, feeling the drop in his stomach a moment before he sees your body fall to the ground. He lunges forward, falling by your side. The assailant–masked, armed, and a damn coward–is already running. 

“No,” He mutters. There are hot, angry tears in his eyes, threatening to spill over. It was only a week after he saw you for the first time, but he’d been keeping his distance, hoping if he stayed far enough away he could spare you from misfortune. But fate is cruel, and it tips back its head and laughs as he crumples over your body.

A part of him is screaming to run after your attacker, to spill his organs all over the pretty paved streets, just as he has spilled your blood over them, but the idea of leaving your side hurts. 

“Stay with me,” He begs, holding onto your wound, as if there was any way to staunch the bleeding. It was no use, the blade had pierced your chest too precisely. If you weren’t already gone, you would be soon.

You shakily clasp your hand around his wrist, mumbling out a few words. “See you–See you next time, Blade.”

—

It carries on in a similar manner, for the next few centuries. Every lifetime Blade finds you (he stops counting, after a while), and it ends the same way. After a while, all of the lifetimes blur together, until he can barely tell which is which.

In some, you are a warrior as violent as himself. In others, you are an artist. In some, he finds you, and in others, you find him. The only common thread, the one thing that connects every one, is your inevitable demise.

He stops trying to seek you out. When he feels the tug on his chest, he ignores his instincts and walks the other way, hoping to let the memory of you fade, so you may live your lives parallel to each other; close, but never meeting. Somehow, you manage to find him every time anyway, and before he knows it, his vow to keep his distance is tossed aside.

This time though, he doesn’t even get a chance to meet you. 

He feels you again–the phantom pull, the burning in his soul–and all thoughts of his mission are forgotten. The feeling of his sword is heavy in his hands, but it is nothing compared to the sinking in his chest.

Something was wrong.

This time, he doesn’t wait. He does not pause, he doesn’t think about the way he will be reprimanded for straying from his target. He only thinks of you.

The thought leads him through a massacre, decorating the cobbled streets with crimson. The path itself is pathed with bloodshed, littered with corpses in various states of dismemberment. The longer he walks, the more it becomes clear that he isn’t looking for a person this time; he is looking for a body. There is no life he can sense around him, but your connection–feeble, and waning as it may be–urges him forward. 

Finally, it stops him right before one.

The sight of your corpse, as mangled and gruesome as it may be, no longer fazes him. He stands, pausing long enough to pay his respects, before retreating with a heaviness in his steps.

He will meet you again, in the next life.

🏷️ taglist: @tragedy-of-commons, @mollzaj, @mikashisus, @starcharmed.

© aviiarie 2024. do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai

[fixated-cookies]

Question!!~

would burning spice have a size kink? If so, what would he do with it? I NEED to hear you thoughts omg..I’m drooling bro😻

(Btw may I be 🕊️ anon?)

Burning Spice Cookie 1000% has a size kink. He's massive. Towering. Thick. Covered in heat and hunger and barely-restrained destruction—and he loves the way you look so small compared to him. He gets off on the difference between you.

Your smaller frame? Your trembling thighs? The way your hands can’t wrap all the way around his forearm—let alone his cock? It drives him wild.He’ll press you down, grin wide and sharp, thumb brushing your lower lip as he looms over you like the mountain of heat and power he is. He lifts you like you weigh nothing. Holds both your wrists in one hand. Spreads your legs open with his thigh alone. Uses his fingers first—one, then two, then three. And they stretch you, make you squirm, drip, moan that it’s too much— "This? Too much? Hah! Then what’ll you do when I’m inside you, pretty little thing?" and then when your thighs tremble. "You're shaking already, and I’ve barely even started." When he does finally fuck you?

He goes slow at first, just to watch your face twist from the stretch. He wants to see your lips quiver, your nails scrape his back, your belly bulge from how deep he reaches.

"Look at that. I can see me inside you."

And oh, if you beg for more?

He loses it. He loves hearing you whimper that he’s too big—especially if your body won’t stop clenching, soaking him, taking more anyway. "So small, so tight, and still greedy. Hah! You’re a brave one." You’re stretched, stuffed, already squirming—and he hasn’t even moved yet. One hand’s gripping your thigh, the other planted by your head, and his hips are pressed so deep into you that you feel him in your throat "Hah… you feel that, little one? That stretch? That heat?" You'll be squeaking and mewling as groans. "That’s not love. That’s ruin. That’s me splitting you in two." He’s grinning like a beast. You’re gasping, clawing at his shoulders, babbling nonsense—and that just fuels him. Because destruction isn’t just something he causes—it’s in his blood. And when he finally has you beneath him, crying, twitching, gasping his name like it’s the only word you remember?

That’s when the Great Destroyer finally lets go. Slams you down into the bed, your body jolting with every brutal thrust—raw, hot, relentless. Each motion is heavy, powerful, like his hips are trying to burn themselves into your bones. He pins your wrists, spreads your legs.And fucks you so deep you swear you can feel him in your belly, grinning like a beast as he watches your mind go fuzzy and your voice break from the overstimulation. "Let me watch you break for me."

And the sounds—oh, gods, the sounds. The slap of skin on skin, the squelch of how wet you are, your cries mixing with his growls, every one of his moans low and guttural like he’s breathing smoke and devouring you whole.

And when he finishes?

He doesn't pull out. He doesn't stop. "Still twitching? Good. Let’s see if your body can survive round two."

---

brooo ive been feeling very unwell ughhh, but i got this one out! Im actualy very excited for the influx of ask in my box tehehee. I kinda hate how short my works have been becoming but I've been running out of ideas and fuel so i just write what i can so hopefully that doesnt upset anyone!

[lust4lore]

(finnick + cockwarming pretty please i’ll give you my firstborn child)

anon, i’m in love with you. take all of the forehead kisses. all of them. (btw, call me when that child is born!)

A/N: originally, this was gonna be something where reader and finnick are at a party and it’s kind of public, he’s a little meaner, but i think voyeurism as well as denying his girl anything she wants is a little ooc for him so i chose this instead. i still have the outline of the og, though, so if you’d be interested in reading that and are willing to excuse it lmk!

CW: cockwarming— mind you, fluffy cockwarming, because it’s finn!

MDNI, not proofread i cba 😔🫶

finnick odair would do anything for you. shit, he’s braved hell and back twice just for the chance to catch a glimpse of you again. you’re his world, the love of his life, and the last thing he wants is to see you upset.

which is why, when you entered your shared bedroom with a quivering bottom lip and glistening eyes, he dropped everything immediately.

“hey, hey, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” he had asked gently, brows pinching together as concern started seeping in. he beckoned you over to where he sat with open arms, and you gladly went. he pulled you onto his lap, warm hands cupping your face as he searched your eyes for any indication of what the problem could be. “talk to me,” he murmured, anxiety forming a pit in his stomach when you didn’t give him an immediate response.

it had been a long day. all the noise, all the people, all the feelings had gotten to you, and you just needed finnick. needed to turn off your brain in the way only he could. “jus’ had a busy day, too much going on and-” you sniffed, looking up into those sea green eyes and feeling a distant pang of guilt at the panic that was rising in them. “i need you, finn,”

realization flickered across his features and his lips parted before he pressed them together again, his gaze shifting from worried to conflicted. finnick never found it easy to deny you anything— and this wasn’t even something he wanted to say no to— but he had deadlines to fulfill, things that he couldn’t put off any longer. you knew that, you did, but you really were aching for whatever piece of him you could get.

and so, you end up here, still sat in his lap as he slowly presses into you, a quiet whine falling from your lips at the stretch. your face buries itself into his neck, hands bracing his shoulders. “finn,” your voice comes out strained and desperate, just above a whisper as you sink down onto him. “m’right here, sugar, i got you,” his hands rest on your hips, lightly squeezing them in encouragement. you continue to whimper as you take the rest of him, adjusting to the size. “i know, honey, i know,” he soothes, one of his hands coming up from your hips to rub your back.

a few minutes in, you’re a bit more mollified. your thoughts come to a slow, sticky pace, and suddenly, nothing seems so loud anymore. all that’s left in your head is finnick finnick finnick and the comfortable weight of him inside of you. “this what you needed, pretty girl? feel better?” his voice is low against your ear and you give a small nod, because yes, it’s exactly what you needed, but your words are kind of failing you at the moment.

you stay like that for god knows how long, his arm wrapped around your waist as he continues to work, your forehead resting on his shoulder. eventually, though, you shift a little, and it’s just enough to cause his cock to graze that sweet spot inside of you. his muscles tense underneath you as you tighten around him and he makes a sound in between a sigh and a groan, picking you up as though you weigh nothing. “what’re you doing?” you ask, your voice soft and dazed as he sets you down on the bed, hands slipping underneath your shirt and roaming further up as he starts trailing kisses down your neck. “taking care of my girl,” he tells you, and, well,

you’ll have to start having bad days more often.

[kireilien]

more maki more maki!! 🤤 btw i love the way you write!!!!!

ANONS. YOU ARE PLAYING A DANGEROUS GAME ASKING FOR THIS MUCH MAKI. you guys sound like my alt accounts atp… this might need to turn into a maki cock page and a maki cock page only!!! i’m not mad abt it!!! THIS IS ALSO SUPER FUCKING LONG I AM FEEDING MAKI COCK CENTRAL

tw/cw. nsfw content, cursing; dom!maki, sub!reader, fem!reader, idol!reader also under yx (groups like illit/le sserafim wouldn’t make sense in my head), “bsf!reader,” reader is kinda tsundere-ish, race neutral reader, established relationship, voyeurism (ok guys ik but it’s not actually– you’ll get it), piv, kissing, creampie, maki smug as shit, this is an au where idols of diff genders can freely interact LOL 

something abt a risky idol live makes me so SJHDFGSYFCG

you’ve been on live for around 20 minutes now in a spare vocal room, saying hi to fans, listening to music, talking about group episodes; the norm for an idol live. it wasn’t until someone knocked at the door, and guess who it is! little shit central i mean your boyfriend i mean your best friend!!!

from a fan’s pov, you’ve known maki for a year, always bickering on weverse, being sassy with each other at events, and other typical best friend things. but! in reality you’ve been dating maki rather than being just his best friend. but the fans don’t know about that do they?

opening the door you snark, “oh guys look! it’s my least favorite person!” maki laughs at your words, “it’s [your fandom name]’s favorite boy, actually!” you roll your eyes, “you are not their favorite boy,” you snicker as you look at some of the comments. 

commenter: OMG HI MAKI  commenter: he is our favorite boy  commenter: y/n ur being mean stop  commenter: MAKIYN TIME  commenter: THE BESTIES!!!!!

“guys i’m not being mean, he’s just an employed unemployed loser,” you joke as maki finds a seat to sit down. “what are you even doing here?” you scoff at him, “can i not see my best friend?” he smiles at you endearingly. “no you can not,” you retorted. 

commenter: HOW HAVE U BEEN MAKI  commenter: we’ve missed u  commenter: play some songs from &team!!! commenter: LOVE FROM USA RAHHHH commenter: i like ur hoodie maki  commenter: what’s your tmi today maki? commenter: MAKI CAN U SAY HI IN GERMAN 

you stare at the comments before pointing at one, “maki, they wanna know your tmi, what’s your tmi today?” you smile a bit as you turn your chair to maki, “hmm… oh! i actually called y/n right when i woke up!” 

your smile nearly drops. 

he called you because he had morning wood. fucking morning wood. that’s his fucking tmi? half-assing his answer of morning phone sex? you stare at him, “oh yeah! i forgot about that, he was really… stiff this morning.”

two can play that game! 

commenter: ?????? commenter: stiff????? commenter: wtf does that mean  commenter: oh like he needed to stretch?? commenter: y/n what  commenter: huh????? 

“guys, no like, yeah, yeah, yeah! i was stiff this morning because i practiced like super hard last night, so i called them for some stretching exercises!” maki immediately tries to do damage control, pointing at the comment and looking back at you, just to secretly put his hand on your thigh. 

what does he think he’s doing? 

you stare at him, silently trying to say why the fuck do you have your hand on my thigh?! but to no avail, maki glances at you before looking back at the comments, his hand not leaving your thigh. as the two of you casually kept on chatting, you can still feel his hand drifting up higher and higher, right where your clothed pussy is at. you lean in closer to the camera, not wanting any fans to see his hand. but then a soft swipe ghosts over your pussy. 

oh he’s fucking insane.

you immediately curl your lips inward, not wanting to accidentally moan in front of the camera. maki though, wanted to play along, “y/n, are you okay?” he stifles a laugh, not wanting to give up this act of his. “yeah, i think i have a little stomach ache right now,” you say through gritted teeth.

maki takes this initiative to really feel you up, by pushing your chair out of frame, pretending to rub your stomach. when in reality, his thumb keeps on hitting that clit of yours. but the fans have no idea. 

commenter: what???  commenter: y/n are you okay :((((  commenter: a sudden stomach ache naurrr commenter: wait what  commenter: noooo y/n rest up!!!! 

all the fans are stupid for not catching on. there’s some obvious tension in between you too. but you guys banter like siblings! there’s no way anything could happen! 

maki swiftly takes his free hand and quickly says bye to the fans, saying you have a stomach ache and he can take care of you! but by taking care of you, he wants to just fuck you. literally that’s it. 

after the live ended you spat out, “you’re so fucking dirty.” maki laughs, “then why the fuck are you drenched?” he asks after discarding your pants and panties. all he’s left with is your sopping wet pussy.

he’s beaming– a little too proud he pulled this bullshit. he unbuckles his pants, giving you that view of his hard ass cock. he’s been fiening for this. maki doesn’t even wait, he slides himself perfectly in you, throwing his head back of how he’s been wanting this pussy since this morning. 

“god– you’re clenching on me– been waiting since this morning too?” he smirks as he drills his hips into yours, using the chair for support of his arms, allowing your arms to grab onto his. “so what i have– this wasn’t the time– fuck– maki!” you attempted to spit back before suddenly feeling the head of his cock go even deeper into your cunt. you couldn't help but think of the fact how he wanted your pussy that bad that he had to crash your live. but here you are, his cock is pushing deeper and deeper into you by the second. 

maki’s hips were stuttering soon after, meaning he was gonna cum soon. your orgasm was also approaching, indicated by the fact you grabbed maki’s neck to lean into a hot kiss, muffling any of your moans. in a few deep but slow strokes, maki cums in you, feeling how warm his ropes of cum were as he could feel the gush of yours. the both of you sigh from your orgasms, reeling in the situation. 

“all this– because– what�� you were horny like 14 hours ago?” you pant out, trying to catch your breath. 

“y–eah?” maki smiles as he goes in to kiss your lips. 

“you’re fucking stupid.” 

idk how i can pump out this much– oh yeah it’s abt maki!!!! 

req for the phone sex in this love letter!

back 2 maki catalog

[moon-ttokki-x]

hihi can i request 66 w/ Jisung? Kind like crack were you are both dead sick or smth? anyway have a great day/sleep (๑>◡<๑) ur write is to die for btw

— anon 🐣📎

hihi yes you can~ sorry this took a while to post lol, lots of wips. aww thank you, giggling n kicking my feet rn <3 here you gooooo my little chick paperclip anon lol

hot soup - sick bf!han jisung x sick!reader

pairing: sick bf!han jisung x sick!reader

summary: you're suffering with jisung through a cold (that he gave to you)

genre: fluffy to the max, idol! au, this is honestly just crack, sick lil jisungie and reader

a/n: han would be the type of make funny noises when his nose is bunged up don't even try to change my mind

"You do it."

"No, you."

"I did it last time."

Jisung groans and heaves himself upright, tissues falling off the sofa like a mini avalanche. He sluggishly gets up and drags himself to the coffee table for the remote control, pressing the select button to play the next episode of the kdrama you're both watching.

He sniffs and flops back down on the couch next to you, groaning as the intro begins to play for the umpteenth time. "Y/n?"

His nose is bunged up so it sounds funny when he talks, and your voice is no better as you respond. "Mmm.."

"I'm hungry."

You whine and roll over, burying your face in the blanket. Jisung adjusts himself so you're lying on his chest, cuddled in each others' arms. Blankets swamp both of your bodies, so that if anyone were to look at both of you, they would see just a large lump of fabric. A very sniffly, sick, snotty lump of fabric at that.

You groan and let out an ungraceful sneeze, almost projecting yourself off the sofa. Jisung closes his eyes, mildly put out.

"I don't wanna get up," you sigh, burying your face back in his chest. He smells warm, the skin radiating feverish heat through the material of his hoodie, and the faint, spiced smell of vapour rub hangs distinctly in the air. Not that it seems to be helping. "But I'm hungry as well. What should we make?"

Jisung doesn't even have to open his mouth before you both agree on soup. There's a large pot in the fridge, courtesy of a disgusted Minho, who packed a bag and refused to return to the dorm until both of you were better.

The pot is about half full- you lift it with almost shaky arms and place it on the stove, switching on the heat. Jisung stands beside you as you begin to stir, watching how the chicken shreds and green onions spin in a mesmerising circle. Little oil bubbles rest on the top of the liquid, simmering deliciously as the soup heats up, and by the time it's ready, both of you are salivating.

You ladle half of the pot into each bowl and hand one to Jisung, who reaches into a drawer for a pair of chopsticks. You pause and watch as he sleepily dips them into the soup, clearly too dazed and ill-ridden to understand his amusing actions.

"Sungie," you croak, trying not to laugh. "It's soup."

"Mhm.."

"No," you correct him, "You can't eat soup with chopsticks..."

He blinks, once. Then twice. And then, very slowly, he adjusts his grip on the chopsticks and continue dipping them into the soup, bringing them to his mouth to lick off what little broth remains on the utensils.

You sigh and bring a spoonful of the hot, nourishing liquid to your mouth and groan as its warmth saturates the inside of your mouth, instantly comforting. You'll have to remember to thank Minho later, and maybe ask for the soup recipe too, so you can make it when you're not feeling so sick in the future.

You climb with some difficulty onto the counter and continue ladling the soup into your mouth while Jisung stands, sock-footed on the tiles, sluggishly licking broth off his chopsticks. You tilt your head at him.

"I still don't understand why you're doing that," you say quietly, letting the steam from your bowl soothe the congestion in your sinuses.

"Because," Jisung croaks. "My throat hurts and swallowing feels icky to me."

"That soup will be ice cold by the time you finally get to the bottom of it. That is, if you even make it that far. Go to sleep."

He whines and sets the bowl down, taking a plate from the dishrack to cover it. "You're telling me to sleep as if you don't look like a walking zombie yourself..."

You huff and kick him lightly in the stomach, swinging your legs off the counter. "I wouldn't be a walking zombie if you didn't get me sick in the first place, Sung."

"It wasn't my fault-"

"Yes it was," you croak, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "You kept me here all night cuddling without telling me you were sick."

He pouts. "But I wanted to be with you."

"So you purposely got me sick, is what you're saying."

Jisung looks away, a tired smirk making its way onto his features. "I just wanted to spend some time with my beautiful walking zombie baby. Can you blame me?"

You throw your spoon at him. "Han Jisung."

He ducks just in time, the spoon clattering to the floor. "Okay, okay, relax. I didn't know apocalyptic monsters were so temperamental..."

"Shut up and finish your soup."

"Okay, sorry."

a/n: i want soup so bad rn