#em writes stuff sometimes masterlists

[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

Spike risks a glance at you, eyes flicking away when they meet yours.

“Not much of a man now, am I? But the way you look at me... bugger me if it doesn’t make me feel like I could be.” He forces a chuckle, brittle around the edges. “Maybe it’s just my own foolishness talking. Wouldn’t be the first time.” He stops, swallowing hard. “But if this is the end, I need you to know that… that every stupid poem I scratched out, back when my heart was still beatin’—they were shadows of what I feel now. For you.”

You take a slow, shuddering breath, eyes wide and lips parted in a soft ‘O’ as you stare up at him. The porch light’s come on, the glow shading warmth into your expression. Spike's fingers reach out and touch, delicate across your cheekbone, down to cup your jaw. “You’ve gone and wrapped yourself ‘round me—tight as sin, sweeter than blood. I can’t stop wantin’ more. Reckon I never will.”

Returning to Sunnydale for the first time since Angel lost his soul, you never thought you'd find a real home in a Billy Idol wannabe-looking vamp—but Spike has a way of surprising everyone.

Buffy, Angel and the Scoobies witness key moments in your developing relationship with Spike. Is it lust, obsession, or is it something else? (Set post-episode 14 of Season 5, "Crush".)

Read it here!

Spike thought love was supposed to hurt. Then he fell for you, bubbles, blood and all. Now he’s a kept man with a shopping list and a soft spot a mile wide, and honestly? He likes it that way.

Read it here!

FUTURE WORKS UNDER DEVELOPMENT!

[ha-rinrin]

"Is there something wrong with my pants?"

Summary: Jinx's comes home after getting half of Zaun out of Stillwater with a doubt on her mind.

Pairing: Jinx x fem!reader

Wordcount: 1.4k

Authors note: I laughed so hard at this scene that I had to write something based on it. Also, guys, I'm absolutely refusing to accept the ending of episode 6 for my own mental health.

masterlist

The hideout is still, the quiet hum of the machinery and the flicker of a dim lamp your only company. You've been waiting for Jinx, trying not to imagine all the chaos she’s causing out there. You know she’s been working on something big, but you’re never quite sure exactly what until she shows up.

The door slams open, and in she bursts, her energy almost tangible as she steps into the room. Jinx is practically glowing, a grin stretched across her face that matches the wild sparkle in her eyes. Her clothes are messy, but she’s hardly bothered by it, her usual chaotic aura taking over.

“Guess who just pulled half of Zaun outta Stillwater?” she announces, her voice thick with excitement. She practically bounces in place, her fingers twitching like she’s about to explode with more energy.

You blink, surprised. “Wait—half of Zaun? You mean you—”

Jinx nods, cutting you off with a quick motion of her hands. “Yeah! I snuck in, all stealthy-like, dodged the enforcers, and got them out. No one even knew what hit ‘em! They’re gonna be talking about this for ages, trust me.” She leans in closer, her face lighting up with that grin that’s both wild and contagious. “I’m like their ghost, except, you know, way cooler.”

You can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm, though a small part of you wonders how she managed it without being caught. She’s reckless, but she’s also clever in her own strange way.

Her voice drops a little, a mix of excitement and something softer underneath it. “It felt good, y’know? Being the one who saves the day for once.” She rubs the back of her neck sheepishly, glancing at you like she’s half unsure if you’ll think it’s stupid.

You step forward, catching her eyes with a soft smile. “I’m proud of you, Jinx. You did something good today.”

Her eyes widen slightly, a little surprised at the words, before her usual grin returns, if a little softer now. "Well, I don’t always blow things up, y’know." She shrugs, still trying to play it off like it’s no big deal, but you can tell she’s pleased.

“Yeah, but you always make it exciting," you reply, stepping closer to her, your voice warm. "Only you could pull something like that off and get away with it."

Jinx laughs, her energy rising again, and she twirls around once more, feeling the high of her success. "Well, they won’t be calling me ‘crazy’ for much longer! They’ll be calling me a hero soon enough—just wait!"

You smile, watching her, knowing that her idea of ‘hero’ is always going to be a little different from the norm. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

After the rush of adrenaline begins to fade, Jinx’s usual wild energy starts to settle, leaving behind a quieter, more tired version of her. She lets out a long breath, her grin softening as she moves to the couch, her steps a little less bouncy now.

“You know,” she says, her voice much softer than before, “sometimes, all that sneaky, saving-the-day stuff takes more out of me than I thought.”

She drops onto the couch with a sigh, sprawling out, but then pats the empty space next to her, glancing up at you with a mischievous smile. “C’mere. You’re not gonna leave me hanging after all that, are you?”

You raise an eyebrow but walk over anyway, sitting next to her. As soon as you do, Jinx pulls you down beside her, her arms wrapping around you like a vice, dragging you closer as she snuggles into your side.

“Perfect,” she mutters, resting her head against your shoulder with a contented sigh. Her usual wild energy has faded, replaced by something softer, something that only ever seems to appear when she’s with you. She lets out a small, satisfied hum, clearly enjoying the comfort of just being close to you after everything.

“You know, you’re the only one who doesn’t think I’m a total freak," she says after a few moments of quiet, her voice more vulnerable than she usually lets on. "You’re the only one who gets it… and me." She nuzzles into your side, her arms tightening around you slightly.

You smile softly, resting a hand on her back, your fingers gently tracing the familiar lines of her jacket. "You’re not a freak, Jinx. You're just... you. And that’s all I need."

She glances up at you, her eyes bright, but there’s something softer there now, something deeper than the usual spark of mischief. "Good," she mutters with a quiet chuckle. "’Cause I’m never gonna change." Her grip on you tightens a little, and she settles further into your side, clearly at peace now. “So, I’m gonna stay here and cuddle until the world falls apart again. You cool with that?”

You chuckle, feeling the warmth of her body next to yours, the chaos of her day finally falling away as she rests against you. “I’m more than cool with that.”

Jinx lets out another satisfied sigh, her eyes fluttering closed as she relaxes even more, completely at ease in your arms. And for once, everything feels calm—just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, in a world that’s spinning too fast for anyone else to catch

Jinx stays nestled against you for a while, the chaos of the day melting away in the quiet comfort between you. Her breathing has slowed, and she feels more relaxed than she has in hours. The soft hum of the hideout is the only sound, but then, out of nowhere, she shifts slightly in your arms, her mood taking a subtle dip.

You feel her tense, just for a second, and her voice comes out a little softer than usual. “Hey… um… do you think there’s something wrong with my pants?”

You blink, not sure if you heard her correctly. And then, you glance down at her—her eyes wide, her lips pressed together like she’s genuinely worried. It’s such a stark contrast to the wild, unpredictable energy she usually exudes. The sudden vulnerability in her face, combined with the seriousness of her tone, is almost too much.

And before you can stop yourself, you burst out laughing. It’s not mean-spirited, just genuine, surprised amusement. The ridiculousness of the question, paired with the look on her face, catches you off guard.

Jinx blinks at you, her eyes narrowing slightly in confusion as she watches you laugh. “What?” she asks, her voice a little defensive, though the corners of her mouth twitch in response to your laughter. "Is it really that funny?"

You try to catch your breath, still chuckling. “Jinx… you—" You wipe your eyes with your sleeve, grinning. “You’re worried about your pants? Look at you! You’re the last person who should care about that!”

She pouts for a moment, her arms still around you as she pulls herself a little closer, almost like she’s trying to hide. “It’s not funny, okay?” she mutters, her voice quieter now, though there’s still a hint of that pout on her lips. "That enforcer made me feel stupid... and I didn’t like it."

You stop laughing, realizing just how much it’s bothering her. You gently tilt her chin up to look at you, the playful tone fading as you meet her eyes. “I’m sorry, Jinx,” you say, your voice soft but sincere. “It’s just… you’re telling me this, and then I look at you, and I’m like— … Who cares what she thinks?”

She stares at you for a moment, the pout fading as she lets out a small breath. “Yeah, but still...” she trails off, still fiddling with the fabric of her pants.

You grin, brushing a hand through her hair as you pull her back into you. “You’re perfect, Jinx. Those pants? Totally you. No one else could pull them off like you do.”

her head resting against your chest as she lets out a soft sigh, the weight of her earlier worries starting to ease away. “You’re the best,” she murmurs, her voice barely audible. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You smile, kissing the top of her head. “You’d probably blow something up, but I’d still be right here.”

And just like that, the tension fades. She’s back to her usual self—still a little quirky, but reassured and relaxed in your arms.

[giuliannna]

hi there!! love ur work btw :3

idk if this fits the au 100%, but could u write something about reader finding out that dealer!hamzah actually uses glasses but never wears them and she’s all like 🙈🙈🙈omg put them on pls?! and he’s like no way (lowkey flustered).

or like, he shows up with the stuff, but he’s wearing his glasses and she’s all like ??? boi who tf are u?? and lowkey starts cheesing about it. literally anything down that road and i’ll kiss u, thank u:33

four eyes

you find them by accident. they’re sitting on his nightstand, tucked behind a stack of lighters and a pack of gum, half-buried like he meant to hide them. black frames, smudged lenses, one arm slightly bent out of shape.

“wait - hamzah, are these yours?”

you hold them up. hamzah looks up from the floor, and his face immediately twists.

“uh. no?” he says, too fast.

you raise an eyebrow. “so who do they belong to? your cats?”

he groans, habitually rubbing the back of his neck, like he always does. “i forgot they were there.”

“you wear glasses?”

“not, like, wear wear.”

you grin. “what does that even mean?”

“i need them to be able to read sometimes,” he mumbles. “it’s not a big deal.”

you’re already sliding them on your own face. they’re too big for you, but you push them up your nose dramatically. “cute?” you ask teasingly.

“yeah. now take ‘em off.” he huffs, reaching out towards you.

you dodge his hand easily, laughing. “no, wait - you put them on. like actually.”

“no.”

“pleaseee?”

he shakes his head, but he’s smiling now - all shy and scrunched up, because he already knows he’s going to give in.

you crawl across the bed and hold them out. “you owe me. you made me try that nasty ass edible last week because you were too scared.”

he sighs, dramatically, like you’re asking him to sell his soul.

then he takes them. he slips them on.

he blinks and pushes them up his nose, looking away from your gaze because now you’re staring.

“oh my god,” you whisper. “you’re, like.. weirdly hotter with them on, hamzah.”

he immediately tugs them off. “nope.”

“wait-!”

“nope. you’re not allowed to say shit like that.”

you tackle him into the mattress, giggling, trying to grab them back, and he’s laughing now too - warm and flushed and totally helpless as you crawl over him.

a/n: such a cute requesttt :) more dealerzah to come but i am getting a little busy again i’ll be back soon heh

xoxo giulia

DEALER ! HAMZAH MASTERLIST

taglist: @gulicore @slushedup @arroganceisherfavoritecolor @layzerzlovesu46 @babysitter19 @marixoa @starjely @viennawaiits @h-yalexaaaa @freakzah444 @anginluv @gabwilliams @sturniyolo @screamertannie @brlwla @yourstrulykiya @angelegss @hamzaholic @isathefantastic @divinesturn @forestlv4r @mayapuma20 @ottakugirl @hamzahsbestone @pulcen @venus-planetof-love @hamzahsn1gf @rock678 @wandas-lovey @guiltyfemcel @axetheboyboss @harrys0nlyange1 @ttlynotme @yassqueen1303 @animalcrossingshameless @opiumfidgetspinner @pictureperfectblue @slushingmynoob @vampzah @ilovezah @wh1speringstarr

[peachhcs]

we need more macklin fics and fluff bc that one was actually so cute. i need more asap 🩷

sorority formal

still debating if i should make a macklin au to add to my samy + will verse (HAHA my own fanfic verse??) but here’s some more fluff between the lovely rookie and his gf from santa clara university :) — also cleaning out my inbox so that’s why i’ve posted four times in a row LOL

also if this is bad i’m so sorry. i lowkey awkwardly switch between 2nd person and 3rd person pov sometimes so apologies for that. otherwise, i’m really starting to like writing about mack 😌 (slight allusion to sex but there’s no sex actually described just kissing)

masterlist

macklin had never been to a college sorority formal before, nor did he really understand what it was or what to expect, but he agreed to be your date nonetheless. plus, the look on your face was hard to say no to when you asked him two weeks ago.

the brunette was in his room trying to find the right suit to wear while will sat in the corner on his phone. he knew a little bit from when he was at boston, but he never found any interest in going to those frat and sorority parties, so the rookie was a bit in the dark when it came to this stuff.

will wasn’t much help either.

“i dunno man. i’ve never been to a sorority formal before. i assume it’s the same as any other formal? i’ve been to samy’s soccer banquet,” will shrugged, watching his friend try on his third suit.

“y/n said to just wear something neutral. her dress is pink i think,” macklin explained as he examined the dark navy suit in the mirror.

“i think that looks fine. navy and pink go well?” will nodded.

“i’m kind of nervous. is that bad? i don’t really know what to expect,” obviously, he didn’t want to make y/n look like a fool at her own sorority, so the boy’s nerves were at an all time high at the moment. what if he did something stupid?

“samy texted me back and she said it’s like prom but for college. there will be food and drinks and then you dance if you want. some sororities will do speeches or superlatives,” will read off the text his girlfriend just sent him.

“oh, okay. that’s not too bad then. i’ll be fine,” macklin assured himself and decided on the navy blue suit.

“yeah, it will be chill. you basically get to spend a whole night with your girlfriend,” will grinned and the brunette couldn’t help but smile at the thought. he hadn’t seen you in a few days because of your crazy busy schedules, so having this night to yourselves would be nice.

“yeah, you’re right. it will be chill and we’ll have fun,”macklin was basically saying positive affirmations to himself at this point which made will chuckle. he stood up to help his friend with his suit.

“don’t even sweat it, dude. she’s gonna love you,” the blonde assured and if will thought so, then macklin was gonna believe it.

once he was finished getting dressed, he grabbed his phone to let you know he was on his way over to your dorm. the boy rushed through the house, double checking his pockets that he had phone (check), keys (check), wallet (check), and a small bouquet he decided picking up for you because he knew you liked flowers.

“knock ‘em dead!” will called from the porch as macklin got into his car.

the brunette drove the short drive to the university. being new to driving in the states still and the nerves about tonight made his hands a bit shaky as he turned onto the drive that led to your dorm. he didn’t need to sweat this. it was you. y/n. his girlfriend. there was no reason for him to be nervous about some sorority formal.

he parked in the lot and climbed out, doing a third check that he had all of his belongings. you were waiting in the lobby for him after getting his text about being on his way. the hockey player stopped in his tracks though when he laid eyes on you.

your strapless, silky dress stopped around your ankles where he could see your pretty white heels. your hair was down like it usual was and macklin was pretty sure his pupils turned to hearts.

“hi,” you grinned when he got closer.

“hi..wow..you look..” the boy lost his words making you laugh.

“you look pretty..wow,” you complimented his navy suit.

“s-so do you. wow..i..i’m in awe,” he admitted earning a bright blush on your cheeks.

“you’re sweet. are these for me?” you noticed the bouquet wobbling in his hands. the brunette quickly flushed and handed them over to you.

“yes, sorry. they are.”

you admired the pretty pink and red petals, “thank you. these are pretty. wanna come up for a second so i can put them in water?” it wasn’t really a question because macklin was going to follow you regardless.

the two of you stepped into the elevator. mack’s nerves were now because of how beautiful you looked beside him and he didn’t know how to express it other than telling you and the building desire to kiss you. he followed you down to your dorm. your roommate grinned at him.

“hey mack,” maya waved.

“hey maya,” he waved back.

“look, he brought me flowers,” you showed maya the pretty bouquet.

“wow, brownie points for the hockey player,” she teased a bit which made him flush. he watched you find a vase and fill it with water from your bathroom. you came back out and placed the flowers into the vase.

“like them?” you asked for his opinion.

“i like them,” he nodded.

“i’ll put them by my desk for now. thank you, again,” you pecked his cheek.

“of course,” the boy was glad you liked them and he was glad he decided on getting them the other day because the smile on your face was so worth it after spending an hour at the store trying to pick them out.

“okay, we’re gonna head out now. we’ll be back later,” you called to maya who threw up a thumbs up.

“have fun! don’t get too drunk.”

you went back down the elevator and then out of the building where you latched your arm with mack’s. he rubbed your hand and leaned in to kiss your forehead.

“it’s not far from here,” you explained as you led the way.

“i’ve never been to one of these before,” the boy admitted a bit nervously.

“don’t worry, it’s so chill. you’ll get to meet some of my sorority sisters, we’ll eat, dance, drink some, and then we can leave whenever,” you explained and it eased some of mack’s nerves a bit more hearing you explain it. as much as he appreciated samy’s brief explanation, he also liked hearing it come from your lips too.

the two of you came up on one of the college bars in the area. it was already blasting music that could be heard from outside. macklin followed you inside where you were immediately greeted with security to check your ids. you both got little x’s on your hands meaning neither of you were 21. mack’s gaze flicked around the space that was dimly lit and pumping base through his bones.

“omg, y/n, hey!” a girl greeted you.

“hi jen, you look gorgeous!” you admired your friend’s dress.

“no you do! is this your boyfriend?” she turned her attention to mack.

“yes, this is macklin,” you gripped his arm again and the boy managed a tiny smile.

“nice to meet you. i’m jen, the sorority president. come on in. we have food in the back and drinks at the bar so get whatever,” jen explained.

you quickly led macklin to the back because you were starving. the boy watched you take a plate so he copied whatever you did. you laughed at his behavior.

“don’t be so nervous, mack.”

“sorry. just getting used to it all,” he said. he’d never been into a bar before because he wasn’t old enough first of all and if he was caught underage drinking he’d definitely get a mean punishment from his coach.

“it’s okay. it’s overwhelming, but i’m right here remember,” you assured and some of the worries eased hearing you say that. macklin offered a grateful smile as he followed your lead with the food and then followed you to a seat.

you sat with some other girls and their dates which got all of you quickly talking. the more you talked, the more comfortable macklin became and flushed when a few people recognized him as a hockey player. being next to you made him feel a lot more comfortable too. seeing you look so calm and content helped him do the same and by the time you were done eating, he was having a full conversation with some of the guys without you involved.

“let’s get pictures!” one girl exclaimed when she came around with her camera.

you pulled mack up. he eagerly wrapped his arm around your waist, the two of you smiling wide as the flash went off—almost blinding you guys because it was so bright and the room was so dark.

“aw, you guys look adorable,” the girl spun the camera around so you could see the preview. macklin quickly kissed your cheek.

“i love it, thanks,” you said.

you guys ventured back towards the center of the dance floor to start dancing along with the others. macklin was big on getting to dance, so he took full advantage, urging you to join his energy. you giggled at the way he bounced on his feet and pulled out his best dance moves for you.

when everyone started coming onto the floor, it got warm fast so the brunette lost his suit jacket leaving him in just his dress shirt that was almost halfway unbuttoned by now. his arms were around your waist, the two of you swaying to the beat and being in your own world together.

any anxiety the rookie felt earlier had completely disappeared being in the center of the dance floor with you. all that mattered to him was you in his arms as he spun you around.

“did i tell you how gorgeous you look?” the boy leaned in closer as he spoke over the music.

“you did, yes,” you grinned.

“well i’ll tell you again. you look gorgeous. prettiest girl here,” his words earned a bright blush on your cheeks.

“you’re too sweet, mack.”

“i’m serious, y/n/n. you’re beautiful,” he leaned in closer, still wanting that kiss he hadn’t gotten yet. you saw his request and closed the gap.

the two of you shared a sweet kiss, not caring that there were others around you or watching. your lips felt like heaven against the hockey player’s. he never wanted to let you go, but forced himself to to get some air back into his lungs.

“i could kiss you forever,” he mumbled.

“me too,” and you reconnected your lips for another quick kiss. mack’s hands wandered a bit lower towards your hips and then swiping over your ass. a giggle left your lips at his behavior.

“we should save this for the dorm,” you smiled while directing him away for now. a little pout appeared, but he understood and let you go.

the music picked up again and it had him spinning you around once more. because all of his focus was on hockey growing up, the brunette’s never had an experience of going to an end of the year dance or prom or anything, so he was glad he was getting to make this up with you right now.

as the night winded down, you and macklin decided to leave. he threw his suit jacket over your shoulders for the quick five minute walk back to your dorm. you appreciated his gesture, tugging it closer to your body to hide yourself from the semi-cold evening temperatures.

“thanks for coming tonight,” you smiled as you rode the elevator.

“of course. i had a lot of fun. thanks for bringing me,” mack returned your smile.

“i’m glad you did. better get ready for next semester,” you teased a bit and mack’s heart swelled just a little bit at the idea of coming back to your formal because that meant you wanted him enough to stick around for the next one.

he knew what you two had meant a lot to both of you, but sometimes he got in his head just a little bit wondering if he was good enough for you or not enough because he was some big shot hockey player and he knew what everyone thought about hockey players. he worried he wasn’t the one for you even though you were 100% the one for him. he knew it from the day he met you, so hearing you say that made him burst with joy.

maya wasn’t in the dorm, probably taking the hint that you guys wanted the room to yourselves. macklin was glad because he wanted to continue that kissing you guys were doing earlier.

he watched you hang up his suit jacket like you did every time he brought his suits with him and kick your shoes off. he followed suit and then didn’t waste another second bringing your lips to his again.

that urge he’s had all night only got stronger the more he kissed you. you reciprocated all of his actions and unspoken wants, pulling your hand through his pretty brunette locks and running your hand down his chest.

“i love you,” the boy mumbled between kisses.

“i love you,” you breathed.

he found your gaze for a second, wondering if this was right. wondering if you were sure about him. his thoughts were answered though when you grabbed ahold of his face to kiss him again and lead him to your bed.

needless to say, all of his anxieties were eased by the end of the night and the love he had for you had never been bigger.

[nhmkhnh]

I HAVE SOMETHING CRAZY IN YOUR OWN, GET READY...the idea is this. How about introducing intensive care physician!Vi/patient!User. I saw such a bot, only there was a doctor user, and I really want to see Vi as a doctor, please...😭😭😭

physcian!vi x patient!fem!reader

preface: sometimes, the silence between two people speaks louder than words ever could.

author's note: BABE THIS IDEA IS SO SO GOOD!! *chef kiss* and alright here we go!

wrn: lowercase, kind of explicit content at the end (?)

masterlist / janitor ai / c.ai / carrd

the clinic’s too quiet for a monday morning. cold fluorescent lights buzz overhead as vi leans against the counter, sipping her second coffee and waiting for her next patient. the front desk hums with keyboard clicks and distant footsteps. she checks the clipboard again.

name: [your name] new patient. referral: lower back + right knee post-injury rehab. note: “shy but sweet.”

vi squints at that last line and snorts. shy but sweet? sounds like hr had a crush.

the door opens.

her coffee nearly slips out of her hand.

you step in, awkward on your feet, one arm hugging a file to your chest. eyes wide. hesitant. hair tucked behind your ear like you’re trying not to take up space, but the second you look at her, something in vi’s chest goes a little stupid.

you're soft. that’s the first thing she registers. soft voice when you greet the receptionist. soft gaze when your eyes scan the room and land—unfortunately for vi—on her.

vi clears her throat and puts down the cup. straightens up. professional mode.

"hey. you must be my 10 am."

you nod, your voice quiet. "y-yeah. that’s me."

she offers her hand. “vi. i’ll be your physical therapist. we’re gonna be spending a lot of time together, so i figured we should skip the formal stuff.”

you hesitate. then reach out slowly, your hand slipping into hers.

warm. small. careful.

vi holds it a second longer than she should before releasing. your fingertips are cold.

“first time doing pt?” she asks as she gestures for you to follow her into the room.

you limp slightly. she notices everything.

you nod. “yeah. i… i’m kind of nervous.”

vi smiles. “don’t be. i got you.”

she means it. even if it surprises her how badly she wants that to be true.

inside the room, vi gestures to the table. “sit up here for me.”

you move slowly, and she watches the way you wince when your knee bends. her voice softens. “that hurts more than a six outta ten?”

“…seven,” you admit.

she lets out a low whistle, gently placing her hand on your leg to adjust it. your breath catches.

vi pauses.

“sorry,” she murmurs. “my hands are cold.”

“no, it’s okay,” you say quickly. too quickly.

she smiles to herself as she writes something down in your chart.

“you’re polite,” she teases.

you flush. “is that… bad?”

vi leans against the table beside you, crossing her arms.

“nope. just not used to it. most of my patients yell at me once i make ‘em stretch.”

“i wouldn’t yell at you,” you say, quietly but firmly.

vi’s eyes lift to yours.

you’re staring at her like you mean it. like you already trust her. she looks away before that warmth does something dangerous to her chest.

“good,” she says, voice rougher than she means it to be. “let’s keep it that way.”

she doesn’t flirt. not with patients. not here.

but when she helps you lie back and your fingers brush hers—slow, nervous, trusting—vi feels something shift.

this is gonna be a long recovery.

and she’s already looking forward to every second of it.

you’re here early.

vi notices the second she steps out of the breakroom, still towel-drying her hair from her midday run. you're sitting on the edge of the therapy table, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, legs swinging gently like you’re trying to distract yourself.

you look up the moment you sense her, and your smile—small, shy, devastating—slices through her like a punch to the gut.

“hey,” you murmur.

vi runs a hand through her damp hair, heartbeat hitching.

“hey, trouble. you alright? you’re twenty minutes early.”

you nod, gaze lowering. “just… didn’t want to be late.”

something about the way you say it—so careful, so eager to do things right—makes her throat tighten.

she walks over and sets her file down. “no rush. i’m glad you’re here.”

you meet her eyes again, soft and open. “really?”

vi smirks, folding her arms. “yeah. don’t tell the others, but you’re my favorite patient.”

you flush instantly, ducking your head. “you probably say that to all your patients.”

“i don’t,” she says, quietly.

you glance at her. something in her voice pins you in place. the air between you hums.

vi clears her throat and moves to grab the resistance bands. professional. stay professional.

“alright, ready to see if we can level you up today?” she asks, playfully nudging your knee.

you nod again. “i’ve been doing the stretches you gave me. every night.”

of course you have. of course you’re that kind of person—disciplined, sweet, determined even when it hurts.

vi exhales through her nose. “good girl.”

the words slip out before she can stop them.

silence.

your lips part slightly. not in offense—more like you don’t know what to do with the warmth that just bloomed in your cheeks.

vi goes still. realizes too late what she just said.

“shit—sorry,” she mutters quickly. “didn’t mean—just a… reflex.”

you shake your head fast. “no—it’s okay. i didn’t mind.”

that’s worse. way worse.

vi keeps her face neutral, but her brain is screaming.

you lie back for the leg lifts. vi steadies your knee with one hand, supporting the joint. her fingers are firm but careful. you tense.

“relax,” she says gently. “i’ve got you.”

you nod, but your breathing hitches. she notices. she always does.

the next rep, your thigh starts to shake. pain creeping in.

“hey, look at me,” she says softly.

you do. eyes glassy. your lower lip trembles like you want to quit but don’t want to disappoint her.

vi’s chest aches.

“you’re doing good,” she murmurs. “don’t worry about how it looks. don’t worry about me. just focus on you, yeah?”

you nod again. barely.

vi lets go of your leg, leans down closer, voice dropping. “you’ve been through hell. you’re still showing up. you’ve already won, sweetheart.”

your eyes shine.

and vi knows—she knows—she’s past the point of no return.

she wants to be more than the person who counts your reps. she wants to see that look in your eyes somewhere that isn’t under fluorescent lights and laminated charts. she wants to be the one you lean on when the world feels too much.

but she can’t.

not yet.

session ends. you’re flushed and tired, but you still smile at her like she’s made your whole week better just by being in it.

vi watches you leave, heart pounding, jaw tight.

you turn at the door and say, “thanks, vi. see you soon.”

she watches your hoodie swish around your knees as you disappear down the hallway.

and when the door finally closes, vi leans back against the table and exhales like she just walked out of a fight she lost willingly.

she knows the sound of your footsteps by now.

they’re always soft. hesitant. like you’re asking permission just to exist in the hallway. and usually, you peek your head in with that little smile, shy but warm, like the room doesn’t light up just because you walked in.

but today?

nothing.

vi hears the door open—but you don’t say anything. no knock. no “hey.” just the shuffle of your shoes and then silence.

she frowns, looks up from her notes.

you’re facing the wall. hoodie drawn over your head. shoulders tense. like you’re trying to make yourself invisible.

and vi freezes when she sees the way your hand curls against your side.

you’re shaking.

“…hey,” she says, voice low. “what’s going on?”

you flinch. turn away further.

but she’s already up and crossing the room.

“sweetheart,” she murmurs—quiet, instinctual. her hand hovers just over your back. she doesn’t touch you. not yet. “talk to me.”

you don’t look at her. you sniff, shoulders rising like you’re holding in an earthquake.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper. “i didn’t want to cancel but i—i shouldn’t have come in—”

“don’t say that.”

vi steps in front of you. your eyes are red, lashes damp. you look like you haven’t slept. like the world sat on your chest and didn’t get up.

she feels something old and deep awaken in her. not just protectiveness. not pity. devotion.

“sit down,” she says gently.

you shake your head. “i can’t—if i start crying again i won’t stop—”

“then don’t stop.”

that surprises you. your breath catches.

vi crouches in front of you, one knee on the ground, and looks up into your eyes.

“no one’s gonna judge you here. especially not me.”

you’re trembling. she can see your hands trying to hide it in your sleeves.

still, you manage a whisper: “it’s just been a really… hard week.”

vi nods. “wanna tell me about it?”

your lip wobbles.

and then the dam breaks.

you cry without noise. the tears fall like rain—quiet, persistent, unrelenting. you press your hands over your face like you’re ashamed of the way you’re breaking down.

vi gently pulls one hand away and holds it in both of hers. warm, solid, safe.

you don’t resist.

“i know it sucks,” she says softly. “i know how heavy it gets. but you don’t have to carry it alone, alright?”

you nod like you want to believe her but can’t.

so she shifts, sits beside you on the therapy table, and—very slowly—wraps an arm around your shoulder.

you go rigid for one second.

then collapse into her.

vi holds you against her chest. you’re warm. fragile. your fingers fist into her shirt like she’s the only thing keeping you from falling off the edge.

“i’m so tired,” you whisper into her.

vi’s throat tightens.

“i know,” she murmurs, pressing her cheek to the top of your head. “i got you. i’m not going anywhere.”

the room stays quiet after that. you cry until the tears stop coming, and when they do, you just sit in vi’s arms, breathing slow and steady against her.

and vi—she doesn’t want to let go.

not now. maybe not ever.

she’s not supposed to feel like this. not supposed to wrap herself around the person she’s supposed to help. but you make it impossible not to.

you make her want to be your safe place.

when you finally pull back, wiping your eyes, you whisper, “sorry for ruining our session.”

vi gives you a soft smile. “this was the session.”

you laugh—just a little—and it’s the most beautiful sound vi’s heard all week.

she doesn’t say the thing sitting in her chest. not yet. but she wants to.

let me take care of you. for real. not just here. everywhere.

she’s not even halfway through her notes when she smells it.

coffee.

fresh. warm. with a faint vanilla hint and—

she looks up.

you’re standing in the doorway, two cups in hand, hoodie sleeves still too long for your fingers, and your smile is—

soft. brighter than yesterday. a little shy, like you’re not sure if this was a good idea.

“um,” you say, stepping inside, “i didn’t know if you like it sweet, but i remembered you said something last week about vanilla, so…”

vi stares.

you’re rambling. you’re nervous. you’re glowing.

and you brought her coffee.

“you—” she blinks. “you remembered that?”

you shrug, setting the cup down beside her clipboard. “i just… wanted to say thanks. for yesterday.”

vi picks up the cup. still warm. your fingers must’ve just let go of it.

you shouldn’t know what kind of coffee she likes. you shouldn’t care. she shouldn’t want to reach out and pull you in like some storybook happy ending, but—

“sweetheart,” she says, voice hoarse. “you didn’t have to do that.”

you look away. “i wanted to.”

that’s worse. that’s so much worse.

vi clears her throat, sipping to distract herself. it’s perfect. of course it is.

you’re watching her now, cheeks a little pink. “is it okay?”

“yeah,” she says too fast. “it’s great.”

you smile again. that small, precious thing that makes her feel like she’s standing in sunlight.

the session’s easier today. you’re looser, calmer. you laugh more. your hands aren’t shaking. vi watches you closely—she always does—but there’s something different in your energy.

you’re still you. still sweet, still gentle.

but you’re looking at her longer.

and when she steadies your arm during a stretch, your breath catches—not in pain. in something else.

vi notices. her thumb brushes your wrist a little longer than necessary.

and you don’t pull away.

afterward, you linger near the door, cup still in hand. you glance back like you don’t want to leave yet.

vi leans in the doorway beside you, arms crossed, coffee cup dangling from her fingers. “you feeling better today?”

you nod, softly. “yeah. thanks to you.”

vi shrugs, smirking. “must’ve been the vanilla.”

you laugh. and it’s real.

her chest aches.

because she could get used to this. your voice. your stupid oversized hoodie. that nervous little smile you give her when you think she’s not looking.

she wants to see you like this every day.

she wants you.

“hey,” you say, shifting shyly, “if you ever need a pick-me-up too, i… i owe you a coffee run.”

you glance up at her from under your lashes.

and vi—vi is a fighter. a survivor. she’s stood in front of gods and monsters.

but nothing has ever hit her like the sound of your voice offering her something so gentle. so normal. so kind.

she gives you a slow grin. “you tryna bribe your way to extra therapy minutes?”

you snort. “maybe.”

“dangerous game,” she says, leaning closer, voice dropping. “i bite.”

you flush hard, eyes widening.

and there it is—that little spark of tension between you again.

something unsaid. unnamed. growing.

you step back, laughing nervously. “noted.”

“see you next week, trouble,” she says, watching you go.

and when the door swings shut behind you, vi exhales through her teeth and mutters, “shit.”

because she’s in it now.

deep.

it’s just a normal tuesday.

the clinic’s busy—voices echo down the hall, charts are a mess, and vi’s barely had time to breathe between sessions. she’s half-living off caffeine and instinct.

but then—

she hears your laugh.

and everything else goes quiet.

she turns. you’re standing down the hall, smiling at someone—not her. it’s jace. one of the new pts. all charm, clean white coat, and that dumb, easy smile he flashes at everyone.

you’re laughing at something he said.

and then—

he touches your arm. light, casual, like it’s nothing. his hand lingers as he explains something about posture, and your gaze drops shyly.

vi’s heart drops with it.

she doesn’t know why she’s staring. she doesn’t know why her jaw clenches or why her chest tightens like someone just sucked the air out of her lungs. but she’s frozen in place, coffee halfway to her mouth, blood pounding in her ears.

you’re supposed to laugh like that with her. you’re supposed to look down and blush when she’s talking. not him. not some clipboard-holding moron who doesn’t even remember which knee you injured last month.

vi doesn’t realize she’s moving until she’s already crossed the hallway.

“hey,” she says—casual, low, but a little too tight.

you and jace look up.

“vi!” you say, eyes lighting up.

vi swallows that down like it doesn’t make her whole goddamn week just hearing her name in your voice.

jace grins. “oh, hey. i was just giving y/n a quick tip on their shoulder rotation. thought i’d—”

“i’ve got it,” vi cuts in.

jace pauses. “right, just—”

“i said,” she says, with that cool smile that means you’re done here, “i’ve got it.”

he raises his hands. “sure, no problem.”

vi doesn’t watch him leave. her focus is entirely on you now.

you blink up at her, cheeks a little pink. “sorry—i didn’t mean to cheat on you with another therapist.”

vi stares.

and then laughs, low and soft. “you better not,” she mutters.

you smile at the joke. but she means it.

don’t. don’t let anyone else touch you. don’t let them be the one to make you smile.

back in the therapy room, vi’s quieter than usual.

but her hands?

more deliberate. slower. firmer.

she’s not even pretending she isn’t touching you more than necessary—adjusting your posture with both hands, letting her fingers slide just a little longer down your spine when she helps you stretch.

you’re blushing. she can feel the way your muscles react, the way your breath stutters when she gets too close.

“you good?” she asks lowly, close to your ear.

you nod, biting your lip.

she sees it. she feels it. you’re not just here for recovery anymore. you want her hands on you. you want her.

and god, she wants to ruin the way you smiled at jace.

but she pulls back.

because this is still your safe space. she won’t cross that line—not yet.

but when the session ends and you thank her, voice quiet and warm, vi can’t help it.

she steps a little closer.

“you ever need anything,” she says, “you come to me. got it?”

you meet her eyes.

“…got it,” you whisper.

vi watches you leave again, hands clenched in her pockets.

that’s right.

you’re hers. even if you don’t know it yet.

rain hits the windows like it’s personal.

vi watches it come down in sheets, standing near the front desk, arms crossed, jaw tight. the parking lot is a blur of streetlight glare and soaking pavement.

and then she sees you. hoodie pulled over your head, standing by the glass door, frowning down at your phone.

“where’s your ride?” vi asks, already moving.

you glance up. “got canceled. something came up, i guess…”

vi doesn’t even hesitate. “i’ll drive you.”

you blink. “what? no, it’s okay—”

“you think i’m letting you limp three blocks in that?” she jerks her chin toward the storm. “get in.”

you hesitate. barely. then nod.

and just like that, vi’s soaked to the bone unlocking her truck for you, tossing your bag in the back, silently praying you don’t hear the way her heart’s pounding the moment you slide into the passenger seat.

the drive is quiet.

not awkward. just tense.

like there’s something humming in the silence between you two. a beat neither of you wants to name.

vi’s knuckles are white on the wheel.

you’re curled into your seat, hands tucked in your sleeves, rain-damp hair falling over your cheek. you glance at her sometimes. you think she doesn’t notice.

she does.

god, she does.

you’re soft and tired and so fucking close, the scent of you lingering under the smell of rain and leather and the faint vanilla from your earlier coffee.

“thanks again,” you say quietly.

she shrugs. “i don’t mind.”

and she means it. she’d drive you home in a blizzard if it meant you looked at her like that.

she pulls up outside your place. the rain hasn’t let up. it’s worse now—sideways, cold, unforgiving.

vi kills the engine.

you don’t move to get out.

“…you okay?” she asks.

you nod, fiddling with your sleeve. “yeah. just… don’t wanna get soaked, i guess.”

vi leans over, grabs your bag from the back seat. “i’ll walk you.”

“vi, you don’t have to—”

“i want to.”

you freeze.

for half a second, the air shifts. heavy. like you heard something you weren’t supposed to.

vi doesn’t back down.

just opens her door and lets the rain slam into her shoulders.

by the time you both reach your door, you’re drenched and breathless, laughing despite it.

vi stands half-under your porch light, hair plastered to her neck, jaw tight. you unlock your door, but don’t step inside.

neither does she.

she stays.

right there. just looking at you.

you shiver a little, from the cold or something else, and her eyes flick down. she swallows hard.

“i should…” you murmur.

“yeah,” vi says, not moving.

but she doesn’t say goodbye.

she’s waiting.

and you’re standing there, hand still on the doorknob, watching her under the rain. you look like you’re about to say something—then stop. then smile, tiny and unsure.

vi shifts closer. not touching. just close enough that your breath hitches.

“…get inside before you freeze,” she finally says, voice hoarse.

you nod.

but still don’t move.

her fingers twitch at her side. she wants to tuck your hair back. wants to cup your face and just—

instead she says, “next time… tell me if you don’t have a ride.”

your lips part. “why?”

vi’s voice is low. quiet. unshakable.

“because i’ll come for you. every time.”

you just stare at her.

then step inside.

and look back one more time before the door closes.

vi doesn’t move until she hears the lock click.

then she exhales.

fuck.

she’s falling. and this time, there’s no coming back.

vi’s already in the room when you walk in—clipboard in hand, hoodie sleeves rolled, looking like she hasn’t slept more than four hours. but when she sees you?

she straightens up.

god, you’re cute. always have been—but lately?

you’ve started looking at her different.

you used to flinch when she adjusted your shoulder. now you lean in.

you used to avoid eye contact. now your gaze lingers.

you used to whisper "thank you" and leave in a rush.

now you stay. sit close. smile a little too long.

and vi’s falling apart inside every time.

today, she’s guiding you through stretches. gentle. focused. professional.

or at least—she’s trying to be.

but you?

you’re on the mat, lying on your side, and she’s kneeling beside you, one hand on your knee, the other bracing your lower back. her voice is low—“just relax. let your hip drop, that’s it…”

and you sigh. not from pain. from something else.

soft. deliberate.

and then your eyes flick open.

right up at her.

“…you always this gentle?” you murmur.

vi freezes.

your voice is playful. but your eyes are serious.

and fuck, that look—like you want her to do something about it—like you’re inviting her to cross the line you both pretend isn’t there—

her hands twitch.

she pulls back.

"you're flirting," she says, voice tighter than it should be.

you blink. “what?”

she tilts her head. “you know what you’re doing.”

you sit up slowly, face flushed—but you don’t deny it.

instead, you hold her gaze.

"maybe," you whisper, "i just like the way you look at me."

silence.

vi’s heartbeat punches through her ribs.

you’re closer now. still sitting on the mat. eyes soft. breath a little fast. and she’s towering over you, fists clenched at her sides, trying to stay still when every part of her wants to grab you by the waist and press you against the floor.

she doesn’t.

but she leans down.

so close her breath brushes your cheek.

“careful,” she murmurs, voice low and cracked. “i’m not the type you flirt with unless you mean it.”

you swallow.

but your hand lifts—and gently, slowly, you touch her wrist.

“i mean it.”

vi’s body locks. like she’s about to break in half.

and then—your phone rings.

the moment shatters. you gasp, pulling back to fumble for it. vi stands like she’s been yanked out of a dream.

the call’s short. you hang up, avoiding her eyes.

“…sorry,” you say, voice small. “i should go.”

vi doesn’t stop you.

she doesn’t say a word until you’re gone.

then she exhales a sharp breath and punches her own thigh.

fucking hell.

you’re not just a patient anymore. you’re the one person she wants and can’t have. and now she knows you want her too.

this is bad.

but she can’t stop.

vi didn’t ask you to help.

you volunteered. sweet little smile and all. said she looked tired. said she shouldn’t carry all those storage crates alone.

she should’ve said no.

she wanted to say no.

but then you touched her arm and said, “let me take care of you for once,” and her brain short-circuited.

so here you are.

cramped in the back supply room, surrounded by boxes and rubber bands and unopened therapy equipment. the air’s thick. the light’s flickering. and you’re standing a little too close.

again.

“can you hand me that?” you ask innocently, pointing at a box half-hidden behind her.

she steps aside.

you don’t.

instead, you slide right between her and the shelf—chest brushing hers—shoulder grazing her jaw. and then you lean over, slowly, dragging your body past hers like you don’t even notice what you’re doing.

vi stiffens.

“careful,” she mutters, voice tight. “you’re gonna start something you can’t finish.”

you glance back at her.

and smile.

“i never said i couldn’t finish it.”

silence.

the words detonate in her skull.

she watches you turn, holding the box against your chest like you didn’t just challenge everything she’s been fighting to ignore. your lips are slightly parted. there’s a flush across your cheeks.

and then—you drop it.

“oh no,” you say, mock-guilty. “oops.”

vi stares at the scattered contents.

you crouch down.

vi doesn’t move.

because your ass is right there. your shirt’s ridden up. you’re biting your lip as you reach for a fallen bottle of massage oil and make a little noise when you do.

and it’s not even fair anymore.

this isn’t innocent. this isn’t clumsy.

this is cruel.

vi exhales like she’s been shot.

you look back over your shoulder.

she’s still staring.

and then you say it.

“…you okay, vi?”

and that’s it.

that’s the breaking point.

she drops into a crouch behind you—one hand braced on your lower back, the other gripping your wrist before you can reach the last bottle.

you freeze.

“close the door behind you,” she says, low and calm and dangerous.

you swallow hard.

“…it’s already closed.”

vi’s grip tightens.

you’re trembling now. not from fear. from something hotter, deeper. your breath’s shaky and your lashes flutter.

she pulls you up—slowly—until your back hits the wall.

and then she steps in.

crowding you. one palm against the wall beside your head. the other still holding your wrist.

your lips part—but she speaks first.

“i can’t treat you after this,” she growls, voice rasping at the edges. “you know that, right?”

you nod.

barely.

“say it.”

“i… i know.”

vi leans closer, forehead nearly brushing yours.

“you keep playing with fire like that, and one day i’m not gonna stop.”

your voice comes out shaky. “then don’t stop.”

silence.

then?

she kisses you.

hard.

hungry.

desperate.

she pins your wrist above your head and kisses you like she’s trying to erase the months of tension in one go. you melt into her with a gasp, fingers tangling in her hoodie, tugging her closer, closer, closer—

until she finally breaks away, breathing hard, eyes wild.

“…tell me to stop,” she says, chest rising fast.

you don’t.

you reach up. thumb brushing the corner of her mouth.

“i dared you to lose control,” you whisper.

vi growls. and this time when she kisses you?

you don’t come up for air.

it’s the little things that get her.

not the memory of your lips, not the taste of your breath or the low, broken sound you made when you kissed her back. not the way your hand trembled against her hoodie like you were scared of how much you wanted her. no—it’s none of that.

it’s the way you’re acting like it never happened.

you walked into the clinic this morning wearing that soft cardigan she always liked, holding your bag in both hands, smiling too politely. you looked at her and said “morning, doc” like you hadn’t kissed her so deep she forgot her own name.

she didn’t even sleep last night. couldn’t. not with your scent on her hands. not with the feel of your back under her palms, the warmth of your mouth, the hitch in your breath when she pulled you close and you gasped, like you’d been waiting for her to lose control.

she thought you’d say something today. thought you’d come in shy, flustered. thought maybe—maybe—you’d pull her aside and whisper, “about yesterday…”

but no.

you just sat down on the rehab bench, crossed your legs, and asked her, all casual, “do we start with the wrist or the shoulder today?”

and now she’s sitting across from you, holding your arm in her lap, watching your fingers flex gently in her grip, and every second she doesn’t speak is killing her.

she wants to grab you again. slam the door. press you back against the wall and force you to say what you’re feeling—make you admit what you both already know.

instead, she tightens her grip slightly, feeling your pulse flutter beneath her thumb.

you don’t flinch.

you don’t even look up.

just that same polite little smile. that sweet voice.

so she snaps.

soft. controlled. but deadly.

“you’re pretending it didn’t happen.”

you blink.

and then you go still.

vi looks up at you slowly, her voice low and cracked like gravel soaked in honey. “you really gonna sit there and act like i didn’t have you up against that wall yesterday?”

your lips part—but you say nothing.

so she keeps going.

“i kissed you. you kissed me back. you wanted it. you needed it. and now you’re sitting here smiling like we’re strangers again.”

you swallow. she watches the movement in your throat. watches the flush crawl back into your cheeks.

but you still don’t speak.

and that? that breaks her.

she drops your hand like it burned her, stands too fast, pacing across the clinic floor with her jaw clenched and her fists flexing like she wants to hit something—or kiss you again so hard you stop playing games.

“i don’t know what this is to you,” she mutters, not facing you. “but to me? it’s not just heat. it’s not just some accident in a supply room.”

her voice tightens.

“i feel something when i look at you. something i shouldn’t. and i told myself i could keep it together. that i could keep it professional. but then you kept smiling at me like that. you kept brushing my hands. staying late. leaning in. laughing at my dumb jokes like i’m worth something.”

she finally turns, eyes shining, jaw hard.

“you made me fall for you. and now you’re pretending like it never happened.”

silence.

then—

you rise from the bench.

slow. steady.

you walk toward her with calm, quiet steps.

and when you reach her, you look up and say—

“i’m not pretending, vi.”

you place her hand over your chest.

“i just didn’t know if you regretted it.”

vi’s breath leaves her like a punch.

her fingers twitch against your sternum.

and then she says it—raw, honest, shaking—

“i regret not doing it sooner.”

vi hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you.

every minute of every day, you’re there. flickering in her peripheral vision. your soft smile. the sound of your laugh. the way you still move too close to her when you think she’s not watching. every glance, every touch. every damn thing you’ve done since the first kiss is still playing on a loop in her mind.

and now? she’s done waiting.

you’re not playing around anymore. you walked into the clinic late tonight, your usual soft cardigan draped over your shoulders, hair pulled back in that messy bun she secretly finds adorable. you walked in like nothing was going on—like you hadn’t been setting fire to her brain for the past week.

she can barely focus on her work. her fingers tremble as she adjusts your therapy equipment, mind racing with everything she’s been dying to do to you since that damn kiss.

she’s tried to push it down. tried to keep it together. but all that’s left now is the way her body craves you.

she snaps.

“you shouldn’t be here,” she growls, voice low and dangerous, stepping closer to you in the dim light of the clinic. “not tonight.”

you look up, eyes soft, but there’s something else in them now—something she’s been waiting to see.

“you think i shouldn’t be here?” you whisper, voice teasing, but her sharp eyes catch the way your chest rises a little faster. the way your breath catches. you’re just as bad as she is.

“i think you’ve been playing me for a fool, all this time,” vi growls, stepping even closer, closing the space between you. your pulse flutters as you take a half step back. but she’s there. so close now, you can feel her heat, her body only inches away from yours. you can hear her breath, soft and labored, as her chest brushes against yours.

“no,” you whisper, finally, eyes never leaving hers. “i’m not playing you. i’m here because i want this. i want you.”

and that’s all it takes.

vi doesn’t give you the chance to backpedal. she grabs you by the wrist, pulling you to her, her lips crashing into yours with a hunger so intense it steals your breath. she’s everything now. everything you’ve wanted. everything you’ve needed. the kiss isn’t gentle. it’s raw, urgent, desperate.

she pulls back, her breathing ragged. she looks at you, eyes wild. “you’ve been teasing me, haven’t you? you’ve been playing with me. and i’m done being patient.”

she doesn’t wait for a response. she forces your back against the nearest wall, the cool concrete biting into your skin as she presses against you. she’s relentless, lips dragging across your throat, your jaw, finding the sweet spot that makes your knees weak.

“vi…” you gasp, breathless, but she only tightens her grip on your waist, pushing herself closer. her body is a furnace against yours. “you’ve been mine since the moment you walked in here,” she whispers darkly against your ear. “and i’ve been waiting for you to realize it.”

you can barely breathe as she presses her knee between your legs, the heat from her touch sparking like electricity through your body. her hands roam, desperate to touch every inch of you, to claim you fully.

“vi…” you whisper again, voice shaking. “i need you.”

she growls in response, her lips meeting yours again in a bruising kiss. her hands move swiftly, pulling your cardigan off your shoulders, exposing the soft curve of your neck. you let her. let her take control. let her consume you, because you know she’s been holding back just as much as you have.

she doesn’t waste a single second.

with one swift motion, she lifts you, her hands gripping your thighs as she presses you harder against the wall. you gasp at the sudden sensation, your fingers tangled in her hoodie, pulling her closer, needing her.

she presses her forehead to yours, her breath ragged. “this is it,” she says, voice hoarse with desire. “no more games.”

and then she kisses you again, deeper this time, her tongue sliding into your mouth with a possessiveness that makes your head spin.

you’ve made it past the breaking point. this isn’t the shy, hesitant moment anymore. it’s raw. it’s uncontrollable.

vi’s hands are everywhere now. her lips are everywhere. she’s claiming every inch of you like she’s starving for you. she’s kissing you like it’s the only thing that makes sense anymore. she’s not stopping. she can’t stop.

you’re hers.

she pulls away just enough to look at you, to catch her breath, her fingers gently brushing over your swollen lips. “you’re mine now,” she murmurs, her voice low and possessive, her eyes dark with lust. “and i’m not letting you go.”

you nod, breathless, because you don’t need to say a word. you’ve already made your choice. you’re hers, and she’s yours.

and nothing in the world will ever stop that.

[sleekervae]

Flickers | the projectionist (johnny) x reader

Masterlist

A/N: had this idea knocking around in my head for a few days. And while still not clear on his real name in the movie, I'm going with Johnny for simplicity sake.

Pairing: the projectionist (johnny) x fem!reader

Summary: late night at the cinema and a salacious book has poor johnny in a bind for his colleague.

Warnings: erotic writing, heavy smut, oral, penetration, nudity

Word Count: 4,436

Johnny first met Sophie on the tail end of a smoky September evening, the air thick with the scent of roasted peanuts from the vendor outside the theater. She was leaning against the wall near the alley, cigarette perched between her fingers, looking every bit like she belonged in one of those French pictures he sometimes screened after hours. Her boss—a producer Johnny had worked with before—had sent her ahead to fetch some reels, but it was clear from the way she moved, slow and deliberate, that Sophie wasn’t the type to rush.

She was all sharp cheekbones and sharper wit, her dark hair pinned back haphazardly as though she’d stopped caring halfway through the task. When she introduced herself, her tone was low and indifferent, like she wasn’t used to people looking twice at her. Johnny had glanced down at her shoes—simple flats, scuffed at the edges—and wondered if she realized how much attention her quiet presence commanded.

At first, they only spoke in passing, exchanging a few words while Sophie handled errands for her boss. But over time, she lingered. She’d stay after picking up reels or dropping off schedules, watching him from the doorway as he adjusted the projector.

“I didn’t think anyone still cared about this old junk,” she remarked once, arms crossed, her voice carrying a trace of amusement.

Johnny looked up from splicing a reel, the dim light catching on her pale skin. “Well, someone’s gotta make sure it runs smooth. Besides, this junk’s how I pay rent.”

She laughed—a low, throaty sound—and it hit him harder than he expected.

It wasn’t long before she started coming around on her own time, sitting in the empty theater while he threaded film for the midnight show. She’d sit near the back, legs crossed, watching the flickering images with an intensity that made him uneasy in the best way. One night, she waited until the credits rolled to ask him:

“You ever think about what’s not on the screen? The stuff they won’t show?”

It was an odd question, but Sophie was full of those. Her curiosity was sharp and relentless, poking at ideas most people shied away from. Johnny didn’t know what to say, so she filled the silence herself, telling him about the scripts she was working on.

“They’re not normal,” she admitted, the word slipping out like a taunt. “Producers don’t like ‘em. Too weird. Too… honest.”

She wouldn’t let him read them at first, claiming they weren’t ready. But she couldn’t resist teasing him with snippets. A line of dialogue here, a provocative idea there. The more she shared, the more Johnny’s imagination took off. Her writing was raw, full of heat and longing that had nothing to do with love and everything to do with desire.

It wasn’t just her words that got under his skin. It was the way she said them—leaning close, her voice barely above a whisper, like she was sharing a secret too dangerous for anyone else to hear. Her eyes would linger on him, searching for a reaction, and he’d have to fight the urge to shift under her gaze.

Johnny wasn’t sure when he started picturing her in the scenarios she described, but once the idea took root, it spread fast. He’d catch himself watching her hands as she gestured, wondering what they’d feel like on his skin. He started noticing the curve of her lips when she spoke, the slight rasp in her voice that made everything she said sound like a proposition.

He told himself it was just curiosity—admiration for her creativity, maybe—but the truth sat heavier in his chest. Johnny was down bad for Sophie, the way she embraced the messy, carnal parts of human nature without apology. She made him feel like a character in one of her stories, teetering on the edge of something raw and thrilling.

And maybe, just maybe, he wanted to see how far she’d let him fall.

It was one of those late nights where the air in the projection room felt heavy, the low hum of the machines lulling them into an easy rhythm. Sophie had perched herself in the chair in the corner, legs crossed, cigarette forgotten between her fingers.

“You really want to read it?” she asked, her voice a little too casual.

Johnny didn’t look up from the reel he was inspecting, though his hands faltered for half a beat. “Been asking you for weeks, haven’t I?”

Sophie smirked, but there was something sharper underneath it, like she was testing him. She reached into her bag and pulled out a neatly folded stack of pages, bound with a frayed ribbon.

“Fine. But don’t blame me if it messes with your head,” she said, tossing it onto the counter.

He wiped his hands on his trousers before picking it up, the weight of her work feeling heavier than it should’ve. The title scrawled across the top in her loopy handwriting read Flickers.

Johnny picked the script off the counter, his fingers brushing the ribbon binding it together. The room felt warmer now, Sophie’s proximity a heavy presence that made it harder to focus. He flipped through the pages until he landed on a scene near the middle—words catching his eye like fireflies in the dark.

He cleared his throat, half for himself and half to test the waters. “Mind if I…”

Sophie raised a brow, but there was a softness to her smirk. “Go ahead... If you dare.”

The challenge in her voice spurred him on, and he began to read.

“'Paul's hands traced the curves of her body, firm and possessive. His voice was a husky whisper in her ear as he demanded, "Tell me how much you want me." Lucille gasped, her body responding eagerly, guiding his hands to where she needed him most.'

“'His grip tightened around her as he felt her body molding to his touch, her warmth enveloping him. His tongue darted out to taste her skin, and she shivered beneath him in response. She arched her back, pushing herself closer to him as he traced patterns over her stomach and sides with his fingers. The softness of her skin sent shockwaves of desire through him, and he growled low in his throat. His hands found their way up to cup her breasts, kneading them gently before pulling on her nipples through the fabric of her shirt. Lucille threw her head back with a soft moan, the sound echoing in the room. Her scent was intoxicating—a mix of sweet perfume and primal need.”

Johnny paused, his voice trailing off as he glanced up. Sophie had turned her face away, her dark lashes casting shadows against her cheeks. But she wasn’t as indifferent as she pretended to be—he caught the faintest curve of her lips, a smile threatening to give her away.

“Keep going,” she said softly, her tone lacking the teasing edge it usually carried.

Johnny swallowed, taking a seat in the chair beside her, “You sure?”

Her eyes flicked to his, holding his gaze for just a moment too long. “I’m sure.”

He returned to the page, his voice lower now, threading through the quiet tension between them.

“‘You like watching me unravel,’ Paul murmured, his hands tightening on her waist. ‘Does it make you feel powerful?’

“She smiled—a wicked, knowing smile that sent a shiver down his spine. ‘It makes me feel alive.’

“With one swift motion, Paul pulled back Lucille's bustier, revealing supple curves that seemed endless in the dim light. He ran his hands along the smooth expanse of skin, tracing patterns that made her gasp and squirm beneath him. His lips followed suit, kissing and nipping along her collarbone and down towards her breasts. They stood tall and proud under his admiring gaze, begging for attention. With a soft sigh, he bent down to capture one nipple in his mouth, sucking gently at first before increasing the pressure. Lucille cried out, her fingers tangling in his hair as she arched her back off the bed.”

Johnny stopped again, unable to ignore the way Sophie shifted closer to him, her knee brushing against his thigh. “This is… something else,” he murmured, not realizing he’d said it out loud.

Sophie finally turned to him, her cheeks flushed but her smile unshaken. “You like it?”

He let out a low laugh, setting the script down but keeping his eyes on her. “I think you’re trying to get me in trouble.”

She bit her lip, that wicked, knowing smile from the page mirrored on her face now. “Or maybe I just know what I want,” she said, her voice quiet but sure, “Keep going,” she urged.

The room suddenly felt claustrophobic as the scene unfold. His heart raced as Paul buried himself between Lucille's legs, read how she moaned and screamed for him, their encounter brimming with unbridled desire. Every word and gesture built to a tantalizing climax, sending Johnny's mind reeling with fantasies. But it wasn't Paul or Lucille anymore; it was him and Sophie. Her seductive smirk and intense gaze held him spellbound, igniting a fire within him that he could not resist.

“You write like this all the time?” he asked, his voice rougher than he intended.

“Only when I feel inspired,” Sophie replied, standing now. She stepped closer, her movements deliberate, as though testing just how far she could push him. “What do you think?”

“I think…” He set the pages down, forcing himself to meet her gaze. “I think you know exactly what you’re doing.”

Her lips curled into a grin. “Do I?”

The silence between them thickened, charged with all the things Johnny wasn’t saying. The way her scripts had lodged themselves in his brain, filling the quiet moments with flashes of heat. The way she seemed to know, without him ever admitting it, how badly he wanted her.

Sophie closed the distance between them, stopping just short of touching him. “If you’re too shy to finish, I can always act it out for you,” she teased, her voice barely above a whisper.

Johnny’s breath hitched. He couldn’t tell if she was joking, but the way her eyes lingered on his lips told him she wasn’t.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he warned, though his voice lacked conviction.

Sophie smirked, leaning in until her mouth was inches from his. “Who says I can’t?”

And that was it—whatever thin thread of control Johnny had been clinging to snapped. He closed the gap, his hands gripping her waist as their mouths collided. She tasted like smoke and something sweeter, her body pressing into his as though daring him to take more.

The pages of her script fluttered to the floor, forgotten, as Johnny pulled her into his lap, her legs falling on either side of him. Sophie’s fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, her breath hitching against his lips. She didn’t hold back—her movements were confident, commanding, like she’d been waiting for this moment as much as he had.

For Johnny, it wasn’t just about the heat of the moment. It was the way Sophie unraveled him, her words and presence stripping him bare until there was nothing left but want. She made him feel like he was part of her story, and for once, he didn’t care if it had a happy ending.

The room was awash with raw desire and urgency as Johnny's hands fumbled to undo the intricate clasps of Sophie's bustier, the fabric falling away to reveal the soft curve of her skin. Sophie's nails grazed down his chest, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, as she leaned in to capture his lips hungrily. The sound of fabric tearing filled the air as Johnny tore off her dress in a rush, his movements desperate and primal.

Sophie gasped against his mouth, arching into his touch as he explored every inch of her exposed skin. Her hands were everywhere at once, tugging at his tie and unbuttoning his shirt with a fervor that matched his own. The air crackled with electricity between them, passion igniting like a wildfire that threatened to consume them whole.

Their kiss deepened, becoming a symphony of need and longing that echoed through the room. Johnny's hands roamed over Sophie's body, memorizing every curve and

dip, every smooth plane and luscious valley that lay beneath the surface. He traced her spine with reverence, his fingers dancing down the small of her back and around to cup her hip, pulling her against him in a desperate plea for contact.

Sophie whimpered into his mouth, her own hands finding their way beneath his shirt, tracing the muscular lines of his abdomen as she felt the heat radiating off of him. The fire between them was building, growing in intensity until it threatened to consume them both in its fervor. She couldn't remember ever feeling this way before – so alive, so consumed by a need that seemed to pulse through her very veins.

And then Johnny's lips were on her neck, trailing kisses down to where her pulse raced wildly beneath the surface. And despite herself, Sophie's knees began to weaken. His teeth gently nipped at the tender skin of her shoulder, sending shivers of desire coursing through her veins. She could feel the heat from his body seeping into hers, warming her to her very core. And as much as she tried to fight it, it was impossible to deny the sheer power that he held over her in this moment.

The room was spinning with a mix of lust and adrenaline, the two of them lost in a whirlwind of passion that threatened to consume them both. Johnny's breath was hot against her skin, his lips trailing kisses down her neck and across her collarbone until he finally reached the delicate curve of her breasts.

She gasped as he took one in his mouth, sucking gently on the taut nipple while running his hands down over her hips and towards the sway of her backside. Sophie moaned softly into his hair, her hands fisting in his shirt as she arched her back, the pleasure coursing through her. This was beyond anything she'd ever experienced, anything she could write—a fire burning bright within her that only he could fan into flames.

As his lips moved from one breast to the other, Sophie's breath became ragged, her body trembling with need. Her fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him closer still. She felt like she was dancing on the edge of something dangerous and exhilarating, and she was powerless to resist it.

Johnny's hands trailed down her back, tracing the curve of her hips before sliding beneath her, lifting her onto the chair. She let out a soft gasp as he settled her onto the wooden frame, his strong arms supporting her weight. The room was filled with a heavy silence punctuated only by their ragged breathing and the sound of fabric rustling as they tore at each other's clothes.

With an unspoken demand, Johnny lifted her gently and placed her on the small wooden table in the corner of the room. Her breath hitched as she realized how exposed she was, how vulnerable she felt. But in that moment, she didn't want to be anywhere else. She wanted him to take her, to claim her with a passion and intensity that was like nothing she'd ever known.

Johnny pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his hands firm but tender as they settled on her thighs. “Hold on,” he murmured, his voice thick with restraint.

Sophie blinked, her lips parted in protest, but he silenced her with a smirk that promised he wasn’t going far. He strode to the projection room door, turning the lock with a decisive click that echoed through the space.

“No interruptions,” he said, more to himself than her, before his eyes flicked back to her.

Sophie was still perched on the table, her legs slightly apart, the hem of her skirt riding dangerously high. She looked at him with a mix of confidence and vulnerability, her breath shallow as he crossed the room again.

“And here — I thought you changed your mind,” she teased, though her voice wavered slightly.

Johnny’s grin deepened, his eyes dark and intent as he stepped closer. His hands settled on her waist, drawing her toward the edge of the table with an easy confidence. “Couldn’t have that,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “Not when you look at me like that.”

He leaned in, his lips brushing the corner of her mouth, his words a whispered promise against her skin. “Not when I’ve been dying to know how far you’ll let me go.”

Her gasp turned into a moan as his hands slid down, tracing the curve of her hips before tugging her closer. Sophie gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white, as Johnny’s mouth moved to her neck, his stubble rough against her soft skin.

“Johnny…” she whispered, her voice breathless and pleading.

“Shh,” he murmured, his lips trailing lower. “You don’t want anyone hearing us, do you?”

He continued, his touch feather-light as he traced the delicate line of her stomach, her skin quivering beneath his fingers. Sophie bit her lip, her eyes closing as he marveled at the way her body arched towards him.

As she felt his fingers slide under the hem of her undergarments, she caught her breath in a sharp gasp. He looked up at her from where he knelt, his eyes dark with desire and a hint of fear. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice barely audible over the pounding of their hearts.

Sophie nodded, an array of emotions playing across her face as she met his gaze. "Yes," she murmured, her voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and fear. She wanted this; she needed this.

Johnny's eyes locked onto hers for a moment longer before they flicked lower, the heat of desire still smouldering in their depth. He took a shuddering breath, his hands steady as he pulled her underwear down, revealing the most intimate part of her. For a moment, he simply looked, drinking in the sight of her before him.

Sophie's heart threatened to burst from her chest, the sight of Johnny looking at her like that making her feel powerful and delicate all at once. She wanted to reach out and touch him, to pull him closer and reassure him that she was alright. But she also craved the touch of his skin against hers, the warmth of his body enveloping hers in passion's embrace.

With a deep inhale, Johnny let his fingers brush against the sensitive skin before him. Sophie let out a soft moan, her eyes fluttering shut as waves of pleasure washed over her. His touch was gentle yet firm, as if he were caressing a delicate flower with utmost care. She felt herself growing warmer, her body trembling with anticipation.

Johnny's eyes met hers, the intensity of his gaze making her heart flutter. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her skin as he placed soft kisses along her inner thigh. Sophie let out a shaky sigh, her hands gripping the edge of the table tightly as she felt the world around her fade away.

There was something magical about this moment, something that she knew would stay with her for eternity. Johnny's experience and passion were intertwined with her own desires, creating a symphony of touch and emotion. His hands traced delicate patterns on her skin, sending shivers down her spine and causing a fire to ignite within her core.

As his lips brushed against her folds, Sophie's breath hitched. The room was filled with the sounds of pleasure and need, of their bodies speaking volumes without a single word being spoken. She could feel Johnny's warmth at her entrance, the anticipation of what was to come making her tremble with excitement.

Johnny then descended upon Sophie's slick, wet pussy like a starved animal. His tongue delved into her folds, tasting her sweet nectar, as his lips wrapped around her clit and sucked gently. Sophie's back arched out as a moan escaped her lips. Her fingers threaded through Johnny's hair, pulling him closer as he devoured her.

His tongue darted in and out of her pussy, fucking her with it like a little cock. He teased her entrance, tasting her sweet juices before plunging deeper. Sophie's hips bucked as she ground herself against his face, desperate for more. Her moans grew louder as her pleasure built, her breath hitching with every flick of Johnny's tongue against her clit.

Her legs trembled as she felt her orgasm building. Johnny's skilled tongue worked her into a frenzy, his fingers digging into her thighs as he held her in place. She could feel herself on the edge, ready to tumble over into pure ecstasy. With one final flick of his tongue, Sophie came undone.

Her orgasm tore through her like a tidal wave. Sophie's eyes rolled back into her head as she cried out in pleasure. Johnny continued to lick and suck at her pussy, drawing out every last shiver and shudder of her orgasm. When Sophie finally came down from her high, Johnny looked up at her with a smug smile on his face.

"Good girl," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You taste so fucking sweet."

Sophie could only blush and pant in response, still reeling from the most intense orgasm of her life. Johnny's mouth on her pussy had been filthy and depraved, but she couldn't get enough. She knew she'd be begging for more in no time.

With a smile that promised more, Johnny stood and pulled his pants down, his impressive erection bobbing in front of them. Sophie smiled up at him, her heart hammering in her chest. She reached out to him, her fingers tracing the length of his cock.

"Take me," she whispered, her voice full of desire. "I’m all yours, Johnny."

Johnny positioned himself at Sophie's entrance and slowly pushed inside. She gasped at the sensation of him filling her up, stretching her tight hole until she was overflowing with him. He began to move, his body slamming into hers with a rhythm that matched their hearts' desires.

Sophie's eyes fluttered closed as she felt Johnny's cock pound against her insides. She met every stroke with a moan or a whimper, her nails digging into his shoulders as she held onto him for dear life. The room was filled with the sounds of their bodies colliding—skin slapping against skin, breaths becoming ragged gasps for air.

The air in the room was thick, their bodies entwined in a rhythm that left no room for restraint. Johnny's movements were deliberate yet teasing, each thrust pulling a gasp from Sophie's lips. His mouth found her ear, his breath hot and unrelenting as he whispered.

"Is this how you pictured it?" he murmured, his tone laced with a wicked edge. "When you wrote those words—was it me you imagined, Sophie?"

Her hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as she tried to find balance amidst the chaos he was unleashing on her. She couldn’t answer, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe beyond the sensation of him inside her.

"You’ve got a filthy imagination," Johnny continued, his voice dripping with mock admonishment, though his thrusts deepened with every word. "I read every line, you know. Every single detail. Do you squirm when you write it? Did you get this wet just thinking about it?"

Sophie’s moan was all the response he needed, her head falling back as she clung to him, desperate for more. Her body betrayed her, arching into his touch, meeting every movement with equal fervor.

He chuckled, low and rough, his teeth grazing her neck. "Thought so. You’re squeezing me like you never want me to stop." His hand slid to her thigh, lifting it higher to anchor her against him. "So tell me, Sophie—am I better than your story?"

Her breath hitched, and she forced herself to meet his gaze, her cheeks flushed with heat. “Y-you’re better,” she managed, though her voice was barely a whisper, “So fucking better.”

"That’s what I thought," Johnny growled, his lips crashing against hers as he drove them both closer to the edge. Sophie arched her back as he reached between them to rub circles on her clit with his thumb.

"Come for me again," he commanded, nibbling at her ear while still teasing her clit. With a cry, Sophie obeyed, her body shuddering with pleasure. Her walls clenched around him, milking his cock as he continued to move inside her.

Never had she felt so alive, so desired. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and sex as their bodies moved as one, lost in the haze of desire and passion. Johnny's lips found hers once more, their tongues tangling in a messy dance of lust and love.

He pulled out at the last moment, his come splattering against her swollen clit. She cried out in ecstasy as he filled her up again, painting her insides with his release. And then they collapsed together in a heap on the table, their breathing ragged and heavy as they came down from their high.

Sophie couldn't believe it—she'd never felt anything like this before. This raw, unrestrained passion that burned bright between them. As she looked into Johnny's eyes, she knew that whatever words she’d written couldn’t truly capture the essence of their connection. Not like this.

Their bodies, slick with sweat and desire, lay entwined, hearts pounding in sync with the fading echoes of their passionate embrace. As their breaths slowly returned to normal, Sophie traced her fingers through the damp hair on Johnny's chest, marveling at the man before her. He was more than just a character in her story; he was real, and he had brought her words to life in a way she never thought possible.

Johnny turned his head towards her hand and captured it in his, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss. "That was... incredible," he whispered, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears of overwhelming emotion. "You truly are a wordsmith, Sophie."

She smiled, the corners of her lips turning up in a knowing grin. "I can't take all the credit. You helped bring the idea to life."

He chuckled softly and brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Well then, let's write another chapter, shall we?"

[educatedsimps]

— inarizaki 4 x f!reader on her period (hcs)

≪ back to fics masterlist

ft. miya atsumu, miya osamu, kita shinsuke, suna rintarō x f!reader

a/n: only writing for these four (so far) 'cause i don't think i have a very good grasp of the other inarizaki characters but perhaps in the future! anyway this one's short and sweet but i hope you enjoy~~

cw: timeskip spoilers for osamu but that’s it

— MIYA ATSUMU

is a dumbass

this man would only know what to buy for a period care pack because kita got him a care pack when he was sick

“i picked up a few things from kita-san ya know, WHADDAYA TAKE ME FOR?!"

he gets anxious and worried that he'll forget stuff when he's at the store

like he had to ask kita to make him a checklist for when he gets supplies for u

would go on a day trip around the neighbourhood to find the store that has everything on that checklist

keeps that checklist pinned in his notes app (right below a little note where he writes down everything he loves about you - he's a simp)

he's always worried he missed something so he will not shut up

"are you sure the pads are in there? did i get the right ones? the big ones with the wings right? the extra absorbent kind? I SWEAR I TOOK THE RIGHT ONES BUT IF THEY'RE NOT IN THE BAG I'LL RUN BACK TO GET IT FOR YA RIGHT NOW" (he took the bus there btw)

"oh and they ran out of the usual snacks you like so i got three other brands for you to try, if you don't like any of 'em i'll get some more!"

asks osamu to make your fav onigiri too but he only asks nicely cuz it’s for you :)

— MIYA OSAMU

would make SO MUCH food for you like you’ll never go hungry if you’re with him

he also does not care if you bloat during your period he WILL keep you fed even if it's against your will

would also find a bunch of different recipes that will reduce your bloating

he's an onigiri guy but he'd go to his mom and ask her to teach him her healing soup recipes

he'll start making so much soup you'll just be drinking soup the whole day (with onigiris and anything else you'd like, of course)

would NOT let you within a 10 foot radius of a cold drink when you're on your period

like you'd go to the fridge in the middle of a hot day to grab some chocolate and you'll just hear "STEP AWAY FROM THE FRIDGE WITH YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR"

you turn around and he’s pointing at you with his spatula in hand

he knows how warm you might feel on your period though so he'll make the kind of hot soup that cools the body (he learnt it from his mom)

— KITA SHINSUKE

kita is kita

kita is the best one out of everybody

he KNOWS what he’s doing like i don’t even need to explain

but yes you can trust that he’s got everything you need and has everything before you even know you need it

fav snacks, fav drinks, heating pad, painkillers, a gallon of water, hot soup, fresh food, weighted blanket if you like those, your fav movie or show already set up for you and a shit ton of cuddles and naps throughout the day

also he’d write in or call your boss to tell him or her that you’re staying home

“kita, i NEED to go to work today-“ “no. you need to rest.” “but-“ “i already called your boss.” BRO IT’S 6AM

will physically force you back in bed if you try to get up or out

also asks osamu to make ur fav onigiri

of course, his grandma loves u SO much that every month she’ll ask kita if you’re on your period and she'll make herbal or like the healing kind of soup and packs it so nicely for kita to bring it to you

sometimes she adds a little note in the carrier and your heart melts every single time

— SUNA RINTARŌ

king of cuddling and doomscrolling tiktok in bed

he knows you don’t really like lying down in bed and all during your period, especially if it’s really heavy so he’ll lay out extra towels and stuff in case anything happens

also would 100% clean up for you if your period gets too heavy and leaks onto the bed or something

“go get yourself cleaned up in the washroom and wait here for me once you’re done. don’t touch anything, i’ll take care of the sheets.”

keeps painkillers and water on his nightstand and a ton of heating pads in his drawer

ENDLESS CUDDLES like he gets so clingy it’s almost embarrassing but he’s cute so-

uses tiktoks to distract you from your period

“my period hurts-“ “babe look look look it’s a cat” “AWWWWW ITS SO FLUFFY”

tbh i don’t think you’d even use heating pads much if you were with him cuz you cannot look at suna and tell me that he’s not a heater in human form

his warm hands on your lower belly is the BEST feeling when you’re on your period

*places hands on tummy* “does it still hurt?” “no i think it’s going away…” “it better be. or i’m dragging your cramps to the depths of hell myself.”

— EXTRAS

osamu probably makes extra batches of onigiri every week just to give it out to his brother’s and friends’ girlfriends and honestly God bless him for that

would give atsumu’s girlfriend atsumu’s share of onigiri tho

the first time you got your period after you got together with kita, he probably asked you a whole list of questions he prepared and noted down all your answers like your fav stuff and the types of pads or tampons you use etc. it was honestly pretty shocking but sweet nonetheless

suna def has the period tracker app on his phone but he remembers your cycle so he uses the app to remind you

atsumu also has the app but he sets it to send him reminders and notifications when your period is coming up

a/n: THANK YOU FOR READINGG hoped u enjoyed it ~~ stay tuned for more original and requested works coming soon!! -lyssa

© educatedsimps 2024. do not repost, copy, translate or plagiarize any work from this blog on tumblr or any other platforms. if you do, the simps will hunt you down. likes and reblogs are appreciated!

[xo-zozo]

savannah grayson headcannons •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

a/n: omg would you look at that i'm posting again and it's a long one this time!! i actually love savannah and i've never made headcannons for her so yayy hope you enjoy it! if anyone has any requests don't be afraid to send them in!

tags : @your-mommy-ems @arqbella @reminiscentreader @x-liv25-jamieswife @inmyheaddd

@alwaysthefangirl @clarissaweasley-10 @off-to-the-r4ces @annamatix @lyrakanefanatic

@123letsgobestie @hathorneheiress @midiosaamor @saythewordheiress

when she was in high school she was the girl's basketball team captain and you better know she worked HARD for that title

she also participated in a bunch of other sports while she was in school and she was good at most of them but basketball was still her favorite

i think that she would be the kind of girl to love a good slick back

the scariest rbf you've ever seen

between her and gigi she's the one who drives the most because she doesn't trust gigi to drive without crashing the car

in high school she would take gigi to trader joes like at least once a week

she has like a whole wall in her room of all of her basketball achievements as well as all her academic ones like okay multitasker

her and gigi did some kind of modeling together when they were younger

she literally has to refrain from punching jameson and xander everyday for giving gigi coffee

before she found out about the whole avery thing and got mad at her and stuff she actually liked her a lot even if she wouldn't admit it

she really likes those really complicated and excessive yogurt bowls with granola and fruit on top of it and would have it every morning for like a year straight

i think that her and gigi would have really small meaningful matching tattoos

every time gigi even had an interest in a guy she would be the one to have to "meet them first" and approve of them

even though she's an athlete and she spends a lot of her time doing that, the time spent off of the court is in dressier and very coordinated outfits

she always gets annoyed when people tell her and grayson how alike they are because she "doesn't see it"

she's a night owl so sometimes she'll be up until four in the morning without getting tired throughout the day but it's a bad idea to ever talk to he before eight am

i think this is also one of the ways shes very different from gigi who is a big morning person

whenever she gets ready she blasts really loud music (i feel like this could either be classical or rap and no in between)

even though he's like the complete opposite of her, she actually really likes xander and thinks that he's really similar to gigi

NOTHING ever gets by her, she's a very observant person

she randomly decides to do like crazy stuff like go skydiving and gigi is always very supportive but will not join

okay that's it for today guys yayy. anyway, writing this made me so excited to see how the whole thing with her like hating avery is going to play out because i hope that it's a big part of the next book because i think it's gonna be so interesting! comment if you have anything to say, thank you for reading!

my headcannons masterlist

[dissociativewriter]

Lol Not you being mean to Caleb. It's kinda deserved though, I'm mean to him all the time. I have a love/hate relationship with him because he pushes all the right buttons to about annoy me and then says some smooth romantic line like it's okay. Illegal. Boy is a criminal.

Anyway... Are there gonna be moments where reader isn't around Em? And I'm also assuming there's a plot thing with Frankenstein since we keep it around. Oh, and are the LIs gonna end up interacting? (Probably part of the messiness, but I'm still askin') Friends? Enemies? Lovers? (Completely indifferent to each other lol?)

Do we have an evol or nah? (Can we have one, valid if no. Tis your story after all) Will Sylus look into our soul???

Are there any like, lil tidbits that are specific to this version of the LADS world? Also don't let me distract you from writing my ADHD is going brr, so apologies. Sending you good vibes! 🫶🏾

Listen, I love Caleb sometimes. He’s a pathetic wet dog of a man in love and I love to see that. But then he comes out with the oh I know you better than you know yourself, I know what’s best for you and it’s like okay— back it up there buddy boy. It pisses me off so I’m mean to him in fics but then he says something sweet and I’m like dammit now I feel bad.

Reader is going to be away from Em soon! I don’t want to spoil anything, but probably in the next part and then a few more they’ll be separated. As you can imagine, reader isn’t that eager to see Em again.

THANK YOU FOR NOTICING FRANKENSTEIN NO ONES SAID ANYTHING EVEN THOUGH ITS BEEN IN ALMOST EVERY PART. I have it in there for two reasons: it’s used as a link back to readers original world as a sort of reminder since em confirmed it doesn’t exist there, and it’s also used for symbolism that I won’t spoil 🤭 You can see some of my thought process is the rambles I posted that are linked in my masterlist 🫶

I don’t currently have any plans for the LIs to interact. I know that two of them are going to talk for at least a little bit but that’s it. If they were all to interact with each other it would be very tense (I feel like I’m marketing my other posts so sorry but you can see how that would be in my It’s just a game, right? fic)

Unfortunately we don’t have an evol. I think evols are something specifically linked to the world of love and deepspace so since readers not from there, there’s no evol. If reader was to have an evol, it wouldn’t actually be an evol. It wouldn’t be something to physically manifest like fire or ice. It would be something almost psychic that people categorize as evol, like reader being able to see the past. (It’s actually just the stuff reader knows from the games lore but you can’t really explain that)

Sylus isn’t going to look into readers soul completely because I saw a complete breakdown of his range of powers and what I got from that and from in game it seems to really violate the person he’s like looking into and leave them almost insane. Since Sylus is all about independence autonomy and consent I don’t see him doing it to someone like reader since it’s undeserved.

I can’t think of any tidbits right off that aren’t just canon because I try to keep everything canon so it’s easy for people to understand. And I’m gonna be so honest, you’re not interrupting anything. I have a couple scenes that I know I want to write but I haven’t actually sat down and written anything yet 😓

Thank you for sending this! I love chatting with yall!! Hope you have a good day (or night) 🫶🫶

[1427]

When the Levee Breaks (pt. 5)

Daryl Dixon x OFC

Story Summary: The one in which a stripper that used to know Merle and Daryl shows up at the Atlanta camp. Daryl’s feelings are complicated but mostly he hates her, right?

Chapt Setting: The Farm/Woods

Chapt Warnings: pretty explicit drug use (meth), season 2 Daryl, degrading/sexist language (he’s starting to get better lol), SOPHIA CHAPTER (I think that deserves a warning)

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: Daryl’s POV story. Daryl’s starting to be less of a dick, trying really hard to make it feel organic/make it make sense in the story. Idk. This chapter was really rough to write because… it made me sad. Also have no idea if it even makes sense (the hallucination bit, really hope it does) lol ALSO; I looked up some timeline stuff and i just?? Really thought Daryl was out there for days on his own? But apparently he wasn’t? We’re just gonna say that he is in this story. 🤷🏼‍♀️ I can only do so much when the timeline of TWD is fucking stupid sometimes. (I mean it. Come for me. Idc. Rick was in a coma for 59 days without food or water???!?!!!? Bye)

masterlist

17+ mdni (no smut in this one tho sorry)

Like fiberglass in my veins, it tears through me. Mellow, at first, almost think I should rail more before I can feel myself sweatin’. Different kinda sweat, comin’ from my fuckin’ soul. 

Haven’t felt like I was doin’ something ‘wrong’ since I was little. That feeling that ch’ya get when you’re doin’ somethin’ ya know you’re not s’possed to. This ain’t the first time I done spazz, but maybe it’ll be the last. The anxiety about doin’ it goes away the second I feel the devil kick me through my nose to the back of my brain. Even though I know it’s comin’, it always feels like gettin’ skullfucked by satan. 

Been out here for a day. I brought Merle’s shit with me because I decided to finally get rid of it somewhere. But I got somethin’ that needs doin’. And anyway, I got years of experience with ice. Not doin’ it. Sometimes doin’ it. Never let Merle know, he’d’ve made some big whoop ‘bout it. And everytime he’d gone and done more than he remembered, he woulda blamed me. Shit though, sometimes it was. 

M’not like Merle and Beatle. Ain’t an addict. Can do shit and put it down. Always been able to put it down. Figured other people could too, that they just didn’t wanna. ‘m not sure, but still kinda think that. 

Never felt fuckin’ guilty about it before, though. Fuckin’ Beatle. I’unno if it’s cuz I’d be done with her if she did the same shit, or if it’s cuz I know if she knew that I was - she’d be mad at me. Mad I didn’t invite ‘er. 

But this shit ain’t for fuckin’ playtime. Only reason ‘m even doin’ it i’so I can find Sophia. So I can stay awake, focus, and get ‘er back. They use ta use this shit in war. War’s the reason methamphetamines even exist. Nazi’s? Hell, every single one of ‘em in WWII. Kamikazi’s loaded up, totally fuckin’ wasted outta their minds on crystal while they bolted ‘em in. Kept ‘em awake, kept ‘em happy, kept ‘em focused on the mission. Tha’s what I gotta do. 

I can’t stop lookin’ til I find ‘er. Sophia. ‘m the only one that can, only one that knows how. And anymore, ‘m the only one that seems to give a shit. ‘Sides Carol. And Beatle. She wanted ta come. Told her she’d only slow me down. Distract me. Drawn more geeks. She woulda. Told her I didn’t need food either but she packed me some anyway. Knew I wasn’t gonna be hungry. Knew I was gonna use this dumb shit to help. But whatever. 

Doesn’t matter what happens to me, right? My life’s not worth nothin’, not compared to that little girl. Now that her old man’s outta the picture she actually got a chance. Maybe not mucha one, not the way shit is these days. But she got ‘er mom. And ‘er mom can actually be ‘er mom now. Not scared of some piece’a shit prick that finally got what was comin’ to ‘im. 

Man fuck that guy.

The trail I’m followin’ disappears so I backtrack to the mangroves where I found her doll and try to find another one. 

I start to wonder what kinda old man Beatle had. What kinda mom? Startin’ ta realize I don’t know a damn thing about Beatle. I know she likes drinkin’, she likes laughin’, she likes fuckin’ with me. But… 

Beatle keeps surprisin’ me. Not just because she let me hump her face a few days ago, the fact that she liked it, shit I haven’t even had a second to process that. Nah, more cuz she hasn’t brought it up. Hasn’t tried to hold my hand again. Hasn’t been annoyin’ me nearly as much. Not even at all, if ‘m honest. 

My brain’s goin’ a million miles a fuckin’ second over Beatle and what happened between us. Not just the other night, but back then. Got questions that need answerin’ but she ain’t here. Try to keep myself occupied with trackin’ but it ain’t like trackin’ takes much thinkin’. Follow every trail I pick up, but none of ‘em lead me to Sophia. 

I’d prob’ly start gettin’ really frustrated about this, but that’s what crystals good for. All the dopamine I need, and nothin’s annoyin’. Focus.

✨🏹 

Bent branches, wilted leaves, mud impressions, walker guts. Trees and rocks and blood and mud and dirt and greens and browns and reds and blacks. And it’s dark and it’s light and it’s dark. And it smells fuckin’ rotten. Bent branches, wilted leaves, another trail, another dead end, another undead shithead. Bent branches, wilted leaves, mud impressions, Beatle. 

How many times did I go into Merle’s bag and take the devils dick up my nose? Cuz Beatle’s standin’ here right in front of me. ‘Cept she’s all done up in makeup and glitter and her pupils are the size of dimes. Little pink crop top, tiniest pair’a daisy dukes I ever seen. ‘n she’s in my face sayin’ the shit I been thinkin’ about her sayin’ since that day she said it. 

“I like you, Dar.” 

“You like bein’ fucked up more.” I say it like I said it the last time. 

“That’s not true! I mean - I like you, Daryl.” She steps closer, tries to put her hand on my cheek before I brush her off. She slumps back a little, turning away. “You like me, too. You said it.” 

My hearts in my fuckin’ throat and I’m standin’ there, this can’t be fuckin’ happening. I know is’not but doesn’t make it feel any less real. “Tha’ was before I really knew ya, Beatle.” 

Hate that I said that to ‘er. Did I really say that? Cuz maybe that’s how I felt. Hell, maybe that’s how I felt last week. But it ain’t fair. I don’t know her. Still. Now. Don’t know ‘er at all. Thought I did. Thought I understood what kinda girl did those kindsa things. Is that really what I said? Fuck.

She’s still turned away from me, but I walk the half circle around to look at her face. And she’s sobbing. Silently, trying to stay as still as possible. I… I don’t remember this part. Maybe I didn’t see it? Nah, I saw it. Just didn’t care. Didn’t wanna look at ‘er. Didn’t want to hear her lame ass confession. Especially after she’d brought up that I told ‘er I liked ‘er. She sniffles and wipes her face before she pulls a bubble pipe out of the waistband of her shorts and lights the bottom, starts smokin’ it. She asks if I want a hit, like last time. 

I go to say no, but the words don’t come out. Instead my hand reaches for it. I look back up and Beatle’s dressed all different. Baggy jeans and a bikini top. That night. Fuck. Shit. I don’t want to relive that night. 

“I promise, I won’t tell Merle.” She says, handing me her lighter. And I smoke it. Inhaling the vapor slowly like she had. “You gotta sip at it, like it’s a coffee and you’re drinking the air to see if it’s still too hot. Roll the bowl or it will burn.” I do it the way she says. She’s like ten years younger than me, but she looks at me - talks to me like it don’t matter. Like she don’t see it that way. Guess I don’t either, never really did. 

I’d never wanted to smoke it before. But that night I wanted to. With her. Woulda done anything she’d asked that night ‘fore she ruined it. I ruined it. Til it got all fucked up an’ it was never the same again. Not the way I saw her, not the way she looked at me. 

I’m goin’ through memories like they’re happening all over again. Feelin’ fuckin’ sick. I don’t wanna remember this. 

I hand the pipe back to her and she asks, “How do you feel?” 

“Fine.” 

“Just fine?” She smiles. 

“Good.” I clarify. 

“Good.” 

Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. “I think I like you, Beatle.” 

She laughs too hard, “you think?” I feel myself getting sicker and angry again all at once. 

I split in half. One half feelin’ those same feelings I felt. That this conceited fuckin’ bitch really acts like everyone likes her. I hear her words and it sounds like she’s sayin’ ‘well obviously’ - but the other halfa me hears it like a real question. Like she wanted ta know what I meant. I don’t remember how I responded then, but I can hear myself say it, “Self-obsessed cunt.” 

Beatle laughs, “Is that what you like about me?” 

My misunderstanding continues; Thought she was pickin’ on me. Makin’ funna me. All these years. All this time. Thought she was fuckin’ laughin’ at me. Never told a girl I liked her. Not that I never did like one, just never told ‘em. Not like some teenage fuckin’ confessional. And I do and what?  she just laughs.  

Shit. 

Cuz inside ‘m screaming. Screamin’ at myself ta say somethin’ different. To jus’ tell her. She’s special, she’s exciting, and when she smiles at the shit I say it makes me feel like I’m the only one in the fuckin’ world to her. Tha’s what she wants ta here. Tha’s why she’s askin’. 

“Nah. Forget it.” She nods, and I thought she did forget it.  She forgot until she brings it up again in the memory I already re-lived. 

Tha’s how I was so damn sure she didn’t give a single shit about if I liked her or not. Didn’t bring it up again for months. Didn’t give a single shit about me at all. Felt stupid for ever thinkin’ she might. Just a dumb crush on a dumb girl, and I forgot everything about it. An’ every little thing she did that made me like ‘er ended up as somethin’ else I hated.  And every time I saw her after that she was fucked up on somethin’. Meth or booze or weed. Usually all three. 

It comes at me like a fuckin’ freight train, her lips crashing into mine, but this time I want it. Don’t wanna stop kissin’ ‘er. Instead my arms move and I push her down to the ground. She’s wearing the crop top again, can tell she’d been cryin’. She’s layin’ there in the rocks lookin’ up at me and I flash back to the living room where this happened, where she’d told me she liked me back. I wanna beat the shit outta myself for makin’ her look like that. 

How didn’t I see it? 

I did see it. I just didn’t care. Thought I knew what kinda girl did those kinds’a things. 

Wonderin’ what kind of old man she had. What kinda boyfriends before she met me. How maybe she’s just as fuckin’ scared’a feelin’ stuff as I am. How maybe it took her months to even get up the courage to tell me after I’d told ‘er never mind and slowly started to hate her. How many’a those drinks were for courage? How many’a those hits were cuz she was nervous?

Shit. 

And she’s runnin’ away like she did then. Away from me an’ outta my life until a few weeks ago. I know it ain’t real but I run after her anyway. Screamin’ her name into the open air like maybe somehow I can change it if I can get her to come back. But she’s gone and ‘m still running tryin’ to find her. Screaming for her ‘til my throats hoarse. 

‘Til the walkers hear me. 

✨🏹

Andrea fuckin’ shot me. What is wrong with this fuckin’ group?

✨🏹

Beatle’s in the bedroom with me but I can’t look at ‘er. Don’t wanna. Feels like she knows what I was doin’ out in them woods without ‘er. Like she can see the dirty shit in my soul and for some reason it makes me ill. Can’t look at ‘er. Knowin’ I hurt ‘er like that all that time ago. Knowin’ it now like I ain’t ever known anything else. 

It’s just me ‘n her and she doesn’t try to talk to me. Just lets me lay there hatin’ myself for all of it. Didn’t even find Sophia. 

Spent a lot of my days in my life hatin’ myself. Thinkin’ I was good for nothin’. Now ‘m sure of it. 

I feel the bed move under the weight of her. She hugs herself around me, and like some pathetic kid I fuckin’ cry. Don’t know if she can tell or not but she tries comforting me anyway. “It’s okay, Dar. You did your best.” Her voice… how could I have ever thought it was annoying? Her bein’ so nice just makes me hate myself more. 

“Lea‘me alone, Beatle.” Shakin’ her arm out from around me. She gets off the bed and sits back in the chair she’d been in. God, I fuckin’ hate myself. Wanna scream No, come back. I didn’t mean it. 

Still got question’s that need answerin’. This time Beatles right here, and I ain’t got nothin’ to lose. “Why were you naked in Merle’s room?” Grateful that she’s sittin’ behind me. Don’t think I could talk to ‘er ‘bout this stuff if she was lookin’ at me. Right now? If I saw her face? Don’t think I could talk at all. 

She laughs. Fuck her stupid fuckin’ laugh. “I still can’t believe you think I fucked around with Merle.” 

“Why not? Y’all hung out every other day.” My voice is sharp, feels like she’s laughin’ at me again. Always feels like everyone’s laughin’ at me. 

“We all hung out every other day, Dar.” 

“Stop callin’ me tha’.” 

“I was carpet surfing. Your dumbass brother spilled all the schkag all over the damn place.” 

Oh…. But, “Ya didn’t have any clothes on.” 

“I never had any clothes on, Daryl. You sure I wasn’t just wearing something ‘slutty’? You know, like you always said I was? Cuz I don’t remember, but I’ve never been naked with Merle. Ever. Sounds fuckin’ gross.”

Oh. 

It made sense. Makes so much sense, ‘specially now. She keeps talkin’ an’ ‘m grateful cuz if I tried to say anything else I’d start fuckin’ cryin’ again. “I liked you, man. I…” she stops herself. Wanna beg her to keep goin’ but I can’t. 

Instead I ask ‘er the only question I got left, “Why’d ya leave, then? Ya left ‘n ya never came back.” 

She’s silent for a long time. “When you and Merle moved, where’d you go?” 

She did come back. 

“Why’d ya leave, Beatle?” Doesn’t matter where Merle and I went. She’s avoidin’ the question. 

“Got sober. After that night… with you. Wanted to get sober. Wanted to…” she don’t say the rest but she don’t need to. I got it. Fuck, my heart can’t take it. 

“Cuz I said ya liked gettin’ fucked up more than ya liked me.” It ain’t a question. I know. 

“Think it was more the other thing you said.” 

Tha’ was before I really knew ya, Beatle. I can still taste the words. “Shouldn’t’a said that to ya.” My voice is barely a whisper. 

She gets back up on the bed and puts her arm around me again, this time I don’t shake her away. Her voice, so close to my ear, “I didn’t want to tell you that I came back. I didn’t want you to know that I got sober for you.” 

What? “Why not?” 

“Wasn’t sure you’d care. And if you did… I didn’t want you to have all the what-ifs in your head that I have in mine.” 

She hugs herself into me so tight it’s hard to breathe, and she tells me, “It doesn’t matter anymore.” 

I feel guilty, can’t take any of that back. Can’t make any of it better. I don’t deserve this. Her. After all the nasty shit I ever thought about her. After what I did to her the other night. I can’t bring myself to tell her to leave cuz I know she wants to be here. Don’t wanna make her cry again. 

So I let her hold me. Even though I don’t fuckin’ deserve it. 

[howwynnderful]

My masterlist, about me, and rules for requests!

Master list is at the top and will be updated as I keep writing, scroll below that for request rules and all the way to the bottom for about me!

Bucky Barnes Fics

Are you into me? Like I'm into you... (discontinued bc i do not like this </33)

Teaser, Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 3.5, Ch 4, Ch 5

Bucky Barnes is still healing, still in therapy, he's been doing a little better but the adjustment is still rough, especially the romantic side of things. New dating rules, new societal expectations, it's all....a bit much. But he's forced to enter this new field when he realizes it needs to be on his new list to live with himself.

Head canons:

Doing Bucky's nails

Construction Worker Barnes

Personal Chef Barnes some nsfw mdni!

One Shots:

Needy as hell - straight smut mdni!

Quiet Love - fluff

Wanda Maximoff Fics

Head canons:

Art Historian Maximoff

Funeral Director Wanda

Steve Rogers Fics

Head canons:

Construction Worker Steve some nsfw mdni!

Clint Barton Fics

Head canons:

Tattoo Artist Clint

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

Rules for requests!

I'm generally really open about requests, you guys can request anything, there is no guarantee that I will write it though. Sometimes I just don't like a certain ship/theme/topic, so I hold the right to deny any request I don't like. Know that if there are any illegal concepts you guys send my way (like illegal age gaps, predatory age gaps, incest, etc.) I most definitely will not write those.

Anyways! If you do request something, please know that it'll most likely be a one shot I write while working on whatever long term writing project(s) I'm doing at the moment.

fandoms i like/will write for

call of duty

marvel

supernatural

i feel like those are my main three but feel free to ask for completely unrelated characters i'll write em if i know em!

EDIT: some honorable mentions of ships/things i like to write

irondad and spiderson

bucky barnes in any romantic setting

sam x bucky x reader

steve x reader

dean x reader

sam x reader

simon x reader

gaz x reader

really any tf141 x reader (multiple ppl or not)

deadpool x reader

i will say that i write stuff like sam x bucky and other in show non canon ships but i feel like i'm better at character x reader

that being said i don't write fanfic for the real actors, just the characters! i also usually write the reader as a brown person. cause i'm brown. if you have a problem js don't read my fics idk. (if you do requests and request for reader to be specific race/ethinicty/etc i will do my best to fulfill that though!)

That's it! I can't wait to see what y'all ask :)

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

About me!

i like writing (of course), i do write quite a bit poetry as well, if you guys wanna read that lmk i would gladly post some. i used to write fics on wattpad and ao3 but i think the curse got to me so now i'm sticking to tumblr. #prioritizingmyself. besides writing and stuff i like f1, watch all the races live when i can, i also like swimming, love to sing. pronouns are he/they!

[crazylittlejester]

Introduction Post!! ✨

edit: Oct. 14

-> HI HELLO!! My name is Jes and my pronouns are he/him

-> I write on ao3 under the user Can_Opener

-> i have the same @ over on bluesky :) (link: crazylittlejester)

-> I primarily write LU stuff but also I have my own Links Meet AU over on @linked-through-the-centuries! (Here’s the link to the fic on ao3) (it is slow to update, not abandoned!!!!) (if you have questions you can ask me about my blorbos on this acc or the lttc blog, either is fine :) )

-> WHUMPTOBER FIC MASTERLIST

-> Jes’s Miscellaneous Modern Au

-> Fic Master List

-> FIC REQUESTS: CLOSED FOR RN!! but im keeping the linked post about it HERE because i’ll open em back up when i finish what i have :)

-> Asks are always open and anons are back on! Feel free to speak your thoughts, drop in and say hi, share headcanons, theories and/or ideas, I love to read them! You can say whatever you want. I am dyslexic and autistic and it’s hard for me to read tone through text and also the words in general sometimes, so please try to be very clear when you talk to me so I can understand, I am unfortunately also stupid :/

-> I’m also totally fine with DMs, HOWEVER: Please speak incredibly clearly to me, again I struggle with understanding tone. I am fine with DMs if your intention is to YAP, because who am I to silence a yapper?? Speak to me about your interests, I will listen >:) I am not okay with: vague/threatening messages, venting without asking, spam. If you wanna chat or talk that’s absolutely fine, I love talkin’ to people and I’m totally down :) Basically just be kind to me, I am a person too, I do have feelings and such

-> sometimes my dms are mean and like to not notify me so i also have a discord, if you want that just shoot me a dm and ask :)

-> This is my sideblog but I seriously treat it like my main blog at this point. I mainly post Zelda/LU thoughts, but you will see me talkin’ about other random things

My yaps all have #jes talks in the tags, my fics are #jes fic, any asks y’all send are posted with #jes ask, #jes rambles is me losing my mind most of the time, #jes rants is more serious and personal stuff, and my art on the rare instance where i post it is tagged with #jes art. and new tag (as of 3/7/25) #jes writing is me answering questions related to fics i have written/am working on

Remember to drink some water and take care of yourselves! :)

[adhd-coyote]

I guess I might as well make an intro, huh? Heya, I’m Coyote or Codi, pronouns she/it, lovely to have you here <3

I’m a fanfic writer and sometimes even an artist! All of my works can be found on ao3 under adhd_coyote. It’s mostly Star Wars, as that hyperfixation started almost two years ago and has not let go since. But I’ve also got a few bnha fics and even a Teen Wolf oneshot, so there’s a bit of variety!

Please don’t hesitate to dm me, send asks, or tag me in wip/prompt challenges or anything else, even if we’ve never interacted before! I’m always eager to engage with my fellow fans! You can also find me on Discord as assigned_coyote (tho I don’t accept random friend requests, so dm me first please)!

I don’t accept any kind of hate or toxicity. My policy is ship and let ship; if you aren’t hurting anyone, then I don’t have a problem with you. If you don’t agree with this policy, the back button is very easy to use.

Happy to have you here, and hope you stay a while! <3

Links to tags+explanations under the cut!

Coyote’s OC Masterlist

Artfight

my writing - What it says on the tin. Stuff I've written, either on my own or with the lovely @darkest-of-rats! my art - There isn't nearly as much of my art as there is my writing, but I still tag it! coyotes clone chaos - I've got a whoole bunch of clone trooper ocs and I love to talk about them! Anything related to them can be found with this tag! I also tag every post with the names of the characters mentioned, in case you'd like to look for a specific oc! (I also have a fic by the same name; a series of oneshots featuring my precious babies) 193rd battalion - My original Clone Wars battalion, featuring General Adai Na'kala, Commander Sil, and Captain Badger, along with a couple more ;3 coyotes yips and yaps - My non-fandom related rambles minifig adventures - The adventures of my Star Wars mini figures! Featuring Padawan Kenobi, Commander Cody, Berry the Storm Trooper, and @the-best-ie!

Fanfic Tags - All of my ongoing fics! don't give up on me - A fic series I'm writing with @darkest-of-rats! Featuring Cody/Obi-Wan/Fox, many clone trooper ocs, and so much hurt/comfort! Updates every Monday! this house don't feel like home - @darkest-of-rats and I's second fic! Featuring Cody/Fox, Ace!Obi/Ace!Rex, heavy Fox whump, and many many feels! You are going to hate Anakin in this one. Updates on Fridays! visions verse - My series Visions and Where They Lead! It's a series of oneshots and small fics following a young Obi-Wan who had a teensy mental breakdown on Galidraan, killed Dooku, and Fell. Featuring a slightly insane Obi-Wan, a very concerned Silas, and death! Updates are sporadic, I write when the muse strikes. cult of fox - @darkest-of-rats and I's third fic! It's a Cult of the Lamb crossover featuring fluffy crack, tookas, ancient deities, and lots of fun! Updates are irregular, as this is a side project, and no knowledge of Cult of the Lamb is needed to understand and enjoy!

I have other fics, but those don't have tags as they are either oneshots or completed. You can find 'em on my ao3!

[nerdieforpedro]

🦴

🍓

🥤

Please!

🦴 = a piece of media that inspires my writing?

Not really one set piece. More like music in general does. I often listen to lofi beats when writing or my writing playlist to set the mood of what I’m trying to write. Or it could be music I’m listening to in the car or waiting somewhere could lead to some bullet points that become a fic. 😆

🍓= what led me to write fanfic in the first place?

Going deep here aren’t you Em? 👀 lol I’ve enjoyed writing since I was little as an extension of my love of reading. First with poems and the anime fanfiction when I actually watch more anime. Now I read more manga and don’t write fanfiction about it. If one squints on A03 - I may have dabbled in Marvel characters and actors for a short time. 🫢 The took a long pause as life happened. Sometime last year as my mental health improved so did my love of writing and I hyper focused on Pedro Pascal so here we are. 🤣 I write more the better my mood is. Maybe a bit too much background 😵

🥤= recommend and author or fic you love

Ugh just one? Dammit. 😒 I shall not! I’ll do eight because there are no favorites! Only peeps we support! And I can’t really call any of them number one I enjoy them all too much. 🥰

1. @morallyinept Pretty much anything you read of Jett’s will be beautiful, sensual, take you to a far away place or have needing to remove clothing - possibly from reading the same fic. 😆 She covers a wide variety of Pedro characters and is a wealth of knowledge on them. She also is just really talented and sweet.

2. @maggiemayhemnj Sure Ms. Payday doesn’t have a long Masterlist but every fic on there is worth reading for her turns of phases, vivid descriptions and her love of both Joel and Ezra. 💕

3. @megamindsecretlair One of my fellow black writers who keeps readers thirsty and eager for more with her Sam, Bucky and Loki series (all of which I need to catch up on or finish 👀) and is a hilarious person as she is kind.

4. @soft-girl-musings Another fellow black writer who’s “Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps” 1920’s or 40’s (I’m not great with telling time obviously 🙄 ) has me wondering what’s going to happen next, what is going on in that club and where else am I going to see curly haired Marcello is going to pop up at. 🤣

5. @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin The Mistress of Agnst. Her masterlist is for those who aren’t afraid to explore the darker side and stories that may not have happy endings but you’ll still feel satisfied that to finished it. To feel another type of satisfaction, you’ll need to read her smut and seek your other completion there. ☺️ You’ll be thankful for both rides.

6. @pedroshotwifey A newer moot to me who has equal parts smut, agnst and dabs of darkness in there. What can I say? I like dark fics if they’re just right. Like I like my crime dramas and cop procederals. 🤣 She and I have a good time supporting each other and exchanging thots. Her “To The Flame” series has set the reader up for what may be a spectacular fall or maybe she’ll find her way out? Only she knows.

7. @magpiepills Ezra’s second wife (because @morallyinept is his first wife and I think @maggiemayhemnj is the paramour - because it sounds fancy) The amount of filthy things she’s had him do both with one arm and two is something everyone should read twice. I also especially enjoyed her fic “Aquarius” which a whore version of Javier Peña that spoke strongly to me. Or maybe parts of me, let’s not split hairs. 🤭

8. @angelofsmalldeath-codeine She’ll say she’s not a writer. BUT as all writers know, we don’t do very well if someone isn’t reading stuff we toss out into the ether. Hemmy is as supportive as they come, reblogging and offering many a thot as both the High Chancellor of the Horny Delegation and as a friend. ❤️ Plus she supports my very soft bois Dieter and Javi G. 😆 She I think was one of the main reasons I wrote more of “Weddings 101 with Dieter.” She asked me something along the lines of, “is there more to this? This is a very cool or unique premise.” As she well knows, just tell me I did something well and I’m happy as a pearl in a clam. 🤣

Fanfic author ask game

Thanks for the ask Em! Just know I pretty much write paragraphs because I gotta explain. 🤭 I’m Nerdie and I’m wordy. 😚 I had to make one bad joke. You have to be able to tell it��s me.

[book-nerd-emi]

“Doctors Suck” (part 1)

TW: This story talks a lot about death and leukemia and this chapter takes place in a hospital!!

Masterlist - Next

As I open my eyes, the searing lights above me scar me. I blink rapidly, trying to get the pain to go away faster, even if it never indeed does. Once my eyes semi-adjust, my nose is hit with the burning-my-nosehairs-off smell of the chemicals. Every time I smell it, I just imagine the people who clean the rooms frantically scrubbing to try and scrub the death that occurs here. But can you honestly do that? It’s always there, never gone; the smell and everything that comes with it may leave, but the thought, the reminder, if you will, is always there. Somedays, I wonder if anyone’s died in this room I’m in. I wonder who they were and why they were here. Who misses them daily; who has that ache in their hearts that makes it hard to move on? Who can not look at a hospital anymore because it reminds them of that person’s last moments? Those last breaths? Those last “I love you”s? I make stories about those kids. I think I do it to make me feel more comfortable with the idea of dying.

Now, I know that leukemia has one of the higher survival rates, but there’s always that little voice in your head telling you, “This could be your last day, you know?” or “You could die today.” Like little Layla. She was 11. She loved animals, everything from snakes to dogs, fairies, and princesses. Her favorite color was blue for two reasons. One was that blue reminded her of her dad’s eyes. The second is that her favorite princess, Cinderella, is dressed in blue. She had a pilocytic astrocytoma brain tumor, but they caught it too late. I like to believe she’s having so much fun dancing with a prince in a blue dress; her kingdom is full of fairies and animals. Or how about little Miss Maeve? Maeve got diagnosed with leukemia, like me, but at seven years old instead of 10 like me. Even though she was so young, while she was here, in this bed, she found that she loved computers. She was exceptionally good at coding. I knew Maeve. She went to school with me; we were the best of friends. I sometimes see her sister Bronwyn around. I don’t think any of the Rojas will ever be the same. I think that’s the other scary part about death. The idea that I’m leaving all these people behind without me. I don’t want to leave them hurting like that.

Maeve, however, had a saying. “I’ll be in a better place with better beds.” I have to agree with her on this. The beds here are so uncomfortable. It feels like I’m laying on a bed of rocks with a scratchy sheet. Why are the beds so uncomfortable? Isn’t the whole point of hospitals to help people with their problems? If so, then why are we having the most uncomfortable beds on the face of the Earth in a place where you are supposed to be focused on healing yourself? Half the time, I am focused on the fact that I can never get super comfy in this stupid bed. This bed is covered in a total of 5 blankets, four pillows, and ten stuffed animals. And even still, it is not that comfy. All this just made it slightly more bearable.

a/n: RAGHDHSODNRKR first (writing) post!!! this i think will probably be one of the longer sections for this chapter mostly just cause it sets the tone and whatever. this chapter is just so long that i physically couldn’t post THAT many words in one post. the amount of just stuff that NEEDED to be said in this first chapter is crazy. anyways i hoped yall enjoyed oh em gee!!

Masterlist

tags: @wish-i-were-heather , @shattered-glass-roses , @a-menace-to-society-01 , @balladofareader , @lovethornes (im sure others said yes or something like it but i don’t remember who sooooo just tell me if you want to be tagged ig)

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

A collection of every unhinged thing I have ever written for this fandom. Please note all works on this list are intended with humour. Please do not interact if you are easily offended. I dedicate this masterlist to my boobear @em-writes-stuff-sometimes - without you this would not exist, quite literally, because you requested all of these.

The Body Parts Masterlist My magnum opus. A collection of vivid descriptions of the various parts of both Aemond and Daemon's anatomy.

How to Bang Your Dragon An Aemond and Vhagar love story.

Cleanliness is Next to Godliness How Aemond keeps his backside pristine.

Forbidden Fruit Spoils the Fastest Viserys' chambermaid gets carried away.

A Hand for the King A tryst between Otto and Viserys.

The Rogue Prince and the Privy Daemon feels amorous while using the privy.