・❥・currently in college, studying as a paramedic and going on to do ER nursing, and joining the navy
・❥・born chicago sports girl (blackhawks, bears, cubs), but now an east coast dweller
・❥・ you can find my masterlist of all my works below as well as my rules for requesting. please feel free to send in any questions if you’re unsure or you just want to talk!
・❥・ thank you so much for your support and I hope you enjoy my work!
I know it's been a hot sec since I updated this blog in general (two months, if that), but I haven't had the motivation to write for any of my past/current interests anymore.
I've been spotty in the past, coming back after a year to write again but this feels different.
to put it simply, I've fallen in love.
this guy is truly everything I have ever wanted. he loves me the way I've dreamt of my entire life.
that being said, motivation to write is low because I can't think of anyone else but him. I used to write to kind of fill the void, or describe the way I wanted to be love. now that I have that... I don't find the need or desire to. again, not to mention, I can't write for characters I have no interest in anymore.
from the bottom of my heart, thank you to everyone who has supported this blog, me and my writing. this has been the most fun of my life in years. it's been a safe-space, a creative outlet, and something to look forward to. if you've been here since the start, thank you. if you're new, sorry I won't be posting anymore.
I will keep the blog up so you can all read my work anytime you want.
I hope all of you find the kind of love I have. I wish you all the best! I've had so so so much fun here.
all my love and some more <3
- gracie
(p.s if you've been following my blog, it IS the firefighter/medic who's 6 years older than me that I'm with)
Hi, I do not know who to go to for this, BUT, I’m asking you and your followers if you’re familiar with a Macklin fic where he meets reader at a coffee shop and she doesn’t know who he is and doesn’t for a while? I want to say in the content warning they have a small argument? I wasn’t able to past the intro bc my tumblr refreshed so I didn’t get the name of the author😭😭😭if you’re familiar with it PLEASEEEE link it I’ve been going crazy for the last 30 mins trying to find it. Thank you💗💗💗
I am not familiar with this one, sorry babe!!! but we shall see if any of my followers might be :)
ok wow finding out teeth was based off of 5sos js changed everything oh zooweemama. but do you think you will write a p2 to it? if you do please make the reader YEARNN make will stand on business for everyones sake ( more smut i fear )
wait omg I thought it was so obvious 😭 I tried to re work the lyrics into the actual fic. I could literally write an essay dissecting my own work compared to the song LMFAOOO
I’m definitely gonna do a part two!!! a lot of people loved it so much 🥹 and yes yes reader is gonna be begging, crying, pleading the whole nine yards for this man
for the plot ofc I will add smut … very necessary for the plot … 100%
pairing: connor bedard x f!reader
cw: 2x suicidal jokes, gun joke, alludes to sex x2
a/n: had to post something funny after that absolutely depressing will fic lolll. also procrastinating staying up to watch my blackhawks and sharks tonight.
NAVIGATION | TAGLIST | REQUESTING
holy shyt i genuinely just reread teeth for like the billionth time its so damn good. but like one question what is reader and wills background? and like do they evolve past the stage that we read in teeth
omg omg omg thank you so much for asking!!!!
Will and reader have had this "relationship" for about a year. the way I envisioned it (and how I interpreted the song and the album in general) was that it was never like supposed to be casual. up front will wanted to be with her exclusively. obviously, she is very self-destructing and scared so I think she kind of wanted to take it slow. but she also really really liked him so she dances that line between exclusive and casual, if you will. and then lover boy Will goes with it bc he genuinely thinks she'll change.
if you listen to 5 seconds of summer at all, their relationship prior to teeth is reminiscent of the song easier on the same album for me.
in my head they met at like a coffee shop when Will was people watching. he was drawn to how shy she was but also captivating. like he could tell there was a "don't fuck with me vibe." then he fucks with her 🙂↕️
as for evolution past that... the like big girl in me wants to say absolutely not. like will needs to let her GOOOO. the writer in me says, I will probably write a part two where they work it out. listening to the rest of the album "calm" the closing song is how I imagine they're gonna end up. we shall see ;)
thank you for reading and asking omg this is so cool getting to share my thoughts 🫶🫶
pairing: Will Smith (hockey) x f!reader
wc: 4k (whoops?)
synopsis: Will Smith has been in love with you for a year now, handing you his heart over and over again. But you're all teeth and you keep chewing it up and spitting it back out.
cw: SMUT MDNI 18+, pinv, dirty talk, dry-humping, brat taming if you squint, reader lowkey a bitch guys, psychological manipulation on her part, maybe? angst, so much angst, one gun joke
a/n: currently on a 5sos rampage and so this was born. if any of you ever let someone treat you like this... please hit them. if it isn't obvious this is based off teeth by 5sos
NAVIGATION | TAGLIST | REQUESTING
Will was awake again.
He was doing that thing he told himself he wasn’t gonna do anymore. That thing being where he lies on his side and watches the gentle rise and fall of your chest.
He watches you sleep like you’re the only things he’s ever known. Which is just straight bullshit, to be honest. You’re the last thing he should know and the one thing he needs to stay very far away from.
He had begged you to stay that night. He kissed you until your lips were swollen and fucked you till your legs didn’t work. Just to make a better excuse for you to stay with him.
“Will,” You said, rolling off his chest.
He straightens against the pillows. “Stay.”
Your legs dangle on the edge of his bed. Your back is bare to him, as you gaze over your shoulder. “You said we’d stop that.”
He shrugged. “You said we’d stop this in general.”
Your eyes narrow, something flashing through him. Your brows pinch together as you give him an icy glare.
“Yeah. That’s why I’m going.”
“I’m saying you don’t have to.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
Your hands fist the sheets at your side as you huff and turn to face his wall. He slips a hand behind his head, leaning back against the pillows. “You’re free to walk out like a newborn deer, if that’s what you really want.”
“I can walk.”
“Maybe to the bathroom.”
“I really hate you.”
He snorts, feeling cocky, because it’s a better defensive mechanism. “That why you keep coming back?”
You’re already crawling back into the bed, keeping your back towards him. That’s fine, you staying was already a win in his head. Besides, this time it took way less convincing, so he was breaking down some of your walls.
“This means nothing,” You said, tucking yourself into his sheets.
Will’s response is short, simple, and to the point. “Sure.”
Now you’re here in his bed, radiating a kind of heat in the cold that draws him closer. He can’t bring himself to look away from you. The soft curve of your back, the white sheet draped around your shoulders, and your hair splayed across the pillow.
He needed to go back to sleep.
Then again, you had agreed to stay. He reaches an arm around, drapes it over your waist, and pulls you flush against him. His head rests against your shoulder blade as he breathes in the faint vanilla of your perfume and the smell of sex. If you have any obligation, you don’t say anything; in fact, you move a bit closer to him.
And only then does Will sleep.
When he wakes, it’s because you’re wrestling out of his arms.
“What are you doing?” He groans, freeing you to rub the sleep from his eyes.
You shuffle away from him, turning on your side to look at him. He sighs, flopping onto his back because he’s seen this look. He knows exactly what you’re going to say.
He can see it in your eyes, the walls building back up again.
“What are you doing?” You said dryly.
“I was sleeping.”
“You were holding with me.”
He turns to you, opening one of his eyes. “You were in my bed.”
“You asked me to stay.”
“You didn’t leave.”
“Stop that.”
He sits up, running a hand through his curls. “Stop what?”
“Asking me,” You said, sitting up with him and holding the sheet tight against you.
Will drags the same hand down his face. It’s moments like these when he can’t decode you. You show up to his apartment, throw your arms around his neck, kiss him senselessly, and then this. He can never tell if you love him or want him dead. Judging by the way you’re looking at him, he’s gonna go with the latter right now. “You act like I held a gun to your head and said to stay.”
“You might as well have,” You spat, frown evident on your lips.
“I don’t even own a fucking gun,” He groaned with an eye roll.
“It was a metaphor.”
“Right.”
“I’m leaving.” And you’re throwing the sheets off of yourself.
“Are you serious?”
“Are you stupid?” You fire back, pulling your shirt over your head. Everything you do is aggressive: the way you throw the covers back at his face, the tone of your voice, the slamming of your feet against the floor. It’s all deliberate, it’s all directed at him, and he knows why.
Will was the only person he got close enough to your soul. To the real you, you had shoved down under walls and mean comments. The side of you that you tried to protect because too many other guys had hurt it before.
Will knew the real you.
The person behind all the teeth and harsh words. She was kind and funny. She was still tough as nails, ready to hit anyone who looked at her wrong. But that side of you he wanted to see was gentle; she told him all the embarrassing stories of middle school. She made him pick out her latest shopping haul.
But too many other people had ruined that side of you for him. So here he was, fighting with those teeth, barred and ready to rip out his throat because he was becoming something to you. He thinks.
He hopes.
“No, I’m just in love with you,” He sighs, defeatedly. He’d told you that before, multiple times, actually. “Not gonna stop.”
Which was true. Will thinks he understands the part of you that needs reassurance, and he knows you’re scared. If lashing out at him was helping, then fine. If it meant that at some point the other side of you would come out, that maybe one day you’d love him back without any teeth, he wouldn’t stop.
For a second, you quiet. You look at him with those scared, wide, and vulnerable eyes. “Then you’re stupid.”
And you leave.
You call him the next morning, and he hates the way his heart flutters when he sees your contact light up on his screen.
“Hey,” You said, rushed, voice soft and devoid of any malice. “I’m sorry.”
That’s probably a lie, but the butterflies still dance around Will’s stomach anyway. Hook.
“I’m sorry. I know you’re just trying to be a good guy, and I keep doing that to you.” You take a shaky breath in. Will can imagine the way you’re probably sitting at your kitchen counter, gripping the phone and fidgeting with something in your other hand. “I didn’t mean it — any of it. Can I?” You pause. “Can I come see you?”
Will would never say no to that question. In hindsight, that is how he got himself into such a mess. But Will Smith doesn’t live in the past, only the present and imminent future. As far as he’s aware, you’re asking to see him. Line.
This same cycle has only happened every other month for a year now.
“Of course,” he replied. “I have practice—”
“At three, I know,” You cut him off gently. “I’ll be there after with Thai?”
Sinker. You remembered his schedule, his favorite post-workout meal. That counted for something. You thought about him.
In some twisted way, you could love him.
You show up when he’s home, a brown takeout bag in your hand. You smile, holding it up to him like a peace offering. There’s something in the way you’re looking through his eyes, like you know the inner parts of him (you do) that makes him let you in.
Will closes the door softly and idly wonders if he’d survive this night.
You unpack the food on his counter, handing him his favorite dish, like that didn’t mean anything. He sits on the couch with his bowl, and you lean next to him, holding your food.
“I really am sorry, Will.” You’re frowning, and Will hates that.
“It’s fine. Doesn’t change anything.” It should, though. He kisses your cheek, knocks your shoulder, and holds up his bowl. “All is forgiven with Pad Thai.”
Your shoulders relax, frown lifting into something like a smile as you say, “I love you too.”
He melts a little at that, relishing in the feeling of how sweet your love is. Even if you’d somehow turn this against him, fight dirty and hurt his feelings again.
None of that matters, though. Not when the bowls of food sit in the trash, and you’re lying on top of him. Or when your hands slide under his shirt and he flinches at how cold they are. You mumble a sorry, but he can feel the cheeky grin on your face. He doesn’t care that it’s late, that you do this every evening, and he caves.
It’s all salt to the wind when your hands splay just above his waistband.
He sucks in a sharp breath, looks down at you with a spark in his eyes. “This your plan all along?”
You shrug, throwing your leg over his to straddle him. You lean in to kiss him, soft at first and then more needy. It’s more rushed, frantic as he bucks his hips up into you.
You let out a whine, and Will throws away any last lingering thoughts. You sound too pretty like this for him to think about anything other than more of you.
His hands find your hips, squeezing and grinding you harder against him. You moan into his mouth, one of your hands tugging at the hair on his neck.
Will sits up, one of his hands sliding to your back to keep you on top of him as he continues to kiss you. It’s messy, all teeth and lips and breathy moans, and he can only think of you. The way your clothed core is moving against him, and you’re kissing him like it means something.
“Fuck,” He mumbles into your mouth, fisting the back of your shirt and continuing to rut up into you, just to feel something.
“Will, please,” You whined, rolling your hips against his length.
Usually, he was the kind of guy to let you come first, once or twice at least. But right now? The way you’re grinding against him, clutching his shoulder, he doesn’t care to.
Will lifts you off the couch, walking you to the bedroom, but his lips never leave yours. They trail down the side of your neck, behind your ear, as you start to tug on his shirt.
Again, he really is a romantic, loves to take his time. Yet whatever is in the air right now between the two of you, it screams desperate. He drops you on the bed, grabs the bottom of his shirt, and pulls it over his head. He watches as you remove your own, unclasp your bra, and kick your shorts down your legs.
He leans back over you, kissing you softly, just so you know that even if this was rushed, it still meant something to him. “Pretty thing,” He murmurs.
You only scurry to tug down his sweats and boxers, watching his cock spring out.
“You’re impatient,” He joked.
You gaze up at him with half-lidded, lustful eyes that almost make him lose it right there. “Could say the same for you.”
And it’s true, he knows how hard he is right now. He doesn’t have to look to see how red his cock is, beads of pre-cum already leaking out.
“You have that effect on me,” He shrugged, slipping between your legs. He nips at your inner thighs, watching the way you squirm. He laughs to himself, kissing the same spots.
“Will,” You said warningly.
“Mm?” He asked, one hand slipping under your thigh to push it further apart. Your cunt flutters around nothing, folds glistening with arousal all for him. “Oh, and I thought I was horny.”
“Shut up,” You retort, propping yourself on your elbows.
He sweeps a hand through your folds, collecting the wetness on his fingertips. Your head tips back, a groan falling from your lips. “Baby, for someone who calls me stupid all the time, you sure are soaked.”
“If you don’t fuck me within the next 10 seconds,” You warned with a glare, wiggling your hips to emphasize your point.
“Yeah?” He raised his brow in that cocky way that somehow has you wanting him more. His hands come to your waist, and he grins before flipping you over. He yanks you back, hiking your hips and arching your back for him.
You mumble something into the pillow, probably out of surprise. Will kisses the space between your shoulder blades as he lines himself up with you. “Sorry, was getting tired of you yelling at me.”
You turn your face to the side. “I was not—.” He pushes in to shut you up, and a broken moan leaves your lips as you grab at the sheets. Your cunt flutters around him, squeezing, and his grip on your hip tightens.
“Such a pretty fucking pussy,” He grits, keeping his other hand between your shoulders to push you down into the pillow. “But stop fucking talking.”
You do. You’re just a mess of whines, moans, and saying his name as he sinks himself all the way in. His hips are flush with your ass, stretching you out in a way that has you reeling. You’re choking on his name as he pulls back out and snaps his hips back in.
He leans back over you, slowly trailing kisses down your spine as he continues to fuck you like a man starved. The only sound in the room is the slapping of skin, the wet kisses on your back, and you crying for him.
He can feel when you tighten around him as you get closer. The arch in your back becomes instinctual as he moves both hands to grip your hips so he can slam you back onto him.
“Will,” you practically sob into his sheets. “Will, so close. You’re so good, please don’t stop.”
He grunts at that, snapping his hips to meet yours a bit faster. “You sound so much better like this, you know.”
“Uh-huh,” You babble. Something electric travels down your spine, the heat pooling deep inside you as you clench around Will. “Please.”
Will chuckles at how needy you sound, and he snakes one hand around you to find your clit. He pinches, just lightly, more to test the waters, but that sets you off.
You clamp down around him, a string of curses with his name somewhere mixed in there, leaves your mouth.
He himself has to suck in a sharp breath as your velvety walls pulse around his cock. He slows a bit, making you feel every drive and drag against your insides.
You’re mumbling nonsense as he pushes back inside one final time with a grunt. His head drops to your back, hair tickling your skin as he finishes inside you. He moves to wrap his arms around your waist and drag you down into the sheets with him.
“You gonna be nice to me now?” He asked, moving some sweaty pieces of hair off your forehead.
You turn in his arms to face him. “I’m always nice to you.”
“You’re a horrible liar.”
“I try,” You giggle. He smiles at that sound, dipping his head to find the crook of your neck. Your hands come up to his hair, loosely combing through his curls as you both drift to sleep.
Will wakes up to find you still sleeping soundly next to him. Your legs are tangled with his, head tucked into his side as you cling to him. It’s moments like these when he thinks you’re the best thing in his life.
You’re warm against him, chest rising and falling with each breath, bathed in the glow of the sun through his blinds.
For a second — when he thinks back to last night and how you remembered his favorite food, where the dishes were in the kitchen, and how pretty you sounded — he sees his wife.
Which is a train of thought he should not be going down right now. One night of you being sweet to him, of showing the real side of you, did not make up for every other night you’d chewed his heart out.
Well, that’s what Macklin told him when Will texted him two days ago, saying “she left again :(.”
Along with a string of other profanities, and for Will to get his head out of his ass and stop letting himself be curb-stomped. Most importantly;
MACK
Would you let someone else treat her like that?
The answer to that was easy: no. Will would kill anyone who treated you the way you treat him. In some ways, it sheds light on the perspective. It makes him feel guilty because, yeah, he probably did deserve better. Then he would reason with himself, if not him, then who?
If he wasn’t going to be the one to love you through your heart with teeth, who would? He couldn’t imagine anyone else having the patience, the tenderness, the understanding.
It was him or no one else. Even if Tyler, William, Adam, Colin, Ryan, Michael, Kiefer, and, okay, so basically the whole team told him he was destroying himself over you.
And that was true, god it was so fucking true. Will was lying in bed, fighting his head that told him the logical aspect. This wasn’t love. This wasn’t right, and it hurt.
Then there was his heart that squeezed at the thought of telling you that.
You were trying your best… right?
He decides to let it play out. See if you’ll leave again this morning, pretend he doesn’t exist, and come back with some half-ass apology that he mistakes for butterflies. For being wanted.
Your eyes flutter open, squinting through the sunlight streaming in from the window. You let out a grunt, flopping back into the pillow and taking a minute to adjust.
“Hey,” Will said softly, carefully.
One of your eyes opens to look at him. “Hi.”
“Sleep well?”
You nod. “Yeah. You?”
“Can’t complain. You’re not rushing to get out of here for once.”
You snort into the pillow. “‘M sorry about that. I just…”
“Get scared, I know,” He finished for you. His hands come down to sweep some hair out of your face, and you melt at the tender touch. Will sighs, holding your face in his hand. There are no teeth, no reserve, and he knows he has to change things.
“Want breakfast?”
“You cooking?”
“Always.”
“Then yes.”
Will shuffles out of bed first, running a hand through his curls and letting them settle however. He pads towards the kitchen, yawning, and grabs a pan from under the stove to preheat.
You follow a few minutes after, wearing one of his Sharks hoodies and sitting at the kitchen counter.
“Want help?” You offer.
Will shakes his head, scrambling the eggs. “No, thanks. I got it.”
“Okay.”
He has his back towards you, so you can’t see the tension in his face. The tongue in his cheek and the knit of his brows as he tries to figure out the easiest way to bring it up.
He plates the eggs, some bacon, and a slice of toast with butter and slides the plate towards you.
“Thank you,” You said, and he can see the sincerity in your gaze, which makes him feel worse.
Like abysmally worse.
“Can we talk?” He finally asked, flinching at the way you drop the fork and blink.
You were gonna bite. “About what?”
Will leans on the counter opposite you. “About us.”
You push the half-eaten plate away from you, your eyes narrow, your lips curl, and Will feels the pit in his stomach growing. “What about it?”
“I’m just,” He starts, playing with the drawstrings of his own hoodie. He exhales, turning his face away from you. “I don’t want you to leave again.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The thing you always do. I get too close, you freak out, and you bite.”
“I bite?” You asked with a voice of disbelief.
Will nods. “Yeah. You get mean, you push me away, beg me to stay. It’s circles.” You open your mouth to object, but he beats you to it.
“I am not trying to criticize you, okay? I love you. You know this, I’ve told you each time that you leave and come back. I have reassured you constantly that I want you.”
“And suddenly now you can’t?” You spat at him, standing up from your seat. You’re gripping the counter, glowering at him. You’re looking at him like you don’t know him anymore.
“I didn’t fucking say that, if you’d let me finish,” He snapped. He was so tired of the circles, of waiting around in an empty apartment. Of loving you with everything he had and getting a maybe.
“This doesn’t get to be conditional. Cause that’s what it feels like with you for the last year. I can’t keep waiting for a change that I haven’t seen, (Y/N). You pull back every time, and it’s not you just being scared, it’s like,” Will laughs dryly. “It’s like you want to hurt me.”
“What?” You practically shriek. “Why would I—,”
“You tell me!” He throws his hands up. “You tell me why each time you leave, you insult me, insult us, everything. I mean, you have torn me apart.” Will shakes his head, something burning besides his eyes. “I have given you my heart over and over again, laid it on my hands, and you know what?”
He faces you from across the counter; he can see the moment all your resolve breaks. “You tore it out and gave it back in shreds each time.”
Your face falls, your lips wobbles and he should feel bad. It’s mean, it’s cruel, and it’s such an ugly truth. That’s what you did.
You didn’t cradle it the way he did yours, or cherish it. You took to it with your teeth, devoured it over and over. Then crawled back, got him a bit pussy drunk, and said you’d change.
You don’t.
“Will, I—.” For a second, he thinks, foolishly, you’ll be honest. That you’ll really apologize and change.
But you bare your teeth and come straight for his throat. “I think you expect too much then. Not everything is about how you fucking feel. I don’t shred your heart.” You put air quotes around that last part. “Grow a fucking pair. This isn’t fucking creative writing. We’re not like dating—”
“Yeah, because you can’t stand the thought of being loved!” He shouts. “You like self-destructing and coming back. You like knowing that I’d be okay with that shit.”
“Maybe I fucking do! And you did it for a year—”
“You said you’d change—”
“I was trying—”
“Nothing had changed. You—”
“Maybe because you’re not the fucking one, Will. Did you ever think of that?”
Silence fills his apartment at that because, no, he hadn’t thought about that. Will had only ever seen the way out being you.
Maybe it wasn’t supposed to be.
Blood on his shirt, heart in his hand, but it was still beating.
He clicks his tongue. “If I wasn’t, why did you keep coming back for over a year? Why remember my favorite take-out order? The location of the forks in my kitchen?”
“That’s not—,”
“The point?” He cut off sharply. “No, it is. But you’re right. If you’re not changing, it’s obviously because of me.”
Will watches the fight drain out of you, the second your shoulders droop and you realize he wasn’t caving this time.
“Keep the hoodie,” He finds himself saying. “I can get a new one. But seriously, when you go this time, leave me alone.”
You bite your lip, something like hurt forming in your chest and crowding your heart. Guilt, maybe because you don’t fight him. You see the bags under his eyes, the tension in his shoulders, and he’s just right.
You only loved him with teeth bared, and you bit one too many times.
