#my works

[cuddlypillow]

[mcyfieldz]

This is all the stuff I`ve posted the ones with actual titles are full on fics (more than 2.5k words), and the others are just blurbs (less than 2.5k) psa: I write for any Sadie Sink character :) ★ = Smut .ᐟ ♡ = Fluff .ᐟ ᛝ = Angst All my works are fem!reader and all the characters are aged up!

♫⋆｡♪ always on my own♫⋆｡♪. ⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚JEAN GREY (marvel cinematic universe) ᛝ your red and my blue! ★ Jean getting so into strapping you down that she actually fills you up!

♫⋆｡♪ pretty boy consumed by death♫⋆｡♪. ˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚MAX MAYFIELD ! (stranger things) ♡ hey there summerboy girl! ★ munch!max! ★ car sex w max!

♫⋆｡♪ there’s just something about you baby♫⋆｡♪. ⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚SADIE SINK !(outstanding actress and the loml) -coming very soon!

do not copy, steal or modify my work through ai! all the love-p

@ mcyfieldz ™

[frappucinhoe]

alber wesker eat of grilled cheese

I'm assuming this is a drabble request and not just like. a statement. and you sent it twice which is delightful because I want to keep this forever in my inbox. it made me cry laughing. send me drabble requests to entertain me while I'm in publishing jail. alber wesker eat of grilled cheese gen cw: bad relationship with food words: 1,224 ⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　 x ✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

Hunger was not something that Albert Wesker often concerned himself with.

It was something he felt. Something he understood. Something often quelled entirely by his routine of stimulant overuse for breakfast, overworking himself for lunch, and punishing exercise for dinner.

And, of course, a single protein shake for dessert, and occasionally a square of dark chocolate.

Today, though, he'd done none of those things, and so the little signals his body liked to send him were getting through quite a bit cleaner than normal.

"Mom says that you shouldn't drink coffee after six." Sherry Birkin said, matter of fact, her arms crossed over her chest. "And I'm not even going to have to tell on you. Dad can always tell when somebody touched his coffee pot."

"Is that so?" Wesker asked, cocking an eyebrow at Sherry. He'd collected her from school as a favor to Will and Annette, who were busy in the lab. Watching her for 'about an hour' had become 'we'll be home before midnight, thank you Al, love you Al!'

"Yeah. She said caffeine will keep you up all night."

"And what, pray tell, does Annette drink after six?" Wesker inquired as he poured himself a cup of hot coffee against Sherry's advice.

"White wine."

Wesker's brows flew up over his sunglass lenses in surprise, but he didn't say anything, just let a quiet amusement settle in his chest, covering the gnawing hunger like a blanket.

"She keeps it in the fridge, you should have that instead." Sherry said, matter of fact.

"I prefer reds." Wesker replied dryly, bringing the mug to his lips.

"Oh." Sherry said, lips pursing a moment. "Well, normally I would've had dinner by now, but I can wait until Mom and Dad get home. Dad says you're a terrible chef."

Wesker inhaled coffee, bitter molten-hot liquid hitting the back of his throat.

Shit.

Albert Wesker did not often concern himself with hunger, but children absolutely did.

"Your father is also a notoriously terrible chef. Cooking is an art, and we are scientists." Wesker said. "What are you hungry for, shall I order a pizza?"

"No." Sherry replied. Wesker's brows pulled together in confusion. What kind of ten year old didn't fucking want pizza? HE wanted pizza, and he was a honed Umbrella espionage agent with a concerning relationship with food.

"What?"

"Pizza is a reward food. For breakthroughs at work and report cards with straight A's." Sherry explained.

Wesker deflated slightly. What the fuck was Will teaching this kid?

"Okay- you've been extra well behaved today, I think that counts.

"No. It doesn't." Sherry replied, crossing her arms and shaking her head vehemently. "I want grilled cheese and tomato soup. It's hard to mess that up." 

Wesker's eyes narrowed behind dark lenses. That was just fucking deconstructed pizza with less garlic, but he wasn't going to fight a ten year old on semantics. She was, unfortunately, right. It was hard to mess that up. 

He set his mug down and wiped his face with the back of his sleeve where his unfortunate coffee inhalation had let it dribble down his bare chin. 

And so he got to work, heating up a familiar red and white can of soup and setting out two slices of bread. 

"Nuh-uh." Sherry said, saddling up to him, leaning into his side. "We always eat dinner together here." 

Wesker looked down at her in surprise. 

"In the Birkin house, sometimes dinner is all we have. So we all sit at the table, and everyone eats." Sherry explained, clearly something she'd heard from her mother hundreds of times- likely in response to Will attempting to dodge meal time to read a journal or sneak back to the lab. "So you need four pieces of bread, because you need to make yourself a sandwich, too.

"I'm not hungry."

"Yeah you are. Besides, my mom always says that you need to eat a sandwich once in a while. She says you're too skinny." 

God fucking damnit, Annette. 

"What else do your parents say about me? It seems they talk about me often." Wesker asked, setting out an additional two slices of Wonder Bread because he wasn't going to argue with a child. 

"Well, Mom worries about you a lot. She always asks Dad to invite you over, and asks how you're doing as a police officer. Dad says you're very special to him and very smart. He also says- wait, can I say a cuss word?" 

Wesker set a piece of plasticky American cheese onto each slice of bread with care. 

"I won't tell if you won't." 

Sherry let out a maniacal laugh, and then straightened up, looking straight up at Albert with the utmost seriousness. 

"He says you're a big stupid asshole." 

Wesker chuckled. That sounded like Will. 

"Well, you tell Annette she has nothing to worry about. And you can tell your father he should look in a mirror." 

Sherry nodded seriously as if she'd been given a sacred mission as Wesker lit a second burner for the sandwiches. 

He worked in silence with Sherry shadowing him uselessly until the meal was ready, and then plated it with care, two bowls of tomato soup, and two grilled cheese sandwiches, slightly burnt because cheap bread toasted much more quickly than the heartier, grainier bread he kept in his own home. 

As he settled into his seat at the table and lifted his spoon to his mouth- he would stomach a few bites if it would end the unceasing complaints from Sherry- Sherry stopped him. 

"Hey!" She started. Wesker froze, looking from his spoon to her. "Aren't you going to say grace?" 

Wesker nearly dropped his spoon in surprise. Had Annette and Will become Christian at some point? He'd never said grace in his entire life- he didn't even know where to begin. 

"I-" 

"I'm just messing with you!" Sherry let out with a loud laugh. "Dad does that whenever he has work friends over for dinner and they always panic." 

Wesker scowled theatrically- which only served to make Sherry laugh harder- and lifted his spoon to his mouth, the canned soup tasting exactly as acrid and tinny as he'd expected. His stomach settled nearly immediately, the warmth of it washing over him unexpectedly pleasantly. 

Okay, maybe it was necessary to eat once in a while. Besides, he'd need the carbs to stay up, because if he knew anything about the Birkins, before midnight translated to approximately three in the morning.

Sherry tucked into her meal, seemingly satisfied she'd gotten one over on her dear Uncle Al. 

Wesker took a bite of his sandwich next. It was terrible- the bread was far too sweet and far too soft, gumming up in his mouth despite the burnt, buttery edges. The 'cheese' was indescribable. He'd never seen cheese that needed to be individually wrapped, and he hoped he'd never have to again. It was strange in texture, with no bite and no stretch, and far too salty in a way that didn't really counteract the sweetness of the bread. 

Sherry seemed pleased with it though, her feet kicking under her chair, her face set into a warm smile even as she chewed. She had her father's smile. 

He'd have a discussion with Will about feeding his child real food.

"You're not half-bad!" Sherry remarked, lifting her sandwich into the air and inspecting it. She'd dipped it into the soup, which had soaked into the bread, turning the bitten corner of it red. She took a bite and let out a quiet, pleased noise. She swallowed it and gestured once more with the half-eaten sandwich still in hand. "You should come over and cook dinner more often!" 

Wesker offered a small smile, just the tiniest quirk of his lips, and picked up his spoon once more.

"I'll think about it." He replied, before putting the spoon between his lips once more, the watery soup coating his mouth unpleasantly. 

When Albert Wesker did endeavor to eat, he often chose something heartier- something designed to nourish his body and mind. Salmon and broccoli, baked chicken breast with half of a potato. Simple foods that he could eat quickly and unsentimentally and not think about for long. Or he'd indulge himself, he'd go to a restaurant with Will and Annette and order something that could be eaten absentmindedly, and absorb himself in conversation well enough to forget he was even eating it. 

Somehow, a metallic tinned soup and a "sandwich" comprised of what amounted, in his mind, to cake and plastic had become his favorite meal in recent memory.

[yen-town]

holding gratitude and grief

Sometimes love arrives at the right time but carries the shadows of everything that came before it. There are days when happiness feels effortless, and then there are days when old stories, old mistakes, and old wounds find their way into the room, even when they no longer belong there. Not out of longing, not out of regret for the present, but out of empathy for the people who once stood where someone stands now.

Maybe growing older is realizing that not every chapter ends cleanly. Some people leave with answers, others leave with scars, and some become lessons neither asked for. There's no changing the past, no rewriting choices already made. All that's left is hoping that everyone who once crossed paths has found gentler days, kinder love, and the peace they deserved all along.

Sometimes that hope looks like quietly wondering how they're doing. Stumbling upon a familiar name and lingering for a second longer than necessary, not because there's a place to return to, but because there's comfort in knowing someone made it through what once broke them. A small, unspoken wish that they're healing well, that life has been kinder lately, that the weight they carried isn't as heavy anymore.

And if there are apologies that will never be spoken aloud, perhaps they can simply exist as quiet wishes sent into the universe. No expectations. No requests for forgiveness. Just a sincere hope that life eventually made up for the hurt.

Some nights, the heart holds gratitude for what it has now and sorrow for what others had to carry before. Somehow, both feelings can be true at the same time. And maybe that's part of loving honestly: recognizing that happiness doesn't erase what came before, but choosing to hold space for it with gentleness anyway.

[fosher]

reader and rinne with a long difference relationship

Maybe reader was a simple tourist visiting Tokyo and the two just so happened to meet at a bar. Maybe they were traveling for work and they bumped and made conversation in the elevator of some building. Even, the reader could be commissioned to work for crazy:b, and the two just bonded over lunch.

Whatever the case, you don't live in Tokyo. But Rinne isn't one to back down, he isn't one to just let the two of you fade to a memory after having such a refreshing and nice conversation. No, he definitely would beg for your number or some sort of social media account he can follow and message you on. He just needs to scratch that itch that tells him to talk to you.

So, you two talk. Almost every day.

You think, after a week or so, he'll grow bored of you and slowly leave you on read or delivered before leaving entirely. But you seem to know Rinne has days turn into weeks that turn into months of you two talking.

Texts, voice notes, phone calls, face timing.

It all happened so naturally that you just one day find yourself on a three hour long face time with Rinne: both of you doing nothing but existing with each other.

It was weird. Having someone as ever growing as Rinne is talk and chat with you as if long time friends. It was fun learning about the ins and outs of the idol life he lives and he seems, with a hunger of a dog, to eat up whatever you tell him.

Yeah, it's impossible for either of you to meet up without some sort of planning before hand. Not even his spontaneous behaviors can get him to you. And yeah you miss having that face to face conversation and laughter that naturally occurred that first day. But it's nice. To fall asleep to his talks and he watching you walk around your home doing chores and attending emails.

[fosher]

when you make a pact with a demon, it amplify the human sin in yourself

make a bond with Mammon? Sure, youre the same person. But you like the pick the coins off the road, for whatever reason now. And you love to go with him to the casino. Hell, you're just a little bit risky with money now. Just a bit more wild.

Satan? You're still calm, still the head of reason among fighting demons. But they just make you a little bit more... irritated. No holes in walls and certainly no broken tables. But you find yourself needing to take a breather, maybe even leaving the room just to practice breathing exercises in the hall.

Belphie? You're tired. You want to sleep more. You don't want to go out shopping as much. Doing any sort of administrative work, work you previously just found boring at best, now a dull to deal with. You still do it. Of course you do. You're just crashing in bed soon after work.

Beel? You find yourself chewing down on burgers and pizzas and foods more often. Nothing to scoff at. But when you weigh yourself, you do gain a pound or three since.

Levi? Goodness, you just want more. You want to join in on his gaming sessions more. Its a shame that he can hang out with his online friends and not you. Its awful seeing other students out at parties or having bodies you couldn't have.

With asmo, you love the same but it feels more. You want to hug your friends longer, you to touch and be touched. You bloom whenever you look good. You always liked looking good, everyone liked looking good. But you have to look good. You have to have people staring

When you get luci's pact. You didn't feel any different. You laughed the same. Youre work is the same. You don't lose sleep. But it's hard for you to say sorry, like having a ball in your throat. You hold your head higher. Its a more common to joke instead of opting fault.

[littlerequiem]

A LITANY FOR LIVING ✶ masterlist

A Widow!Reader x Maekar Targaryen In Progress, Ch. 1/7

PAIRING: Maekar Targaryen / Female Reader (A Knight of Seven Kingdoms / A Song of Ice and Fire)

SUMMARY: "You did not choose me, and I did not choose you. And yet, here we are, anyway." | After the Stranger robs you of husband and child, you do not expect much from a second marriage, least of all to a prince of the realm. But Prince Maekar seems to be as grief-hardened as you are, with six children who are equally lost… and maybe the gods are not done with either of you just yet.

CONTENT: Rated Explicit (18+ - MDNI). Pre-Ashford, Reader is a Royce from Runestone, Reader is Maekar's second wife, Arranged Marriages, Slow Burn, Canon Divergent, Pre-Ashford, Reader is from House Royce, Widow!Reader, Miscarriage, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Eventual Smut, Maekarlings... attack!

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‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎( READ ON AO3 )

CHAPTER DIRECTORY ON TUMBLR

Chapter 1 / more to come soon