#mine falls under the first category

[misterbrick42-slaytheprincess]

there are two types of STP aus:

you and the Princess are somewhere else

Some form of role reversal

please prove me wrong

[talesofadragon]

𝟓𝟎 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧

Summary: In a twist of fate, the seemingly heartless and enigmatic Draco Malfoy found himself falling deeply in love. His affection for Y/N knew no bounds, but he couldn't resist the temptation to test her patience. However, when he succumbs to the advances of a particular Slytherin girl, he soon realizes that he may have gotten more than he bargained for.

Warnings: Sexual themes. Minors DNI.

Pairing: Draco x Reader

Genre: Fluff | Smut  

Word count: 2.1K

All Masterlists | Draco Malfoy Masterlist

𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐰. Unapologetically and effortlessly, those people embrace the lackluster, emanating an aura that brings the moons and the stars of the universe to their knees. 

Draco Malfoy fell into that category. 

In the middle of the raging lights and the tumultuous fray, he sat back in the dark corner of the Slytherin Common Room, leisurely sipping a glass of Firewhiskey. At first glance, he was imposing. Veiny fingers, undoubtedly dexterous in their deathly ministrations. A chiseled jaw that commanded obedience from every man. And eyes that, although we’re mesmerizing pools of silver, held a hint of acidic intensity with every gaze.

Draco Malfoy was thought to be darkness in human form. Perhaps several individuals would concur, whether out of fascination or apprehension. But that was because none of them saw him through my eyes. 

In his nights, I saw the moon. In his shades of obsidian, I found depths unknown. In his prowess, I sought the nightjar, whose darkened plumage painted my soul with a mesmerizing array of vibrant hues.

And I despised, abhorred, anyone who dared to try and get close enough to bask in his glow.

“Y/N, sometimes I regret ever introducing you to Draco,” Clarissa remarked. I shot her an unimpressed glance. She continued dancing without missing a beat, leaving me the only one standing idle in the middle of a crowded room. “You have that devilish look in your eyes.” 

“Well, the she-devil has her eyes, and hands, all over him.” 

Clarissa's lips twitched, forming an amused grin. Her gaze shifted towards the girl with dark hair and an extremely form-fitting dress, which left little to the imagination, who shamelessly ran her hand along my boyfriend's arm.

“He’s not even looking at her.” 

“He’s letting her touch him!” 

“He’s not.” She rolled her eyes, brushing off the comment. One of her hands took mine, urging me to dance to the upbeat tone of the music that engulfed us. “He’s looking at you and is most likely enjoying getting under your skin.” 

“He’s being a dick,” I groaned in frustration. Clarissa was giving me her “well duh” expression. 

“He’s Draco. If you ask about him, you’ll have a porn site worth of dick picks and stories that perfectly describe your aggravating boyfriend.” 

I arched an eyebrow, subconsciously convincing myself that it was a common behavior and not something unique to Draco. “Remind me again what his relationship to your boyfriend is. Oh, that’s right, he’s his brother.” 

“Atlas is a sweetheart! Sometimes, I sincerely think he was adopted,” she argued. 

“Clearly not,” I countered. I nudged my head toward the table, catching sight of the girl in the navy dress leaning her body closer to my boyfriend’s chest. “If he’s licking his lips at the sight of that girl’s cleavage.” 

Clarissa whipped her head at the speed of light. I was surprised her neck didn’t snap. Her rage immediately molded into distaste when she noticed that Atlas wasn’t licking his lips as I said, but he was straining his neck, attempting to look away from the boob job that was begging for attention. 

“She’s a bitch.” 

“As am I,” I replied swiftly. Clarissa frowned, glancing back at me. By that time, the sound of my heels clicking against the marble floor had already begun, even though the music drowned out their noise.

Draco seemed impervious to the blaring musical notes as his silver eyes locked onto mine, capturing my movement. He had the audacity to smirk against the rim of his glass, going as far as to open the palm of his hand, indulging in the girl’s ministrations. 

Atlas, seated on the same couch as his brother but a few feet away, wore a bemused expression. He bit his lip, gaze wandering between me and Clarissa, who was trailing after me. 

As I crossed the two steps that separated me from my boyfriend, the harsh clicking of my heels echoed through the room. The blush on my cheeks seemed to mirror the hue of my dress, drawing attention toward me. Perfect, I inwardly mused, locking eyes with Draco. He observed my every move with his now grey irises, resembling a tempestuous landscape anticipating the thunder to unleash its chaos.

Confident and without a hint of hesitation, I made my way to his table, disregarding the curious onlookers, the girl with longing eyes, and even our friends. Choosing to ignore them all, I straddled his lap, allowing our lips to collide.

He must have expected my harshness or maybe my fire, but it was clear that he hadn’t anticipated my dominance. Draco Malfoy faltered, proved by the sound of the glass shattering on the floor and the shrieks of the nameless woman beside us. 

One of his hands fisted the fabric of my dress, clinging to the small of my back, while the other slithered into my hair. My hands, on the other hand, assaulted his neck. One wrapped itself around it while the other trekked down his collarbone, swiftly uncaging the second button of his shirt. 

As expected, Draco tried to dominate the kiss, attempting to force my tongue into submission. And while on a regular day, when my body was electrified by the dominance of his touch and my consciousness succumbed to the pressure of his pleasuring body, I would have relented. Today was anything but a regular one. 

I pushed past the overwhelming ecstasy that clouded my racing thoughts, attempting to transform them into incoherent murmurs, and assaulted Draco’s tongue. His hands began to trail my body, the one in my hair errantly moving towards my own neck. 

Immediately, I tightened my hold around his neck, restricting him further from the air we both so desperately craved. He gasped, hands falling to my waist and clutching me tighter. I teased him, bringing my lips close to his, allowing him to steal the breath coming out of my own mouth and greedily take it for himself. 

It lasted no more than two seconds because I knew this was a punishment and not a reward. I dove in again. Tongue-first, exploring the walls and ceiling of his mouth. Draco couldn’t keep his own tongue at bay, and I didn’t want him to. Before he could coax me into accepting his sensual offer, I let go of his lower lip and sucked on his tongue. 

Draco moaned. A sound that was both undiluted and unrestrained; I was sure he had forgotten where he was. His hips jolted, searching for friction. And when I didn’t grant it willingly, his hand found my thighs and hoisted me up until I was shamelessly grinding on him. 

“Moan for me,” he commanded huskily, voice breaking at the seams from being a captive of pleasure. 

I didn’t just want to moan. I wanted to roar from the way his crotch caressed my clothed pussy, squeezing the juices out of me and letting them trail down my thighs. 

But I didn’t. “Moan for me,” I rebuked, letting my fingers cradle the nape of his neck, pulling on his silver locks. Another moan rippled through the air, reaching my clit. And I knew if I didn’t stop any time soon, I would be the one moaning and begging on this very couch. “Good boy.” 

Draco’s eyes widened at the remark, his sharp eyes piercing mine. Immediately, I let go of him, standing up.

I dusted my dress, adjusting the neckline which almost exposed my breasts completely. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there,” I commented with feigned innocence. This particular area only had a handful of students huddled around, and the one closest to us was a mere few feet away. The girl beside my boyfriend, Pansy Parkinson, didn't need an education to understand that I was directing my words at her.

Her jaw ticked, breath coming out ragged—maybe she was having a sex marathon in her head, getting off on the thought of my boyfriend and me. “I wish I hadn’t seen you at all,” she conceded, hastily scurrying away.

As she left, I saw Clarissa standing behind me. A shadow of confusion crossed over her features, quickly replaced by amusement. “Well, now that she’s gone. Why don’t we give Draco a few minutes to hide that bulge he’s sporting? Atlas, wanna dance?” 

“After what just happened, I won't let any chance slip away to have you close to me, Clares.” He wasted no time getting up. He side-eyed his brother for a moment, unable to hide his smirk. “Here.” Atlas reached out for his Elf Wine, extending it to Draco. “You look flushed. Why don’t you cool off a bit like a good boy?” 

Ignoring our collective laughter, Draco swatted the glass away from his face. He regarded me with an air of irritation, his pupils heavily dilated. 

“Remember when I warned you that it’s much harder for men to mask their wants? Bet you wish you were less of a dick now,” I taunted, earning myself a loud cheer from Atlas and an uproarious laugh from Clarissa. 

Draco had yet to say anything, and I knew he was meticulously considering the retributions he would inflict upon me for this audacious move. But I didn’t care. With a skip in my step, I turned around and strutted away. But before I could make my grand escape, a hand firmly wrapped around my wrist, halting my movements. In the blink of an eye, I was flung onto the couch, landing right where my boyfriend had been sitting just seconds before.

“Draco!” Atlas chastised. He was already taking a step forward, visibly astounded by his brother’s brisk action. Even Clarissa was worried. 

But I wasn’t. 

Draco didn’t spare either of them a glance as he let his gaze fall onto mine. The pools of silver were sizzling, menacing, and fierce—ready to consume me whole. But they were also lustrous, encasing ardent desire. And I found myself getting far more aroused than afraid by the visceral passion they exuded. 

Draco took three meaningful steps toward me, his agile strides reminding me that I was the prey to his snake. He stopped at a short distance, letting one of his hands extend to the back of the couch while the other casually reached for an abandoned shot on our table. 

“Open that sinful mouth of yours, Y/N.” I obeyed. Because if I didn’t, I would self-combust. Screw whatever punishment the devil has for me. I would take it without another word if it meant relieving some of that desire between my legs. “Good girl. Take it all, but don’t you dare swallow yet,” Draco demanded as he filled my mouth with the electrifying drink. 

My eyes welled up, stinging from the searing pain that consumed my mouth and pierced my heart, yet I resisted the urge to close them. Draco disregarded the empty shot glass and tenderly stroked my cheek with his free hand. The weight of the onlookers' gazes bore down on us, but I felt a profound sense of gratitude that the Malfoys were influential and esteemed enough that no one would dare intervene in what they were witnessing.

I squeaked when Draco took my cheek between his fingers and forced the burning drink outside of my mouth. I could feel my heart shuddering as the liquid trailed down my neck to my chest and the valley of my breasts. 

I couldn’t stop staring at Draco while desperately clenching my thighs. Of course, he was too engrossed with the trek the alcohol was taking down my body. 

“Draco,” I whined, practically begging for his touch. The bastard smirked, ever so slowly coming closer. 

“Starshine,” he breathed against my breasts. Immediately, his hand sneaked down, reaching for my thighs. His fingers dug deep into my skin. I moaned, then I cried out in pleasure when his tongue darted out of his mouth, tracing the remains of the alcohol all the way from my chest to my mouth. He hovered over my lips, his silent exhale caressing my mouth. “If I were any less of a dick, I’m sure you’d still cry out for me.”

He pushed himself off my body, the sheer abruptness of his actions causing me to wince. “Wh—”

“Go dance, Y/N,” he said. No, he dared. It was obvious what he was doing. Bold and bright in the middle of the night. He knew I needed him, craved him. And he reveled in the thought. 

So, I did what any sane woman would do. I straightened my hair, fixed my clothes, and rushed to his arms. “I wanna dance with you,” I whispered against his lips. He met mine in a sensual dance, and before I knew it, he was already leading me out of the Common Room and into his arms.

Draco Taglist:

@imabee-oralizard @ameliaphoenix @arcana-greenleaf @dittos-blog-dylanobrien

So this happened unexpectedly. Slightly inspired by that one scene from Culpa Mia (My Fault). Hope y’all like it.💚

[yourpenpaldee]

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ WRITEBLR INTRODUCTION.

I don't usually put myself out there as it makes me nervous. But I've been a lurker for way too long, and it's about time I step out of my comfort zone. So, hello! I'm Dee (she/her), twenty-two, and have found my voice with storytelling.

Writing has always been a passion of mine, and continues to be the tool I turn to when I need an outlet to freely express myself. I have, unfortunately, hit a rough patch with consistency, and I'm here to bring all of that motivation and inspiration back. Especially since there are one too many WIPs sitting on the backburner, and they're all calling my name.

As someone who loves to dip their toes into every genre of fiction, I will read anything that peaks my interest. However, when it comes to creating, my works usually fall under romance and mystery. With practice, I intend on branching out into other genres I don't write often. There's a lot to explore in the world of writing, and I don't want to limit myself to only two categories.

Creating this blog provides me the space I need to accomplish the many goals I often dream of achieving. I acknowledge that it all starts with the ability to hold myself accountable. To show up for myself. To become comfortable with the uncomfortable. Putting myself and my projects out into the world is only the first of many steps, and it feels quite liberating.

I aim to use the voice I've found to not only contribute to the progression of POC representation, but to touch on several topics that remain heavily stigmatized in today's media. There’s a joy that runs through my veins every time I see someone like me on my screen or in a book. I feel seen, heard, and proud. I feel important. But as a creator, there’s that itch that can only be scratched when I create. When I make something that lets the next person know that they’re not invisible. That they're valued, loved, and appreciated. That's what I hope for when someone reads a project of mine. For them to feel the same rush of joy flowing through them as it does me.

Wow, I’m a yapper. I'd like to close this intro off with some fun facts, so here are some of my top five favorites with sidenotes because I still want to yap a bit more about the things I adore.

SOLO ARTISTS:

ARI LENNOX ✧ ˚ · . CHOCOLATE POMEGRANATE — GET CLOSE — GOAT — POF — UP LATE

HALSEY ✧ ˚ · . 100 LETTERS — I HATE EVERYBODY — NIGHTMARE — ROMAN HOLIDAY — THE LIGHTHOUSE

HOPE TALA ✧ ˚ · . CHERRIES — EDEN — I CAN'T EVEN CRY — LEAVE IT ON THE DANCEFLOOR — SUNBURN

MELANIE MARTINEZ ✧ ˚ · . ALPHABET BOY — DEAD TO ME — EVIL — NOTEBOOK — STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE

HALIMA ✧ ˚ · . DOWNTOWN — FORD CARDINAL — IF LOVE WAS GREEN — SAMANTHA — TALK

BANDS:

5 SECONDS OF SUMMER ✧ ˚ · . AIRPLANES — BETTER MAN — KILL MY TIME — LONG WAY HOME — TEARS!

FALL OUT BOY ✧ ˚ · . BANG THE DOLDRUMS — CHICAGO IS SO TWO YEARS AGO — HEADFIRST SLIDE INTO COOPERSTOWN ON A BAD BET — NOBODY PUTS BABY IN THE CORNER — WHERE DID THE PARTY GO

FLO ✧ ˚ · . CARDBOARD BOX — FLY GIRL — IMMATURE — SUITE LIFE (FAMILIAR) — WALK LIKE THIS

PARAMORE ✧ ˚ · . BIG MAN, LITTLE DIGNITY — CAUGHT IN THE MIDDLE — FRANKLIN — MISGUIDED GHOST — PART II

THE INTERNET ✧ ˚ · . DONTCHA — HOLD ON — LOOK WHAT U STARTED — SOMTHING'S MISSING — SPECIAL AFFAIR

GAMES:

CORAL ISLAND ✧ ˚ · . IF I START LISTING NAMES, I'M GOING TO MENTION EVERYONE. BUT I'M A LOYAL MARK GIRL. AND NOAH... AND MILLIE, EVA, BEN, Y—

DISNEY DREAMLIGHT VALLEY ✧ ˚ · . THIS IS SUCH A COMFORT GAME THAT SOOTHES MY INNER CHILD.

DON'T STARVE [TOGETHER] ✧ ˚ · . I MAY OR MAY NOT STILL SUCK AT THIS GAME AFTER A SOLID THREE YEARS, BUT I'M A WIGFRID MAIN.

STARDEW VALLEY ✧ ˚ · . I LOVE SEBASTIAN AND LEAH, AND I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL IF I HAVE TO.

THE SIMS 4 ✧ ˚ · . WHERE I SPEND A LOT MORE TIME IN CREATE-A-SIM AND BUILD MODE COMPARED TO PLAYING THE ACTUAL GAME.

TROPES:

FAKE RELATIONSHIP ✧ ˚ · . MHM... JUST SAY YOU LIKE EACH OTHER ALREADY.

FATED MATE ✧ ˚ · . I'M A BIT PICKY ABOUT THIS TROPE THOUGH. THINGS TEND TO MOVE VERY QUICKLY BUT I ENJOY IT NONETHELESS.

FRIENDS TO LOVERS ✧ ˚ · . A CLASSIC THAT DOESN'T NEED AN EXPLANATION.

REUNION ✧ ˚ · . ESPECIALLY IF THEY WERE CHILDHOOD FRIENDS AND THEY REMINISCE OLD MEMORIES, OH MY GOODNESS. I EAT THIS TROPE UP EVERY TIME.

SLOWBURN ✧ ˚ · . NO DOUBT THIS IS MY MOST FAVORITE TROPE. THE BUILDUP TO EVEN THE TINIEST PIVOTAL MOMENT ALWAYS MAKES MY HEART THUMP.

TV SHOWS:

CRIMINAL MINDS ✧ ˚ · . YES, I’LL WATCH ALL 16 SEASONS FOR THE MILLIONTH TIME AND FALL IN LOVE WITH PRENTISS EACH TIME. WE WERE ALSO ROBBED OF BEARDED HOTCH CONTENT.

BRIDGERTON ✧ ˚ · . DO I CRY EVERY TIME I WATCH GEORGE AND CHARLOTTE'S STORY? YES. WILL I CONTINUE TO REWATCH IT AND RECITE THE LINES EVERY TIME SOMETHING REMINDS ME OF IT? ASOLUTELY.

THE BEAR ✧ ˚ · . I WISH I KNEW OF AYO EDEBIRI BEFORE THIS SHOW BECAUSE THAT WOMAN IS AMAZING??? LIKE, HELLO???

THE EQUALIZER ✧ ˚ · . *mini spoiler* STILL CAN'T STOP THINKING OF DANTE'S GRIN WHEN HE GOT TO SEE MEL, ROB, AND HARRY'S LITTLE WORK SPOT FOUR SEASONS LATER.

SWEET MAGNOLIAS ✧ ˚ · . HELEN, MADDIE, AND DANA SUE IS HOW I PICTURE MY FRIENDS AND I IN THE FUTURE. MARGARITA NIGHTS, BEING AUNTIES TO EACH OTHER'S CHILDREN, UGH. I LOVE THEM WHOLEHEARTEDLY.

And that concludes this introduction on me and this blog. I would love to connect and befriend other authors, so please don't hesitate to reach out as my DMs will always be open! I'd love to support and read your works, so don't be hesitant to share them with me if you'd like.

I hope you all will enjoy reading my works as much as I enjoy the process of bringing my ideas to life.

divider creds to strangergraphics ♡

[ask-the-rag-dolly]

okay . while i was writing the essay , i was going on a big spiel about how fandoms often reduce characters to familiar archetypes . then when i finished writing i realized i actually don't know what the Fuck i was yapping about because it all doesn't really apply to the tadc fandom post-ep 2 ? like Cool !! ragatha's an absolute loser of a woman , i think everyone has known that at this point .

basically ragatha's not the Best model for when i want to talk about nice characters being mischaracterized in fandom because i stopped seeing people making her put-together anyway . i can think of other characters that'll fit the thesis better .

i'm only deciding to post what i had down because i think i did say some stuff of note and because people were interested for . some reason ! . just keep in mind that it kind of became a nothingburger .

i'm in the middle of rewriting it to be less about the fandom though and my god it's already around 1118 words what am i doing with my life

also apologies in advance for the walls of text

——— this is not an essay to get you to like ragatha if you’re feeling meh towards her , or even dislike her . opinions are opinions , you have characters that appeal to you and i have mine ! this is just a ramblefest on why i love her , how people characterized her , and commentary on fandom culture as a whole

this is also not meant to bash any headcanons ! like good for you if you see her as the mother figure in the circus found family . the term ‘ mom friend ‘ here is used to describe how people often reduced her and similar characters down to a caretaker role for other characters while ignoring the Depth they have

as i think is clear in this blog by now , my favorite character in a piece of fiction has always been a mentally ill woman . the more complicated the brain , the better . i don’t have a type , but i know more often than not i would gravitate towards characters that are either misunderstood or disliked by most of the fandom

can you guess which category ragatha falls under —

don’t get me wrong , i am NOT generalizing tadc fans here ! the idea of her being a well-put together person lessened around episode 2 which is GREAT because i got to read very cool fics — and i’m not saying you have to know every part of ragatha’s thought processes to talk about her ( though at this point i think i’ve heard enough takes that makes me want to say that — )

‘ nice characters ‘ ( especially female ones ! ) in fandom never have the most pleasant development in my experience . either they will be pushed aside because they’re seen as boring compared to the more brasher characters or they’ll be disliked for the few times they did something seen as ‘ not so nice ‘ . and in the few times where they Are being paid attention , they’ll be put in an arbitrary box that waters down their traits .

in other words , fandoms put characters in boxes . terms like ‘ mom friend ‘ and ‘ cinnamon roll ‘ are those boxes . they're common tropes in media that fandoms typically like . it’s why people were so disappointed to find out that jax is actually an unlikable asshole instead of a ' jerk with a heart of gold ' — these boxes make the characters easy to consume and understand .

as you can tell , i don’t agree with putting characters in boxes ! first of all , how are they supposed to breathe in there ?

secondly , it’s just restricting yourself from genuinely engaging with a piece of media , especially for a character-driven story like tadc . i would be More forgiving of this problem if tadc was a plot-heavy show where the lore’s the main focus , but The Characters Are The Focus , Johnathan . trying to understand the characters personally to extract any potential moral lessons from them Is The Point of those types of stories

thirdly , i call those boxes arbitrary for a reason ; they often don't describe the characters at all , and in some cases , even goes against their characterization . my biggest problem with mom friend ragatha is that it Takes away the things that makes her interesting as a character .

do you know what's so compelling about ragatha ? it's that , believe it or not , she is Not the most reliable . one of the most fascinating things with ragatha in episode two is how it shows her approaching emotions Vs. Pomni approaching emotions .

even though it's unintentional , ragatha can be seen as Dismissive and Overbearing . the way she tried to reassure pomni of not feeling hurt by being left behind can seem Passive-Aggressive . her conversation with kinger shows that she Assumes what the other person thinks without hearing them out . this contrasts against pomni who lets gummigoo speak out his feelings and actually had viable things to say than ' don't worry about it haha '

this contrast is interesting to note because it shows the world of difference between ragatha and pomni's emotional maturity .

you can tell that ragatha can be simple-minded . not in a ' she's a dumbass ' way , but in that she's Reluctant to approach uncomfortable emotions without beaming it with a ray of positivity . like you can tell she thinks that Repressing her emotions to the point she can't feel them is the same as ' processing ' them . all of these are stuff that don't fit the Mature Mom Friend archetype .

and that's Fine !! because she was never meant to be in the role anyway !! there's a common theme of Community and Support in tadc , and that Everyone Has Each Other . ragatha was never meant to be the Glue holding everyone together , she's meant to be a part of the Unit that is the circus .

there's also a conversation to be had about how older female characters — or at least characters that are seen as having stereotypically ' feminine ' traits of being kind and caring — are often being pushed to a reductive , supportive familial role that reinforces gender roles , but you didn't hear it from me !

anyways uh in conclusion ragatha's awesomesauce ok i'm going back to drawing

[ribb0ngirl]

𝑚𝑦 𝑔𝑢𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑜𝑛 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑣𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑡𝑜𝑥𝑖𝑐 𝑓𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦 ౨ৎ

by a girl living in a shitty household for my girls (or guys, nonbinaries, etc.) living in shitty households ♡

𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑡𝑟𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝚑𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒 𝑡𝚑𝑒𝑚

♡ Trying to change people who don't want to change or don't even acknolledge the fact that they have to change is literally pointless. Instead, try to focus on what you can control, such as how you respond to your parents, your choices, and your behavior.

𝑏𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝚑 𝑤𝚑𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝚑𝑎𝑟𝑒

♡ Trust is a crucial element of healthy relationships, so consider only sharing personal information with those who have proven themselves trustworthy. Your parents probably don't fall under this category if they:

gossip about you

criticize you

share things about you without your permission

use what you tell them against you

You don't have to tell them everything (or anything) that's going on in your life. Only share mundane stuff if your parents are nosy (like mine)

𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘 𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠' 𝑙𝑖𝑚𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠

♡ So an example of this could be: If you know that your parents become forgetful, aggressive, or otherwise difficult after a certain time of day, try to interact with them earlier in the day to avoid the worst of their behavior. But this doesn't mean that you should plan your life around your parents. You can work around their limitations if that works for you. Always put yourself first in this situation.

𝚑𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑎𝑛 𝑒𝑥𝑖𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑔𝑦

♡ When things start to take a turn for the absolute worse have a plan to leave, like an excuse. Obviously don't use the same one every time but here are a few:

homework/studying

a chore (washing the dishes, cleaning your room, etc.)

friend hangout you're late to

errand

Personally I totally overuse having homework or studying

𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑎𝑟𝑔𝑢𝑒 𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘

♡ I know how tempting it is to want to yell at your parents, talk back or straight up disagree or correct them when they are clearly in the wrong. But I've learned the hard way that it makes your life so much easier if you just suck it up, I know it sucks but just go along with what they say, that way the aftermath won't be that bad or not even bad at all.

𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓

♡ Dealing with toxic parents can be stressful. That stress can take a toll on your physical and mental health. It’s important that you make self-care a priority.

𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑡𝚑𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝚑𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑜𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑡𝑜𝑥𝑖𝑐 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝚑𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑢𝑛𝚑𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠, 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑔 ♡

[ceilidho]

forced throuple (soap/ghost/reader)

i've been ruminating on this idea for awhile, that basically after the Alone campaign and after getting out of Las Almas, Ghost more or less decided that Soap is his person. sort of like his pack. and it's only obvious that anyone Soap considers family would also get lumped into his pack as well.

Ghost doesn't keep very many people close - even those that he considers close (Price, Gaz, Roach, etc), he keeps at something of a distance. this is exemplified by the way he still clings to the possibility of betrayal (like telling Soap that "people you trust can hurt you the most"), but after Las Almas, I think something flips in him.

There's a switch that's been off for years, maybe even close to a decade, and it flips back online when he finds this man that trusts him without question, that follows his orders and looks up at him with these big, puppy blue eyes and it twists something in his chest. I don't think he would've even had something like that before, definitely not during his youth when he was still overcoming his childhood trauma and certainly not after everything that lead up to Simon becoming Ghost.

I don't even think Ghost would be particularly upset if Soap came back from leave one day with a girlfriend; he trusts Soap's judgment completely. And once he sees her for himself, pretty as pie tucked under his sergeant's arm (all small and doe eyed, smart as a whip when she opens her mouth), all that does is confirm his assumption.

It takes approximately eight seconds for Ghost's brain to file her under "mine", slotting her right under Johnny in that category and isn't that just perfect because it also takes approximately eight seconds for Ghost to imagine what she might look like under Johnny.

Soap would be distinctly uncomfortable at first. There's a fine line between having Ghost's undivided attention (and oh, he eats it up at first, struts around with his chin cocked just a bit higher than usual because he knows everyone else is watching him with equal parts envy for being Ghost's favourite and abject curiosity/horror) and having Ghost's....complete....undivided....attention.

Like Soap just wants to parade his new girlfriend around (she's sweet but snippy, everything he's ever wanted in a partner) in front of his colleagues, but then Ghost gropes her ass in front of everyone on base (because by then, Ghost has already started to think of the two of them as 'his' in his head) and Soap just stares, mouth dry, absolutely humiliated but no idea what to do (he's just thinking over and over again, "Do I tell him to stop, what do I DO??")

Because Ghost is his buddy, his best friend, his CO - Soap trusts Ghost implicitly, would put his whole life in his hands and know that Ghost would keep him safe.

So he doesn't get it at first? Maybe he thinks Ghost is actually interested in his girlfriend and it wrecks him because Soap can see himself really falling for this girl, but Ghost is also like - he's a part of him. He probably briefly does consider just letting Ghost have her, conceding defeat.

Ghost would correct that assumption soooo quick. There isn't a version of him that wants someone who doesn't also want Johnny. Inconceivable. After everything that they've been through together, the root of him and what he wants is inextricably tied with what Soap wants - he almost wishes he could live inside his head, just a constant stream of Johnny's thoughts into his.

Like Soap genuinely likes having all of Ghost's attention on him because he's a bit of an attention whore but it's a bit different when his LT is holding his head down into his girlfriend's pussy and telling him exactly how to rub his tongue over her clit.

Worse because Ghost's hand curls around his cock when he guides him through it, slick with lube. Almost too tight at first, clearly mimicking the way Simon likes to jerk himself off, even though Johnny prefers a slightly looser grip, a little slower, more indulgent.

Worse still when Ghost positions Soap over her, big hands on his hips and Soap has never felt like he had narrow hips until this very second. Lube drizzled over the furl of his entrance and his head spinning, staring down into his girlfriend's eyes as she watches the two of them wide eyed, still so anxious and it makes him want to sooth her, coo down at her that he's got her and everything's going to be just fine, but that thought is snipped right out of him when Simon lines himself up and presses in and his vision just goes white.

This whooollleeeee au is basically "when a bigger, stronger guy hits on ur gf but it's ok bc he also wants to plow u (her boyfriend)"

[redcoralpot]

Smudged (4)

Rodrick Heffley x FTM Punk Reader

Warnings: NSFW joke and mentions of homophobia

Summary: The idea was bull, but it was worth a shot, you supposed. That is, if Rodrick can stay focused.

-

“I need you to do a favor for me,” Rodrick kicked his foot against the asphalt.

You could still hear the joyful chatter of children reuniting with their parents in the background, cars speeding past you, causing strands of hair to come loose, “No.”

“No? What do you mean no?”

“I’ve heard enough from Heather.”

His eyes snapped towards you, wide and attentive, for once, “What’d she say?”

“Obviously not something positive.”

Rodrick shrugged, his attitude uncaring once again. You huffed and turned away, fully planning on leaving him alone on that sidewalk. However, you only were able to take a few steps forward before a hand roughly grabbed at your back. Cursing under your breath, you whirled around to face the boy, squinting.

“Hey, hey, I’m being serious. I need your help, here, dude.”

“You could’ve fooled me;” you rolled your eyes, but didn’t remove his hand, “I won’t do your homework for you. Leave that in middle school, with Greg.”

Rodrick’s hand slid down your arm before he pulled it to his chest, “Actually– fuck, nevermind. Okay, that won’t work on you, but you’re a valuable resource with this!”

“And how is that?”

Instead of answering, he took a step closer, and waved a slip of paper in your face. You flinched back, allowing it to fall from his fingertips into your open palm. Rodrick was silent, snickering, and tapping his foot as he gleefully watched you crack it apart. Inside were printed words; his project slip, awfully crumpled. Two words, three if you count the category. Music; punk subculture.

He smirked, “It’s a research project. What better way than to talk to the only punk guy in town?”

“If you’re so sure, then what about the collaboration rule?”

“C’mon, nobody’ll ever know!” You could’ve sworn he almost whined, moving back.

You said, “I won’t fail ‘cause you’re reckless; I’m sure there’s another punk guy somewhere.”

Rodrick made a face, “There’s none that I know.”

“That’s too bad for you, then,” you replied. Kicking a rock towards him, you backed up, towards the road. He huffed, taking steps forward as much as you moved away. You could tell that he was getting desperate for your help.

“How about a trade? I help with yours, you help with mine!”

You paused, causing the drummer to smack face first into you, knocking your foreheads together. The two of you hissed, with Rodrick rubbing the wounded spot with a scrunched up, pained face. When he finally let his hand fall away, you could see an angry red spot in its place, and yours probably did not look much better.

“I’ll think about it.”

He snickered, hitting your arm, “Hah, think.”

“Heather was right, you’re a cornball.”

“Fuck you,” he groaned.

You shook your head in response to his complaints, “Deal with it, Heffley. I have your number, I can harass you with it all day.”

A small boy, about Holly’s height, if not shorter, appeared in the distance. He was running towards the both of you fast– well, as fast as a middle schooler can go on those little legs. Beside him, a chubbier, ginger child was struggling to keep up as his counterpart shouted, bringing his hands up to his mouth. Rodrick grew tenser, a kind of grumpier expression clouding his features. Ah, that would be Greg. Chuckling, you made the decision to instead flee the scene, not wanting to be a part of their petty sibling rivalry.

“What do you want, turd?” Rodrick sneered, gesturing beside him, “I was in the middle of something.”

“You promised you’d take Rowley and I home!”

“That means you have to be–” He took in the blank spot where you once were, “...patient.” “I’m gonna kill you the next time Mom’s not home, literally kill you!”

-

You fished your flip phone out of your pocket, slouching on your pillows with your socks only half-off. When the list of conversations popped up on the small, bright screen, you paused. Were you seriously contemplating this? Directly going against the rules to work with Rodrick of all people; you might as well have cheated with Daniel and that would have been a better idea. However– you shifted in your bed, kicking your socks across the room– Daniel knows nothing about drums. In fact, he talks about flutes more than any other instrument, as girly as his father calls it. Rodrick was better at it than anyone else in this shitty little town, so how bad could it truly be?

Against your better judgment, you typed in the number pattern printed on the invitation slip into a new contact, naming it accordingly. You held your breath, typing your very first message; “This is Heather’s brother.”

Your phone was smashed into your sheets and you hugged your pillow to your chest, peeking over at the device. It took a few moments, minutes really, before it vibrated against the cloth. Yet, you didn’t reach for it at first. This was your last chance, your last chance to refuse this and possibly not ruin your entire senior record, and so you hesitated. Curiosity got the better of you, though. “Trade or no trade?” 

Taking a deep breath, you responded, “Trade. Come to my house.”

Heather would be so mad at you for this, you thought as you set aside your phone to the side and hopped up. Most of the time would be spent in your room, and you would hate for it to be as messy as it is now when a guest is over, despite the fact that Rodrick seemed to lack standards for hygiene. Perhaps he only showered once a week, if you were lucky. Regardless, you half-heartedly made your bed and dumped a few garments of clothes that had littered your carpet down a hamper, hidden in your closet. Your violin and electric guitar were both leaning carefully on your wall, safe from harm in their cases. Your desk was scattered with markers, laces, and patches that you had neglected sewing onto your jacket. It wouldn’t hurt to stack them neatly, you reasoned.

Your room still had a certain chaos to it despite your efforts, and really, you weren’t looking to fix it. It had personality, it reflected you, just as Heather’s more tidy space reflected her personality. Books lined the shelves underneath your desk; one that you didn’t spend too much money on. A door, glass, a mat, and two near-height shelves as support gave you one easily; you refused to let your mother buy you a “proper” desk. The works were mostly fiction or topics regarding punk history, so you selected a spare few that you did not care too much about in order to lend them to Rodrick.

About ten minutes in, halfway through the time you expected Rodrick to arrive, you freshened up your makeup in the bathroom mirror, paying extra attention to your eyeliner. Just to one up the guy. You smudged it with your pointer finger, before lining your waterline with a matching black. Even so, you almost poked your eye as you were finishing the right side of your face when you heard a clang!

A faint, “Uh– shit, my fault.”

You lifted the lace curtains with a non-blackened finger to peer outside, only to be greeted by the sight of the devil’s gleaming white van, a fresh dent in the front. An angelic statue that had decorated your family’s driveway was now laying on the ground; a puzzled Rodrick above it. A sigh forced itself from your throat. Your eyes followed his figure as he awkwardly tried fixing the abused statue, before sauntering up to the door with a fist raised. It didn’t take long to bound downstairs and open the front door before he abused that, too.

“We have a doorbell, you know?” you stated, unimpressed, “Come in.”

He whistled a short tune as he took in the rooms around him, “So this is Heather’s house. I was starting to think I’d never get to see it!”

“You aren’t here to see Heather, you’re here for research. Don’t talk to her, don’t listen to her, and don’t even look at her; she’ll choke you out and then me.”

Rodrick bent his head in order to see through the crack in her bedroom doorway, but you took a hold of his ear and pulled him away; “Okay, okay, fuck!”

You dragged him through your own door, where you shut it and finally released the drummer to let him take in his surroundings. Pushing him forward slightly with the back of your elbow, you lean on your bed, taking a good look at him. He flicked his eyes towards you– probably scared you were going to rip his ear off if he moved. A humorous expression to see on such an arrogant guy, sure, but you stayed put, watching him. Rodrick must have taken that as a thumbs up, as he was immediately attracted to your desk. He chose to shuffle through your pins first.

“Woah, you made these?”

“No.”

He read the miniature printed names, “Do they mean anything?”

“They’re bands.”

“Well, yeah, I totally recognized them.” He made a show of pointing out his eye makeup.

“Sure–”

He interrupted you, something seemingly catching his eye, “Wait, is that a…”

“Ah, crap, I thought it was something else.” It was a magazine, something you didn’t care enough about to hide away, and he seemed to snicker about it, “If it was, it’d be full of girls.”

You looked over his shoulders, before snatching it out of his hands, much to his offense, “I’m not into that kind of stuff.”

“You sure? I have one you can borrow if you really need it!”

“You’re weird,” you huff, throwing a small book at him.

“Positive?”

“Get to work.”

Rodrick finally sat on your bed, overly casual. You plopped the pile that contained your collection of punk media in his lap, much to his dismay. Christ, if this was still just some big scheme to get his dick wet, you swore you would stuff a leaf in his mouth.

The first book was all about the origins and meaning of such a subculture; the most important subject for his research. You had hoped he valued that, but as he squinted at the text, his eyebrows pushed together.

He tossed it back into your lap, and you threw it back, like some sort of cursed hot potato, “Dude, I don’t know some of those words!”

“How have you gotten to senior year like this?”

“Can’t you just summarize it?” It landed between your legs, to which you looked at him unimpressed.

Rodrick seemed put off by this, looking down at your lap and back up, “Uh, do you have anything to take notes with?”

“...No.”

“Jesus Christ, take a pen off my desk; take the whole book, why don’t you!”

“That’s fine with me.”

You cursed under your breath, even praying to whatever deity was out there to smite the boy in front of you with all their might. You flipped a page, to the first chapter, sneaking a glimpse at him from behind your eyelashes. Rodrick’s foot was wagging back and forth from its position under his left thigh, not even aware of your dilemma. Or he could be painfully aware of it, and just wanted to push more of your buttons by acting innocent. Yeah, that sounds more like him, you thought as you cleared your throat.

“Punk style started gaining headway, aka popularity, in the mid-‘70s in America, with the UK catching the spark a little later on.”

He sneered, “Hah, caught the spark.”

“Knowing that you know enough about history to make a nerd joke horrifies me.”

“I wasn’t born yesterday,” he huffed.

“Sure,” you continued, “anyway, music was a huge part of this new era, but not the only thing included in it.”

Rodrick said, “I can see that.”

“It had fashion, dance, even a mindset to it.”

Glancing at your boots, currently collecting dust in the closet, you searched your mind for items you personally knew were iconic. He had seen you in your clothes, but based on his earlier comments, Rodrick knew next to nothing about the articles. He did not need to know the very deep parts of punk fashion, not for that project. Truth be told, you honestly didn’t want him to know the codes and such related to more personal matters. That knowledge was only for people who would understand, and you lacked that faith with Rodrick.

“You’ve seen me in my boots, leather jacket, and such, yeah?”

“Duh. That sparkly belt, too.” The drummer tapped his temple.

“It’s spiked.”

He shrugged, “Potato, patata–”

Rodrick was thankfully interrupted by a muffled shout from your mother, who slammed the front door shut, “I brought home dinner!”

“Fuck, yeah, I’m hungry,” he cheered, hopping off the bed and down the stairs before you had the opportunity to tackle him.

“Ah, crap.”

Heather peeked out of her bedroom, slowly turning to look at you with a withering look in her eyes. Your shoulders sagged as you saw a snarl take its form on her lips; defeat.

-

[youunravelme]

Who are some other writers we should check out?

Love your fic recs 😁

omg i LOVE this ask! (and i love that you trust me to rec things/blogs/fics! it's a huge honor)

i'm gonna put this under a read more because there's a lot of people i think are worth following (and if i rec'ed you and got your pronouns wrong, please tell me and i'll fix it!)

so i'm gonna attempt to organize this list by player. disclaimer: i don't read for every hockey player in existence.

mat barzal (obvi number one bc he's the loml)

@barzysunflower - lolo (she/her) is the first mat barzal writer i actually read and when i tell you i binged her masterlist???? it's so good, my favs are the you are in love series and the unexpected series!

@thewintersoldierdisaster - literally anything she writes is great, i go feral for it tbh. she writes for a few canes players as well, but my favs are the mat fics (for obvious reasons being that i'm in love with him). especially the fics with the baby (whose name i cannot remember) and when mat calls reader squeaks???? i'm in love.

@islesnucks - clara (she/her) has so many good mat fics and headcanons (seriously, headcanons are underrated and need more love in general). i think she was also a writer that made me fall in love with mat because she just writes him as the dream romantic hero every single time.

@hockeywhy - i am almost positive that they are tired of me tagging them, but the truth is, they are the writer of my all time fav mat series caught in the middle! but they also have other great mat fics and matthew tkachuk fics that i've enjoyed almost as much! i don't think they're as active anymore writing wise BUT if you want amazing writing and haven't checked them out, you should!

auston matthews

@bagopucks - ella (she/her) hands down my fav auston series is her single mom!reader series. it's the perfect balance of angst and found family and it's just flat out wonderful. she also has a masterlist full of other fics too, that series just happens to be my favorite. but if you wanted another fav of mine, read the jack hughes fic "a little funky," it's about a reader with ocd and as someone with ocd, it was really impactful!

jack hughes

@chewingcyanide - emme (she/they) literally writes the most poetic fics i think i've ever read. everytime she publishes something new, i am stunned. seriously, i honestly take notes from her writing style. stories aside, if you wanted to become a better writer, check out her stuff, it'll really inspire you to use more descriptive words! her breakable heaven series is what introduced me to her writing and it's phenomenal!

@babydollmarauders - faithlynn (she/her) i'm almost positive that faithlynn was the first hockey writer i really followed because jack hughes was my gateway drug into the hockey world. she has so many fun series and aus going on not only for jack but for other devils players, so if you love the devils, definitely check her out!

@jackhues - naqia (she/her) also has a really fun series called mockingbird and it's technically more focused on the friendship/brother-sister relationship jack's gf (reader) and quinn have but it's really sweet. she also has a great auston au as well!

others

@ladylooch - b (she/her) is great! i put her in this category because i feel like she writes a lot for a lot of different players. i've loved her stuff with nico and mat alike. she also has a pretty consistent schedule as well from what i've gathered (which, girl, share your secrets please)

@troubatrain - kim (she/her) wrote my fav beau fic (set it up) and has written some really good fics for matthew tkachuk too! i absolutely adore the soccer player!reader fic and the blurbs that go along with it!

@comphersjost - m (she/they) again, i've said it once, i'll say it again SHE WROTE MY FAV MATT SERIES OF ALL TIME (all for you). I GO BACK AND READ IT OFTEN. literally had me weeping at times. she also wrote some other fics for auston that i've really enjoyed as well!

@sydnikov - sydney (she/her) has written some realyl great fics for andrei and some for nico hischier and jack hughes (and a few others i think, but those are the ones i've read) and they're just fantastic! she's also a canes fan if you want more canes content!

feel free to reblog this with your own author recommendations (in fact i highly encourage it! there are so many good writers on this godforsaken site and these are just the authors i find myself reblogging every time they post!

[mysticstarlightduck]

Friday Kiss Tag!💖

Thanks for the tag, @the-golden-comet (here)!

Rules: From your Story/WIP, share a snippet of your characters kissing. It can be any kiss, from familial pecks on the cheek, platonic kisses, forehead kisses, to full-blown makeouts

Okay! Since I don't have many actual kiss scenes for my current main WIPs, I'll go with a scene that falls under the Familial Peck category (thus it is in no way shape, or form shipping, its just innocent sibling fluff)!

Mine's a both cute/fluffy and kinda sad scene as well, from my WIP Scrapyard Boys, so let's get to it!

Rhys fiddled with his fingers, leaning on the glass panel that surrounded the train's cargo area, watching the neon lights of the city below. From this height and the bullet train's speed, the multicolored lights formed streaks in the sky, as the vehicle flew by like a flash. After being cooped up in that hellhole some called a lab for years, this sight was quite splendid. And to be frank, any mundane sight that wasn't chalk-white walls and emotionless faces walking around like clipboard-holding ants, would be awesome.

Completely immersed in the view below, letting his mind wander absently for the first time in a long time. The soft hiss of the train cutting through the air outside, the city sprawling and swirling down below, the soft smells that filled the cargo space: a whiff of leather from the bags stacked around them, the familiar scent of fuel, even the nagging smell of plastic - he didn't know how much he'd missed this until now and --

-- A yelp rang out beside him.

The teen almost jumped out of his own skin, accidentally hitting his head on the glass beside him, hand flying into his chest as his heart skipped a beat. Startled out of his peaceful musings by the sudden, unexpected sound, Rhys snapped his head to the side, and he saw his twin, sitting there beside him.

He'd been so awestruck by the overwhelming freedom they were experiencing, that he'd forgotten - for the briefest of seconds -about Gwyn, sleeping beside him. Or rather who had been sleeping beside him. The source of the yelp became apparent as soon as he locked eyes with her, now harried, hyperventilating, clinging to his hoodie for dear life.

A nightmare - Rhys didn't even need to ask to know. He'd had his fair share of those too, and in fact, it was usually him who woke himself up screaming most nights. An uncomfy side-effect of spending one's teen years in a government lab trying to make superheroes.

"Hey, hey." Rhys placed his hands on Gwyn's shoulders, nudging her to look at him, "We got out, we aren't there anymore."

The girl crosses her arms over her chest, hugging her knees to her chest, with a nervous pout, tears starting to subside "I know that. I know that." Gwyn frowns, leaning her head on his shoulder, "But what if they take us back?!"

Rhys considers it for a moment. He hadn't thought about that, actually. And it isn't something he'd like to imagine. At least not right now. So he gives her a prankster smile, "Nah, they won't. If they try, we can beat 'em. We'll freeze the agents they send after us into icicles before they even know what hit them, and they'll leave us alone after a while."

She looks up at him, hesitant, wiping at her eyes with the back of her sleeve, "You sure?"

Rhys wasn't sure. But he didn't let it show. "Look around you," He gestured to their surroundings, and the beautiful sights of the glowing city below, "If we got out of that place, we can stay out. We can do anything we want, and they can't stop us."

Gwyn finally gives him a mischievous smile of his own, tear streaed face brightening up, "Then I want," The girl pondered for a moment, brows furrowed, trying to think of what she wanted to do with their newfound freedom, "- I want to have ice cream and eat all the candies we can find. Then make a huge bowl of popcorn and watch those cheesy horror movies you liked."

Rhys' eyes light up, and for a moment, he felt like that kid again, before getting caught up in all of this, "Good plan!" He exclaimed, practically giddy, "Man, I can't wait for us to find Adrien's place - then we'll convince him to let us buy all the ice cream we want!"

"Oh, don't count on it. If he's still the same cheapskate Adrien we knew, his pantry probably consists of energy drinks, chicken nuggets, and a day-old confetti cake from the corner store." She quipped, smile growing brighter as she snorted out a laugh, "Oh, and cigarettes, can't forget the cigarettes."

Rhys laughed despite himself, nodding with a sly smirk, and mimicking a talk-show host's voice and posture, "Presenting: 'Adrien Rosetrom' and his not-so-brilliant podcast on 'how to wreck your lungs'. But the million-dollar question remains - will our star's dubious lifestyle let him outlive young adulthood?"

The twins broke out laughing, both at the absurdity of his joke and the fact that it was, in fact, somewhat true - that, combined with the adrenaline leaving their system, led to a pretty manic mix. A few moments later, the duo settled down, taking a moment to catch their breath with a giddy sigh, tension and fear almost forgotten.

After silence filled their surroundings once more, the only sounds that remained were the whoosh of air outside the bulletproof glass and the soft, barely noticeable whirring of the train's inner workings.

Leaning back against the window, Rhys pulled his twin closer, holding her in a one-armed hug, and Gwyn scooched closer, peeking over him to see the cities below. As she looked away, his smile faded. Rhys forced himself not to think of the agents that might come after them. The white walls of the lab flashed before his eyes. Whirring machines, needles drawing blood, and screens monitoring their every step.

He didn't want to go back at all.

Pulling his twin closer, he found himself placing a quick kiss on her messy head of hair, "...No one's gonna find us again."

He said, partially to her, but mostly, 80% mostly, to himself. Trying, and honestly failing, to soothe the anxiety that had begun to rage in the back of his mind after her comment. In his arms, Gwyn hugged him back and nodded, now focused on the sights outside. Eventually, they watched the train leave the city behind, now flying over the inky blue of the ocean, spotted white by clouds, - a sight they'd never seen before, and which thankfully helped bring his mind back to more pleasant topics, for a moment.

Despite that, long after Gwyn had fallen asleep again, Rhys' eyes couldn't help but stay glued to the horizon line, burning, fighting against the tiredness he felt.

It all seemed too unreal.

What if she was right? What if they couldn't run away? What if... this wasn't real? What if they ended up brainwashed like Laserstorm? Spectre's perfect puppets? Rhys' mind raced with those thoughts and a thousand others, spiraling, stocking the panic he'd forgotten he could feel. And deep down, despite knowing that they had indeed gotten out, that they had indeed made the most of an insanely lucky error of their supervisor, he feared that he let himself close his eyes and fall asleep, they would wake up back in that stark white room once more.

Tagging (gently): @sleepy-night-child, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @smol-feralgremlin, @oh-no-another-idea, @littleladymab,

@winterandwords, @eccaiia, @sarahlizziewrites, @illarian-rambling

@agirlandherquill, @anoelleart, @ray-writes-n-shit

@writernopal, @anyablackwood, @unstablewifiaccess, @forthesanityofstorytellers

@i-can-even-burn-salad, @cakeinthevoid

@lassiesandiego, @thepeculiarbird, @clairelsonao3, @memento-morri-writes, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams, @the-letterbox-archives @differentnighttale

@wyked-ao3 and OPEN TAG

[foxy-eva]

Sunday Morning

Summary: Spencer really enjoys Sunday mornings with his girlfriend

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff, Smut

Content Warnings: (18+, minors DNI) showering together, heavy kissing, a little bit of teasing, oral (male receiving), fingering, unprotected penetrative sex

Word count: 2k

Masterlist

As the morning sun slowly began to illuminate our bedroom, I started craving the sensation of my girlfriend’s body pushed against mine. Moving closer to the heat she radiated, I pressed my chest into her back to breathe in her sweet scent. There was no need for me to be fully awake to seek out the softness of her skin, my fingers still a little uncoordinated as they found their way under the hem of her shirt. 

She was still breathing steadily, her senses dulled by her drowsiness while I felt like tasting the first droplets of water after an endless drought. Feeling the tenderness of her skin underneath my fingertips was everything I needed to fully wake up. It was hard to explain but her body somehow felt extra delicate this Sunday morning. 

I flattened my palm to let it wander over her side and stomach, noticing her abdominal muscles twitching right before she hummed, a clear sign that she was slowly waking up. I placed my lips on her neck to leave a featherlight kiss before whispering, “Good morning, my love.”

Her hand joined mine under her shirt, moving it upwards until I was cupping her breast. I smiled against her neck, more than happy to cater to her need for more than innocent morning cuddles. Gently I let my thumb rub over her quickly hardening peak, a raspy sigh falling from her lips before she had even opened her eyes. 

As I touched her chest just the way I knew she liked, she started to squirm, pressing her backside against my hips and humming content to feel my own excitement straining against my pants. I started nipping at her ear before breathing, “Did you have a nice dream?” 

“Yes,” she purred, her voice still heavy from sleep, “you were there.” 

She finally turned around to find my eyes, a smug grin prominent on her face. How she always looked so beautiful right after waking up was something I would never be able to fully understand. 

“I was? What did we do?” I wanted to know before kissing her lips. 

Her hand was quick to sneak down my body, making me groan when she pressed her palm against the thin fabric covering my hardness. 

“This,” she mumbled against my lips before deepening the kiss. 

It was so easy to get lost in her touch, it felt like I was melting into her as our tongues brushed over one another. My hand found its way to the curve of her backside, burying my fingertips into her supple flesh while she let her palm wander over my thigh. When she leaned back to let some air into her lungs, I made sure to close the gap again, peppering her face with little kisses until she started giggling. 

Still curious where her subconscious had led her those past few hours, I asked her, “Can you tell me more about your dream?”

With raised eyebrows she cooed, “I’d rather show you,” before tugging on my shirt, implicitly telling me to take it off. 

With little grace and a bit hurried I got rid of all the fabric covering my body, noticing how her eyes started darkening as I revealed myself to her. She had told me countless times how attracted she was to me but I only really believed it in moments like this. She put her hands on my shoulders, gently pushing against them until I was laying on my back with her kneeling beside me. 

She took her time to let her eyes wander over my body, licking her lips as her sight fell to my center. I couldn’t hide how excited I was getting, my skin feeling heated, certainly displaying the rosy shade she always liked to tease me about. Placing my hand on her thigh, I let my palm wander to her hip, gently squeezing it to bring her back from her reverie. 

When we locked eyes again she purred, “You’re so beautiful, Spencer.”

“Not as beautiful as you,” I reminded her before sitting up to help her out of her shirt. 

She moved with me, pulling down her shorts as well so our bodies could meet without any barrier. With my hands on her sides I guided her into my lap, letting her find her seat like a queen on a throne. She leaned down to capture my lips in another kiss while adjusting her hips to grind against my erection, making me whimper into her mouth. 

My hands were roaming her back while I felt the evidence of her excitement spreading along my hardness. Her lips left mine in favor of exploring my neck, kissing and sucking the sensitive skin until she got the reaction she wanted. A sigh escaped her throat when I involuntarily bucked my hips up slightly. Moving further down, she left soft kisses on every inch of my body she could reach until she gripped my shaft and placed her face just above my leaking tip. 

I could feel her hot breath on even more heated skin, making me shudder in anticipation. We looked at each other right before she closed her lips around me, slowly sinking down as far as her throat would let her. The sensation clouded my mind and the sight in front of me was almost too much to handle. When I remembered that she was probably able to taste her own arousal on my erection, it almost made me finish on the spot. 

By closing my eyes I was able to stay in the moment for a while longer while moans and sighs fell from my lips. Being enveloped by her warmth felt heavenly and for a moment I had trouble realizing that this was in fact not a product of my imagination. The most beautiful woman I have ever seen was really there, keen on bringing me pleasure in such an intimate way. 

I dared to open my eyes for a moment to adore her the way she deserved but seeing her lips wrapped around me seemed downright sinful. Right before I got to the point of no return her mouth suddenly left me, having me whine in protest for a second. She sat up, smiled at me and wiped the saliva from her chin with the back of her hand. 

“That’s where my dream ended,” she teased. 

I only groaned in response as I pulled her down to hastily kiss her. There was no willpower left in me to hold back for much longer, especially not when she let me feel her heat pressing against me once more. With one swift motion I turned the both of us around so she was the one on her back with me hovering above her. 

“I’m really glad we don’t have to stop now,” I mumbled into her neck before biting down on her skin until she whimpered, “Me too.” 

I pushed my thigh between her legs and noticed how her hips began to rock against me. It was obvious that she was becoming just as desperate as I was. I left a trail of kisses down her neck while brushing my fingertips over her heated cheek. She turned her head to find my fingers with her lips, kissing them before opening her mouth to let her tongue meet my digit. Right before she closed her lips around it, I pulled my hand back, certain I’d lose my composure if she started sucking on it. 

I found her smirking at me when we locked eyes again and I could have sworn that she had never looked more beautiful. When I let one of my hands descend down her body to touch her where she wanted to feel me the most, she closed her eyes for a moment. As I dragged my fingers through her silken folds, the wonderful sounds of her undoing began slipping from her lips. 

It had only been a few seconds but I already longed to see the sparkling of her eyes again, making me plead for her to open them. 

“Look at me, please.” 

It took her a moment but she managed to open her lids, her pupils blown wide when she found me staring down at her in awe. 

“I’m right here,” she reminded me with a slight tremble in her voice and added, “I love you.”

“I love you more,” I cooed right when I entered her body with two of my fingers. 

My palm was covered in her essence within moments and I couldn’t stop the smirk from forming on my face once I felt her clenching around my digits. She arched her back as I worked my hand against her center, bringing her closer to the edge with every second passing. I would have gladly let her fall over it too, but she stopped me right before she lost herself in ecstasy. 

“Please, Spencer. I need all of you.” 

Only a fool would have been able to refuse her that. She opened her legs further to make room for me while her eyes fell down to where our bodies were about to connect. With wide eyes she watched me lingering at her entrance, a loud moan falling from her lips once I finally started pushing into her. 

It was impossible for me not to get lost in the sensation of being completely enveloped by her softness. With legs and arms wrapped around my body she allowed no room between us as our hips moved against one another in rhythmic motions. Our lips connected like the rest of our bodies and only separated when we couldn’t ignore the need for air. 

Together we chased our sweet relief, the room filling with the sounds of our excitement as I accelerated the pace of my hips pushing against her. With her fingernails digging into the skin of my back she let me know that she couldn’t hold back any longer. When her walls began to pulse around me, she pushed me over the edge with her. She caught my moans with a kiss while she kept rocking her hips against me until she was sure I had nothing left to give to her. 

I lingered in her embrace, my face buried into the crook of her neck while she played with my hair. Neither of us dared to separate our bodies although we knew that our connection was so much more than just physical. Still, I couldn’t help the whimper from escaping my lips when my body betrayed me as I got soft and slipped out of her. 

She brushed her hands over my back as if she was apologizing for what she was about to say. 

“I need to get up.”

“Me, too,” I told her as I got up from the bed. “It would be irresponsible to let you shower alone.”

“Yeah?” she snickered. “I agree. My knees are still weak.” 

We hopped in the shower together to rid us of any remaining stickiness while not allowing any distance between our bodies. The water ran over us as our lips met in a kiss while our hands were still yearning to feel the other’s skin. There was no need for us to rush, this Sunday morning allowed us to take all the time we needed to revel in the sensation of having each other near. 

The woman I was so desperately in love with turned around to press her back into my chest as she led my hands to touch her breasts, similar to how she let me feel her right after waking up. My lips attached to her neck but instead of kissing her, I smiled into her skin, unable to shake one particular thought. 

Even though I knew I was wide awake, being with her still felt like the sweetest dream imaginable. 

Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @spookydrreid @gspenc @justreadingficsdontmindme @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @pauline5525mgg @sanaz1dlol @luredwithpretzels @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @s4r4hsblog @sebs-oxygen @reidsmilf @beepbooptoop @lovejules888 @liltimmyst @encyclo-reid-ia @lilibet261 @fandomstuffff @spencer-reid-wonderland @happymangospot @airconsbeswag @conniesanchor @jordierama @reaux02 @daniacat @ellamaianderson @cynbx @sweetannanas @feltonswifesworld87 @snowsnow27 @dashneydanger

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[imagining-in-the-margins]

A Desert Bloom (S.R.)

Summary: Reader has never liked cacti. Spencer finally finds out why. A/N: Written for a very dear friend of mine, and anyone else who might need it. Couple: Spencer Reid/GN!Reader Category: Comfort/Fluff Content Warning: Complicated maternal relationship, minor self-deprecation, implied parental abuse Word Count: 875

MASTERLIST

Having grown up in Nevada, Spencer had always been both put-off and fascinated by the plant stores on the East Coast. While the wide array of colors was breathtaking in its own right, it felt foreign and slightly overwhelming to him.

But when you’d asked him to come with you to pick out a housewarming plant for your first apartment together — so sweetly and with those eyes that made him speechless — he couldn’t say no. He could, however, make a beeline straight to the plants that reminded him of home.

Spencer had known that you were not particularly fond of cacti, but he hadn’t ever asked you why. It seemed like the kind of story that you would share when you were ready.

And that day, you were.

“Why do you like succulents so much?” you asked with your nose slightly crinkled.

“I think they’re funny little things,” he answered with a chuckle under his breath. “The peak of evolution if you ask me.”

“Oh,” you grumbled. You said nothing else.

But Spencer could see in the way your body shifted but failed to really move away that you’d wanted him to say more.

He just didn’t know what, so he asked, “Why don’t you?”

“I don’t dislike them,” you corrected. It was not convincing enough for you, so you tried to explain, “We just… have a complicated relationship.”

Spencer laughed a little, and so did you. But after the noise died down, you continued with a softer voice.

“My mom used to always say they reminded her of me.”

Spencer’s heart sunk in his chest before you’d even had a chance to explain. He knew what was coming and he knew that he was about 20 years too late to fix it.

“She said they were just like me. Difficult.”

Like the cactus in front of them, Spencer bristled. His jaw and his hands tensed at first. Slowly, he released the tension to gently hold a leaf from a burro’s tail without causing it to fall.

With a dark, unamused tone, Spencer grumbled, “The fact that’s what she sees when she looks at desert plants tells me all I need to know about her.”

It had made so much sense to him that he had forgotten to explain. You were used to that, though, so you just asked, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, cacti are one of the most resilient plants in the world. They aren’t hard to deal with, most people love them specifically for their resilience.”

You caught the two words he’d been emphasized the hardest.

“Most people?”

“Well, I personally think those people are wrong,” he said with finality.

“How are they wrong?”

Again, you sought the answer you craved. The real reason why Spencer loved cacti. Perhaps, if you could understand why he was drawn to a plant that had warnings plastered across every inch of its surface, maybe — just maybe — you might understand him better.

Maybe you would finally understand why he’d decided to love you despite the difficulty.

“Sure, a cactus can live in awful conditions, but that’s…” he paused. He swallowed the lump in his throat and blinked away the small tears pooling at his eyelashes, “That’s not how you get them to bloom.”

You said nothing. He continued.

“The people who think they can just do whatever they want and the cactus will survive it, well… they just don’t want to pay attention to shriveled leaves and the rotting roots.”

Each word felt like a prick. You could feel the spines of a cactus reaching out from your heart. They broke through the drought inside of your chest like they had finally found the safety they sought. You wanted to scream, to shout, to say anything at all. You wanted to defend the cactus that was just trying to find a way to make it to the next rainfall.

But Spencer had already known.

“They’re the problem, not the cactus.”

You didn’t even notice you were crying until a tear fell from your chin. Spencer turned away from his reminder of his home and held you, instead. He sheltered you from the world as you released the excess water that the world had drowned you in. Then, when you were ready, he followed you to the plant you’d picked.

That afternoon, as you played with the soft petals of the orchid, Spencer was not interested in looking at the finicky, albeit ornate, plant that you’d picked. Instead, his eyes settled on the most beautiful thing in the room.

Spencer thought about how he’d learned at a very young age that if you treat a cactus right, if you take the time to learn its language and help curate a space for it to grow, it will grow, and it will bloom.

He looked at you. He looked at your tentative smile peeking through the landscape of your new home. He looked at you while you recognized yourself in the softness of a flower. Spencer looked at you above any other beautiful thing that might try to call to him.

He would always look at you because he had always been particularly fond of the desert bloom.

(Tell me what you thought about this piece here!)

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[captainsophiestark]

The Reunion Scene

Westley x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: The Princess Bride

Day 10 Prompt: "It's alright, I'm here now."

Summary: Westley and his love reunite after she shoves him off a cliff, before realizing who he was of course.

Word Count: 1,070

Category: Fluff

A/N: I'm reading the Princess Bride novel and apparently "The Reunion Scene" in the book between Westley and Buttercup is a bit of a running gag (the wikipedia article can give a quick walk through for anyone curious), so I decided to write it! In the book, it's described as a three page scene, which is about the length of this. For anyone unaware of the wild lore behind the novel, I highly recommend a Wikipedia deep dive, it's very entertaining

Tagging @auroracalisto as my fellow Princess Bride fan :) Hope you're having an amazing first semester teaching!!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I planted both hands against the chest of the man before me and shoved with all my strength, sending him careening over the cliff's edge. He'd killed my dearest love, and now returned to mock me, to dare imply I hadn't loved Westley. Whatever happened to me, I couldn't stand this man a minute longer. I shoved him of the cliff, listening to whatever he screamed as he tumbled to the ground below.

"As... you... wish..."

My heart stopped in my chest at the words of my love coming from the mouth of the Dread Pirate Roberts, tumbling down from the cliff I'd just shoved him off of. My Westley, alive, and falling. It couldn't be possible, but it was.

"Westley!" I cried, immediately rushing to follow him down the cliff. I tried to keep my feet under me, and I made it some of the way before gravity caught up to me and sent me tumbling, head over heels. I landed at the bottom, right next to Westley, who still wore his mask. Our eyes locked, and despite the lingering pain from my fall, I surged forward and ripped the mask from his face.

Staring back at me, by some miracle, was Westley. My farm boy. He looked different, older, stronger, and a little of the soft innocence had gone, but he was here. Not dead, like I'd thought him to be for the last three years. Alive, and now, with me.

"Oh, Westley!" My heart sang as I flung my arms around his neck. Without a second's hesitation, he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me to him. I moved to kiss him, but to my surprise, he pulled back.

"Won't your betrothed take issue with you kissing another man?"

"Humperdinck? Westley, I've already told you, I don't love him-"

"And yet you agreed to marry him. There was not a moment these past years I didn't think of you. But you agreed to give up on me, on love."

Now it was my turn to pull back a little. My brow furrowed, but Westley's expression didn't soften as his piercing blue-gray eyes surveyed me.

"Westley, I thought you dead," I said plainly, still a little shocked at his reaction. "Not a day has gone by that I didn't think of you, to mourn you. My heart was ripped out of my chest the day news came of your death, and I've had to live every day since dealing with the loss of my love.

"And besides that, Westley, I didn't seek the prince out. He found me, and proposed, since he was looking for a wife and found me beautiful. He knows and accepts that there's no love in our union, and he made it very clear that refusing a request from the crown prince would result in death. Death I would gladly accept, if I had ever thought there was any chance of you returning to me from the dead."

A cold fire lit behind Westley's eyes at my words, and when he spoke again, his voice was dangerously low and quiet.

"He's forcing you to marry him?"

I shrugged. "There are worse fates than being Queen, Westley. But none of that matters, not now that I know you live. Nothing matters at all anymore, Westley, so long as we are together."

He sighed, pulling me to him again, resting his forehead against mine. I brought my hand up to his chest, resting it there so I could feel his heartbeat and reassure myself that this was real. Westley was truly here.

"It's alright, I'm here now," he said, reading my mind as his hand came up to gently stroke my cheek. "My ship waits for us not far from here. It's not going to be easy for us... we'll have to go through the fire swamp..."

"We'll make it through," I said, running my hand through the hair at the base of his neck now. I smiled at him, all the love in my heart glowing through. "We'll make it through anything together."

"Then we haven't any time to waste. We must move quickly."

"Wait!"

Westley froze, halfway up from our position on the hill, but he sank back down at my outburst. His eyes never left mine once. His eyebrow quirked slightly in silent question, and I didn't wait to give him his answer.

I rushed forward, kissing Westley hard, like I'd wished for a chance to do every day for the past three years. He immediately returned the kiss, pulling me into his arms and holding me so close to his chest I could feel our hearts beating in sync.

There have been five kisses in the history of the world deemed so passionate, so perfect and full of love, above and beyond anything else that's ever happened. I was no expert on it, but in that moment, I knew this one blew every other kiss before it away.

Neither one of us wanted to pull away, but finally, Westley did. He kept staring into my eyes, gravity trying to pull us back to each other, but with a grimace of regret he leaned further back.

"We really need to keep moving. If we're to stay ahead of your pig fiancé, we have no time to waste."

"Just promise me a million more moments like this, for the rest of our lives."

Westley smiled. "As you wish."

I beamed as Westley pulled me to my feet, and the two of us began heading through the ravine we'd tumbled into and towards the Fire Swamp, hand in hand.

No doubt, the challenges ahead would be dire and terrible beyond imagining. But I knew confidently that we would survive them. My Westley was still in the world, and even better, he was with me. There was no other ending but for the two of us to be happily together.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury

[broadwaybalogna]

I, a Zutara shipper, would have way more fun self inserting on Mai

So why don’t I?

A short essay on self inserting, what it means, my experience, and why it shouldn’t be a problem.

So the ‘problem’ of me self inserting recently arose again with discourse surrounding a post of mine. I’ll spare you the details, but someone, in an attempt to make me look like a bad person (I assume) said that I was a “self insert”. At first, I was confused because I don’t understand why something like that would be used as an insult. Then I remembered the horrible stigmatization that self inserting has had on the atla fandom.

So I’d like to bring light to what it truly means to self insert.

For this short essay, I’ll be using the term “self insertion” as defined by Wikipedia:

“Self-insertion is a literary device in which the author writes themselves into the story under the guise of, or from the perspective of, a fictional character. The character, overtly or otherwise, behaves like, has the personality of, and may even be described as physically resembling the author of the work.”

First, I would like to go over why I would personally prefer self inserting on Mai, since it’s technically the clickbait for this post.

I had a very large emo/goth phase a few years back. I loved wearing black, chokers, being depressed, etc. while I don’t necessarily identify with that version of myself anymore, I still hold high praise to any and all people who are emo/grunge/goth/fall under that kind of category. Now, I’m not saying that Mai is emo, she’s actually the exact opposite as she doesn’t display much of any emotion, but she is a badass female character who has space buns, a fiery personality, and really cool weapons. I actually like the idea of her a bit more than Katara, and it would certainly be easy to self insert onto her since her character was never really fleshed out.

(Look at her… she’s so cool. I can’t decide if I wanna be her or be with her…) this would probably also be a great time to say that I don’t feel here nor there about Mai in fandom spaces. There are many anti Mai people out there, but I honestly don’t care much for her at this point other than what I’ve already established.

I can relate to a good portion of her problems (being the face of her family, holding their reputation, not having many friends etc.) so self inserting on to her would honestly be no problem for me. So why don’t I do it?

Because my characterization as a shipper doesn’t revolve around myself. If it did, I’d totally okay into that sarcastic brooding gf because I think it’s kinda badass.

I ship Zutara not because I personally wanna be with Zuko, but because I want Katara to be with Zuko. Does that mean that I don’t self insert onto Katara? Hell to the no.

Self inserting helps me understand a character to the best of my ability. In order to figure out how a character might act, react, or approach a situation, I have to put myself into their shoes, that’s just how I work. I don’t think this is a mindset that is personal to just me either, there are plenty of other people who self insert onto Katara and Zuko in order to best convey the realism of their stories.

Now, I’ve self inserted onto BOTH Katara and Zuko, (which probably won’t stop the haters any more than before since I am attracted to both men and women) and in each of those times, I am sure to always stay true to the original characters. I am always considering how the characters were brought up, what they have experienced that has shaped their personality and how they have behaved before.

But I can’t just rely on that to help me tell a story. I have to feel the characters. I have to know what they’re feeling and how it affects them.

This may seem weird, but when writing, I’ll often close my eyes and imagine myself in a scenario much like what the people I’m writing about are experiencing.

This is how I became well known for some of my writing.

I’ve written monologues for characters to say that reflect my own experiences to help give myself and others peace of mind.

I’ve written relationships based on flaws I’ve had with people in my life.

And I’ve written hate. Because I feel hate, and I know that Katara and Zuko do too.

Self inserting shouldn’t be viewed as something that’s horrible for authors to do, it should be embraced. There shouldn’t be a world where people can’t share their experiences through people they relate to.

If you can’t see yourself agreeing with me, I’m sorry, but I don’t think we’ll ever see eye to eye. This is something that I am passionate about, and I will not be thrown off my stance because of a small insult.

In conclusion, I could very easily self insert onto Mai, you could even say it would be lemon squeezy, but self insertion isn’t the only thing that drives me to ship characters, and it never will be. I am a complex person with complex emotions that have led me to look at Katara and Zuko and envy their relationship. Yeah, I want it, and there shouldn’t be anything wrong with that.

[gallafics]

𝙶𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚏𝚒𝚌'𝚜 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚜

Category — Fics for when you want something everyone and their mama has read! (No Major Spoilers)

“The Increasingly Poor Decisions of Ian Gallagher” by @goodkwuestion (Ao3)

Complete. 36 chapters. 309.8k words. Explicit. Graphic depictions of violence. AU. Slow Burn. Explicit sexual content. Mutual pining. Violence. Gun violence. Abuse. Drug use. Sexual harassment.

Everything about this fic is pure perfection. The plot, the dialogue, the dynamic, the chemistry. Ian and Mickey’s desire for one another is palpable from their first meeting. This story is thrilling and entertaining—extremely binge worthy and the cinematic style of writing will definitely have you glued to your device doing just that! (Full review — coming soon!)

“Like Real People Do” by @gallavichy (Ao3)

Complete. 19 chapters. 213.7k words. Explicit. No Warnings Apply. AU. Online dating. Escorting. Sexual inexperience. Fluff. Slow burn. Smut.

This story is home to one of my favorite Gallavich AU plot lines. It has some light moments of angst, but overall, it's a very light, romantic story with a wonderful balance of romance and comedy. I love the fact that Ian and Mickey don't physically meet for pretty much the first half of this story. I find it's just a tad more special when they finally come together in person. (Full review — coming soon!)

“Ransom” by @beckyharvey29 (Ao3)

Complete. 40 chapters. 110.9k words. Explicit. Graphic depictions of violence. AU. Slow burn. Angst. Gun violence. Kidnapping. Implied sexual assault. Drug use. Enemies to lovers. Angst with happy ending. Protective Mickey.

This is an amazing story that I finished in just one day. It has a darker tone, but it's not triggering. At its core, it's really a story about two men falling in love under high stakes. I particularly love Mickey's characterization in this fic. This story will make you feel everything—I laughed, cried, cringed, felt the angsty moments intensely, and the romantic scenes were intense too. It's definitely a must read! (Full review - coming soon!)

“Restoration” by @palepinkgoat (Ao3)

Complete. 14 chapters. 112.7k words. Explicit. No warnings used. AU. Slow burn. Pining. Smut. Closeted Mickey. Internalized homophobia. Self-Harm. Thoughts of self-harm. Implied past abuse. Emotional sex. Dirty talk. Happy ending.

Like all of the fics on this list, Restoration holds a special place in my heart, however, this one specifically because it’s the very first gallavich fic I ever read when I joined the fandom. Mickey and Ian in this are written to perfection. Their journey to loving one another is top tier. Now, I am slightly biased since this fic popped my cherry in the gallafics world but ask anyone who has read it, I promise they’ll agree!! (Full review — coming soon!)

“Cooperative Gameplay” by @gallavichy (Ao3)

Complete. 18 chapters. 421k words. Explicit. No warnings apply. AU. YouTuber Mickey. Friends with benefits to lovers. Fandom culture. Emotional hurt/comfort. Fluff. Light angst. Slow burn.

I’m confident to say this fic is loved by the masses and I can say with certainty that it lives up to its expectations. Ian and Mickey are slightly ooc, however it works extremely well with the story and plot. Ian is still our loveable dope and Mickey is still our grumpy boy. But watching their mutual mining turn into more and the way it’s writing is just *chefs kiss*. It’s funny, it’s light hearted, there are moments of angst and it is absolutely binge worthy! (Full review—coming soon!)

[uraniumbunny]

I believe you all need to listen to the QUEEN

Alejandra "Locomotora" Oliveras, six times world champion in different categories. She also holds a Guinness World Record for all her accumulated titles. She's a goddess. Mind you, she's absolutely non-pc, so don't expect her to be subtle when she speaks (she never is), although she is indeed a remarkable person. If you read her life's story you'll get what I mean. She's also really active in the community, giving support to vulnerable children and young people through sport for free, also teaching women to defend themselves.

The translation is under the video.

LOCOMOTORA: The first question is if this other

girl is a trans girl, if she has a penis,

she has a penis or she doesn't have a penis?

Host: No, she's a woman

LOCOMOTORA: and then what is the problem?

Host: That's why I'm asking you why there was such a huge fuss about this. They talk about (Khelif) having another type of strength...

Host 2: ... due to male hormones...

LOCOMOTORA: Now, listen to me, listen to me one thing darling, I won six world titles all by knockout, against women 10 kg heavier than me. I also have a strength that if you put gather 200, 300 women, they do not have the strength of mine, I am unique in the world, do not forget that! You are talking to the best boxer in the world, in history! I'm a Guiness World Record and I am not saying it just because, my titles prove it, but I am a woman. In boxing there are regulations. Woman against woman, man with man, they do anti-doping tests on you. There is a weight control. There is a doctor. There is a

Jury. There are Prosecutors. It is a wonderful sport. They also take care of you because

once you touch the ground, the fight is over. The referee will stop it. They won't let you continue.

There are sports when they keep hitting you on the floor!

I watched the fight. First, (Khelif) gave her a shitty punch ((in this sense she means inoffensive)) A proper punch is when you fall to the floor and you don't wake up anymore, like the one I gave to Jackie Inava, that's a punch. When you fall, knockout. Not when, (they punch you) and you stand still and say "no, can't continue". Well, if she's a [pussy ], I don't know what to tell you, why did you get in the ring if you don't expect to receive a punch? Now, if the other person isn't , that is, if she's transgender, she's a trans girl, then we are talking about something else, because biologically the male has more strength than the woman, because he has testosterone. It is biological. Ask any doctor and it is like that. That is why it is totally prohibited for a man to compete against a woman.

So it is not possible. But if she is a woman, what's the problem?

[ravenloop]

Hey! I was wondering if I could request for GoW Freyr? Something like the reader is a witch whom Kratos and Atreus rescued from freezing at the start of Fimbulwinter, and she joins them on their journey — and when they travel to Vanaheim, she meets Freyr, who is quickly smitten with her?

—Admiration and Much More—

Pairing: Freyr x Female!Witch!Reader

[Picture not mine]

AN: WRITERS BLOCK IS A TERRIBLE THING FOLKS! But I'll trying to push out requests every week now. Enjoyyyy! <33

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Travelling to Vanaheim was something you always longed to do, hearing stories about the realm... Sadly realm travel to it hadn't been an option for a long time.

That was until you met Kratos, and his wonderful son Atreus. When you had so idiotically went out during Fimbulwinter for too long, a blizzard making you lose your way home... Until they found you, and took you in (not without Atreus begging his father a little) Which now brought you here. To the realm you've been anticipating to visit for so long.

Vanaheim.

You also got to meet Freya's brother: Freyr. Or Yngvi as she calls him. The god and his little group of loyal followers weren't so welcoming of you at first, all of you. But you tried not to hold it against them, you cannot imagine what it would be like to live such a life in hiding, knowing the very people who called for "peace" betrayed you.

They were scared to trust again, but Freya's assurance of the alliance she had made with Kratos seemed to lighten things up. Thankfully.

All that brought you up to here, tending a wound of Birgir. There was a recent run-in with a group of Einherjar soldiers. Everyone got out alive but not without a few casualties.

"There. All done." You offered a smile to the large man. He gave his own kind one back, bowing his head slightly as he left.

"Well, Realms be damned. If I knew you were this good of a healer I would have probably begged you to join my group." Freyr appeared next to you, his usual smug smile on his face.

The presence of the god was a little surprising, but you chuckled, "Would you?... I'm honoured to know my witchcraft managed to gain the attention of a Vanir god... So much."

Whilst you busied yourself with a bowl of herbs, Freyr shrugged. "Well, I mean—I'm just speaking the truth. From what I've seen so far, you're a really great uh... Witch. Ally. I would dare to say... Aesir-ass-kicking companion, even?" He asked, raising a brow with a smile.

Shaking your head amusedly, you replied, "What about friend? Or does... 'Aesir-ass-kicking companion' fall under that category?"

You started walking. Freyr looked at you, as if the word 'friend' was almost offensive. "Uhh... Yeah, sure. Friend? Hah! Friend." He followed you as you walked around the camp.

As you continued to work, he watched you closely. His gaze taking you in, before lingering on the torn section of your clothing, where a wound had been. Now ow a dark scar took its place. "I'd uh..." He cleared his throat, leaning against a pillar, "I'd like to apologise for that too. Hope there's... No hard feelings." He chuckled lightly.

Finally you looked at him. Following his gaze, you looked at the scar on your arm where a gash had been. "It's fine, really. I don't think either of us expected to see each other." There was an amused tone in your voice as you smiled at him. The memory of Freyr attacking you coming back. Though when he saw your face, and soon came to know you were allies with his sister—he froze up almost.

"Oh trust me... I really didn't expect you." Pushing himself off the pillar, he walked around as you continued working—probably on some healing drink he imagined. "But hey! That turned out to be a good thing." He stopped again, looking at you, "Didn't it?"

Your eyes met his dark gaze. By the Realms, you were something else.

"I guess it did." You approached him slowly. He crossed his arms, leaning back. Calmly.

"Freyr?..." You called his name. He looked at you, "Yeah?" He asked in a normal voice.

You placed a hand on his shoulder and he felt his heart speed up. He watched your face intently as you gave him a small smile, your brows raising.

"You're um... Kinda standing in front of the herb shelf. And I need a few things from there—"

He blinked, turning around to see he was, indeed, standing in front of the herb shelf. "Oh."

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"He's actin' stupider than normal... Ya know what I'm thinking, dont'cha?" Brok said.

Kratos grunted lowly as they watched you and Freyr speak, "Do not tell me."

"Why don't I tell you in song form? Cause there's this beautiful song of love I've heard before!"

Mimir cleared his throat, "Oooh—"

"Quiet."

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AN: This entire thing was really just Freyr getting friendzoned by the reader- BUT HOPED YOU ENJOYED! (And big apologies for the long wait)