#i wrote this at 4 am in the morning before 2 finals

[ithrysslurks]

The Fall of Gil-Galad: Bredlik version

his name was Gil and he was king, of him the har- pers sadly sing; his names mean 'prinse' and 'shiyning star' — but non know hu his parents ar.

hes Fingons son, haf many guessed, its sung in songs brot to the West, but theres much douwt he had a wiyfe, for Maedhros was his fren for liyfe.

the third age har- pers sing this some — from Orodreth he could haf come, but Gil was grayte, this elf, less sharp — of him the sing- ers rarely harp.

could Finrod fair haf been his dad? of this the har- pers think real sad, for Finrod lovd Amarië — and bak in Val- inor she stayd.

of Fëanor, some grasp for hints, or Sindarin: a long-lost prinse? a random elf got hipnotiyzed? or Findui- las, in disguiyse?

they call him Gil — Ereinion, ruld Lindon once, but now its gon; of sord, and lance, the harpers piyne, on shield and helm the stars did shiyne.

'but now hes ded!' cry harpers sad, not even El- rond knows Gils dad; unfinished til the Dagorath — the anchient tale of Gil-Galad.

[br0kenangel]

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ 𝐌𝐲 𝐝♡ve 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

Pairing: Unhinged Aegon x Therapist Reader part 2

Summary: after your last session with Aegon, you always feel him behind your back, when you were at home you could feel him here. And when your next session come, everything just got worse...

Warning: dead animals, just a little sex scene, minors DNI.

˚꒰♡꒱‧ Hi there! Before you read this, you should know that English is not my first language and I wrote this at 2 AM alone in the home. So I'm sorry if it's not good, I was scared and I couldn't think. Hope you enjoy!

PART 1, PART 3, PART 4

That night, sleep came slowly to Y/N. The room felt colder than usual, the darkness pressing in from all sides. Every creak of the floorboards, every gust of wind against the window sent her heart racing. She pulled the blankets tighter around her, trying to convince herself that Aegon’s words had just been that—a mind game, an attempt to unsettle her. But the weight of his gaze from earlier lingered like a ghost in the room.

He didn’t actually watch me, she thought, squeezing her eyes shut. He was just trying to freak me out, trying to get into my head. That’s what he does.

But as soon as she closed her eyes, she imagined him standing outside her window, staring in at her with that unsettling intensity. She quickly opened them again, staring at the window across from her bed. The curtains fluttered slightly in the breeze, and for a moment, her mind played tricks on her, imagining a shadow behind them.

There’s no one there, she repeated to herself. He’s not here. He can’t be here.

She forced herself to roll over, turning her back to the window. But that only made her feel more vulnerable. What if he was watching her now, right behind her? She cursed under her breath, her skin prickling with the sense of being observed.

He’s not here. You’re safe. He just wanted to mess with you. That’s all.

But the thought looped in her head, becoming harder to shake. Every sound in the house became magnified—the creak of the pipes, the hum of the fridge, the rustle of leaves outside. Everything felt threatening. She tried focusing on her breathing, counting each inhale and exhale, forcing her mind to calm.

You’re a professional, she reminded herself, staring at the faint light coming through the crack in the curtains. You’ve dealt with difficult clients before. He’s no different.

But deep down, she knew Aegon was different. He was more than difficult—he was dangerous, unpredictable. The way he looked at her, the way he spoke about that dove, about watching her through the window... it was unsettling in a way that no other client had ever been. And that was what made it so hard to shake.

Hours passed before she finally drifted into a restless sleep, her mind plagued by half-formed dreams of shadows and cold eyes staring through the night.

The next morning, she walked to her office with a persistent unease in her chest. The street felt too quiet, and she found herself glancing over her shoulder every few steps, expecting to see Aegon trailing behind her. But there was no one. Just the usual early morning foot traffic—people heading to work, students with their heads buried in their phones.

He’s not here, she told herself again, quickening her pace. He’s not following you. You’re just being paranoid.

But every time she turned a corner, her heart leapt into her throat, expecting to catch a glimpse of his familiar figure. She tried to shake off the paranoia, but it clung to her like a second skin.

When she finally reached her office building, she sighed in relief, stepping quickly inside. The familiar scent of the lobby, the hum of the elevator, the bright, sterile lighting—everything felt like a small refuge from the gnawing anxiety that had been following her all morning.

But the moment she stepped into her office and closed the door, the unease returned. Her eyes immediately darted to the window, checking for any sign of movement outside. There was nothing—just the trees swaying gently in the breeze, the distant sound of traffic.

He’s not watching you, she reminded herself for what felt like the hundredth time. He’s just trying to scare you, and it’s working. Don’t let him get to you.

But even as she tried to focus on her work, her mind kept wandering back to Aegon. His strange, possessive words about the dove. The way he described wanting to clip its wings, to keep it trapped and close. It echoed in her head, too close to how he might feel about her. She shuddered at the thought, her fingers trembling slightly as she reached for her coffee.

Later, as the day turned to evening and she walked home, the unease intensified. The shadows stretched longer, darker, and with every step, she felt like someone was just a few paces behind her. She forced herself to keep walking, telling herself not to look back.

He’s not there, she repeated, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. It’s just your imagination. He’s not following you.

But the urge to turn around became too much. She quickly glanced over her shoulder, her breath catching in her throat.

No one. The street behind her was empty, save for a few distant cars and pedestrians.

Her heart raced as she turned back, walking faster now, nearly breaking into a jog. She couldn’t shake the feeling, no matter how hard she tried. The shadows felt alive, watching her, waiting for her to let her guard down. And it was getting harder and harder to convince herself that it was just paranoia.

When she finally reached her apartment, she slammed the door shut behind her, locking it quickly. Her hands were shaking as she leaned against the door, trying to calm her breathing.

It’s over. You’re home. He’s not here. You’re safe.

But even as she said the words, she didn’t fully believe them. Every creak of the apartment, every shadow cast by the dim evening light seemed to take on a new, more sinister meaning. She jumped at the slightest movement, her nerves frayed beyond reason.

As she sat down on the couch, she glanced at the window, half-expecting to see Aegon’s face staring back at her from the street below. But it was empty, just the soft glow of streetlights outside.

He’s not watching you, she repeated to herself, her voice barely a whisper. He’s not watching you.

But the creeping feeling of being observed refused to leave, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that somewhere, somehow, Aegon was watching—waiting for the right moment to make his next move.

A week had passed since their last session, but it felt like months to Y/N. Every day, her unease grew, festering like a wound that refused to heal. The feeling of being watched never fully left her; shadows felt longer, eyes sharper. No matter how much she told herself it was just in her head, there was always a faint whisper of doubt in the back of her mind.

Now, sitting in her office once again, facing the man who had been haunting her thoughts, she forced herself to breathe. Aegon was different today. His usual agitation, the relentless tapping of his leg and biting of his nails, was absent. Instead, he sat eerily still, his eyes fixed on the wall to her left, as if he was watching something that she couldn’t see. His lips moved faintly, a soft, tuneless whisper escaping them. She strained her ears to catch it but could only make out fragments of sound—a hum, almost like a lullaby.

The silence in the room felt thick, oppressive, and she had to fight the urge to shift in her seat, to break the suffocating quiet.

I have to ask, she told herself, steeling her nerves. You have to confront him about last week. You can’t let him think he can do whatever he wants.

She took a deep breath and spoke, trying to keep her voice calm, even though her heart was pounding in her chest. "Aegon, last time we spoke, you mentioned something… odd. You said I looked good last night… in my pajamas." Her voice faltered slightly at the memory, but she forced herself to continue. "I need to ask, what did you mean by that?"

Aegon didn’t respond. He didn’t even seem to hear her. His eyes remained glued to the wall, his lips still moving faintly, whispering that strange song to himself. His hands rested on his knees, the skin pale and bruised, nails ragged from relentless chewing.

"Aegon?" she pressed, her voice tightening as her nerves frayed. "What did you mean?"

He stopped humming, but his gaze remained unfocused, distant, as if he were somewhere far away. After what felt like an eternity of silence, he finally spoke, his voice flat, devoid of any emotion. "Sunfyre died this week."

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. "Your… your cat?"

Aegon nodded slowly, still staring at the wall. "He was my only friend. The only one who understood." His voice was monotone, lifeless, as though the words were being dragged out of him.

"I’m… I’m sorry to hear that," Y/N said cautiously, watching his expression for any sign of reaction. But there was nothing. His face remained blank, his eyes never leaving the invisible point on the wall.

"He was beautiful," Aegon continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "Golden fur. Like the sun. That’s why I called him Sunfyre. He was always warm. Always there."

Y/N swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. There was something deeply unsettling about the way Aegon spoke—as if he was detached from the world around him, floating somewhere she couldn’t reach.

"And now," he murmured, his voice taking on a strange, almost dreamy quality, "he’s gone. And there’s just… noises." He finally blinked, but his gaze remained distant, as if the room had become too small for him. "The noises never stop."

"What… what noises?" Y/N asked cautiously, her fingers gripping the armrests of her chair, trying to steady herself. Something in the pit of her stomach twisted.

"Them," Aegon replied vaguely, tilting his head slightly as if listening for something. "The whispers. The sounds in the walls. They’re everywhere now, you know? After Sunfyre… they got louder. He used to keep them away, but now there’s nothing. Just them. Always talking. Always laughing." His face twitched for the briefest moment, as if suppressing a shiver.

Y/N’s heart started to race again, an icy chill creeping down her spine. "Aegon… have you… have you spoken to anyone about these noises? Has this been happening for a long time?"

"They’ve always been there," he said in the same flat, detached voice. "But it’s worse now. It’s like they’re closer. Watching me all the time. Telling me things." His eyes, still glued to the wall, seemed to glaze over. "I try not to listen, but sometimes… sometimes they make sense."

Her throat felt dry, but she forced herself to ask, "What do they tell you?"

Aegon’s lips curled into a slow, unsettling smile. It was the first time he’d smiled since he entered the room, and it was chilling. "They tell me the truth. About everything. About you."

Her blood ran cold at his words, her mind racing as she tried to keep her expression neutral. "What… what do you mean, Aegon?"

"They tell me how beautiful you are," he whispered, his eyes still locked on that invisible point on the wall. "How you care about me. How you don’t want me to leave. They tell me how you wear that soft panty to bed. The one with the little flowers on it."

Her heart stopped. How does he know? How?

She felt light-headed, her vision blurring at the edges as panic surged through her veins. "Aegon… how do you know what I wear?"

He didn’t answer. Instead, he tilted his head again, listening, as though someone was whispering in his ear. Then, with an eerie calmness, he said, "The voices see everything."

Y/N’s hands trembled as she gripped the chair tighter. "Aegon, I need you to focus. What do you mean the voices see everything?"

"They watch. They’re always watching," he replied, finally turning his head to face her, his gaze locking onto hers. His eyes were wide, unblinking, and filled with a strange, manic intensity that made her heart lurch in fear. "Just like I do. Just like I watch."

The room suddenly felt much smaller, the walls closing in around her. She couldn’t breathe. She wanted to run, to leave, but her legs felt frozen in place.

"Sunfyre used to keep them away," Aegon continued, his voice a low murmur now. "But he’s gone. Now there’s just me. And you."

She couldn’t speak. Her chest tightened, her thoughts a jumble of fear and confusion. She had to end the session. She had to get out.

But before she could move, the clock on the wall chimed, signaling the end of their time.

Aegon stood up slowly, still smiling, his eyes never leaving her. "I’ll see you next week," he said softly, his voice dripping with a sickening sweetness.

And with that, he walked out of the room, leaving Y/N sitting in her chair, frozen in place, the echoes of his words reverberating in her mind.

The voices see everything.

The second Aegon left her office, she felt the walls pressing in, the whispers of doubt clawing at her. She packed up quickly, her hands trembling as she stuffed her notebook into her bag and threw on her coat. All she wanted—needed—was to get out.

By the time she reached her apartment, her fingers shook as she fumbled with her keys, her heart still hammering in her chest. As soon as she was inside, she slammed the door shut and bolted it, leaning her back against the wood as she tried to steady her breathing.

It’s just in your head, she told herself, her voice shaky and uncertain. He’s just a patient. He’s just trying to get under your skin. He’s not watching you… he’s not.

But the fear lingered. His words replayed in her mind, twisting around her thoughts like a poison.

With trembling hands, she pulled out her phone and dialed the number she knew by heart. It only took two rings before she heard the familiar voice on the other end.

“Hey, babe,” her boyfriend, Jacob, answered. His tone light and warm. “Everything okay?”

“No…” Y/N’s voice broke as the word slipped out. “Can you come over? Please. I—I need you.”

He didn’t hesitate. “I’ll be right there.”

The next twenty minutes felt like an eternity. She paced around her apartment, trying to shake off the weight pressing down on her chest. She kept checking the windows, the corners of the room, every shadow stretching a little too far, every creak of the floorboards making her jump.

When the knock finally came, she practically ran to the door. As soon as she opened it, she fell into his arms, her body trembling with the weight of it all.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Jacob murmured, holding her tightly. His hand gently stroked her hair as he guided her back inside, shutting the door behind them. “I’m here. What happened?”

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “It’s… it’s Aegon. My patient. He—he said these things and I don’t know, it’s just… he knows things, things he shouldn’t know.”

Her voice broke as she recounted the details, her words spilling out in a frantic rush. She told him everything—Aegon’s strange behavior, his fixation, the way he talked about her. The voices. The watching.

Jacob listened, his face calm and reassuring as he nodded. “Babe, I think you’re just stressed. This guy… he’s messing with you because he knows it’ll get to you.”

“I don’t know…” she whispered, wiping at her eyes. “It felt so real.”

“I know, I know it did.” He pulled her close, resting his chin on the top of her head. “But you’re letting him get in your head. He’s trying to make you scared, but you can’t let him win, okay?”

She nodded against his chest, her tears soaking into his shirt. “You’re right. You’re right… it’s just in my head.”

“That’s all it is,” he said softly, his hands running soothingly down her back. “Just some creepy guy trying to push your buttons. But you’re stronger than that. You can handle it.”

His calm, rational voice slowly chipped away at the terror inside her. She breathed deeply, letting herself believe his words, clinging to them like a lifeline. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I needed that.”

“I’m here,” he whispered back, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Always.”

The tension in her chest began to unravel as she melted into his embrace. Slowly, the fear that had gripped her all week loosened its hold. He was right. Aegon was just trying to get under her skin. Nothing more.

He pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on her shoulders. “How about we forget all about this guy, huh? Let’s just relax.”

She nodded, letting out a shaky breath. “Yeah… yeah, that sounds good.”

Without another word, he took her hand and led her toward the bathroom. The warm steam from the shower enveloped them as they stepped inside, the water cascading over their skin, washing away the remnants of the day’s tension.

He pulled her closer, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. She responded, her hands sliding up his chest, the heat of the water matching the growing warmth between them. His touch was gentle but sure, his hands slowly roaming over her body as he deepened the kiss.

In that moment, the world outside didn’t matter. Not Aegon, not the fear, not the shadows that had haunted her all week. There was only him, the steady reassurance of his presence.

As they moved to the bed, their wet skin still warm from the shower, he kissed her neck, his hands sliding between her legs, slowly caressing her. She gasped softly, her body responding to the comfort and distraction he offered.

He kissed her deeply, and as his hands roamed over her, she closed her eyes, letting herself forget everything. For just a moment, she let herself believe that everything was okay.

The weight of Jacob's arm draped over her gave Y/N a sense of temporary calm, her mind finally lulled into a fragile state of rest after the events of the week. The sheets clung to their bodies, still damp from the shared heat, their limbs intertwined in a way that made her feel, for the first time in days, safe. Protected.

But that safety shattered in an instant.

A loud crash from the other side of the apartment jolted them awake. The sound of breaking glass ripped through the silence like a scream, sharp and sudden. Y/N shot up in bed, her heart pounding so fast it felt like it would burst out of her chest. Her boyfriend sat up beside her, his hand instinctively reaching for her.

"What the hell was that?" he whispered, his voice low, urgent.

"IーI don't know," Y/N stammered, already pulling the blanket around her naked body, her hands trembling as she clutched the fabric tightly. Fear crawled up her spine like a cold hand, squeezing her chest. Something was wrong. She could feel it.

Jacob swung his legs over the side of the bed, grabbing a nearby lamp as a makeshift weapon. "Stay behind me," he said, his voice grim as he stood, leading the way out of the bedroom.

They crept down the hallway, the air thick with tension, their breaths shallow and uneven. The soft click of the floorboards under their feet was deafening in the oppressive silence that followed the crash. Y/N tightened the blanket around her, the fabric dragging across the floor as she followed behind, her senses on high alert, every shadow on the walls seeming to twist and warp into something sinister.

The moment they stepped into the living room, the metallic tang of blood hit her like a punch to the gut. She froze.

"Oh my God..." her boyfriend whispered, the words barely audible, as his gaze swept over the scene before them.

Doves. Dead doves, strewn across the floor like discarded dolls. Their once-beautiful white feathers were soaked in blood, their delicate wings from their bodies, limbs twisted at unnatural angles. Some of them were headless, their necks bent at grotesque angles, the floor slick with their blood. Their wings were now broken, shredded, discarded in small, crumpled heaps.

The smell was overwhelming, suffocating. The stench of death and blood filled the air, thick and coppery, clinging to their skin like a second layer. Y/N gagged, one hand flying to her mouth as bile rose in her throat. Her eyes were wide with horror as she stared at the carnage before her.

It wasn't just the doves.

The walls were splattered with blood- thick, dark red streaks of it, smeared in long, jagged lines. Words. Horrible, terrifying words written in the blood of the doves.

"MINE"

"LEAVE"

"ALWAYS WATCHING"

The writing was erratic, desperate, the letters dripping down the walls like some kind of twisted arning. The word “MINE" was repeated over and over again, sometimes scrawled so large it stretched from floor to ceiling, other times tiny, scratched into the plaster as if done by someone who had lost control.

The words clawed at her brain, a primal panic bubbling up from the depths of her mind. They weren't just words-they were a threat, a message, twisted and dark, filled with rage. Her chest tightened, her breath coming in shallow gasps as her eyes scanned the room, wild and terrified.

"What the fuck.." her boyfriend whispered, his voice trembling now, his grip tightening around the lamp. "What the fuck is this?"

Y/N's legs were shaking, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her as she stumbled backward. Her eyes darted to the window, and that's when she saw him.

A figure in the shadows, standing just outside the glass, watching her.

Aegon.

His pale, hollow face was half-hidden by the darkness, but his eyes一those wild, burning eyes一were locked onto hers, unblinking. There was something feral in the way he stood, the way his lips twisted into a sickening smile as he stared at her, his head tilted at a strange, unnatural angle, like a predator stalking its prey.

She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. Her throat was dry, her voice stolen by the sheer terror of the moment. Her body felt frozen, paralyzed, unable to move, unable to breathe.

Her boyfriend's voice cut through the fog of her panic. "What is it? What do you see?"

She tore her eyes away from the window, grabbing his arm with trembling hands. "He's here" she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. "He's outside... it's him..."

Her boyfriend whipped his head toward the window, but by the time he looked, Aegon was gone. The shadowy figure had vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving nothing but the echo of his presence behind.

"I don't see anything," he said, his voice laced with confusion andfear. “There's no one there."

"No-no, I saw him!" Y/N insisted, her voice rising with hysteria. "He was there! I swear to God, he was right there, watching us!"

He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her as she trembled violently. "It's okay, it's okay. We'll call the cops. Someone broke in, this... this is some fucked-up shit, but we'll figure it out. He's not here anymore."

She nodded weakly, her mind spinning with confusion and terror. Her eyes kept darting back to the window, expecting to see those cold, unblinking eyes staring back at her. But the space was empty now, just an expanse of darkness and the dull glow of streetlights outside.

Jacob pulled out his phone and dialed the police, his voice low and urgent as he explained the situation. Y/N barely heard him, her thoughts swirling in a chaotic whirlwind of fear and disbelief.

The words on the walls seemed to pulse in the corner of her vision, the blood dripping down in slow, thick rivulets: MINE. LEAVE.

Her stomach twisted into knots, her entire body shaking as she collapsed into the nearest chair, her legs giving out beneath her. The doves lay scattered around her feet, their lifeless eyes staring up at her, empty and soulless.

She couldn't escape it.

No matter how hard she tried to convince herself it wasn't real, that Aegon wasn't capable of such madness, the truth was there-painted in blood across her walls.

This wasn't just in her head. This was real. Too real.

“There’s not much we can do without evidence,” one of the officers had said, his voice neutral but with an edge of doubt. “But we can check on him, just to ease your mind.”

And so, at 3 AM, Y/N, Jacob, and the two officers found themselves standing outside the grand Targaryen estate. The imposing house loomed before them, bathed in the glow of the moon, its towering facade as cold and uninviting as the man who lived inside. Y/N’s heart was pounding in her chest, her skin crawling with unease as they rang the bell.

It didn’t take long for the door to open.

Alicent stood in the doorway, her face pinched with confusion and irritation, her robe wrapped tightly around her. She looked from the officers to Y/N and her boyfriend, then back again. Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Officers," Alicent greeted politely, though her voice held an edge of irritation. "May I help you?"

Y/N’s voice shook as she stepped forward. “It’s Aegon. He’s been stalking me—he came to my apartment tonight. He left… dead birds everywhere, and he wrote on the walls with blood. He’s been following me. Watching me.”

“I’m sorry, but what is this about?” Alicent’s eyes flicked between Y/N, her boyfriend, and the officers. “This must be a misunderstanding.”

“No, it’s not a misunderstanding!” Y/N yelled, her voice breaking as tears welled up in her eyes. “He broke into my apartment. There were doves—dead doves—and blood… He’s been following me, watching me! He’s dangerous!”

Her boyfriend squeezed her hand gently, trying to pull her back, but she yanked away, pointing toward the door. “You have to believe me! Aegon is sick—he needs to be locked up! He’s not right in the head!”

Alicent’s face hardened. “That’s impossible. Aegon’s been here all night.”

The officers exchanged uneasy glances, unsure how to proceed.

Alicent’s eyes flicked to the officers, her mouth pressed into a thin line. “My son would never do something like that. He’s not… unwell. He’s just dealing with some personal things.”

Y/N’s heart hammered against her ribcage as rage and fear bubbled inside her, her voice rising as she lost control. “He’s a fucking psycho, and he’s trying to ruin my life! He’s stalking me, and you’re just covering for him!”

“Ma’am,” one of the officers cut in, stepping forward to intervene, “let’s all remain calm. We’re here to investigate, but we need to speak to Aegon himself.”

At that moment, the sound of footsteps echoed down the grand staircase.

Aegon appeared, descending slowly, rubbing his eyes as though he had just woken from a peaceful slumber. He wore a loose-fitting T-shirt and pajama pants, his blonde hair mussed, his expression calm, and his movements casual, almost lazy. He looked nothing like the manic, disturbed man Y/N had seen just hours before.

“Is everything alright?” Aegon asked, his voice quiet, soft, laced with concern. His eyes scanned the group, lingering on Y/N for a moment before turning to the officers. “What’s going on?”

Y/N felt a wave of nausea wash over her. How could he look so normal? She knew what he was—she had seen him, heard his madness—but now, he was playing the part of the innocent. She could feel herself unraveling, her emotions spilling out uncontrollably.

Her blood boiled at the sight of his calm, innocent facade. He wasn’t the same Aegon she had sat across from in therapy—the one who whispered disturbing things and stared at her with dark, empty eyes. This Aegon seemed so harmless, almost apologetic, as if none of the horrors from earlier could be traced back to him.

"Do you know this woman, sir?" one of the officers asked, gesturing to Y/N, who was on the verge of collapsing under the weight of it all.

Aegon blinked slowly, his expression softening into something almost pitiful. “Yes, she's…my therapist," he said, his voice low and even, a hint of sadness laced into his words. "But…I'm not really sure why she’s here.”

One of the officers stepped forward. “Sir, we’re here following a report. This woman has made some serious claims about your involvement in an incident tonight. We just need to ask you a few questions.”

Aegon’s face contorted into an expression of confusion, concern knitting his brow as he blinked at the officers. “I don’t know what she’s talking about,” he said, his voice even, smooth. “I’ve been here all night. I haven’t left the house.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, her eyes going wide. “What? No—no, don’t act like this! You know exactly what you did, Aegon! You’ve been following me! You were in my apartment tonight! I saw you!”

Aegon shook his head slowly, his eyes filled with what looked like genuine confusion. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I was home all night. I would never do something like that.” He turned to the officers. “I’ve been going through a hard time. I recently…broke up with my girlfriend, and I started seeing Y/N to help me deal with the depression. But…I don’t know where all of this is coming from.”

“He’s lying!” Y/N screamed, stepping forward, her whole body shaking with anger. “He’s making it all up! He’s dangerous—he’s not the person you think he is!”

Aegon didn’t flinch. Instead, he stepped closer to the officers, his face calm, composed, but his voice took on a vulnerable tone. “I think… I think maybe she’s upset because I didn’t reciprocate her feelings.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in horror. “What the fuck are you talking about? That’s not true!”

Aegon glanced at the officers, feigning embarrassment. “She…she made some advances during our sessions. I told her that it wasn’t appropriate, but I think she may have misinterpreted our relationship. Maybe she’s just mad that I didn’t…you know, return her feelings.”

Y/N’s world spun. The rage and helplessness surged inside her like a storm, the bile rising in her throat. “That’s a lie! You’re lying! You need to stop lying!” She lunged forward, her hands reaching for Aegon in a desperate attempt to stop him from spinning the truth any further, but her boyfriend grabbed her, pulling her back.

“Stop it, Y/N!” he pleaded, holding her tightly as she fought to break free. “Just stop!”

Aegon’s face twisted into something almost sad. “I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to ruin her reputation, but…I’m worried about her. I think she’s struggling with some personal issues, and that’s why she’s saying all of this.”

The officers looked back at Y/N, their expressions unreadable, but she could feel their judgment. It was like a weight pressing down on her chest, suffocating her. They didn’t believe her. No one believed her.

“You’re fucking sick!” Y/N screamed, her voice cracking as tears streamed down her face. “You should be in a mental hospital! You—” She was hysterical now, her words a broken mess of sobs and fury. “You did this! You—”

“Ma’am, we need you to calm down,” one of the officers said sternly, stepping between her and Aegon. “We’ll handle this, but we need you to calm down.”

“I’m telling the truth!” Y/N cried, her voice raw and desperate. “He’s dangerous! He’s going to hurt me! He’s—”

But no one was listening. Not her boyfriend, not the police, and certainly not Alicent, who stood behind her son, a look of quiet satisfaction on her face as she watched the scene unfold.

Aegon rubbed his eyes again, stifling a yawn as if all of this was just an inconvenience, just a bad dream he would soon wake from. “I just want to go back to bed,” he said softly, looking at the officers with pleading eyes. “I promise I’m not who she says I am. I just…I just want to move on.”

The officers nodded, exchanging a glance before turning back to Y/N.

“I think it’s best if we leave now, ma’am,” one of them said gently, but firmly. “We’ll follow up on this, but…for now, you should go home and try to get some rest.”

Y/N’s heart sank. She had lost. She had been defeated by his lies, by his calm demeanor, by the illusion of normalcy he had created.

Her boyfriend wrapped an arm around her, guiding her back toward the door. Her legs felt like lead, her body drained of all strength, her mind clouded with fear. But as they stepped outside, she turned back for one last look at Aegon.

And that’s when she saw it.

His eyes were wide now, bright and burning with a terrifying intensity. He stared at her, unblinking, a slow, twisted smile creeping onto his lips. And then, with a single finger pressed against his lips, he made a silent gesture.

Shhh...

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[lostdreamr-blog1]

Pinky Promise

Pinky Promise 2

Part 3

Part 4

Summary: Jake gets a call in the middle of the night asking for a ride home. But it’s who is asking that makes him worried.

Word count: 2k

A/N: Another request knocked out! Currently working on part 2 of Beautiful Stranger and might have plans for continuing this one depending on if you all like it. Thank you so much for reading! -C

You were a little on the tipsy side as you squinted at your phone trying to make out the numbers on it. With them moving as much as they were, it was near impossible to type in a correct phone number. Instead, you opened your contacts and scrolled down to your brother’s name.

The smart thing to do would be to call him for a ride, but the more drunk side of you could only think about the nagging you would get on the way home and probably the month following. So, you scrolled up and down your contacts deciding on who would be the lucky winner to receive a call at 1 in the morning.

Jake groaned as he heard his phone going off. He blindly reached for it and squinted at the bright screen, trying to decipher who the hell would be calling at this hour. He had to be up in a few hours to get ready for another day of trying to get through the near impossible assignment, so unless it was an emergency, he was ignoring it.

The number that flashed on his screen wasn’t one he had seen before. He almost wrote it off as a wrong number or another spam call, but something told him to answer it. The area code was one he knew and a call this late on a Saturday might mean something is going on. So, instead of rolling over and enjoying the few hours of sleep he had left, he answered the mystery number.

“Seresin.”

“Oh shit! That’s the Jake that’s in this phone? Why would he put that number in here?” The voice was female and sounded somewhat familiar but was clearly drunk.

“Sorry to disappoint. Who is this?” Jake was kicking himself for answering it now, having the person insult him within two seconds of talking.

“Ah. Look, you have to promise not to tell my brother anything. Like pinkly swear and everything.” Jake was too tired to entertain childish requests, but the first part of the statement finally sunk in. The only one on the team who had a sister near base was Bradley. Fuck.

“Y/N? Is that you?” He needed the confirmation before freaking out. What did she do that warranted keeping her brother in the dark?

“I am not answering that question until you promise me.” He sat up in bed, turning on the lamp next to him. There was no way this wasn’t her.

“Alright. I promise I won’t tell him right now. Can you tell me what’s going on?” He was hoping she was too drunk to catch how he promised.

“Fine. I’m at this bar with my friend and I played wingman a little too well and she left with this guy. I mean good for her. She just got over this really bad breakup and needed to get laid.” Jake had gotten out of bed and put the phone on speaker as he got dressed. Something told him he was going to have to pick you up from somewhere. That’s if you managed to stop getting sidetracked.

“Anyway, I have this thing about not liking to get in Ubers by myself and it’s a long ass walk back to my apartment.” Jake had grabbed his keys at this point and was walking out the door.

“Where are you? I’m on my way.” He turned on his truck and waited for a response.

“Shoot. Well, we started at one place and now this is place three. No place four. You know what, let me ask because I have no idea.” Jake sighed and shook his head. He had heard stories from Bradley about his younger sister and how reckless you were. Or at least that’s the way he described you. He always kept you on a tight leash, trying his hardest to keep you out of trouble.

But Jake thought you just wanted to have some fun. One of his sisters went through a phase like this and it was best to keep a close eye on them but never push them. For reasons like this.

You told him the name of the bar and he was on his way. “I’ll be there in about 15 minutes. Are you okay to wait inside for me?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I need to finish this water anyway.” Jake told you to call if something came up but he shouldn’t be long.

It wasn’t but 5 minutes later his phone started ringing again. He saved your number as Baby Bradshaw, knowing that this probably wouldn’t be the last time you called him.

“Yes ma’am?”

“Are you close?” As casual as you tried to sound, Jake could hear a slight bit of urgency.

“Five minutes away. Everything alright?” The hesitation that followed his question told him everything he needed to know. But he waited for your response before he pushed the issue further.

“Umm, it’s probably nothing. Just this guy by the bar keeps giving me this look and it’s making me feel a bit uncomfortable. But I’m also drunk and a tiny bit paranoid.” Jake pushed the accelerator down a bit further, breaking a few laws in order to get to you faster. He wasn't going to be blamed for getting the youngest Bradshaw in trouble.

“I’ve always been told to listen to your gut.” He heard the hum on the other end of the line as he blew through a red light.

“My gut is telling me they want tacos.” Jake couldn’t stop the laugh that came out.

“We can get you tacos on the way home, sweetheart. Now do me a favor and stand where a lot of people can see you. People like security or a bouncer. Can you do that for me?” He heard you hum again.

“Slight problem. He is following me now.” Jake’s heart started to beat faster and knew he needed to get there now.

“Shit. What did Bradley say. Thumb out, use your knuckles.” He shook his head trying to figure out what the hell you were saying. But it clicked a second too late.

“No don’t-“ He heard commotion on the other line and parked his truck right outside the bar. Flying out the door, he nearly ran into you as you were standing by the entrance with a bouncer blocking a guy with blood running from his nose from getting close to you.

Jake grabbed you before you could get around the bouncer and pulled you outside. “I told you to stay the hell away from me, you creep!” You were yelling at the guy all the way outside, letting him know you weren’t to be messed with. He wanted to go back in there and show the guy what happens when you mess with innocent people, but he knew leaving your side wouldn’t be for the best.

When the two of you were next to his truck, Jake let go and looked you over. Your face had a red tint to it from what he assumed had just happened, but besides that you looked to be in one piece. That was until he saw your eyes start to water.

He put a hand under your chin and lifted your head up. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

You sniffed a few times and wiped the tear that managed to escape. “Bradley didn’t say how much it hurts to hit someone.”

Jake bit back a smile and looked down at your hand. While it was a bit red and would surely bruise tomorrow, it didn’t look too bad.

“He probably didn’t think you would ever have to do that. Why don’t we get you back home and you can tell me what happened.” He watched you nod your head and opened his passenger door for you, closing it when you were in.

He waited a few minutes after you were on the road before asking questions. “Want to tell me why you called me instead of your brother?”

You shook your head at the question. “Have you met my brother? It would be nonstop nagging for God knows how long. Anyone else seemed like the better option.” You paused as you remembered exactly who you were with.

“I will say I didn’t expect him to put your name in my phone. He seems to have a strong dislike for you.” Jake smirked at what you had said and shrugged his shoulders.

“He probably knew I had sisters and would do anything to make sure they were alright. Regardless on who they were related to.” You thought this over and nodded your head. It wasn’t long until the next question came.

“What happened at the bar?” You felt his eyes on you and knew he was more concerned than curious.

“The guy I told you was giving me weird looks ended up following me to the door. He stopped me and tried to grab my hand and even though I pulled it away, he kept coming at me. I don’t know, I guess I just felt like I needed to do something to stop him.” You missed the way Jake’s hands tightened on the steering wheel or the clench in his jaw.

“He was lucky I was 30 seconds behind, or he would’ve gotten more than a broken nose.” You looked over and saw how serious he was. A look your brother wore all too often.

“How long until you tell bird boy what happened?” Jakes eyes caught yours and you saw the conflict in them.

“If I was him, I would want to know something happened to my sister. But I will at least drop you off before I call him. Keep your phone on silent and say you fell asleep. That way you can push it off until he gets off tomorrow.” He heard your sigh but that was the end of that.

It was silent in the car until he heard you say, “I’m not as stupid as my brother makes me out to be.” Stupid was never a word he would have used to describe you. A little carefree maybe, but you knew what you were doing.

“I see someone who wants to have a little fun in their life while they can. Nothing wrong with that.” He glanced over to you to see you playing with your injured hand.

“You’re not as bad as they make you out to be either. Besides my brother, not many people would come and get me when they have to be up soon.” Jake held back a wince when he saw the time. A coffee run in the morning would be needed. Maybe he could talk Natasha into picking him up some from that place she always went to.

He pulled into your apartment complex and parked as close to your building as he could.

“Hey, sweetheart. You can call me anytime you need help, okay? I know your brother and I are not on great terms, but I know he would help me out when family is involved.” You gave him a small smile and thanked him for the ride.

He waited until you closed the door before he backed out of the parking lot, trying to figure out what he was going to say to Bradley. It was nearing 2am and calling him was oit of the question. So, he sent a simple text.

Hey man. Your sister called a random number in her contacts tonight and didn’t realize it was me. She needed a safe ride home and that exactly what I did. We can talk about it more at base, but wanted to let you know she is safe. -Hangman

He went to put his phone down when a text popped up. He prayed Bradley wasn’t awake, wanting to push the rest of that conversation off. But instead, it was baby Bradshaw with the text You never got me tacos.

Jake laughed out loud replying that he owes you some in the near future. With a spitfire attitude that you had, Jake saw the two of you becoming good friends. That’s if Bradley didn’t lock you up after tonight’s events.

A/N: Not too sure how I felt about this one but thinking about doing a Jake and Y/N friend series. Thoughts? Likes or dislikes? Thank you for reading!

Tag List: @rosiahills22 @sunlitsunflowers @dempy @mamaskillerqueen @luckyladycreator2 @atarmychick007 @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @topguncultleader @alilstressyandlotdepressy @avengers-fixation @chaoticcassidy

[endo-bunny]

Sit Down Now and Rest

-~-~-~-~-~-~

Description: You had anxiety and depression, and Tony and Bruce were more than happy with getting you anxiety meds the moment that you asked. When you stop taking your meds, your mental health plummets and spirals as well as your physical health, and everyone notices. Don't worry though, they're there for you.

Pairing: (Platonic) Avengers x Teen!Reader

Type: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Depression, anxiety, sickness, fainting, dizziness, taking meds(both medicated and just vitamins/iron supplements), dehydration, insomnia, depressive and hurtful thoughts, reader doesn't talk very much in this, nicknames(Kiddo, Kid, Hun)

Word Count: 1,627

Note: I may or may not have written this with too much of myself being present… But it's fine! I also wrote this at like 2 in the morning so it's kinda rough but I just needed to get this typed out so here ya go! Also, the characters might be kinda ooc because I haven't watched any marvel movies in a little while but I've been hyper focused on fics with them lately so yea. And I am working on my tlou and tech fics, it's just hard to find the motivation to write them, but don't worry, I'm working on em.

-~-~-~-~-~-~

You were quick to notice that you stopped taking your meds. You knew that they helped you, but you couldn't get yourself to start the habit of taking them again. You wanted to, most definitely, but you couldn't. Every day was the same. Wake up, look at your meds, contemplate taking them, saying you'll take them later, go train, eat, and then not take them.

You also stopped taking them at night too. You had even set alarms so that you'd remember to take them, but it didn't help at all. Natasha was the first to notice that something was up, being the closest one with you. When she realized that something wasn't quite right, she made sure to keep a close eye on you. She was quick to pick up how dizzy you looked when you'd get up, sometimes not even being able to stay standing before you crumbled back onto the couch. You'd always play it off as if you just lost your footing but she and everyone else knew that that wasn't the case.

One morning you had gotten up much later than you had recently been getting up. When you checked the time, it was around two in the afternoon. You got up and went to the kitchen, feeling extremely hungry after forgetting, and also just not wanting dinner the night prior. When you arrived in the kitchen, Tony was there. He had kind of taken up the father role in your life.

The moment he saw that you had finally arose, he was quick to make a snarky comment in good fun, “Ah! The beast has finally awoken from their slumber, now off they go to find their beauty.”

You only roll your eyes, ignoring him. You felt exhausted, even though you got close to ten hours of sleep seeing as you fell asleep around 4 in the morning. You couldn't find anything easy to fix or that looked appetizing in the fridge or pantry so you just opted for a bottle of water that you would only take a sip or two of then leave with your other five almost full water bottles on your nightstand.

Before you could go back to the confines of your room, Tony had to ask you a question, “ Hey kiddo, did you take your meds?”

The question caught you off guard, not expecting him to ask seeing as he hasn't asked in a real long time.

“Oh yea! I, um, took them earlier but fell back asleep. Yea, that's what I did!”

You try to make it seem like you weren't lying through your teeth, but weren't very successful because of how exhausted you were. However, before Tony could confront you, you book it to your room. You hide there for the rest of the day, not coming out for Dinner. Steve had come by to tell you that dinner was ready but you told him that you weren't very hungry as you just kept your

on the book that you had your nose in. You kept your light on all night, not feeling tired.

The next morning, Nat knocked on your door around eight, coming to get you so that you could train with her. When she opened your door, she saw you laying on your back staring up at the ceiling. You looked exhausted and had dark circles under your eyes. When Bat opened the door, you flung up in surprise. You hadn't heard her knocking so you weren't expecting for the door to randomly open. You couldn't tell who it was at first because your vision went fuzzy black as your body tried to accommodate the sudden movement that you caused. Nat waited for you to acknowledge her.

When you did after a couple seconds, you looked over at the time, confused. It had just been two the last time you looked at the clock. How could it be eight all of the sudden? You were brought out of your thoughts by Natasha trying to talk to you. You zoned back in, giving her a questioning look.

“I said, are you ok? You look exhausted Hun. I came by to get ya to come train but it looks like you need to rest for a couple days.”

“Oh! No, I'm fine. Just give me a couple minutes to get ready and I'll be down and we can get to work in no time!”

She gave you a skeptical look but nodded, closing your door behind her.

When you got down to the training room, Bucky and Steve were there with Natasha. They smiled upon seeing you walk in. However, Bucky and Steve's bright smiles dropped upon looking at your figure. You were slouched, tired eyes not fully open and your eye bags were extremely dark.

Bucky was the first to point it out, “Hey Kid, you ok? You aren't looking too good.”

You only shrugged, your body aching and your throat feeling scratchy and sore for some reason.

As you're sparring with Natasha, you continuously have to stop the match because you go into coughing fits. As finish with your last coughing fit you go back to Natasha, but she's packing her stuff up.

“Wait, where are you going?” You're voice comes rather harsh and rude as you ask the red head.

“I think you should rest for the rest of the day Hun. I'll come check on you in a little while. But go take your meds and also some cough syrup and eat something.”

You didn't say anything as you grabbed your stuff and walked back to your room. This was stupid. It was just a little cold. You can still fight. You need to train. Deep down though you knew you needed to listen to her and do as she said. In the end, you don't. You go back to your room, take a sip or two of water, get a small snack and then sit down in the living room with a book.

You try to read it, but you can't stay focused for long enough to. Your mind is spiraling and racing. You kept replaying how training went. You were so pathetic. And rude. How could you be so rude? Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You slam the book down onto the sofa, huffing.

You hadn't noticed that some of the others had joined you in the living room. They look up at you, surprised. They weren't used to seeing you like this. You tried to get up quickly, wanting to get away from this embarrassing situation.

The moment you get up, the world goes black, buzzing and ringing is the only thing you can hear as you collapse. You feel something picking you up and setting you down on the couch. You blink your eyes a couple times, slowly feeling sensation being restored in your body. You look around you and see that Bruce is coming over with a damp cloth and water. Nat has your head resting in her lap and Tony has your hand in his. They all look worried as they stare down at you. You hear gasped as Steve and Bucky walk in.

Questions are being thrown at you, too fast for you to comprehend. You instinctively put your hands on your ears, feeling overwhelmed. They all quiet down upon seeing this. Tony is the one to ask the questions from then on.

“Hey, it's ok. We're sorry, didn't mean to overwhelm ya like that. Can ya sit up?”

You nodded, feeling embarrassed now. Tony nodded and Nat helped you sit up, allowing you to lean against her.

“Ok, drink some water, you're ok,” Tony hands you the water that Bruce had brought over as Bruce is wiping your face with the cold damp cloth.

“Ya feeling better?”

“Ya, I'm fine.”

“Have you been taking your meds, kid?”Tony doesn't hold back, knowing what it looks like when you don't take the meds that have been helping you produce what your body needs.

You sheepishly look down at your hands that are fidgeting in your lap. You inhale sharply before shaking your head no.

They all sigh, Natasha being the one to talk this time, “Why haven't you been taking your meds, Hun?”

“I-I just don't want to… I don't like the feeling.”

They looked at each other, wondering what to say. As they look at each other, you go to stand up, but they make sure that you don't get up.

“Sit down now and rest,” Bucky's voice comes from behind you, his hands still on your shoulders.

“I'm sorry…” Your voice comes out in a whisper.

“You're forgiven kiddo, but ya gotta start taking your meds again.” Steve comes over and sits on the other side of you as he speaks.

“I know.”

“How bout I take my medication with ya? God knows that I haven't been taking it as much as I should be,” Tony chuckles as he tries to negotiate with you.

You didn't know if it would actually help you but you were open to the idea.

“Good, drink some more water. Now what do you want to watch? Hm? TV's all yours,” Tony stood up, giving you the TV remote as everyone decided to sit down on the couch.

You picked your comfort movie as you snuggled up with Steve and Nat. Tony had gotten you some actual food, and by the time the movie was over, you had drank all the water, ate all the food, fell asleep, and almost everyone else had fallen asleep as well. You felt safe with the people that cared about you all around you. You knew that this would be a journey, but you also knew that you weren't alone.

-~-~-~-~-~-~

Tag list: @fakegingerrights @macchiato-dreaming22 @silnebula

[dariaslookalike]

Building Houses and Burning Bridges Pt I

Summary:

It seems, oddly enough, that Gregory House lives to annoy you. He takes 'arseholish boss' to the next level. Wake up in the morning, ready to have breakfast, and drive to the hospital where you both work? Nope, you're getting a text that says you're late to his impromptu 4:30 AM meeting where he's had the 'breakthrough of the century' on the team's latest case. Get your hair cut and walk into work, for once feeling confident? Nope, he's saying that he would have done a better job blinded, hands tied and going through Vicodin withdrawals. Finally, 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, prove him wrong and attempt to wipe the cockiness off his face? Nope, you're simply slow because you didn't get to your diagnosis quicker and weak-willed because you didn't fight him for it in the beginning. Everything House does infuriates you, and it seems everything you do infuriates him. No wonder you end up pinned to the wall of your apartment and groping him like your life depends on. And knowing House, it very may well.

Warnings: Adult language, mature themes, eventual smut, female protagonist, no reference of y/n

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Current Status: Ongoing

A/N: No Beta readers for any of my fics, so apologies for spelling mistakes. I wrote this originally on AO3, and it's still a work in progress. As with my other fics, I'll be uploading here and there when I get inspo

Masterlist: Building Houses and Burning Bridges

Next Chapter: Pt 2

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

Your mind trails off to the strangest of things when you’re nervous. You’re staring out the window pane, and there’s a small robin, hopping from branch to branch. It’s entrancing in a way. Do robins have little bird interviews for their little bird jobs? Or does everyone simply know what their role is, without having to apply for it? Collect the sticks, eat some bugs, and raise the young. Simple little bird jobs for simple little birds.

But then the woman in front of you clears her throat and you snap back to reality. Lisa Cuddy stares at you, but it’s not coldly like some interviewers may have. She smiles and you are flashed with her rows of perfect, white and straight teeth. Across from her, you feel underdressed, and not only in the literal sense. Some light makeup, to hide the fact that you hadn’t slept the previous night due to nerves, form-fitting but very obviously last-season pants, and a coat that you had quickly folded onto the chair beside you, to hide the tea stain down its front. But outside of that, she held a certain properness and professionalism you hadn’t mastered yet.

Despite that, she had beamed across your resume, congratulated you on your achievements, and told you that the job was almost ‘as good as yours’. She did, however, warn you. You would have another, more unofficial, interview to complete with your team leader before you began work. With the infamous Gregory House.

She inhaled, and it whistled through her nose. “Now, can I trust you to give you the very blunt run down of House, without you screaming and running for the hills? Because I think you need to know, while this job is incredibly hard and taxing…You may find he’s the worst part of it.”

You laughed politely. “I’m sure he’s not that bad. I once had a boss who had me make him coffee and lunch for three weeks straight after I had completed my PhD. He said it was a ‘chance for me to relax’,” You gesture air quotes, “before I got into serious work.”

Cuddy pinched the bridge of her nose. “No. As condescending as that is, House is worse than that.”

She must have seen your eyes widen because she quickly waves her hands in front of herself. “Don’t get me wrong. He’s brilliant, and, don’t pass this on to him, one of the best doctors you will ever work with. But…He can be rude. Egotistical. Infuriating. There are some days when he will make you feel pathetic and exhausted and other days when he will make you feel like you’ve discovered the secret to medicine. I’m not saying this to scare you, but rather I think you need to know that the people who are able to manage House and manage to work under him, do so with a lot of patience, humour, and resilience.”

You nod your head, and your brow furrows in seriousness. “I understand. Regardless of how he treats me, this is honestly an opportunity that I can’t pass up. I’m not going to let someone else ruin that for me.”

She beams at you. “That’s what I like to hear.”

You smile back at her, and she begins to shuffle papers on her desk and sort them into a stack. When they’re ordered into a neat pile, she looks back to you. “Rather than an interview, House will see this as a test. He will try to push your buttons. Make you nervous; worried. Don’t let him. You’re young, you’re beautiful, you’re smart,” You find yourself flushing at the honesty she seems to hold in her words. Cuddy was genuine and seemed like someone you could trust. That would be important if House was as bad as she made him out to be. “And he will try to make you all the more miserable for it.”

You let out a breathy sigh. “At least I’ll have time to prepare myself. What day would you like me to come in next?”

She winces and hands you the stack of papers (perhaps some miscellaneous files and formalities that you’ll investigate later, in private). “There won’t be another day, I’m afraid. He’ll be expecting you by his office following this.”

You breathe out, but afraid to seem well…Afraid, in front of Cuddy, you grit out a smile. “That’s perfectly fine. Sometimes it’s better to rip the bandaid off sooner, rather than later. Can you please direct me to his office?”

—--------

You feel your stomach plummet when you leave the elevator and begin walking down the hallway, clutching at your files as you do so.

Your short heels still manage to clack against the tiled floor as you walk. You pause and peer into a glass office. Sure enough, beside the door is a small plaque reading Dr G.House. Your hands reach for the doorknob, but it’s locked and you can’t push through. You peer into the office and see an empty desk, among other things.

It appeared the G.House was not home. So much for Cuddy’s warning that he would be waiting for you.

You breathe in deeply and scan around you. There are four or so chairs across from you, lining the side of the hallway, and sprawled across one of them is a man, staring right at you. You smile, half out of politeness and half out of awkwardness, and move to sit on the furthest seat. You settle down your papers, but when you look back, the man is turned and still staring. He has cropped, greying hair and steely blue eyes, and you quickly skim over him. Worn out jeans. A shirt with some sort of stain on it. A scuffed, dark cane resting beside him. Ratty trainers. At least he didn’t have the professionalism or poise that Cuddy carried around.

You realise you’ve stared a second past the respectful amount and you smile, fully out of awkwardness. “I don’t suppose you’re waiting for Dr House too?”

“Me?,” He raises an eyebrow, “Noo, I just like to wait outside his office as a pastime. See if I can conjure him through my psychic powers alone.”

You snort and raise your hands to your face quickly. “Well, do you know when he’ll be back?”

The man clicks his tongue. “Not at all. He doesn’t seem to care at all for punctuality, especially for…Who are you? A new hire?”

You tilt your head at him. “How’d you guess?”

He mimics you, tilting his head in the same direction. “You don’t look sick enough to be a patient, or tired enough to be a worker. Then there’s only the patient's family, new hire, or hooker to choose from. And no offence,” He trails his eyes down your form. “You don’t dress the part for the last option.”

You bark out a laugh at his incredulous words, shocked. “God. I’d hate to see the new hire who does.”

You’re happy to turn from the man and count the minutes until the infamous House appears, but the man draws your attention back to him with a question. “Why do you want to work with him?”

You squint your eyes at him. “And why do you want to know? Weren’t you the one to say that sitting here means you’re sick, a worker, a new hire, or a hooker?”

He nods, and his eyes appear calculating for a second. But then they’re masked and replaced with a forced smile “Yes, I did. As you can tell from my wicked cane, I’m a cripple hooker. I charge $200 for the hour, by the way. $300 and I’ll bring out the wheelchair.”

You can’t help but smile. Its funny, in a very twisted way. But you breathe deeply and try to compose yourself. You had never met someone as strange or bold as this man, but you supposed hospitals were the perfect place to find such specimens. The perfect mix of medicine, death and life, and you were produced with nutjobs.

“I’ve heard he’s a brilliant doctor-”

“And incredibly rude. I saw him the other week for the pain in my leg, and he just shoved a Vicodin bottle in my hand and called me an addict.”

You sighed. “You’re the second person to tell me that today. While I’m sorry to hear of his bedside manner, there are certain things I’m willing to go without in trade for working with him. I’ll deal with any rudeness or arrogance if it means I’m able to learn from him and contribute to his team.”

Now it’s the man who snorts out a laugh. “You’ll deal with being disrespected and abused just so you can be the ‘teacher's pet’ of medicine?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “No! Obviously, I’m going to stand up for myself and my own morals. But I think to some degree, people are set in their ways; if he is, I’ll learn to work around it, rather than break through it.” You huff, “And I won’t be a ‘teacher’s pet’. Been there, done that; it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

The man says nothing, and you turn to him, waiting for a witty reply or another snarky hooker joke, but then another man strolls up to the two of you. He has tousled brown hair, dark eyes and a strikingly white lab coat. House.

You stand up quickly and offer your hand. He shakes it, and you introduce yourself.

He smiles at you, with a sincereness that nearly startles you. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m assuming you’re the new hire? I’m James Wilson, head of Oncology here.”

Oh. So not House.

You stutter for a moment but compose yourself. “Oh! I’m sorry, I thought you were Dr House. Let me know if this is completely out of your ballpark then, but we’ve,” You gesture over your shoulder to the man still sitting down, “been waiting here for Dr House. Could you please point me in the right direction? He wasn’t in his office.”

The man raises his eyebrows at you, and you’re worried you said something to offend him -not like you made a hooker comment about him- but then he sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose, the same way Cuddy did. “House, would you like to introduce yourself to your new hire?”

Your eyebrows narrow. “I’m sorry, what?” Who was he talking to?

But then there’s the slight tap of a cane against the floor, and the man beside you rises to his full height.

You turn to him, perplexed, and he mockingly widens his eyes and raises his free hand to his mouth in faux shock. “Whoops! I forgot I transferred from being a Cripple Hooker to being a doctor. Don’t worry, I still charge the same rate.”

He shuffles past you, limping, and into his office. Wilson remains beside you, and he shakes his head, eyes cast upwards. “You’ll get used to him. Just don’t let him hassle you too much or he’ll get used to that.”

You turn to thank him for the warning, but House clears his throat loudly from within his office, and sits down at the wooden desk as if to say ‘well hurry up then’. Meekly, you gather your notes, tell Dr Wilson it was nice to meet him, and walk into the office to sit across from House

He stares at you, the same way he stared at you out in the hallway, and you find yourself prompted to speak first. “So, Dr House. While it’s nice to formally meet you, I’m wondering if it wasn’t for Dr Wilson, were we just going to sit outside and trade hooker jokes for the next few hours?”

His eyebrows narrow. “You don’t need to lie.”

“What?”

“It’s not nice to meet me.” He rolls his eyes. “I’ve met me before. It’s not a pleasant experience.”

He runs his hands down his worn face and continues to speak. “I have your resume. Your, quite frankly, startling long list of academic achievements and medical mumbo jumbo. I could give less of a hoot about those things; they won’t help you here. Awards and experience and acting like you give a shit is Cuddy’s forte, not mine.”

You find yourself puzzled about how to reply, but he saves you the effort and continues speaking, first drawing out your last name in a long drawl. “You seem intelligent and as if you lack a backbone. Both are necessary things for my team. But,” He stares intently at you, “Why do you want to work here? With me? On this team?”

You suck in air. “Well, as I said earlier, you’re brilliant. I know your cases and I know the work you’ve done. To put it blatantly, you’ve saved lives where others would have prepped the morgue. I want to know how to do that, and how to become the best doctor I can be.”

He laughs. “Being a suck-up isn’t a requirement for being a good doctor.”

“Neither is being an arsehole, but you seem to have that covered.”

Shit. Shit. Did you really just say that? To your boss? God, he was infuriating yes, and rude and-Oh. This was what Cuddy was warning you about. Losing your cool in face of his taunts and remarks. Well, low and behold, you lost your cool.

He narrows his eyes and leans forward to rest his head on his steepled hands. “Do you usually call people names during interviews or just the ones where you don’t want the job?”

You huff, exasperated. “I want this job. Hell, I need this job.”

“Everyone needs a job. Everyone has bills. But you’re avoiding the question.”

Your jaw clenches. “Well, not everyone has tenure. And, to answer your question, I only call people names during interviews because you made an incorrect assumption about me; I do have a backbone.”

He leans back in his chair and studies you. “Snarkiness isn’t a backbone. It’s a defence mechanism, sure, but a backbone would be walking out of here and knowing that your worth as a doctor means you shouldn’t be disrespected like that.”

Staring into his icy eyes, you speak. “You’ve got to ask me question after question. Am I a hooker? Why do I want to work with you? Now, I’m going to ask you a question. Why are we doing this?”

“Well sweetheart, I’m not sure if you’ve heard of this amazing thing, but there’s an interview you have before you start a job to see if you’re suited to-”

“No. I mean why are you ‘interviewing’ me if you’ve already made up your mind?”

At that, he stays silent. Confirmation. You get the sense that if he hadn’t made his decision even before you saw him, he made it the second you sat down outside. Maybe it was the way you walked, or the awkward smile you passed to him. Whatever it was, he couldn’t give less of a shit about your credentials; or you.

You nod and gather your things again. “Thank you for your time, Dr House. Please pass my regards to Cuddy.”

You reach the door before he speaks again. “You didn’t ask me what my decision was.”

You huff. “I think you’ve made it abundantly clear.”

“You’re hired.”

Oh.

[gorgeouslypink]

hi gorgeous!!! idk if u rmbr me but I told u that I was going to delete tumblr and only comeback with a success story and I have not just one but two!!

the first time I entered was through a meditation, I just used this subliminal https://youtu.be/b66f_Ca0jBQ and I meditated and I entered within 30 minutes or so? it was soooo calm and quiet and i only affirmed that I had my desired face and that I always wake up in the void state completely aware every night. i woke up and had my desired face and just marveled over my face and cried because it took so long but i finally got it. i also wrote down everything that I wanted onto a list like money, desired body, social life, and stuff like that and then I went to sleep and woke up in the void state and I manifested everything to come true and now I'm living my dream life.

for my advice to everyone, first of all, read gorgeouslypinks doubt post. Like rlly read it and understand what she's trying to say and make sure that you read the proof section until you really believe the void is real. Then I suggest reading these two posts by Edward art supply hands: https://www.reddit.com/r/EdwardArtSupplyHands/comments/l28q2o/no_one_or_nothing_to_change_but_self/

And

https://www.reddit.com/r/EdwardArtSupplyHands/comments/l3g0iz/let_go_of_control_and_control_self/

Now before you're like "ugh, Edward art" and don't even read it, I still don't even know what states are but these 2 posts just rlly explain manifesting and how to know that you desire is coming even when the 3d doesn't reflect it.

Have u guys ever read those edwardart bloggers who are like "you shouldn't care if it shows up in the 3d" and you're like but that's the entire purpose?? Well I was too but after reading those 2 posts I understood that they just used his words out of context. Just read those 2 posts, trust me it will make manifestation click for u and help u stay motivated until you enter the void and if u follow it correctly u will enter the void quickly (I entered 5 days after reading and implementing what he talks about).

Basically I would just do the Mary kate meditation that gorgeosulypink recommended in the morning and just know that the void is easy for me and I enter instantly and easily. Then I would go about my day and just like if any inconvenience happened I would just be like it's okay I'll enter the void and fix this and if I ever thought abt the void I would just tell myself I always enter the void instantly and easily, like I feel like it doesn't sound special reading it but once u read those two posts and understand you'll see what I mean. I was basically like Neville when he was in the army just keep telling yourself that u enter the void easily even if the 3d doesn't reflect that.

Then everyday I would meditate for the void. I did 4 guided meditations but they didn't rlly work for me so I switched to just void subliminals and then I entered! I basically just let myself calm down and relax, focus on just my breathing and breathing slowly and once my head cleared up then I rolled my eyes to look at the center of my forehead and imagined like a black hole surrounding me and just started affirming I am in the void and I entered.

Thank u gorgeous and everyone just follow what I did and I promise it will work for you.

Hi love! Sorry for the late response and omgosh I'm so proud of you and you deserve everything! 💗

[finnsbubblegum]

Best First Date I’ve Ever Had (Joel Miller X Reader)

Pairing: no-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: 18+, fluff, sweet joel, domestic joel, rom-com, smut

Summary (Series): reader as Joel’s neighbor. Joel’s wife left him so Joel asked his neighbor for help in babysitting Sarah. 

Summary: Pov: You had an unforgettable first date with Joel Miller.

Words count: 2.7k

A/N: I’m trying to make this as a rom-com, hope you like my new series! This is part 10 of Where It All Starts. But it can also be read as a standalone. I'm so grateful for all of you! Thank you for your comments, reblogs, and likes ❤️ There are still more chapters for this series so stay tuned! Love you!

It’s been a while since I wrote smut. I hope you like it. Lol. 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

“So when can I take you out for a date?” Joel asked you on a date as he chewed his dinner.

“Aren’t we always on a date?” You mumbled as you munched.

“Sarah’s always third wheeling.” He directed his eyes to his baby daughter.

“Oh..” You nodded.

What Joel meant was a real date with only the two of you. He loved spending time when there were the three of you. But he wanted to have a moment when he felt like there were only you and him in this world.

“I guess we’ll have to find a babysitter then?”  You raised your eyebrows.

“Can you ask Flo?” He only trusted Flo to babysit his daughter.

“Ask her if she’s free on Friday night?” Joel added.

“I’ll ask her tomorrow.” You nodded.

The next day at the cafe, you asked Flo to babysit Sarah and she said yes. Flo was always willing to help you and she loved babies. 

It was finally Friday and it was the day of your first real date with Joel since you dated him. You dressed up for him and he dressed up for you. Even though both of you had seen each other's morning faces, the two of you wanted to look good for each other. It was a special day and it was your first date after all. 

You tidied your hair one more time and put on more lipstick before you knocked on Joel’s door. You inhaled and exhaled. Then you knocked on his door.

“Hi.” You waved your hand nervously.

“Hi-you-uh-” Joel was tongue tied. 

You looked so beautiful and he ran out of words. His hand was still resting on the door, jaw dropped and froze in front of you. You raised your eyebrows and let out a chuckle. 

“Sorry, I-uh-You look absolutely gorgeous.” His cheeks redden.

“Thank you, Joel. You look handsome, too.” You kissed his cheeks and it made his cheeks red even more.

“So, Flo isn’t here yet?” You walked in the house.

“Yep.” Joel answered as you heard a knock.

“That must be her.” You pointed at the door.

Joel went to open the door for Flo.

"Hi, am I late?" Flo was panting as she walked inside the house.

"Only 5 minutes. That's okay." Joel took her jacket and hung it to the coat hanger.

"Thank God. Where is she?" Flo washed her hand on the sink. 

"She's sleeping in her room." You answered her.

"Okay. I got this. Don't worry. You two enjoy your date." Flo dried her hand with a towel. 

"Go on." She shoo-ed the two of you. 

"Okay. Call me if you need anything." You turned your head to her as you walked to the door. 

"I will." Flo opened the door. 

"Have fun. You know what I mean." Flo raised her eyebrows up and down as she whispered to your ear.

You gasped and slapped her upper arm. 

"Ouch." She rubbed her upper arm. 

"What's wrong?" Joel turned to look at you and Flo.

"Nothing. Come on, Joel. Let's go." You held his hand and walked to the car. 

"Have a great night, you two!" Flo waved her hand goodbye from the porch. 

At the restaurant

"Thank you." You sat as Joel pulled the chair for you.

"Okay. What do you want to eat?" Joel read the menu.

"I think I'll get the chef's menu." You closed the menu book. 

"Okay." Joel closed the menu book on his hand too.

Joel and you both ordered the chef's menu for the night. It was a good choice. You liked the meal. It was delicious. 

"Hmm. It's really delicious." You chuckled. 

"Yeah, this is amazing." Joel nodded as he chewed.

"Oh!" You gasped as you dropped your fork to the floor. 

"Nuh-uh. I'll get you new ones." Joel stopped you from reaching down the table to get your fork back.

"Excuse me, Miss." Joel raised his hand to get the server's attention. 

One of the waitresses saw Joel and walked towards your table. 

"What can I help you, sir?" The waitress asked.

"Can we get a fork, please?" Joel asked the waitress.

"Yes, of course." The waitress went to get you a new clean fork and brought it to your table.

"Thank you." You and Joel said it at the same time.

The dinner went amazing. You enjoyed the food, the vibe, and the place that Joel had reserved for your first date was beautiful. You appreciated him for choosing a beautiful restaurant. You offered to pay but he insisted that he paid for the dinner. Joel was a gentleman and he said "a gentleman pays on the first date.".

"Wanna take a walk?" Joel offered to take a walk as he opened the door for you.

"Yeah, I'm full. A walk sounds good." You rested your hand on your tummy.

You walked slowly side by side with him. Then Joel suddenly put his hand on your left upper arm, pushing you gently to the right so he could walk on the outside of the sidewalk. You felt butterflies in your stomach at his chivalrous gesture. Pouting a few times, holding yourself to smile every second. 

The two of you talked as you walked but then you had a quiet moment. Your heart beat faster as your hand and his hand brushed on each other's as it swung when you walked. You had the urge to hold his hand but you were too nervous to make the first move. But before you knew it, Joel's hand was already on yours. Your fingers and his were now intertwined. You looked down and smiled. You didn't want Joel to see you blushing. Little did you know, he was blushing too. The two of you just walked on the pavement enjoying the night breeze under the street lights. No conversations, just fingers intertwined, swinging your hand, and smiling while looking in the opposite direction to hide your butterflies.

“I remember you told me you love ice cream.” Joel suddenly started a conversation and looked at you.

“Yeah, I love ice cream.” You smiled because he remembered what you liked.

“I know a good place around here. Want some?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Of course. I always have room for ice cream.” You chuckled. Joel chuckled.

You chose chocolate ice cream just like you always did. Your love towards chocolate was so big that you never chose any flavor beside chocolate. And Joel remembered that. The two of you spent an hour at the ice cream place and talked again. Even though you met Joel every day, there were always things to talk about. The connection between the two of you was so strong that you had never run out of topics and neither did Joel. 

“Is this the last stop?” You asked Joel as you walked near to the car to open the door.

Joel smiled then he took your hand, spun you, and pulled you closer to him. You chuckled as you bumped into his chest. 

“One more.” He kissed your forehead.

Then he let you go and opened the car door for you.

“Where are we going?” You put on your seatbelt.

“It’s a surprise.” He started the car.

“Okay, Mr. Miller. I trust you.” 

After a few minutes of driving, you recognized the streets. You guessed he was bringing you to that hill with the beautiful view again. 

“Joel Miller’s favorite place.” You smiled and shook your head.

“It is. You told me you’re in love with me at this place. How can I not like this place?” He chuckled.

“Uh-huh.” You nodded.

“Do you wanna go outside?” Joel took off his seatbelt, his hand on the car handle, ready to go out.

“Let’s just stay here for a while.” You held his wrist.

“Okay.” He let go of the car handle. 

You closed your eyes, rested your head on the headrest, and took a deep breath in and out. 

“I’m so happy, Joel. Thank you.” 

“Me too. It’s all because of you. So, thank you.” He took your hand and rested it on his thigh.

“It’s because of you, too.” You opened your eyes and faced him.

Joel and you looked at each other with admiration, affection and love. Joel leaned in closer and so did you. Both of you smiled before you shared a deep kiss with him. 

“You taste so sweet.” He sneaked in a compliment in between the kisses.

“It must be the ice cream.” You smiled and continued the kiss.

You were caught in the moment. And you started unbuttoning his shirt as you kissed him because you were so madly in love with him.

“Are you sure?” Joel stopped your hands from unbuttoning his shirt.

“Uh-huh. Isn’t this why you brought me here?” You smirked.

“What do you mean?” He didn’t catch up.

“I remember the last time we were here, you told me this “We’re not *peck* done yet.”.” You did the same thing he did to you the last time he brought you to the place for the first time.

“When did I do that?” He acted dumb.

“Don’t act like you forgot about it. I know you’re lying.” You booped his nose with your index finger and he blinked.

Joel chuckled in embarrassment. He didn’t mean to have sex with you by bringing you to the hill. But if you wanted to, of course he couldn’t refuse your offer. You were so beautiful and he had imagined a million times making love to you. 

“Make love to me, Joel.” You whispered to his ear.

Joel got shivers from your whispering voice. Then he dragged your head closer to his. Kissing you so passionately like he was hungry to eat your lips. You kissed him back while your hands moved to unbutton his shirt. He threw his shirt to the back seat after you were done unbuttoning him. And you crawled to him on the driver’s seat. He helped lift you to sit on his lap facing him. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waitin’ for this. Watchin’ you takin’ care of my daughter. Actin’ like her real mom. Actin’ like my wife under my roof. I couldn’t wait to make you feel good.” Joel cupped your cheeks.

“Me too, Joel. Tonight is your chance.” You put your arms around his neck. 

Joel continued the kiss and his hand started to move around you. Caressing you, adoring every curve your body had. He suddenly lifted your dress to your waist and snaked his hand to cup your pussy. 

“Already wet for me darlin’.” He mumbled in your mouth. You chuckled.

Joel’s hand now sliding inside your panties to find your clit and started rubbing it in circles. Slowly and passionately while he was still kissing you. You gasped at his touch on your sensitive spot. 

“Do you like it slow or fast, baby?” Joel asked while his fingers were still inside your wet panties.

“Fast.” You answered while panting.

Joel listened to you and did what you liked. He wanted to make you feel good. Just like he had told you, he had been waiting for this moment for a long time. This was his chance. After he started to find his pace and a few moves, you felt you were reaching your orgasm. You moaned in his mouth and he swallowed it. Your fingers gripped the headrest behind his head and squeezed your eyes shut. You pulled away from his lips and rested your head beside his while you panted. You caught your breath and kissed his hairy jaw. Then you looked through his eyes and took his hand. 

“Touch me.” You brought his hand to your breast and he cupped it.

The two of you kissed again, licking each other’s tongue and lips while his hand kneaded your breast. You were too aroused and you wanted him to touch you bare. So you pulled your dress up and took it off. You threw your dress away to the back seat while Joel helped you take off your bra and put it away. 

“You’re so beautiful.” 

Joel took a moment to admire your naked body before he buried his face to your chest. His hand held your breast and brought it to his mouth so he could suck your nipple. You moaned at the feeling as you put your hand behind his head and slightly pulled his hair. He moaned as he kept sucking, licking, and kissing your breast. You could feel his cock hardened under you so you started grinding on him. Feeling his hard cock under his jeans. He groaned at your tease.

“Let me ride you, Joel.” 

You begged him as you took off your wet panties hurriedly while he undid his belt. You helped him pull his pants down and free his cock. Your jaw dropped when you looked down to see his cock poking out under you. He smirked and you cupped his jaw to kiss him. His hand moved his cock to your folds gathering your juices before he slowly slid himself inside you. You gasped as he stretched you wide. 

“Fuck, baby. You’re so tight.” He buried his face on your shoulder.

You started to move your hips grinding on top of him with his cock inside you. Both of you moaned, feeling each other skin to skin. You rode him moving your hips in circles feeling him touching every inch of your walls. 

“That feels so good.” You whispered in his ear again.

Joel moaned at your voice. He loved every part of you including your voice. So you were giving him an ear orgasm by whispering to him. Of course you didn’t know about that, but you felt like you hit the jackpot when you realized he enjoyed listening to your whispers. Joel wanted to make you feel good and you wanted to make him feel good too. You two loved each other so much.

You wanted more so you braced yourself holding on to the shoulder of the seat and started to bounce. Joel groaned at your sudden movement. He rested his hand on your waist adoring your bouncing tits. You leaned in closer to kiss him while you still bounced on him. Then he started to thrust into you too. The two of you moaned feeling one another but you swallowed each other’s moans. You gripped his hair and bounced faster. 

“Fuck baby. I’m close.” Joel groaned.

“Cum inside me. It’s okay. I’m on birth control.” 

“Fuck!” You kept bouncing on him and you felt close too.

You clenched your fist burying your nails on the headrest behind him. And Joel groaned, releasing his seed inside you painting your walls. Then he buried his face on your chest and you rested your chin on his head. 

“You’re amazing.” Joel mumbled on your chest and kissed it before he looked at you.

“You’re amazing, too.” You caressed his hair.

“What time is it?” You remembered you promised Flo you would be back before midnight.

“2 am.” Joel looked at his watch.

“Shit.” You cursed as you pulled back and bumped to the steering wheel.

*car honked*

You let out a little scream as it startled you. 

“Sorry.” You shrugged.

“Don’t worry. No one’s here.” Joel giggled at your clumsy actions.

“We need to go back.” You chuckled. 

Joel chuckled as you moved back to the passenger seat. He saw his seed dripping out from you. Then he took some tissues and leaned in to clean your inner thigh. 

“You made a mess.” You chuckled as he cleaned you.

“I did.” He chuckled and gave you a peck on the lips.

Then he extended his hand to the backseat to grab his shirt and yours. 

“Here.” He passed you your clothes.

“Thank you.” You put on your clothes and tidied your hair.

After the two of you finished putting all of your clothes, Joel drove home. 

“Thank you for tonight. You planned it so perfectly. I really appreciate it.” You rested your head on the head rest while facing him.

“Glad you enjoyed it because I did.” Joel took your hand and kissed it.

“This is the best first date I’ve ever had. I love you, Joel.” You kissed his hand back.

To be continued…

Taglist:

@lovelyygirl8 @skysmiller @moonlightdivine @crocodiile @angie2274 @pulchritudinousrogers @peqchsoup @msecho19 @happinessinthebeing @nyotamalfoy @nakedmoondiaries @dzaga890 @pa1g3-t0mm0 @prettysbliss @wanniiieeee @one-sweet-gubler @x-ap0llo-x @feministfanboi @ordinarylokix @afterglowsb-tch13 @padgraysonssram8re @tomorrowseverything @hummusxx @iranispunk @mrsyixingunicorn10 @likeanimagepassingby2 @mediocrewallflow3r @pedr0swh0r3 @mxtokko @dorck26 @cascactus28 @cheyxfu @stupidthoughtsinwriting @undermoonlightwalk @bigmoodyjoody @humanbug @sarahhxx03 @krisviciousx @quixscentsposts @dgct2 @dgraysonss @heybabyshae @fluffyspaceprincess @toottmblr @avengersfan25 @xixxala @dianaffddz @onzayhe @violetwitchmcu @welcometomyworldwithoutrules @kelh27

[dear-ao3]

how i met my boyfriend - the designer axe story

as promised, since we have both now graduated the statute of limitations has expired on this story and i can now share it all with you.

some notes: ra is resident assistant and this story occurred in august of 2021. i wrote this all out the day after it happened almost 2 years ago. we did not actually start dating until october 2021 after we both realized we were in love with eachother. yes, we are still together as of may 2023.

without any further ados, the much anticipated designer axe story.

so part of RA training is that we have to make door decorations and bulletin boards for our halls and buildings. i had finished my door decks at 1 am sunday morning and the bulletin boards weren't due until 9 am monday morning. so i had all of sunday to work on it.

my building has no less than seven bulletin boards per floor and an additional 4 on the entrance floor. i dont know who the hell built this building but we need to have a serious talk about when too many bulletin boards is too many fucking bulletin boards.

so i was in charge of three on my floor. one about me, one covid policies and one sloth (his name is sam and i love him). and i am a chronic procrastinator. so i finished my about me and got through about 95% of my covid one by like 9pm and had to go back to the res life office to cut out a few more letters and get some scrapbook paper.

at this point its probably important to know that the only people on campus at this point were the RAs, some students getting mentoring training, and a few random first years here for an early arrival program. plus some staff.

now, i need you all to understand that there are 42 RAs. all of us have the same deadline. all of us had between 2 and 5 bulletin boards to complete. plus door decks. and room condition reports. so we were all moving at literally 600 frames per second, 120 miles per hour, or about as fast as a child does when they are told there's cake.

which is to say, we were all frazzled and stressed out of our minds.

so i open the door to the res life office at around 9 pm to cut out the word "but" in orange construction paper and grab 2 sheets of purple scrapbooking paper. in the office are the four RAs that were on duty that night, plus a good 7 other people are running around asking about glue sticks and construction paper and keys.

i knew that i only had my sloth board left to complete so i decided to take my sweet ass time, knowing that i was in need of a good break (and also im just a procrastinator) so i cut my letters and grabbed my paper and stood at the desk for no less than an hour talking to everyone about things like the fact that i fell out of a suitcase when i was 2 and that tamper proof lids exist because of the chicago poison pill murders and the flagship l.l. bean store in maine. it was very productive.

so i finally slink back to my dorm at around 10pm, very confident that i would finish by midnight and could watch some netflix or something before i went to bed. if only i knew what was in store for me.

i enter my dorm building and walk to the elevators. and then. one of the RAs from the third floor was like "oh saph. [another RA in the building] is looking for you."

and me, of course, didnt bring my phone to the res life office so i didnt know this.

i go up to the second floor and see one of the RAs from the second floor and another from one of the other buildings working on a bulletin board. they say "oh saph. [the same RA in the building] is looking for you."

i run up to my dorm and discover that somehow we missed the bulletin board by the downstairs elevator. seriously there's too fucking many bulletin boards. and they were asking me to do it. because they wanted to put covid policies on it.

and i know i said this story was about axe body spray. and it is. we are getting there.

so panic sets in because its 10pm and i still have two whole bulletin boards to make now. one of which i have nothing planned for. so i threw some soup in the microwave (because i had forgotten that dinner existed) and opened my laptop.

thankfully, i could reuse some of the same stuff from my own covid policies board in my common room. i just had to print it. which meant, yep you guessed it, another trip back to the res life office!!

at this point i think i had taken a grand total of at least 7 trips to the res life office that day alone. its a good 5 minute walk. not terrible, but just annoying enough that you hate yourself a little more every time that you have to do it. and now its 10:30pm. i am starving. i have two boards to complete. it was crunch time.

i make it to the office and this time i had no time to sit around and debate how popular l.l. bean is. i had policies to print and letters to cut.

as im struggling with the printer (because those fucking things can smell fear), someone else in the office starts loudly discussing timothee chalamet.

and now, this is where you want to actually pay attention because this man would be the reason i ended up only getting 4.5 hours of sleep.

said man in question is quite the character. he's in my grade and im pretty sure he's a polisci major (and maybe creative writing? there's some kind of writing) and he plays lacrosse. i dont really know how to describe him other than the fact that the first interaction i ever had with him was two years ago at freshman orientation when he complained to me in the dining hall that there was no milk for his protein powder.

that interaction is in my top 10 favorite interactions ive had in college.

but the one we are about to unpack definitely takes all of the cake.

so here i am, struggling with the printer and my tiny knock off dongle. the other RA on my floor starts discussing timothee chalamet's outfits with the protein powder RA.

and so apparently the protein powder RA worked in some major fashion designer brand corporate something or other thing over the pandemic. he told me which one but i was so shot and only thinking in construction paper and glue and staples that i didnt process any of it. but it was a fancy one. the store that is.

and so here's what happened:

me: "timothee chalamet? isn't he like, 17?"

protein powder RA and the other RA on my floor: "nah he's like 25. ive checked."

yet another RA: "yeah i just googled it."

me, a wimbo: "oh im thinking of finn wolfhard. but i dont think he's 17 either."

listen before you slam me, remember it is like 11pm and i have to still do 2 bulletin boards and we have training at 9am the next morning.

so protein powder RA pulls up some photo of timothee chalamet and starts telling me about all the brands he's wearing and i literally said "i understand all of the words that you're saying separately."

and he said "exactly!! he's just so great that when you put it all together you can't understand it!! he's just too perfect!!"

and the i made a detrimental decision.

there is life before this decision and life after.

i said "well. bring your fashion designer knowledge into the lounge and help me decide what color to cut my letters."

and he said okay.

so after severely debating the different color purples that we had and listening to the finer points of the fashion industry, i noticed something important.

he smelled like axe body spray.

see i bet you thought i forgot the point of the story. i did not.

let it be known that we are juniors in college (that's 20-21 years old if you dont know). axe is very common in middle and high school boys locker rooms. i have vivid memories of avoiding that hallway so i wouldn't be choked.

so im trying not to inhale too deeply because the smell has permeated my mask as i cut my "covid safety" letters in the color this man has dubbed "light lilac" and half listening to him talk about the fashion industry.

but i finish quickly, somehow escape the smell of axe, and grab my laptop and print outs before tagging along with the same protein powder RA and the other lax player RA back to the dorms. its now 11:15 pm. i still have 2 bulletin boards to complete. my soup is sitting in my microwave in my dorm, almost forgotten about.

halfway back from the office i realize that i forgot my dongle. i say so out loud and protein power RA says that he will go back and look because he's just that guy who likes to help. i say okay fine. and i sprint to my dorm building, drop the print outs and letters downstairs for later, and start the sloth board.

several minutes later, my soup has been inhaled, my papers glued, a sloth cut out, and im sitting in a mess of construction paper and staples in the hallway when i get a text from protein powder RA that quite simply said:

"its not there. do you need help with your boards?"

and me, being me, because i am exhausted and in need of company, say "yeah sure."

by the time he finally shows up, he's changed his outfit.

as a side note, every time ive seen this man during the last 5 days of training, he's been wearing a different outfit. oh and he works for lulu lemon. forgot to mention that.

but alas, here he came, holding my papers and reeking of axe as he walked down the hall to me, who is failing to staple a sloth to my bulletin board.

so for the next two hours i did my boards and he sat and talked. he wasn't physically helping me, but he was helping me stay awake, cause this man is a ball of fucking energy, and that was very important.

i only remember about half of what he said but essentially he was talking about how he was trying to be a better person than the one that he was freshman year. which is admirable. but he does still reek of axe.

at around 1 am i finished my last board and went upstairs to clean up. he came with me and sat on the floor and continued to talk while i cleaned up my disaster of paper and staples and glue among other things. at this point i was so relieved that i had finished that i was actually able to engage in the conversation, which was surprisingly deep and interesting.

and then. its about 1:45 am. i am about to wash my dishes so i can shower and go to bed. because remember that i need to be at training at 9 am the next morning.

and he says something about trying to be a better person again. and me, in all my sleep deprived glory, says:

drum roll

"and yet you still wear axe body spray."

and all hell broke loose.

i would like to preface by saying that he freaked out in a very joking matter and was not actually mad at me. but he was definitely disappointed and in shock. the next hour pretty much consisted of:

"are you kidding me? this is prada something something cologne and all these celebrities wear it!! how dare- it could not POSSIBLY SMELL LIKE AXE!!! well i guess its a little dry and axe is kind of dry smelling...bUT I SPENT SO MUCH ON THIS BOTTLE and the lady sold me on the larger one and it was like 150 bucks and UGH i cannot smell like axe! you know i got four compliments on how i smelled today??! and you're telling me i smell like fucking- *sniffs shirt* no! there's no way!! well i mean... no i cannot. i cannot smell like designer axe. damnit saph! im gonna have to sell this whole bottle now cause i can't use it! BUT ITS PRADA!!"

for an hour.

but it was very entertaining.

eventually i dragged him to the common room cause i needed to do my dishes and sleep and he continued ranting about it there, going as far as to call his best friend (who was asleep) and another RA and ask them if he smelled like axe. i meanwhile was laughing my ass off and 12 kinds of tired but couldn't find it in myself to care.

eventually he decided he needed yet another opinion. so he went to find the other RA on my floor, which, if you remember, is the same one who was thirsting over timothee chalamet with him in the res life office all of those fateful hours before. but that RA was nowhere to be found. so he ran down to the common room below us and scared the shit out of three freshmen.

and he asked these freshmen if he smelled like axe.

the answer was yes.

after that he left because it was 2:30 in the morning, and all the while he was yelling about how he was going to come to training tomorrow with different shirts with all his different colognes on them and have me sniff them because he couldn't smell like designer axe.

and i did the only logical thing. went upstairs to my my dorm and made him a door deck that looked like a bottle of axe that had a post it on the front that said "designer."

and so. now you all know not to buy cologne because its expensive because there's a good chance it will just end up smelling like axe.

and i didn't get to smell his other colognes because i almost passed out in training and left to take a nap. but maybe that was a blessing in disguise.

we’ve been dating for a year and seven months and just graduated college :) and in a fun twist of events, prada no longer makes that cologne anymore.

[theladyofshalott1989]

 🎉 30,000 Reads on Like Moths to a Flame!!!

This morning, I hit 30,000 reads on Wattpad, Like Moths to a Flame's first home, so to speak. <3 When I started writing my series on Wattpad in March 2023, I had absolutely no idea where it would take me. In fact, I thought it was only going to be a one-shot. Silly me! In the past year and half, I'm learned so much about myself. It turns out I can write 3 whole books in that relatively short period of time, alongside a plethora of one-shots, a short story, and a spin-off fic. All combined, that amounts to over 300,000 words. (I'm including the currently unpublished word count for the third book, chapters of which I'm posting weekly.)

I've also gained so much, the best of which are the wonderful, creative, and kind friends I've met along the way. Even during the hard times, just thinking of you all (you know who you are!!!) can turn my day around. <3

Some other things I've gained:

1. My writing skills have improved considerably, despite the fact that I've been writing on and off since I was a pre-teen. Writing daily will do that (haha). 2. I finally have an AO3 account! I've been reading on AO3 for over a decade but I never had my own account. I finally joined last August and I'm so glad I did! The AO3 community is so wonderful and I'm thrilled to finally be contributing to it as a writer. 3. I rejoined Tumblr. In January of this year, a reader on Wattpad recommended I check out the HL community here, so I said, why the hell not? And now look where we are. :)

4. Fan art! Last summer, a wonderful reader reached out to me on Wattpad with fanart and it snowballed from there. Every piece I receive from an artist, even to this day, I tear up in the best way. I've never been able to create art in this way (believe me, I tried for years LOL), and I am in absolute awe of all you amazing artists that can do so. The fact that so many of you have been inspired by my work and have had the courage to reach out and share your beautiful creations with me is truly astounding. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. 5. Last, but certainly not least, HL rekindled my passion for writing. Prior to last spring, it had been years since I'd written something for myself. The moment I set pen to paper (yes, I wrote the first chapter in a notebook first because I wasn't sure if I was going to share it with the world!), I knew that was it for me. I was done-zo. I was sucked back into the world of writing. And I'll forever be grateful to the game for doing that for me. Finally, here's to Sebastian and Damien, who have taken on a life of their own. They're my boys, my brainrot, my children (besides my actual child - Sorry K, LOL - and yes, she may only be three but she could absolutely point out Sebastian in a lineup), and they'll hold a special place in my heart for all time.

Thanks for being on this journey with me! It's been a blast. :)

And just because, here's my Sebastien relationship playlist, which I think I've only shared here on Tumblr once before. It has a lot of fun, upbeat songs on it. Enjoy!

[stashandtell]

Nobody Asked For This: My Rankings of the Hermione x Weasley Ships with REASONS

I drafted this weeks ago and had set it aside with no clear plan to publish it. Then, after a stroke of 2 AM genius this morning, I wrote a piece called Ranking the Weasleys, (to be posted on 19 Sept 2024 in honor of Hermione's birthday) and it seemed like a great time to finalize this post and share it. Feel free to tell me your rankings in the comments, be it your list of the fittest Weasley as you find them or your ranked-list of pairings with Weasleys, whatever you fancy to share. Enjoy! - - - - I made a loooong post with recs for each of my top Hermione/Weasley ships that you can check out here. Read Ranking the Weasleys or see the related post where I talk about writing Ranking the Weasleys and I share just a few initial thoughts on the fetishization of war wounds in the fandom here. - - - - I've recently dove into the world of Hermione x Any-Of-The-Weasley-Brothers pairings, which is what happens when you're burnt out on the regular ships you read and looking for something more. Personally, I'm surprised I gravitate towards so many Hermione-focused pairings, especially het pairings, but that's just what I've been into lately. I hadn't considered pairings with her and any of the Weasleys until someone recommended Charmione fics in a thread for Theomione. Once I dug into the fandom's characterizations of the Weasley brood and had a better sense of who each of them were on their own, I found I really like many of these ships, some more than others. The rankings of my top-three rotate pretty regularly depending on the last great fic I've devoured. This is a snapshot of where things stand today but it could move around. Before we dive in, I've preview my rankings and the major themes of the pairings in the most popular fics shipping Hermione with a Weasley. 1. Bill: Wolf-ish Daddy 2. Fred: Uplifting, Fun, and Romantic 3. Charlie: Sexy and Rugged 4. George: Growing Through Grief 5. Percy: Acceptance of Self, Also Rules Daddy 6. Ginny: A Firecracker and a Friend 7. Ron: Angsty Best Friends-to-Lovers 8. Gideon or Fabian: Time Travel AU or Ghost Lover(s) 9. Arthur or Molly: I haven't read these ships so they're going in the bottom of the list. I'm not opposed to reading these pairings but there's already such a trove with all the brothers in my tbr list that I'm not sure I'll ever dive in. 10. Weasley Progeny: I haven't read any of these ships. I have not read many pairings that include anyone dating their friends' kid in the next generation. (Though I have read a small number of fics pairing characters like Hermione or Ginny with older characters like Kingsley or Sirius...shoutout to the older/younger Nottcissa ship.) 11. Aunt Murial: Technically she's a Prewett but I think I would be into a Murmione ship if we got there. So far nothing comes up on AO3. - - - - 1. Billmione: What I love about a Hermione x Bill dynamic is his position as oldest-sibling and caretaker. If the author has resolved the relationship with Fleur as one that has ended in divorce or death, that extra element of emotional tenderness really can push the story to complex depths. I also find it interesting to see how writers engage with Bill's hybrid/half-werewolf affliction. I'm hard-pressed to really fall in love with any Billmione fic where their relationship starts pre-Battle of Hogwarts, though I do get it. I personally enjoy stories that can be canon compliant so I want to see how the Fleur issue is handled. I also find that with such a significant age-gap for that developmental stage of teenager-dom, (not like Fleur was THAT much older than Hermione but still...), it's incredibly rewarding to see an older Hermione that brings some kind of life experience to the relationship so she can be more equal with Bill.

In some of the fics, especially a few of the multi-Weasley, reverse-harem style pieces I've finally started reading, Bill's older-brother position and wolfy streak create the core dynamic of the group.

I'm not the biggest fan of the multi-Weasley pairings with Hermione but what I loved most in the standout fics are the group dynamics and individual roles that come out. Hermione can be incredibly stubborn and independent on her own and it's always interesting when she's in opposition to Bill to see how the others in their relationship choose sides.

- - - - 2. Fremione: On it's face, I don't even know if I like this ship all that much but I keep finding myself suckered in. I suspect a big part of it is that it hits me in the sentimental feels. My inner-teen just loves a Hermione x Fred story that traces their young love to whatever conclusion the author brings it to. Even if they get together when they're older and Fred lives through the final battle, they both usually end up with a friends-to-lovers scenario that's full of light sweetness and sometimes romance.

There are some truly fantastic works in this ship and I go 50/50 on whether I prefer ones where Fred lives or not. Depends on my mood and the tone of the story I suppose. There are very few stories in this pairing that I haven't enjoyed and the element of pranking really can make shorter fics fun.

I REALLY enjoy past Hermione/Fred relationships being included in fics where she looks back on their love fondly while she navigates new relationships, sometimes with one of his brothers. Fred is often portrayed as a goof, which seems to encourage authors to consistently write a more engaging and dynamic version of Hermione instead of following some of the fanon's (beloved by me as well) personality tropes/traps of her being insecure, slow-to-assert-herself, angry-broken-or-both and etc. His character brings out some of her best qualities consistently across fics, imo.

- - - - 3. Charmione: I quickly realized when I started reading Charmione fanfics that I do not give a shit about dragons but deeply wish I did. It's a cool plot device and part of the world to hang out with but it's not for me. Tons of appreciation for writers who have thoughtful plot lines and research interesting medical maladies-- but it's hard to hold my interest. (A million kudos when a dragon-centered fic does though!) The Reserve is usually full of original characters, which is fine, but I find myself less invested in the story if we don't know much about these OCs to build out that world.

I often find in the dragon-reserve heavy pieces that I was getting part-way through were objectively GOOD multi-chapters but I kept stalling out in favor of reading something else. Usually whenever there's a Hermione that ends up at the dragon Reserve, she's characterized by her unyielding passions for creatures' rights, spurred on by house elf and werewolf activism. Those are interesting characterizations for her but they just don't keep my attention. That said, I have yet, to date DNF'd any Charmione work so clearly it's not a huge imposition. That said, Charmione is in the top third because there's so much that can be done with this character. I've read a number of fics where Charlie is ace (asexual, demisexual, etc.); where's he's inexperienced because he's married to his job; where he's "too free-spirited" and very experienced; where he's enthusiastically bisexual; where he's not interested in marriage; where he's pining over Tonks; and so much more. His sporadic attendance at family holidays and the ability for Hermione or others to visit him on the Reserve lends to great plot opportunities.

- - - - 4. Geormione: I haven't been around long enough to fully understand why Fremione is a more popular ship than Geormione, but here are some observations: - Fred is portrayed in the fandom as the more loveable, airy goof while George tends to be painted as the more serious and quiet of the two - Generally, in the canon, Fred speaks more than George, from what I've been seeing, as I notate up my secondhand copies of the books - Fred's death or, depending on the fic, brush-with-death, is ripe for the reimagining of his relationships and personality - According to internet gossip, Hermione with Fred were considered for pairing in the canon originally but it didn't suit the overall plans for the series. Source for this can not be verified but it's come up in multiple places. I believe this contributes to the numbers: Fremione has 2182 works and Geormione has 548 works on AO3, as I draft this. All that said, George is usually characterized as the quieter and possibly more serious twin. He might be more shy than the outgoing Fred. Post-war, he often mourns the loss of his twin brother, his best friend, and his sense of himself as part of the pair which can, frankly, be kind of a drag if a writer is looking for a pairing to write a hot romance about. (Not that people can't be sexy or have healthy sexual relationships while grieving!) However, when works take the journey to establish Hermione and George, it's often incredibly rewarding. It tends to feel like Fremione with the temperature turned down on the lightness and has the ability to go deeper into any darkness that needs to be explored. I do love a Geormione but there are statistically fewer works out there than some of the other pairings, thus it's earned it's spot mid-tier. - - - - 5. Permione: There's not much to say because there aren't that many longer fics with this pairing written and most times it's tied to a Hermione x Multi-Weasley scenario. This gets the 5th and some days I would rank it higher because there are worlds in which this is the actual correct pairing of all of the brothers, based on what we can surmise from the canon.

A swotty, uptight prefect-turned-Ministry drone with a regretful heart of gold, Percy's guilt over abandoning his family and Fred dying before him is well-matched for how many writers imagine Hermione's coping with the aftermath of the war. Hermione would have known him during some prime formative years and knows he'll date muggle-born or half-blood witches, a la Penelope Clearwater. It's easy to dismiss Percy as being "not fanciable" if you don't read this ship but some of the writers out there make a compelling case for him, particularly when they make a logical transition from his personal fastidiousness to him seeking to play with control and BDSM elements in his private affairs. I love a good Permione piece. He's often positioned as the conservative punching bag of the family and it's a thing of art when a writer makes us root hard for him.

- - - - 6. Herminny: I haven't much of anything in this pairing yet. Truthfully, I've been holding off on it because I'm sure I'll do a deep dive once I start. It shouldn't come as a surprise that I've read almost no Harmony works either. I love a F/F fic but tend to read in waves and I've been working my way through the Weasley brothers pairings (when I'm not refreshing for Nevmione and Theomione works.) If you have any excellent recs for Herminny or other pairings name, please drop me a line! The reason Herminny is above Romione is because I love many of the fanon characterizations of Ginny in all the other fics I've read, especially when she's mischievous, cheeky, in tune with her sexuality, and ready to take on her own adventures in the world. The ones I have read where she and Hermione have been together were lovely but most were very short fics in collections. - - - - 7. Romione: I read A LOT of Hermione-centered works and authors very often find a need to resolve the young romance with Ron or use him and their relationship as a catalyst that propels our heroine down a path into the arms of another man. I can honestly say that I have read ZERO Romione endgame fics to date, and that includes one shots AND drabbles (~100k words or less.) WILD, right?

I really enjoy angst and Ron is one of the punching bags most often leaned on by writers. One of these days, I'm going to go on a Romione bender as an offering of penance to his character for all of the times I rooted against him in every other fic.

- - - - 8. Lowest Tier: I have never read a Hermione x Molly nor an Hermione x Arthur fic, and while I'm not fundamentally opposed, I'd be flabbergasted to find either pairing beating Romione. I'd much sooner read an Arthur/Molly fic than one that ships either with Hermione because that's just where I'm at right now. I'm happy reading works that aren't smutty in any way but damn if some smut doesn't help along a work that really isn't capturing my interest. While I love when I see versions of Arthur and Molly who are loving friends and/or parental figures to Hermione, the angst-lover in me doesn't mind a solid bashing of either of them and it's hard to get that out of my head. As for the other possible pairs with Hermione and Gideon, Fabian, Murial, or the children of the other Weasleys, I'm just not well-read enough in any of those pairings to have an opinion. I literally only started reading Marauders-era works two weeks ago (and really ONLY well-known Wolfstar fics so far.) A Note About Fleur: One character who's excluded from this list is Fleur Weasley nee' Delacour. I've only read triad- or multi-Weasley fics that put Hermione with her and Bill. While I do love a Bill/Fleur/Hermione work, it seemed disingenuous to rank Fleurmione against the others with what little I've read. That and I'm so clearly jazzed about a Billmione where Bill's free-and-clear to be with whoever, that my ranking of Fleurmione would be heavily biased.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I refuse to do anymore work on the group project we already missed the deadline for, but can still submit?

I am extremely tired of being walked over and doing all the work. I'm a 3rd year uni student and multiple times I've been the main person doing group project work. The latest example is what prompted this ask. Our task was to do a discussion and then write an essay based on it, the group consists of 4 people including me. We talked for 10 minutes at the end of last week and a little bit yesterday. We did the majority of the work yesterday as well.

There are 14 points/questions we need to cover. Multiple people not only are advised to, but must cover the same questions so there's substance to be worked with. While the rest of the group covered some, it's insufficient and I did the majority of the work on the first half of the questions and all of the second half. A worked on 4/14 questions (pretty short answers), B also did 4/14 questions (one longer answer, three pretty short answers), C wrote 2.5/14 questions (2 medium length answers, one single sentence answer) and D, me, did 11/14 (mainly long answers with a couple of shorter ones).

After I made a Google Doc to make communication easier, they submitted their answers and basically ghosted me. I asked multiple times for help but was met with silence or jokes about checking the grammar and typos later for me. Again, we don't have enough substances to work with, the essay CANNOT be completed with what we have so far.

And here's where the issues get deeper. I asked for someone to at least look at what I've written down so far multiple times, proofread it if you will. Silence. I know for a fact A and C were FREE and could've continued working on the project, while B might or might not have been at work. Finally C said they'll do it. We were left with less than an hour to wrap it up and submit it before the deadline at this point.

2 minutes after saying that they'll read it, they sent me a "it's great" message. They shameless lied to my face.

I was inside the Doc the whole time and no other users were shown to be viewing the page, let alone reading 3 lengthy paragraphs in 2 minutes.

At some point during the day I was so desperate, I was ready to delete all I've written, comments, intro and first few paragraphs of the essay, everything and beg to join a different group. But a friend managed to calm me down and I didn't go that route.

I can't write to the professor and explain the situation to him, it's just not an option, that's not a practice in my country when the subject only consists of lectures and the professor has to look after 100+ students. My last hope is tomorrow morning those 3 will see the newest messages of me asking for help to finish it and will help me. If that doesn't happen, well...

What I can do is say fuck it and give them the same treatment they've given me – ghost them, don't do additional work on the questions and essay and take all of us down for not finishing and submitting the final project. I don't really want to do it and fuck up our grades (we have no idea how important this homework is for the final grade) but I genuinely see no other way. So WIBTA?

What are these acronyms?

[neewtmas]

12 days of Christmas // A Lockwood & Co Advent Calendar

DAY 10

Hello everyone! It's the second-to-last post for this advent calendar, and today, it's time for my personal favourite. I wanted to include an x reader fic for every member of the agency, and after Lucy (day 2) and Lockwood (day 6), it's finally time for George! Seeing as this is a certified George-Fanblog™️ of course his fic is gonna be the grand finale.

But the best thing about today's post is that it is actually a collaboration! I wrote this together with the wonderful and insanely talented Eden (@givemea-dam-break) who understood my vision for this so well and I am so proud of what we created together. Thank you so much for doing this with me Eden, it was so much fun!!! love you🫂🫶🏻

make sure you don't miss out and go check out Eden's other writing here: masterlist

Brother Knows Best

pairing: george karim x fem!reader

wordcount: 6.3k

short summary: George's brother shows up at 35 Portland Row and shakes things up between George and reader

advent calendar tags: @givemea-dam-break @wellgoslowly @maraschinomerry @losticaruss @oblivious-idiot @uku-lelevillain @avdiobliss @strawberryloveyyy @strawberrycowgirly @demigoddess-of-ghosts @thefriendlyneighborhoodmomfriend @boookfreeak

my masterlist

day 1 day 2 day 3 day 4 day 5 day 6 day 7 day 8 day 9

It was a beautiful day in the middle of winter when (name) realised she was in love with George Karim.

The two of them were walking side by side, their breaths forming little puffs of white in the freezing air. It had snowed the night before, but all that was left were some dirty grey piles on patches of grass by the road. She’d had her hands buried in the warm pockets of her coat the whole walk, but still, her fingers felt stiff as she pushed open the gate in front of 35 Portland Row. George followed closely behind, carrying a bag full of books and newspapers they’d borrowed from the Archives. 

(name) bounced up the stairs like she always did, not considering what the puddle of melted snow on the steps that had wet her shoes this morning would turn into over the course of the cold day. The worn sole of her boot slid over the patch of ice, and she lost balance, trying to grip the railing to prevent a fall. 

But that wasn't necessary. George was there in an instant, arms wrapped around her and steadying her until she found her footing again. 

"Are you okay?" he asked, and she nodded, finding herself unable to speak. 

He released her from his grasp, taking a slow step back. (name) could do nothing but stand still for a moment, trying to calm her racing heart. She had no idea if it came from the adrenaline of almost falling or the shock of having George be so close to her so suddenly. She watched as he picked up the bag he had dropped on the ground in his rush to catch her, and then searched his coat pockets for the house key. His fingers trembled slightly, probably from the cold, as he pulled it out and turned it in the lock, keychains jingling.  

Inside, the kitchen was deserted, but the kettle was still warm so (name) just had to choose two mugs and quickly reboil it while George laid out the books they had gotten. At this time of year, the warm, cosy kitchen of Portland Row was so much more inviting than the somewhat chilly archives. They could turn the heating up as much as they wanted here, which was why they had opted for just a short trip over to gather some books and then return to the warmth of their home. 

(name) brought the two steaming mugs over to the table and made herself comfortable on the chair beside George. He had already grabbed one of the books and was intently skimming the table of contents.

“You can get started on the newspapers," he said without looking up, flicking through the book to find a specific page. “We’ve got a few to work through.”

She knew that, of course, because she had been the one to go on an hour-long hunt for all the ones he claimed they needed. Silently, she pulled the heap of newspapers over and started with the one on top, dating back 15 years. 

George took a sip from his tea and grimaced. "You forgot the sugar." 

That wasn’t like her. She always remembered the sugar. What was up with her?

George leaned over and reached past her for the sugar, and (name)'s breath hitched in her throat at the proximity. She could faintly smell his shampoo and was near enough that she could see the little scar on his temple, barely visible, from a case they’d taken on a month or two ago. Wordlessly, and seemingly oblivious to the thundering of her heart, he poured some sugar into his cup and stirred, all the while focusing back on what he was reading.

(name) tried to do the same, she really did, but the fact that George was now so close that their legs were touching made the simple task everything but. How was she supposed to focus when all she could hear was the blood rushing in her ears; hearing him muttering quiet words under his breath as if he hadn’t just stolen the air from her lungs?

It was when she looked at him then, a picture of serenity in the winter sunlight streaming through the kitchen window, that she felt it in her heart. Some urging sense of need, of want. A desire to do this for the rest of her life - to sit beside him, whether it be to research something or remember to put sugar in his tea or God knows what. To spend an eternity pressed up to his side, feeling this thrum of her heart. To feel the thrill of his fingers brushing hers as he reached over to peek at something in the newspaper she was reading.

There was no guarantee he would feel the same, she knew that. She didn’t expect him to, not when his life revolved around uncovering the root of the Problem. But she was grateful for what she got: the time he spared for her; the books he would gift her after visiting a bookshop on his way home from the Archives; the tea he’d make in the morning, served with some partially burnt toast he’d forgotten he’d put in the toaster until the moment it popped out.

And that was okay. Truly, it was.

—

35 Portland Row was in chaos.

George was in the middle of a cleaning spree, rushing around in a flowery apron and blue rubber gloves, scrubbing at every crack and crevice to be found - and, well, there were many of those. Lockwood was straightening the pillows in the living room, something he would seldom be found doing, and it was likely that he was stuffing things under said pillows to save having to find space for them in the cluttered house. Lucy, bless her soul, was making tea quicker than her hands could move and had spilt boiling water on her toes. Many curse words ensued.

This chaos, however, did not extend to (name). 

Standing by the living room window, staring out onto the street beyond, she felt an odd sense of calm mixed with a hint of excitement.

Why? What incredible company could they be having that had the ability to send the members of Lockwood and Co. into such a frenzy?

Issam Karim.

She had been set on guard duty, ordered by the younger Karim brother to shout out when she saw him approaching. In all honesty, she wasn’t entirely sure why George was making such a fuss about it. He had four older brothers, Issam, or Sam as he preferred, being the youngest of them and, according to Lockwood, the one most similar to George. So it wasn’t like he had anything to worry about.

Even still, when (name) saw a familiar mop of dark curls, she called out to the others and hurried over to the front door.

The knock came soon after; two slow taps followed by silence. George was there, staring at the door over her shoulder, tugging his rubber gloves off. And there was Lucy and Lockwood, peering from the end of the hallway like overly interested parents meeting their child’s friend for the first time.

(name) swung the door open.

Seeing Sam was like looking into George’s reflection, minus the glasses and with slightly neater hair. He was a little taller, broader, and, well, more adult-looking, she supposed. But he was most definitely a Karim.

And, god, did he smile like George, too.

It was the same kind of smile that George showed when he was proud of something - full of teeth and elation, with a sparkle of dark eyes to top it off. If it had been George smiling at her like that, her knees would’ve buckled and her heart would’ve threatened to beat out of her chest, but there was something different about Sam’s variation of the smile. Something extremely fraternal.

George ushered his brother in, scooting past (name) with barely any room thanks to the narrow hallway. Her heart lurched at the feeling of his arm brushing against hers as she hurried to move out of the way.

“Oh, Georgie,” Sam said, smiling at the decorations covering the walls, “you’ve been holding out on me. If I knew you stayed in a house like this…”

He plucked the nearest mask off the wall, scrutinizing it, and Lockwood looked as if he wanted to tell him off, but he refrained after the warning look George gave him.

(name) could understand that. He wanted to impress his brother, especially after years of feeling excluded from his family simply for pursuing a life revolving around ghosts rather than engineering.

She just hoped that he knew he impressed her regardless.

The five of them sat down in the living room, the coffee table laden with mugs of steaming tea and plates stacked high with biscuits and doughnuts. Sam plucked a Hobnob from one of the plates and chewed on it carefully, glancing around the room like a child at a theme park. He had a look of wonder in his eyes that (name) so often saw and admired in George’s.

“You’ve met Lockwood before,” George said from beside his brother. “But this is Lucy, and that’s (name). They’ve both been here a year and a half now.”

“Oh. This is the infamous (name)?” Sam’s smile was dazzling despite the scathing look George gave him. “Wonderful to meet you.”

(name) and Lucy shared a look. Lucy looked like she was trying not to smile as she caught Lockwood’s eye. It seemed like the two of them knew something that (name) didn’t, and it had her feeling a little uneasy.

“Nice to finally meet you, Sam,” she said, offering up a smile. 

The conversation went well enough thanks to Lockwood, who started asking Sam about his university life and how classes were going. Most of what he said, however, was just confusing to them. As agents, they hadn’t gotten the chance to experience much of a school life, so all this talk of complicated maths and big, fancy words went straight over their heads. Sam didn’t seem to mind. It appeared that he just liked having people he could sound incredibly intelligent to.

Definitely related to George. Although George was much more willing to simplify what he was saying so that the others understood.

Not that (name) minded. She could listen to George speak in his overly-complicated way for the rest of their lives and she’d be grateful.

An elbow dug into her side. “You’re staring,” Lucy murmured, leaning close.

“Hmm?”

“You’re staring. At George. Hard.”

(name) blinked. “No, I'm not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No! Look, over his shoulder, there’s a tear in the sofa cover. That’s what I was looking at.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes, with lovey-dovey eyes, huh? You can’t even give a half-decent fib.”

(name)’s face felt awfully hot, and she couldn’t even get herself to look in George’s general direction. She hadn’t been staring at him, right? She had just looked for a moment, finding herself particularly fond of how his hair flopped over his forehead in soft curls; how his fingers fiddled with the loose threads from a rip in his jeans, and - 

With a silent curse, she realised that, yes, maybe she had been staring.

At least it was Lucy who had noticed and not George. Although, she likely would have to deal with incessant questions at night when she was trying to sleep.

The conversation carried on for a while longer before Sam sat his empty teacup on the table and rose from his seat on the sofa.

"Alright, that was lovely, but I’m going to head off for a bit. I have some friends in the city that I haven't seen in a while", he said, wiping his hands on his jeans.

Lockwood stood up as well, brushing some imaginary dust off his trousers as he so often did. "Will you be back for dinner?" 

"(name) is cooking", Lucy added. 

Sam turned to (name) and shot her a smile. "Well, in that case, I'll make sure I'll be back. Wouldn't want to miss that."

(name) lowered her head, embarrassed at the attention that was on her now. "I'm not even that good,” she mumbled. 

"I think you're great", George blurted out, though if the slight pink tinge to his cheeks was anything to go by, he hadn’t meant to say it.

(name) was sure she was blushing now. She knew George appreciated her cooking, but considering his cooking skills, she sometimes wasn't sure if he didn't just say so to make her feel better. 

Sam left the house a few minutes later, and any indescribable tension that had built up dissipated. Lockwood and George started up a conversation while Lucy and (name) grabbed the dirty mugs and took them through to the kitchen.

"So… What do you think of him?" Lucy asked as she dumped the dishes into the sink. 

"He's nice", (name) replied, adding the dishes she was holding to the pile in the sink, though much more carefully than Lucy. She frowned at a chip in the top of one of the mugs. "But I didn't expect anything else. After everything George has said about him, you know, I half expected the sun to shine out of his ass."

Lucy snorted, leaning back against the counter. "George seems a little on edge, though, don't you think?"

(name) wasn't sure where Lucy was going with this. "He's probably nervous if we'll like him. He's family after all."

Lucy looked at her for a moment with an unreadable expression. "That must be it,” she finally said, before leaving the kitchen to retrieve the rest of the dishes that were still waiting in the living room.

----

(name) was quietly humming to herself as she sliced some tomatoes, periodically checking if the water in the pot on the stove next to her was boiling already. The house was still and quiet, just how she liked it. Sam was out with his friends, Lucy and Lockwood were out doing whatever - they had been gone since lunch - and were, in all honesty, probably fawning over each other in that way they so often did, albeit obliviously. George had buried himself in the library since Sam had left, mumbling something about 'important research and experiments'. (name) had the sneaking suspicion that that meant he was doing something with the skull, but what exactly, she didn't really want to know. Based on the faces the skull always pulled after a day like this, his expression more horrid than ever, it couldn't be anything good. 

The evening sun was shining right through the kitchen window in front of her, and in her peripheral vision, she saw movement in the garden. She looked up and spotted a small red squirrel running through the high grass before racing up the tree. She smiled at the sight of the animal and its simple joy in the winter garden, but a sharp pain tore her from her stupor, and she couldn't help the yelp that slipped past her lips.

Immediately, her gaze fell to her hand, where a deep cut on her finger was bleeding heavily. Shit, there was blood all over the cutting board. Without thinking, she hurried over to the sink and held her finger under the water, cursing at how cold it was. The water faded to red after running over her finger, and she could already feel herself starting to get lightheaded. The shock of the cut was wearing off, and the pain was intensifying.

It was stupid, really, that she was in such a fuss over a small slice. Nevertheless, she yelled for George in what was probably a futile attempt. If he was deep in his experiments, there would be no tearing his attention away. Lockwood had tried many things in an attempt to get his attention, so she didn’t hold out much hope.

But just a few seconds later there he was, suddenly in the kitchen doorway. His eyebrows were raised, lips parted in a silent question as his eyes found her finger in the tapstream, leaking a seemingly endless amount of blood.

"Oh shit, (name), what happened?"

“Thought I’d add a bit of my finger to dinner." She spoke through gritted teeth, joking in an attempt to ease herself, or even George. It didn’t work that well.

She’d never had any problems with blood, and she’d cared for many injuries her teammates had sustained over the last year, but her blood - that was an entirely different story. George was next to her in an instant, rummaging around in the medical cupboard for a plaster of the right size. She almost laughed upon hearing him complain that they needed to reorganise the whole thing as he tore a long strip from a box and cut it with a pair of scissors.

"Can you turn off the water?" 

(name) did what he asked. Before she knew it, one of his hands was gently holding her wrist, bringing her hand closer to inspect the cut. It wasn’t as deep as it had appeared at first glance, just long and thin, but it was still oozing blood. Most of the issue had been the sheer shock of it and the throbbing pain that filled her whole finger.

It was easier, though, to forget about the pain when his skin was touching hers. He held her so softly, dabbing blood away with such care that her heart swelled as she watched him, brows furrowed in concentration as he tried to avoid the cut itself. He pressed slightly too hard, and her breath caught.

"Sorry, I'll try and be gentle,” he promised.

He led her over to the kitchen table, where she could rest her arm atop the scribbled-on cloth as he worked away. He was quiet as he took the plaster off the paper, slathering on antiseptic cream before wrapping it carefully around her finger. Something in his cheek twitched.

She watched as the concentration moulded his face into some softer version of a frown, the kind of one he often donned when working away in the Archives on a more complex case. Delicately, he stuck the remaining side of the plaster down before relaxing a little. His hand rested on hers, enveloping it in comfortable warmth, and she had to question if the lightheadedness she felt was still from the blood or just from the way he smiled at her. 

For a wonderful moment, neither of them moved. His hand squeezed around hers ever so slightly, and his eyes found hers; his gaze encapsulating her very soul. She couldn’t look away, trapped in eyes that no artist could ever replicate, and found a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She could’ve stayed like that forever, would’ve given anything for this moment to last just a little longer, but it didn’t. 

George cleared his throat, pulling his hand back and tearing his gaze from hers as he stood. (name) looked down at her finger, wrapped snugly in its waterproof plaster, and hoped he couldn’t see the blush that was staining her cheeks.

"I'm going to take over dinner", George said, shuffling awkwardly. "There is no way I'll let you cook with your hand like this.”

“But -”

“Research can wait before you say anything.”

And that was that. 

(name) reluctantly did what he said and stayed in her seat, watching as he washed off the cutting board and then continued where she had left off. It was frustrating how much neater he sliced tomatoes than she did.

The pain that had momentarily subsided had come back worse, and her whole finger was pulsating with waves of dull pain. She tried her best to keep up a conversation with George, and not let on how she was feeling. No need to make him more worried than he already was. But it was clear that he was still concerned, what with his short glances back every two minutes. She had to fight back a little smile at that.

A bang sounded, signalling that somebody had just come in the front door, and she turned to look through the kitchen doorway to see who it was. 

Sam, upon seeing the kitchen door open, made his way down the steps after taking off his jacket, smiling as he entered. 

"Man, that was exhausting", he said, making himself comfortable on one of the seats - Lockwood’s. He wouldn’t be happy about that. “Forgot how big London is.”

"Do you want something to drink?" (name) asked.

"That would be great."

She squeezed past George, half-annoyed at the small walking space in the kitchen and half-grateful that she had another excuse to be closer to him, and reached up into one of the cupboards for a glass.

"What happened to your finger?" Sam asked, gaze fixed on the plaster as she filled the glass with water.

"Just a little cut", she said, plastering on some semblance of a smile. The pain was worse now after bashing it on one of the shelves. “Nothing much.”

Sam furrowed his eyebrows in a way that looked so much like George. "That doesn't seem like just a little cut", he said. "Can I check it?”

(name) didn't know what to do. She looked over to George, who was busy stirring the contents of the pot, seemingly not listening to their conversation. 

“Oh, no, George has already patched me up. I’ll be fine.”

“George is about as good at first aid as our dad, which is to say shit. I insist. It’ll be quick.”

With one more glance at George, she sat back down, setting the glass in front of Sam. No harm in letting him check, she supposed.

He shuffled his chair around, sitting so that her legs slotted in between his, then took her hand and inspected the plaster. A shadow of blood was already peeking through.

"I'm going to take this off and see how bad the cut is, alright?" 

(name) nodded in agreement, already dreading the pain this was surely going to cause.

George had turned down the heat of the stove and now leaned against the counter to watch them, his arms crossed. There was something in his expression, a sliver of unfamiliar emotion hidden in his eyes and the slight downturn of his lips.

"Is that really necessary, Sam?" he asked, his voice unusually sharp.

Sam moved closer to (name), slowly peeling the plaster off and revealing the cream-covered, blood-stained finger that had her feeling lightheaded again. 

"Oh, it’s necessary. After that one time you tried to patch me up when we were younger, I wouldn’t trust you with a paper cut.”

George huffed. “I was eight. It’s not like I was going to be an expert. Besides, you’re an engineer, not a doctor.”

Sam only hummed, glancing at his younger brother for less than a second. A shadow of a smile haunted his lips.

(name) shuffled uncomfortably, gaze flickering between the two. Tension was rising for some reason unknown to her, and she had a feeling that she was the root of it. But why? She’d only cut her finger. That shouldn’t have been a cause for anything.

“Just as well I’ve checked,” Sam murmured. “That’s definitely more than a little cut.”

“It barely hurts now,” (name) lied. “Seriously, it’s fine.”

And it was. It had been. She had liked it when George had held her hand so tenderly, making sure not to hurt her. Sam doing the same wasn’t necessarily bad, but it felt wrong. Especially with that look on George’s face. He looked ready to kill.

That look alone had a flicker of hope igniting in her chest. Did it mean he felt the same as she did, even just a little bit?

No, she told herself. This was George. George loved his books and scribbling insults on the thinking cloth for Lockwood to find later and reading away in the Archives. There wasn’t enough room for her to fit in his heart. Surely.

Sam was quick to put a new plaster on, this one more neatly cut than the one George had rushed to tear, though there had been an essence of care in it. In reality, she preferred his jagged edges over Sam’s cleaner ones.

She wasn’t entirely sure if she was thinking about plasters now.

“Thanks,” she said, taking her hand back out of Sam’s grip. “Uh, George, how’s dinner coming?”

For a moment, there was no reply. Then George seemed to remember that there was a world beyond the little bubble that had encased the three of them and hurriedly glanced back at the boiling pan of vegetables.

“Fine,” he said eventually. 

“Hope you’re better at cooking than you are at first aid, Georgie,” Sam jested.

It was clear he meant it to be a joke, but whatever had soured George’s mood had twisted it into something different. He all but scoffed as he turned back to the pan, stirring methodically.

“George is the best,” (name) said. “If we didn’t have him, we’d be living off of Lockwood’s toast and jam.”

George’s shoulders eased slightly at that. “Either that or spag-bol every night. There’s only so much of it I can eat.”

(name) laughed and so did George, albeit breathy and quiet. Even still, it had the pressure building in her chest ease off a little and had her heart aching to hear more.

Sam’s eyes flickered between the two of them. “So, how long have you two been together?”

Dead silence. There it was again - that suffocating tension. (name)'s heart felt like it had stopped in her chest entirely, and George had ceased every movement. The wooden spoon in his hand hovered over the simmering water, dripping and dripping and dripping until the sound became unbearable and, somehow, too loud.

Did she mind someone assuming she was in a relationship with George? No, of course not. She couldn't imagine anything better for herself. But the hesitation in his movements, the way he looked back at Sam with what could only be described as acute disbelief, had her lunch making its way back up her throat. That tiny sliver of hope she’d felt earlier? Gone.

“No! We’re not - ” George stammered helplessly, eyes wide. 

“Oh, my mistake,” Sam said nonchalantly. There was a glint in those dark eyes of his. Mischief. “Just from what I’ve seen today, and how much George talks about you, (name), I kind of assumed…”

“Sam!”

Sam closed his mouth, apparently unwilling to be further berated by his brother, but there was a hint of satisfaction in his smile.

- - - -

Dinner, to begin with, went as smoothly as it could after the bomb Sam had dropped. Lockwood and Lucy returned from their escapades, rosy-cheeked and laughing, but their demeanours soon shifted upon feeling the tension filling the kitchen. With nothing more than a look, Lucy seemed to gauge the situation and began talking about some of the strange stuff she and Lockwood had encountered on the streets of London.

Well, to her and (name) it was strange. To the native Londoners, it was an everyday thing. But truth be told, (name) was much more concerned about George… it was strange seeing him behave like he did.

George was often quiet, unless he was talking about a topic he was particularly enthusiastic about or insulting Lockwood or the Fittes team they’d dubbed their rivals. Yet there had always been a sense of peace in those silences, a comfort that allowed (name) to know that he was okay, either just listening or pondering away in his own little world.

Now, though… This silence was new and different and she knew that it was caused by the implication that they were acting like a couple. (name) tried to think over everything they’d ever done to make it seem that way - the lingering touches and long-held gazes, the time spent together and the happiness they always seemed to feel around each other - and she could see why. And if Sam had been telling the truth, George had talked about her to him in what she had to assume was a positive way.

So why was he reacting like this? Why did he seem so distressed by the thought of her?

It was halfway through dinner when she decided she couldn’t bear it anymore. He wouldn’t look at her. Wouldn’t answer her questions on how his research was going. Wouldn’t listen to Lockwood droning on about heaven knows what.

She stood from her chair and moved away from the table. “I’m going for a walk.”

That seemed to perk everyone up.

Lockwood frowned. “You all right?”

“I just need some fresh air,” she said. “It’s stuffy in here.”

Sam shifted in his chair, making to stand. “I’ll come along. I know some good places to clear your head -”

“No, it’s fine,” (name) insisted, and her voice came out rather firm. “I’ll not be long. Just a walk around the block.”

And then she was gone, fighting not to look back to see if George was concerned or unbothered. 

Why did she care so much if he was? He had practically ignored her throughout the whole of dinner, despite her effort to have a conversation, all because his brother had assumed they were a thing. Was she truly so inadequate? Was the mere prospect of being with her so terrible?

It didn’t matter. She’d be just fine on her own. She’d managed it all of these years, and she’d do just the same regardless. What did it matter whether or not he liked her?

But, as she strolled through the wintery streets, it became abundantly clear that no matter how hard she tried, it would always be important to her.

(name) loved George more than anything she had before. She would give him the world if she could. And part of her wanted to believe that, even if he didn’t feel the same, she would always hold on to those feelings.

But that sentiment was just for the romantic movies and sappy novels she spent her free time reading. In reality, she didn’t have it in her to give and give and give and get nothing in return.

The cold air bit at her cheeks, and she crossed her arms as she walked, trying to preserve any warmth that she could. Maybe she should’ve grabbed a thicker jacket on her way out, or changed from her trainers into the pair of boots she’d left out because, god, the frost was seeping through the canvas material. 

She almost jumped out of her skin when something wrapped around her neck.

In a burst of fear, she whirled around and stumbled backwards before realising that the thing was soft, and it was warm. And the person who had wrapped it around her was someone extremely familiar.

“George?” she asked, frowning. Her hand reached up to the thing he’d wrapped around her, nails catching on the knitted fabric. “You brought me… a scarf?”

George, who looked mildly shocked by his actions, nodded. “Uh, yeah - yes. You, um, you left without it. I didn’t want you - didn’t want you getting cold, you know?”

“Uh, thanks.”

And for a moment, she lingered, waiting for him to say something. George stood still before her, looking at her in a way she was sure he had never before - slightly wide-eyed, awe-like - but he tore his gaze from her and looked at the ground.

It was then that the feelings she’d been consumed by just moments ago began to creep back again. Why was she still standing here? So what if he'd brought her a scarf? He hadn’t even been able to stomach speaking to her after Sam assumed they were together.

The thought was enough to convince her. With a tight, thin-lipped and awkward smile in his general direction, she turned to continue on her walk. She’d come out to clear her head, and although she was grateful for the scarf, George was jumbling her thoughts again, just as he always did. And, well, if he wasn’t going to say anything, then she was just going to continue her stroll.

“(name), wait.”

She was half-tempted to keep walking, but the tone of George’s voice was enough to stop her feet from moving. He was nervous. Yes, sure, she had seen him nervous many, many times, but this was different. With the slight tremor in his voice, so very subtle, he had all the power at that moment to stop her.

Slowly, she turned to face him again, stuffing her hands in her pockets. “Yeah?”

There was a look in his eyes, unlike anything she had ever seen before. They had softened considerably from when he had been talking to Sam, and there was a crease between his eyebrows that showed a hint of worry she would usually have to search for in his movements. Never did he show his anxiousness as clearly as he did now.

“I -” His voice caught, and he tore his eyes from her face, instead looking at his muddy trainers. “I’m sorry. About how I’ve been acting today.”

She shrugged. “I get it. Your brother’s here. You want us to like him, but he’s getting on your nerves. It’s what siblings do. None of us mind, George. Sam’s nice.”

“That’s not…” It wasn’t what he had meant, and it was clear that he knew she was trying to avoid the topic. “Sam is a lot of things, you know. He’s annoying and insanely smart and kind and -”

“I’ve met him,” (name) said, not unkindly. “I know.”

George ran a hand over his face. “I know, but what I mean to say is that he isn’t a liar.”

Usually, George Karim was not someone to beat around the bush. It was one of the things that (name) admired about him. If there was something he wanted to say, then he would say it, straight and upfront. But to see him now, fumbling over himself and avoiding the point…

“You’re making no sense,” she said.

“What he’s been saying about me… me talking about you a lot.” There was a brief pause. “He’s not wrong. I do talk about you a lot. I think my mum knows more about you than about me.”

A smile tried to fight its way onto her lips, but she held it back. If this was going where she so desperately hoped it would, it wouldn’t hurt to have him say it directly.

“I suppose that’s what friends are like,” she said. “Growing up, my dad knew every detail there was to know about my best friend.”

If one were to describe George Karim, bold would not be a word they would use. Smart, of course. Sarcastic, yes. Awkward, yes again. Bold? Absolutely not.

But there was no other way to describe his actions at that moment. The certainty he stepped forward with, the soft yet assured feel of his hands wrapping around hers. God, he was so close now that she could feel his warm breath ruffling her hair. And his eyes, lord, his eyes. Despite the slow-creeping darkness in the evening sky, his eyes only seemed to grow brighter. She could see the anxiety creeping beneath the surface, whether it be for the actions that may follow or her possible reaction. 

“I don’t want to just be your friend,” he said. His voice was barely more than a whisper, but she could hear the words as clearly as she would if he had shouted them.

She had known the words had been coming or had hoped, but hearing them was an entirely new thing. She could feel her heart swell with joy and relief, feel the smile that had so badly wanted to break free rise onto her lips. Her hands shifted carefully, cautiously, until her fingers could fit in between his.

“I’m sorry again about how I’ve been acting.” His words were beginning to rush out the way they did when he had too much to say. “I hadn’t felt ready to tell you, and Sam kept pushing and pushing. I thought if I ignored him I could sort my feelings out, but then I got too nervous and couldn’t even speak to you. God, you make me nervous. Did you know that?”

Her face scrunched with delight. “Georgie?”

He looked a little out of breath. “Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Judging from the look of pure shock on his face, he had not expected such a straightforward request. He didn’t speak, but he nodded.

(name) grinned, slowly pulling one of her hands from his grip to push his glasses up his nose before placing it on his shoulder and leaning forward.

As a child, she had not liked to watch the kissing scenes in movies. They had always felt awkward and, at the time, she had never been able to imagine sharing an intimate moment like that with anybody, nevertheless enjoy it.

But here she was, kissing her best friend, and loving it. 

It was a little stiff to begin with but after a moment, they relaxed into it - into the feeling of fireworks and butterflies and warm lips. George’s hand squeezed hers, and his free hand slipped around to her back, pulling her a little closer.

The kiss didn’t last long, no more than a few seconds, but (name) found herself unable to compare the breathtaking moment to anything she had ever experienced. And, well, the look on George’s face told her that he felt much the same.

“I don’t want to just be friends either,” she said, finding herself feeling somewhat shy after such an uncharacteristic moment of confidence. “If that’s okay with you.”

George nodded with such vigour it was a wonder his head was still attached to his neck. “Okay with me.”

thank you for reading!

[aller-geez]

Blood Isn’t Always Thicker

written & illustrated by: allergeez 🖤

Hello yes this is my first Svelex fic, so hopefully I wrote them to @thekinkyleopard ‘s vision! A little bit over 8k words, lore heavy allergy snz Sven. Just a warning, there’s no snz until around 3K words, but I swear he makes up for it! Strong Language, snz obviously, allergies, family drama, etc.

Sven's gentle, purr-like laughter rumbled through the spare bedroom, the walls now adorned with posters of his favorite games and technology. The badger and himself had spent countless hours renovating the room, transforming it into a cozy "game room" where the Cheshire could stream to his heart's content.

“Alright guys, it is getting late here… I think I’m gonna end this stream for tonight and go bother Elex to go pick up some Taco Truck.. I’m starving!” The cat laughed again, a warm, charismatic sound that was accompanied by a slightly toothy grin as he placed the PlayStation controller onto the desk sitting in front of him, which was lit up with bright orange LED lights underneath it.

The choir of friendly insults that were thrown in the cats direction from others in the stream made him grin even wider, a wholehearted laugh rumbling from his lips.

“Hey! Shut the fuck up!” Sven adjusted himself in his— admittedly a little too expensive —gaming chair with a wave of his hand towards the camera, planting his feet firmly on the hardwood floor so the chair didn’t start to roll away.

“I told you, I’ll start streaming Red Dead Redemption 2 tomorrow! You’ll just have to wait…” The feline snickered, lifting his hands to adjust the custom headset sitting on his head, cleverly tucked away behind his thick teal fringe. Elex had surprised Sven with a custom headset that allowed him to wear it while his cat ears were still out, and it had been such a confidence boost for the Cheshire, although he wouldn’t admit it if you asked him.

“You could try sleeping, yknow…. Isn’t it like 4 am there? Don’t you have work in the morning?” Sven asked toward the camera, obviously getting another snarky reply that caused the cat to shake his head with another wide grin. “Well that’s on you, man. Personally, I’m gonna con the badger out of a super burrito so—“

A sharp, distinct cough from the doorway behind him ripped Sven from his playful banter to see the annoyed scowl on his boyfriend’s otherwise beautiful face.

The feline flashed the green haired man a sheepish smile before hurriedly facing the camera again, moving the cursor to hover over the ‘end stream’ button. “Okay, gotta go! Join tomorrow for some Red Dead, I promise~” Sven winked at the camera with a small wave, before ending the stream and quickly snatching off his headset.

“……how much of that did you hear?” The feline’s orange ears flattened to his head as he looked over at Elex again.

The badger had his muscular arms crossed over his chest with an increasingly disapproving scowl tugging down on the corners of his mouth around the sharp canines that jutted out from his lips just slightly.

“Enough……” The man stood silent in the doorway a second, and a tinge of anxiety flooded the cat’s chest. After an uncomfortably long few moments, finally the badger snorted a laugh, unfolding his arms from his chest and burying his hands into the pockets of his torn jeans. “okay but let’s get one thing straight, you aren’t CONNING a badger out of a super burrito, okay? I’ll go pick ‘em up, but that’s because you’re gonna be paying for both of us, AND calling in the order, alright, you little shit?”

The corners of Sven’s mouth instantly pulled up into a coy grin, and he raised his palms in front of him in defense. “Alright, alright, I suppose that’s fair~” The cat purred another laugh with a quick flick of his large orange tail, dropping his gaze to locate his cell phone among the massive amount of electronics around him.

“Call it in, I’ll go pick it up right now. I still have your card from earlier and I’ll use it to pay. You know what I like… and I swear to fucking god if they fuck it up again I’m going to swing on someone…” Elex tossed over his shoulder as Sven fumbled to unlock his phone.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll call it in. Be safe!” He replied rather quickly as his boyfriend closed the front door behind him. When the feline finally got his phone unlocked, the notification of a new text message from an unsaved number instantly caught his attention. As quickly as he could, the cat opened it, his slitted eyes widening as he read the full message.

??? — Hello Sven, I hope this message finds you well… This is your Father. I know you’ve tried to keep this number from me, and I’ve been told that trying to contact you was a bad idea but I couldn’t help but try.

??? — I was wrong about you, Sven. I’m so sorry if I ever made you feel alienated from the family. That was never my intention. But honestly, everything I want to say to you couldn’t be fully conveyed to you through a text message…

??? — That’s why I want to invite you to dinner at the house on Saturday, if you’d be willing to come. You may read these texts and laugh and not even reply and I’d understand if that was your choice. But if you would be willing to hear me out and hopefully at least be on speaking terms, I would love to hear back from you.

Sven's heart raced as he struggled to swallow the lump in his throat. How had his father gotten his new number? He had made it very clear that he didn't want any contact with him...but then why did the message say "I was wrong"? Sven squinted at the words, his eyesight possibly failing him once again. But there it was, unmistakable. His mind swirled with conflicting emotions as he tried to make sense of the unexpected message. Was this a trap? Or was his father truly admitting fault? Sven didn't know what to believe anymore, and it terrified him.

The text took him so off guard that he had to lock his phone again and place it facedown on his lap, his orange slitted eyes drifting off as his thoughts raced through his head.

What was he going to do? Would he really be able to go back to /that/ place and eat a whole meal while being face to face with his dad and be patronized for god knows how long, just to MAYBE get a half assed apology from the man?

However desperately the cat wanted to gain a shred of acknowledgement from his father after he became invisible behind Draeko’s shadow, he had no idea if his psyche could handle the man that made him run as far away from the circus as possible and get a place in secret with Elex in the first place.

Suddenly, his phone that still lay face down on his lap began to vibrate wildly, jerking Sven from his thoughts and back to reality.

Lifting the phone to his face, Elex’s contact photo plastered itself across his screen, which made the feline curse under his breath, preparing himself for an angry badger on the other end when he answered.

A dull clawed finger answered the call, lifting the phone a good foot out from his ear, and before Sven could even say “Hello.”, Elex’s angry voice poured through the phone, causing the cat’s ears to fold flat on his head sheepishly.

“SVEN WHAT THE FUCK? DID YOU NOT CALL IN THE ORDER? CAUSE ITS GONNA BE A PROBLEM IF THIS FUCKING DICK IS LYING TO ME RIGHT NOW…”

“Lex! Sorry, sorry! I got distracted and forgot to call, my bad!” The feline cried out frantically, and the frustrated grit of the badgers teeth was audible through the phone, making Sven want to be as small as possible.

“There better be a good fucking reason, Sven..” Elex mumbled, and the sound of a car door slamming shut could be heard on the other end as the badger got back out of his car.

“There is, I promise I’ll tell you when you get here— you won’t fucking believe this shit…” Sven snorted, trying his best to sound nonchalant and mask the fact that he was honestly scared shitless over the entire situation.

— but Elex could sense something was off by the tone of his boyfriends voice, and decided to let up on the cat. Whatever the distraction was, it was clearly heavy and weighing on him.

“Just — fuckin’ A, you’re annoying..” Elex sighed dramatically, seemingly put out that he had to place the order himself.

“You love me~” Sven replied with that same faux nonchalance, making Elex silently cringe.

“Yeah, yeah.” Click — the line went dead.

Sven hung his head low, swiping up his phone and hiding it under the couch cushion as if that would make the situation any better. The silence of the house was almost deafening as he thought about how to tell the badger about the texts...

He needed to clean something. Anything.

A loud sigh escaped him as he got up from the couch, making his way to the kitchen. In all honesty, the kitchen was already almost spotless, but there was plenty of stuff that could use a wipe down. His heart raced anxiously as he grabbed a dishtowel and started on the counters.

Tap, splash, scrub, tap, splash. The sounds echoed through the otherwise quiet house as he went about cleaning up any and all messes he could find. The sink faucet squeaked with every turn of the handle, the dish soap smelled strongly of lemon, and the warmth of it against his palms felt comforting.

The humming of Elex's car in the driveway snapped him out of his thoughts once again, reminding him that the badger would be home soon. A cold shiver ran down his spine at the thought of seeing his face when he walked in, and having to open up to his boyfriend on that level... Being vulnerable was kind of a hit or miss with the green haired man.

He quickly rinsed off the sponge and threw it into the sink before taking a moment to straighten up around him; even standing on his tiptoes to wipe down the very top of the fridge.

Suddenly, the front door flung open, and Elex came charging through with both of his hands full of large styrofoam cups full of soda, and a white plastic bag full of various foods hanging from his arm, an annoyed scowl across his face. Although, instantly upon making eye contact with Sven, seeing the stress weighing heavy on his features and the wad of paper towels he used to wipe down the fridge clutched tightly in his hand, the badger gave a knowing sigh as he slammed the door behind him with his foot.

“I’m so sorry, Lex, I didn’t mean to—“ Sven started to explain himself but was quickly cut off as Elex set down the drinks and the bag of food on the counter in front of him with a loud thump.

“Nah, I don’t care about that shit. What I do care about is what the fuck distracted you so much. You’re obviously stress cleaning, so it has to be something.” Elex quickly snatched the paper towels from Sven’s hand, throwing them in the trash. “Now spill it before the food gets cold.” He demanded, eliciting a cautious breath from the feline, his bright orange eyes locked on the floor.

Well, here goes nothing…

“Well… you know how I got my number changed so my dad didn’t have it anymore, when I moved, right?” Sven asked quietly, pulling on a loose string on his jeans as he spoke.

“Err… yeah? Of course. It was a pretty fuckin big ordeal if you remember….” The badger replied, one eyebrow cocked with a puzzled look on his face.

“Well…” the Cheshire swallowed before continuing. “I got a text from him…. A few actually..”

“Oh, this aught to be good… what the fuck did that prick have to say?” Elex scoffed bluntly, leaning his back against the wall with a snort.

The cat’s heart was pounding in his chest as he spoke, "He invited me to dinner. Saturday evening, at his house," Sven mumbled, looking down at his feet. He took a deep breath before continuing, "I know I shouldn't go... but it's been so long since we've spoken... and I just want to see him... and maybe make things right..." He trailed off, biting his lower lip as his ears flattened against his head.

Elex rolled his dual colored eyes, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Fuckin A, Sven. You're an adult now, you don't have to go crawling back to that asshole just because you feel bad. It's not like he'll actually apologize or anything," he scoffed again. The badger shook his head, disgusted with the idea of Sven even considering going through with this. "You know what he put you through."

"But it's not just that," Sven mumbled, looking up at Elex with pleading eyes. "I miss him... I miss— the circus, a bit…"

Elex huffed, leaning against the counter. "Well then," he started, "honestly, it sounds like you already made up your mind… But I don’t think it’s a good idea at all.”

Sven’s shoulders slumped in disappointment, although he knew from the beginning that Elex wouldn’t support him going either way.

“I mean, I haven’t replied to him yet, but… after really thinking about it… I can handle just one dinner on the very slim chance it’s not bullshit this time... And if he starts being his same ol self, I’ll just leave.” The feline shrugged, trying to put up the same faux nonchalant facade that he had tried earlier on the phone.

“I mean whatever, Sven. But don’t fucking hold your breath for that fucker to suddenly stop being an asshat to you out of no where. It’s been 26 years and he hasn’t gotten it together.” Elex shook his head with a sigh as he pulled a travel sized bottle of hand sanitizer from his pockets and squirted a small amount onto his palm before holding it out to Sven, who offered his hand. “You’re just going to get fucked over like always and he’s going to treat you like you wear a fucking helmet or some shit, and it’s going to be a disaster like it always fucking is.”

The cat’s tail twitched in annoyance at his boyfriend’s negativity, but he didn’t push the issue any further to avoid any arguments; instead he simply rubbed his palms together to sanitize his hands before silently removing his burrito from the bag on the counter.

“Thanks for this by the way.” He gestured to Elex with his unwrapped burrito before taking a large bite, to which the badger simply nodded as he removed his own food from the bag. “You’re fucking lucky I’m feeling generous today. Don’t let it happen again though.” The green haired man snorted, shaking his head back and forth as he sipped on the straw to his beverage.

As the two sat and munched silently on their food, Sven quickly typed out a reply to his father.

Sven - Hey, Dad. I just got your texts… uh, yeah… I’ll be there for dinner on Saturday night so maybe we can get shit off our chest and catch up.

Instantly the little blip in the corner began to show that his father was typing a reply. Typical.

??? — I’m so happy to hear that, Sven. Thank you for giving me a chance. I’m excited to hear how you’ve been. Dinner will be at 6 on Saturday. See you then.

Sven let out a deep breath as he finished his text to his father and looked up at Elex, who was already digging into his burrito as if nothing had happened. They sat in silence for a few more minutes, occasionally glancing at each other as they enjoyed the warmth of their food. Once they were done, they cleaned up the kitchen and headed to their room to unwind for the night. They both changed into their pjs, Sven donning a small tank top and shorts while Elex wore boxers and an oversized t-shirt. The room was cool despite the air conditioner running, but it made for comfortable sleeping conditions. They turned off the lights and crawled into bed together, cuddling close as they always did when it was time for sleep. Their bodies molded together like two puzzle pieces, two halves of one whole. For now, there was peace.

The room was dimly lit by the glow from the city outside their window, casting a soft blue hue over everything. The sound of cars honking floated in through the open window, mingling with the low hum of conversation from people walking by on the sidewalks below. It made Sven feel connected to something larger than himself—something grounding. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep but found himself unable to stop thinking about this decision he'd made that could potentially shake up his life in ways he couldn't predict; he tossed and turned throughout most of the night, trying not to wake Elex up, but he couldn’t stop his mind from racing.

The days leading up to the dinner were filled with countless arguments between the two. It was as if the tension in the air had a physical presence, making it difficult to breathe and impossible to ignore. They would start off fine in the morning, exchanging gentle nuzzles and soft whispers while they got ready for the day. But by the time they would end their days, tired and drained, their tempers would often flare up over minor things like leaving shoes in the wrong spot or forgetting to buy milk.

The cat, usually so patient and understanding, found himself snapping at Elex for no reason at all, and of course the badger would fire back. Sven was usually so level-headed and considerate, but instead he would lash out in anger over trivial matters that would normally be brushed aside. Their nighttime routine remained unchanged; they would cook dinner together, watch TV, and cuddle in bed before sleeping. But now it felt forced, like two strangers going through the motions instead of lovers sharing their space. The food they cooked together lacked flavor and sparked more arguments about whose turn it was to cook or who forgot an ingredient. The TV shows they watched would always be interrupted by sarcastic commentary or change of channel without notice. Their warm embrace before sleep turned into cold shoulders as they tried to find solace in their own thoughts instead of each other's touch.

Sven couldn't help but feel a knot forming in his stomach every time he thought about facing his father again after all these years. The last time they had seen each other had been tumultuous, to say the least. He just hoped that this dinner could be a fresh start for them both. However, part of him feared that it would only lead to more arguments and hurt feelings. As Saturday drew closer, so did their anxiety levels, making them both irritable and snappish towards one another.

That is— until Saturday morning (or, more accurately, 2 pm… but to Sven, it was morning..) finally rolled around…

It was his phone buzzing on the nightstand that finally woke the cat from his deep slumber. Opening one of his golden eyes groggily, Sven snatched it from the nightstand in annoyance and sat up, his teal hair splayed wildly in every direction. Still half awake, he squinted at the text message on his screen before clearing his throat to try and rid himself of the sudden itchy feeling that snaked down his esophagus. It was from his dad.

Dad — Hello Sven, just checking to be sure you’re still going to be here for dinner tonight? Looking forward to seeing you.

Clearing his throat again, Sven sniffled absentmindedly, rubbing the sleep from his eye with one balled up fist, using the other hand to tap out a reply. God, was he thankful for autocorrect.

Sven — Yeah, Dad, I’ll be there.

The cat left it at that, locking his phone with a loud yawn, his large orange ears flattening to his head as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and plopped his feet onto the floor with a heavy thud. Guess it was as good of a time as any to get up…

The night before had ended in another heated argument with Elex, and the badger had slept on the couch in the living room, allowing the feline to not have to be as worried of how loud he was being to avoid waking him.

Instinctively, Sven sniffled again before reaching up to scrub small circles into his nose with his palm. So itchyyyyy…

With a disapproving grunt, the cat pulled open the drawer to the nightstand shoved up against one side of the bed and fished out a blister pack of Claritin, half of the pack already punched out and foil hanging loosely from the back. He’d be damned if his allergies were going to choose today of all days to be a problem…

With a soft sniffle, Sven positioned the pack over his other hand, but before he managed to remove one of the small round pills from the pack, his breath snagged suddenly in his throat, a desperate gasp parting his lips before his head snapped downward with a soft, “Hehh.. n’gtx!”

The sudden, unexpected sneeze caused one of the cat’s nails to puncture the foil on the blister pack, one of the small round pills clattering against the hardwood floor beneath his feet before quickly rolling out of sight under the bed. But with the intensity of the buzzing within his nose, the Cheshire knew better than to assume the single sneeze was the end of it.

“K’tchh! Nnch! Nkch! — Hhh—! Ktch! Nkcht! Hh‘gsch!! Nngch!”

Wave after wave of sneezes overtook Sven as he tried to catch his breath, each one more intense than the last. "Ngt’chh! hptt’CH! h’gTShhHh! hiIh’nGkt!!" He couldn't seem to stop; his nostrils quivered maddeningly and his eyes pooled with allergic tears before they streamed down his face. Desperate to calm his overly sensitive nasal passages of the all encompassing sensation licking down the bridge of his nose, the cat frantically knuckled at his septum, but it didn't stop there; his nose still tickled mercilessly, demanding release.

“Hh—… H-Hhh—! H’NgXt! Hh‘gsch! God damnd it!” The cat hissed angrily once finally able to, quickly getting up off of the bed and darting into the bathroom with one hand cupped over his nose and mouth. He slammed the door behind him as hot tears of frustration began to stream down his cheeks, his head feeling like it was about to split apart from all of the sudden, intense sneezing.

Sven hated this feeling. The uncontrollable urge to sneeze; the intense tickling sensation in his nose that demanded his full attention and refused to go away no matter how many times he was caught up in an endless, desperate fit. It was enough to drive anyone mad.

“N’gxt—! Heh’n’gtx—!” The feline couldn’t even catch a break in the safety of the bathroom as another round of sneezes overtook him. He snatched a handful of tissues from the box on the sink counter and furiously blew his nose, trying to clear out the allergen that was causing this hellish reaction.

But no matter how much he blew his nose, it just seemed to make things worse. And with every forceful exhale, more tears leaked out of his eyes until he could barely see clearly anymore.

Fuming with frustration, Sven reached for a glass on the counter and filled it with water before yanking open the medicine cabinet and swiping yet another pack of Claritin from the shelf. He popped two of the pills from the foil package and threw them into his open mouth, chasing it all down in one gulp.

Even after multiple rounds of blowing his nose and sniffling desperately into tissues, the Cheshire could still feel that annoying tickle in his nose. It felt like there was something lodged deep within his sinuses that just wouldn’t budge.

Feeling utterly defeated, Sven slumped down onto the edge of the bathtub and rested his head in hands.

Why did he have to be such a fucking mess? Why couldn’t he have normal allergies like normal people, like dust or pollen? The cat honestly felt like the butt end of some sick joke from the universe to have such debilitating allergies to his own body.

With a suddenly very waterlogged sniffle, more hot tears began to sting at his eyes before spilling over his cheeks and splashing against the tile floor below him. How was he supposed to show up at his dads like this? It would be like asking for it at this point…

Suddenly, a sharp knock at the bathroom door ripped the cat from his thoughts.

“Sven?” Elex’s voice poured out from behind the thin, wooden door, followed by a few seconds of silence. When he was met with no response, the badger tried again. “—Sven?”

“Ghhh— go away..” Sven muttered softly, still sitting on the edge of the tub with his chin resting on his palms, followed by an almost inaudible gasp as his breathing shuttered. “Nnch! Nkch! Ktch! Nkcht!”

“You okay in there?” Elex’s concern was evident in his voice as he pressed for a response. The worry in his tone was enough to make the cat’s heart ache with guilt from the way he had acted towards the other the night before.

“—I’mb fide,” Sven managed to say, his voice muffled by the tissues he pressed against his face. “J-just dealigg with... allergies.” He let out another stifled sneeze, followed by a defeated sigh.

Elex’s gentle exhale was barely audible over the sound of Sven blowing his nose. “I’m coming in.” He stated simply despite the cat’s previous objections.

When he pushed open the door to the bathroom, he was met with the sad sight of his boyfriend huddled up on the edge of the bathtub, a wad of tissues tented over his nose and mouth and tears staining his pink cheeks. Any argument between the two the night before was easily forgotten.

“Geez, kid… One of those days?” Elex asked with a tilt of his head, a sympathetic expression on his face as he came to sit on the tub next to Sven. He couldn’t say he was jealous of the Cheshire’s plight, that’s for damn sure.

“Obviously…” The cat sniffled miserably, clearly getting lost in the sensation as he scrubbed at his sensitive nose, his large orange ears pinned back against his head in embarrassment. “Of course it w-would be— thhh— today—! Hh‘gsch! ngsh!” Growling in frustration, he blew his nose again, to which the badger offered a soft smile.

“At least that gives you a reason to cancel on your dad, yeah?”

Sven rolled his orange eyes. “Ndo, El. Cadcelligg dow would just prove himb right..”

Elex scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest. “Well, what the fuck are you going to do then? Going like this is definitely going to make you a target.”

The look that the cat shot his mate was like daggers, despite the red rimmed appearance. “See, I was hhh— hopigg it would b-be differedt thhh— H’NgXt! Hh‘gsch! k’gnsh! SNNRRFF!! —guh…”

Without even finishing his sentence, Sven yanked more toilet paper from the roll and blew his nose yet again, still to no avail, his expression getting more and more frustrated and hopeless as his fit continued.

This time, it was Elex’s turn to roll his eyes. As utterly adorable as his boyfriend was currently, he was also utterly stupid to think his dad was ever going to change.

Sven sniffled and wiped his nose again. His eyes were watering prefusely, his face red and splotchy from all the rubbing. He looked at Elex in frustration before slowly shaking his head. "I dod't dow, El. I guess I'll have to sugg it up add go."

Elex sighed heavily, beginning to get slightly annoyed at his stubborn boyfriend. He reached out to gently pat Sven's back comfortingly as he watched him struggle with his allergies. "If you say so," he muttered under his breath, knowing full well that it wasn't going to be an easy task for Sven. "You sure you don't want me to come with you? You know, for moral support?"

Sven shook his head again, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth despite his discomfort. “I'b sure it’ll be fide…," he replied between sniffles. “I thought you diddt wadt himb to dnow that were together, adyway.”

The badger’s expression turned up in amusement as he shook his head. “People live together without being in a relationship, Sven… Just tell him your room mate is coming with you, and the old man’ll be none the wiser.”

Sven’s shoulders slumped a little as he let an exasperated, defeated sigh escape his lips. “Fide… but if these Claritid kick id before I have to leave, imb goigg alode, alright?”

The badger raised his palms in front of him defensively, grinning as he rose to his feet. “Okay, okay. Just hurry up and get ready.”

Despite the embarrassment and discomfort, Sven managed to step into the shower and rinse off, letting the steaming hot water run over his body. The warmth felt nice against his skin, but it did nothing to alleviate the itching in his nose or the burning behind his eyes. He threw his head back and closed them tight, trying not to make too much noise as he gently washed himself. His allergies were relentless and already taking their toll on him, leaving him feeling weaker by the minute. Every few minutes he was forced to stop and endure yet another itchy “Nkch! Ktch! Nkcht!” before he could continue.

After rinsing off and patting himself dry with a towel, the cat emerged from the bathroom and into their shared bedroom. His large, fluffy orange ears hung low as he shuffled through his closet, trying to decide on an outfit that wouldn't make him stick out too much. The last thing he needed was for his father to make some snide comment about his choices or the way he dressed.

Sven finally settled on a simple pair of jeans and a plain t-shirt that would hopefully hide the fact that he was having an allergic attack. As he pulled them on, his movements were slow and clumsy; with every breath, he winced slightly from the sting in his nose.

His nose was still running slightly as he sat down on a stool at his vanity, reaching for a bottle of nasal spray. He squirted some into each nostril before inhaling deeply; the cool mist offered some relief from the fire burning within him. He took a deep breath and reached for a hairbrush, running it through his thick teal hair until it shone softly under the dim light of the bathroom.

Walking out of the bedroom, he grabbed his wallet and phone from the coffee table where Elex was sitting on the couch flipping through the TV channels with an absentminded air. Sven looked slightly better than when he'd gone in but the badger could still tell that something wasn't right.

"Well?" Elex asked without looking up at him. "Got everything you need?"

Sven nodded, rubbing at his nose as he walked over to stand by Elex on the couch.

The cat suffered through another itchy, sniffly “H’KngxsstSH! nXGtCHhh!” before responding, "Think I'm good to go. My nose is still pretty hhh— messed up though. Hopefully Dad will just keep his fucking mouth shut.." He sniffled sharply before standing up straighter, adjusting the neck of his shirt to make sure there weren't any wrinkles as he looked down at Elex.

“Sounds like that Claritin didn’t do shit, huh?” The badger asked knowingly.

“No, I just love sneezing my ass off...” The feline shook his head with a scowl, and the badger chuckled under his breath, shoveling his own belongings into his pockets and rising to his feet.

As they walked out of the apartment, Sven could feel every muscle protest as they navigated through the hallway and down the stairs. The scent of fresh paint filled his nose, making him want to sneeze even more but he managed to contain it with a few quick sniffs. The outside air was cool and crisp against his flushed cheeks while Elex held open the door for him - a small gust blowing by carrying with it the scent of autumn leaves burning somewhere off in the distance. The sun was low in the sky painting hues of orange and pink across the horizon; it felt like they were driving into a painting.

The ride was quiet save for the sound of tires against wet pavement and occasional gusts of wind that caused their car to rock ever so slightly. Sven sat rigidly next to Elex, his heart racing with anticipation as he wondered how his father would react to him bringing home the badger as his "roommate". He'd never mentioned anything about having one before—would he be angry? Disapproving? Or would he simply shrug it off like everything else and pretend like he didn't care?

They pulled into the driveway and killed the engine, stepping out into the cool evening air. A sudden rush of moisture hit Sven's skin as he shut his door behind him; he shivered slightly despite the warmth lingering beneath his clothes. His ears perched on the top of his head took turns swiveling to each side, taking in his surroundings. Suddenly, the Cheshire pitched forward into his shoulder. “N’gxt! Heh’n’gtx! Hehh—! n’gtx!”

Elex tossed him a glance. “Bless you.” But Sven simply waved him off.

After a few minutes, the front door flew open and a tall, slender man with a thick pair of feline like ears between his black curls and a large fluffy tail behind him began to jog down the driveway towards the men, and Sven’s ears and tail both sagged in embarrassment. His father’s expression held a broad smile, but there was an emptiness in those eyes that didn't match the joy on his face. He rushed towards them with open arms, engulfing Sven in a tight hug before looking past him to Elex with raised eyebrows.

"Oh! Hello there! I wasn't expecting a guest," he said cheerfully, even though it was obvious from the way he said it that he was anything but pleased about having visitors.

"This is my... room mate, Elex," Sven said awkwardly, avoiding eye contact as they walked inside together. His father led them through a maze of familiar hallways until they reached the living room where they sat down on a plush couch covered in worn fabric from years of use.

His father's tail swished back and forth behind him in a playful manner, his ears twitching with curiosity.

"Oh? A room mate, you say?" He smirked, setting two mugs of beer on the table in front of them.

"Well," he chuckled lightly, leaning against the door frame with his hands in his pockets, "I hope you two aren't planning on getting any funny ideas." His eyes darted towards Elex suggestively as he winked. He loved playing games like this; it was just one more way he could belittle Sven and make him feel small. He knew how much his son hated it when people thought he was 'different' or 'weird'.

The tension in the air hung palpably as Sven's father's words made their way through the room, causing the cat’s tail to stiffen and his ears to lay back flat against his skull. The badger crossed his arms over his chest defensively, glaring at the man who seemed so nonchalant about everything.

"Excuse me?" he snapped, a low growl in his tone as he shifted from foot to foot under the table. "I assure you, we're not planning anything “funny”. We're simply roommates—and very happy ones at that." He gave Sven a quick sideways glance before looking back at the elder man. "Your son has shown me nothing but kindness and respect, which is more than I can say for your treatment of him." His voice was icy but controlled, his fangs thinly hidden behind pursed lips.

Sven squirmed in his seat, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment and shame. He hated it when Elex stood up for him like this; it only made things worse.

His father's eyes narrowed at the comment, flashing with anger for a moment before he forced a laugh. "Oh ho," he chuckled darkly, "you think you know me so well, don't you?" He stepped forward, leaning down close to Elex's face so their noses nearly touched. The scent of his breath was sour from the alcohol he'd been drinking earlier.

"You think I don't care about my son? Well," he growled lowly, "you're wrong. I just want what's best for him — and what's best for him is to be strong."

He straightened up again and took a swig of his beer.

Sven winced, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand while glancing away from both men. He couldn't believe this was happening again. Why did everything have to be so hard with his dad?

Elex sat up straighter, eyeing the man warily but not backing down.

"I didn't say you didn't care about Sven," he replied coldly, "but your method of toughening him up leaves something to be desired." He gestured at Sven's flinching form. "Constant belittlement and humiliation isn't going to fucking make him strong; it'll just make him bitter and mistrustful."

The room fell silent as they all sat there staring at each other across the table.

“Ooooohkay, that’s enough of that…” Sven finally chimed in, punctuating his statement with a clearly forced, awkward laugh.

His father continued as nothing happened, leaving the room to serve dinner.

"Who's hungry?" he asked cheerfully, carrying over a large pot of steaming soup to the table. He ladled out bowls for each of them, the savory aroma filling the room. Sven glanced nervously at Elex, but his father hummed a tune, seemingly oblivious to the tension still hanging in the air.

The three ate in relative silence, slurping spoonfuls of the hearty vegetable stew. Sven's father made idle small talk between bites, asking about their work and interests. He seemed genuinely interested in getting to know his son's new roommate, though the lingering awkwardness made the conversation stilted.

As Sven sipped his hot soup, he could feel that familiar tickle begin to dislodge itself from deep within his sinuses and his eyes began water. “God fucking damn it..” he thought, “not now...”

The car tried to subtly wipe his running nose and blink back the tears, but it was no use. Despite his objections, his eyebrows knit together before he ducked to the side, away from the table. “Hh‘gsch!! Nngch! H’tshhkt!! ngsh! H’NgXt! Hh—! HeHh—! Hh‘gsch! k’gnsh! Ngt’chh! hptt’CH!!”

He started sneezing violently, nearly upending his bowl of soup. His father glared at him from across the table.

"Ugh, here we go again with the sneezing and sniveling," his father grumbled. "It happens all the time, Sven. When are you going to grow out of it?"

Sven flushed with embarrassment, hastily grabbing a napkin to blow his nose. "S-sorry," he stammered. "I can't really hhh—help it—! K’tchh! Nnch! Nkch!"

His father rolled his eyes. "It's those weak genes from your mother's side of the family. I keep telling you to toughen up, but you just keep sniffling and wheezing at every little thing."

Sven sank deeper into his chair, mortified by his father's harsh words. He wanted to disappear completely. Elex shot Sven's father an icy glare.

"Allergies are not a fucking sign of weakness," The badger barked sharply. "They're the result of an overactive immune system, not some kind of character flaw."

Sven's father snorted derisively. "Spare me the science lesson. The boy just needs to learn some self-control, that's all."

Sven stared down at his bowl, pushing his carrots around listlessly. He had lost his appetite, the soup now just a swirling reminder of his failure to meet his father's impossible standards. How could he have really thought this dinner would be any different? He still hadn’t even heard an apology from the man.

Elex opened his mouth to retort, but Sven interrupted before an argument could erupt. "It's okay, really," he mumbled. "I'm sorry for the interruption. Let's just enjoy the meal."

An uncomfortable silence settled over the table once more. The only sounds were the clinking of spoons against bowls. Sven's nose still tickled maddeningly, but he resisted the urge to rub or sniffle, not wanting to invite more criticism.

After several tense minutes, Elex could hardly contain his anger as Sven's father continued to belittle his son, just like the badger had predicted when the Cheshire first told him about this shitty dinner. As the cat stared miserably into his bowl, Elex knew he had to take a stand.

"Sven's allergies don't make him weak," Elex snapped firmly. "In fact, I happen to find his sensitivity and kind heart to be his greatest strengths."

Sven's eyes widened in surprise. His father let out an incredulous laugh.

"Oh, is that so?" he jeered. "And just how would you, a room mate, know anything about my son's character?"

The badger met the older cat's gaze steadily. "Because Sven and I have been dating for the past few months. And in that time, I've seen how caring, thoughtful and brave he is every single day."

Sven gasped softly. They had kept their relationship secret until now because Elex wasn’t out of the closet yet…

His father's eyes blazed with anger. "Dating? Don't be ridiculous. I won't have my son gallivanting around with the likes of you!”

"The likes of me?" The green haired man retorted. "What's that supposed to mean? Is it because I'm a badger? Or is it because I actually care about your son's feelings!?”

Feeling the tension in the room grow to a fever pitch, the Cheshire flew to his feet, grabbing Elex by the arm. He could feel the badger’s muscles flexing under his tight grasp, rearing up quickly for a fight.

“L-let’s jhhh— ngsh! Hh‘gsch! Let’s just go, El.” Sven choked out between each itchy sneeze that he tried to muffle into his closed fist.

Elex shot one last glare at Sven's father before following Sven's lead and rising from his seat. He kept a protective hand on the Cheshire's back as they headed for the front door.

"Don't you dare walk out that door!" Sven's father shouted after them. "If you leave now, don't even think about coming back!"

Sven paused with his hand on the doorknob. For a moment, his shoulders slumped dejectedly. Elex gave him an encouraging squeeze.

"It's okay," the badger said gently. "Fuck him, kid. We've got each other. That's all we’ve ever needed."

Sven turned and gave Elex a small, grateful smile. Then he threw open the door, and the two of them stepped out into the cool evening air.

As soon as they were outside, Sven doubled over with a characteristic fit of rapid-fire sneezes. "H’NgXt! Hh‘gsch! k’gnsh! Heh—! Ngt’chh! hptt’CH! h’gTShhHh! hihh’nGkT—!”

The badger sighed with a smile as he shook his head, already sliding into the driver side of his car, anxious to get out of this particular level of hell. “Bless you, kid. Who would have thought those allergies of yours would be so problematic, huh?” The green haired man chuckled softly as Sven slid into the passenger side with a small frown.

“Stop callin’ me kid, I’m older than you.” The cat sniffled, buckling his seatbelt before glancing over at Elex sitting next to him, a glint of admiration in his orange eyes.

After a second of silence, the badger finally cracked.

“What the fuck are you staring at me like that for?” He asked with one eyebrow cocked.

“You didn’t have to come out to my dad like that…. I know that was a touchy subject for you…” Sven replied with a soft smile, reaching out one thin hand to rest on the badger’s thigh and give him a grateful squeeze.

“Yeah, well…. I love you, kid. And I won’t let anyone think they’re going to talk to you like that. Not even your shit eating dad.”

“Thank you, Elex. I— hhh—N’gxt! love you too…“

[writerscafehub]

𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀: 𝐋𝐢𝐳

@avengers-resident-idiot

From one to five stars, how would you rate your writing? (No downplaying yourself!)

About a 3 I think, I hav𖤓 liz 𖤓en’t written anything in a while because I’ve been busy with work and school. I struggle with actually finishing anything, I swear my drafts is a graveyard of WIPs. Once I get done with my finals I plan to actually try and sit down and actually write a fic or at the very least headcanons

2. What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?

I feel like my writing is very self indulgent, I fantasize for literal days or weeks about what I personally would want to happen and imagine myself as the reader in the fic and just run with it. I have tried a few times to write an idea that a friend gives me and I just struggle cause I get stuck in my own head wondering if I’m writing it how they personally would want it.

3. Are there any writers that inspire you?

Literally everybody in the server, the fact that y'all are so imaginative and are so motivated to write fics on a consistent basis never fails to amaze me, I am on my knees begging for a crumb of the kind of motivation y’all got. 

4. What’s the fic you’re most proud of? 

Honestly probably the very first fic I ever wrote, which was a Zayn Malik fanfiction (I was a HUGE One Direction fan…honestly I still am). It was terrible, and so ridiculously cringey but to middle school me, I was the next Shakespeare  and was just proud that I actually wrote something and put it on the internet for the world to see and I regret nothing. 

5. Which character(s) do you find easiest to write and which do you find most difficult to write? 

The easiest is probably Peter Parker cause he’s such a sassy little shit and I love him. The hardest is probably Dr. Spencer Reid, I’ve tried before and I just can’t get his mannerisms right. 

6. Who or what do you find yourself writing about most?

I feel like my most of my wips are friends to lovers with misunderstandings galore 

7. Tell us about a WIP you’re excited about!

I’ve been planning this fic out in my head for the past month, idk for sure what I’m gonna call it, but it’s gonna be an Evan “Buck” Buckley x reader fic, I’m considering adding Eddie Diaz into the mix cause honestly it’s what we deserve. Basically the reader is going to open up a bakery across from the fire station and our lovely firefighters can’t resist the smell of warm bread and coffee in the morning so they go and meet Reader (considering giving her a nickname) who is dancing to 80’s music and may or may not be covered in flour, and from there hijinks, first dates, and love confessions ensue. 

8. First fandom you ever wrote for?

One Direction and I regret nothing

9. Any guilty pleasure trope(s)?

Ooo  misunderstandings that can be easily resolved if they JUST TALK, found family tropes almost always make me cry, fake dating never fails to make me laugh because the characters never think it through and I love that for them with that being said idiots to lovers is another big one, especially if they share exactly one brain cell. 

10. A trope you’ll never, ever write for.

Probably anything dark, nothing wrong with dark fics, I just don’t think I’d ever be able to write a dark fic well enough where it was actually understandable or good for that matter.

11. Wildest fic you’ve ever written?

Another One Direction fanfiction, but this time Liam Payne, it's since been deleted but basically gang leader!Liam and the reader were highschool sweethearts and broke up cause Liam betrayed her, if i remember right he gets her brother arrested? Years later she comes back to town and is part of an all girls gang and Liam's gang (One Direction) start fighting over territory, there were drunken confessions, a secret child, and attempted kidnappings and literally every other chapter one of them almost died. Middle school me was very proud of it.

12. Favorite pairing to write for? (platonic or romantic!)

Steve Rogers x innocent!reader, knight!Bucky x princess!Reader, Evan “Buck” Buckley x reader

13. Do you listen to anything while you write?

Yes, I have so many playlists, everytime I get an idea for a fic I run to Spotify and immediately create a new one and add songs that fit the vibe I’m going for, doesn’t matter what genre or language so long as I think it fits it gets added to the playlist.

14. One-shots or multi-chaptered works?

Definitely both, I am not picky whatsoever. 

15. Have you ever daydreamed about side adventures/spin-offs from your fic? Tell us about them!

Omg yes, I honestly think this is part of the reason it’s so hard for me to finish writing anything. The second I get a new idea for a fic I start imagining all sorts of different scenarios I could put them in like trips to the zoo, grocery shopping or like the same scenes from the fic, but from another character's point of view. Even if it’s not going to be part of the fic I imagine what the proposal would be like, what their vows would be, or how they'd react to their first child being born. My mind goes a hundred miles a minute when I get a new idea, but the second I sit down to write it out poof all the ideas are gone.

16. Is there anything you’ve wanted to write, but you’ve been too scared to try?

Honestly smut. There are so many talented writers out there who do a great job at writing smut, but whenever I try it just comes out to stiff and doesn’t sound write, so I always end up deleting it 

17. What’s the nicest comment you’ve ever received?

I was once told I was very good at descriptions, they said they could picture the night sky in their mind and it was like they were there. 

18. Have you ever gone outside of your comfort zone for a fic? How did it turn out?

Eh not really, I usually stick to fluff, humor and slight angst, I want to try step out of my comfort zone by writing smut, but it’ll be a while before I post anything 

19. Tooth-rotting fluff or merciless angst?

Oh my gosh how could I possibly choose, most of the time it just depends what kind of mood I’m in but lately it’s been tooth-rotting fluffy with a tiny bit of angst mixed in

20. Do you have any OCs? Tell us about them!

At this point in time I do not have any oc’s, but I’m considering creating one for my Evan “Buck” Buckley fic. 

21. If you could enter the universe of any one of your fics, which would it be and why?

Probably my WIP Knight!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader because who wouldn’t want to be protected by an extremely handsome Bucky who acts like you're a nuisance, but would do anything to protect you no questions asked if ever necessary?? And also I just love the idea of running down a castle hallway at night wearing a floor length ball gown.

22. Is there anything you wish your audience knew about your writing or writing process?

Just that my process involves creating the perfect playlist for that specific fic and tons of daydreaming, and while it may take me a long time to finally finish writing, I’m always excited to share it and get feedback!

23. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of. 

This is from my knight!Bucky Barnes x Princess!reader wip                            

“Do you think I am inadequate because I am a female, my Lord? Is that what you’re saying? You think that I am unfit to rule because I'm a little emotional right now?  Well you’re right, I am a little emotional right now. From the moment I was born, it was known that I, and I alone, would be next in line to assume the throne. My entire life was spent preparing for the moment that my reign would begin and I intend to use all the knowledge my father, may God rest his soul, taught me.  Just two weeks ago I watched as they lowered my father’s cold, dead body into the ground and not a week later a crown was placed atop my head…. a crown I thought my father would be giving me.  I am emotional because right now at this very moment there are rebels out there, only God knows where, hatching plans to storm this castle! This castle has stood here for 300 hundred years and I intend for it to stand for many more. I refuse to let the rebels take my country and everything that my family has worked for.  Now, we have much more pressing matters to deal with than your fragile egos, don’t you think my Lords?”

24. Ramble about any fic-related thing you want!

Have fun with writing! Don’t worry about whether or not the idea you want to write has been written before because it most definitely has been, but it’s never been written by you! 

I’m excited to finally be done with my classes and I hope to to write more and post my fics throughout the summer! 

[ilikereadings]

Nighttime Comfort

Summary: Bradley wakes up in a sweat after a nightmare about Mav getting shot down and you comfort him

Warnings: nightmares/flashbacks, crying, angst(?), fluff, use of Y/N

Words: 1460

❗️I wrote this all myself please don’t repost❗️

——————————————————————————-

The dagger squad got back from the uranium enrichment mission just over a month ago. Bradley was back at work only a week after he got back home. During these 4 weeks, Bradley has been having dreadful nightmares and flashbacks about the mission. You’ve only woken up to one of them, and he told you everything was okay and it was just a weird dream. You believed him and haven’t noticed anything weird since. Not until the other morning, when you came upstairs with his cup of coffee.

——————————————————————————-

Every Saturday morning since Bradley got back from his mission, you have made breakfast in bed for the two of you. This morning was no different. When you went downstairs to get the mugs of coffee, Bradley was slowly waking up but wasn’t fully awake. You had given him a kiss on the head before heading down. But when you came back up, you found him curled up on his side, wide awake but looking terrified as ever. You quickly put the mugs down on his side table and knelt down on the floor by his side of the bed. His fist was tightly gripping the duvet, and he was very tense.

"Bradley?!" Bradley, are you okay? What's wrong, baby? Talk to me, please." You frantically ask him.

He blinks a few times before loosening his grip on the duvet. You can see his muscles relax as he takes a few deep breaths to calm his nerves. You sat in silence for a minute. During that time, you reached your hand over to hold his, intertwining your fingers.

"I, uh.." he began, clearing his throat. "I didn’t want to scare you or make you worry. I’m sorry, Y/N." Bradley continued.

He sounded so sad and guilty. You weren’t sure why, though.

“Baby, what do you mean?" You asked.

"Ever since the mission.. I, I’ve been having some, uh, nightmares and flashbacks."

He paused.

"Specifically when Mav got shot down." Looking down at where your hands meet, not wanting to meet your sorrowful eyes.

"So.. when I woke up the other night and you said it was a weird dream.. it was a nightmare?"

You felt a little hurt that he hadn’t told you, but you also fully understood why he wouldn’t want you to know. When you said that, Bradley looked into your eyes, giving you a slight nod.

"Oh Bradley.. baby.. I love you so much. I need to know these things so I can help you. It makes me feel sick that you’ve been trying to deal with this alone.. I.. I want to help Bradley."

——————————————————————————-

Ever since that morning, you’ve been more attentive during the night. Bradley has had nightmares just about every night since, and you’ve woken up to help him every time. You can tell they’re starting to get less intense as well, which is a positive sign that he’s getting better. Bradley has been more open with you, which you really appreciated.

Everything seemed to be getting better until last night. Last night was Bradley’s worst nightmare.

—————————————————————————-

Time, 11:42 PM. Bradley was having trouble falling asleep, and even though you were asleep, you knew he wasn’t. You were trying to be more aware of things like this at night ever since Bradley told you about his nightmares.

Time, 12:31 AM. Bradley had finally fallen asleep.

Time: 2:28 AM. You woke up after hearing some whimpering. As you open your eyes and look around, you see Bradley slightly shaking, his face all scrunched up like he’s stressed out about something. He whimpered more; you were able to make out some words, like "no" and "Mav", You even thought you heard a "help" mumbled in there. You didn’t know what to do or how to help him yet, so you decided to gently place your hand on his. At first he jerked his hand away, but about 30 seconds later he woke up and sat up straight so fast that you thought it would give him whiplash. He starts looking around the room, breathing heavily and eyebrows furrowed. When his eyes finally catch sight of you, he locks eyes with you, and his eyes start to water.

—————————————————————————-

ROOSTERS DREAM

There’s a missile coming right for me. I released my flares to stop it. Success. But there’s another one coming for me. I try my flares, but they’re all out. Shit. I’m going to die. What is he doing? Mav was now flying over me and releasing his flares to stop the missile. Holy shit! He did it! He sav- Mav got shot down.

"MAV!" I screamed. “Mav, do you copy?!" I tried over the radio. No response. "We have to help him! Please!"

"Rooster. He’s gone." I heard Bob say to me.

"No.." I mumble to myself.

Then I felt something on my hand.. and I’m awake, back in my bed, in my room, in my house. I look around, and my eyes land on you.

—————————————————————————-

"Bradley? Bradley, look at me. Are you okay, baby?" You ask him as calmly as you could.

Next thing you know, Bradley breaks out into a sob. You felt so sorry for him, immediately wrapping your arms around him and hugging him close to you.

"Oh baby.. shh, it’s okay, you’re okay, I’m here, I’ve got you." You whisper to him as his sobs continue.

Bradley’s arms are curled up in between the two of you, holding onto the collar of the shirt you’re wearing. You rest your cheek on his head, taking one of your hands and slowly rubbing his back.

"I-I’m so sorry." Bradley chokes out in between sobs.

“Baby, it’s not your fault.. it’s okay." You calmly replied.

After a few minutes, Bradley manages to calm down enough that he can now breathe normally. You were still rubbing his back when he spoke up.

"That was the worst one yet." He said softly as another tear rolled down his cheek.

Bradley pulled back to sit and pulled his knees into his arms, dropping his head a little.

"If you think you can.. do you wanna talk about it?" You ask carefully, not wanting to scare him.

"It was just so realistic. It was exactly what happened that day.. I-.." emphasizing the ‘exactly’. He released a big sigh before continuing, "Y/N, he almost died. I almost lost Maverick. I’ve already lost my father and my mother, I don’t know what I would do if I lost Mav too. I mean, I pushed him out of my life for years, and I really regret it. But if I lost him right after we made up.. I don’t think I would ever be able to forgive myself."

At this point, you had a tear rolling down your cheek. When Bradley noticed this, he immediately started apologizing for making you cry, putting his hand on your cheek and wiping your tear away. You couldn’t help but lean into his touch and let out a breathy laugh.

You honestly didn’t know how to reply to such a sad and truthful confession from Bradley. You leaned in closer to rest your head on his shoulder and give him a big hug. Bradley loosely wrapped his arms around your waist, dropping his head onto your shoulder. You could feel the shoulder of your shirt becoming wet from his still-falling tears.

"Bradley I love you so much, I don’t think you even know. I am so grateful that both you and Maverick are back and safe.” Because if you died, I would kill you." You say the last part with a teasing tone.

You feel Bradley’s body shake in your arms as he laughs at your joke. You release Bradley from your hug and give him a sweet kiss on the lips. Your hand softly holds the back of his head as his hands rest gently on the small of your back. You pull back and rest your forehead against his, looking into his eyes.

"So.. you better now, baby?" You ask Bradley.

"Almost.. I think I’ll feel even better if you kiss me again." Bradley says while looking at your lips and back up to your eyes, pouting his lip a little and giving you puppy dog eyes. You lean your head back and laugh at his expression, but ultimately end up giving him another kiss to the lips.

When you both lay down again to go to sleep, Bradley wraps his arms around your waist and nestles his head into your shoulder.

"I love you, Bradley." You say barley above a whisper, not sure if he even heard it.

"I love you too, Y/N, thank you, my love." He replied.

Needless to say, you both ended up falling asleep with a smile on your faces.

[ninadove]

watching character ai lukadrien create the most heart wrenching debilitatingly angsty love story to ever love story ever

Hey, I can tell there’s no malice behind your ask, but — don’t do that.

I write fanfiction myself, and a lot goes into it:

1. Unreasonable amounts of ✨ Time and Effort ✨

Just the other day, my WIP kept me up until 2 AM, because I wanted it to be neatly polished before even sending it to my beta readers (@paracosmicfawn and @dragongutsixofficial). The first thing I did the following morning was re-read it again, to correct any typos and inconsistencies my tired brain might have missed the night prior.

2. Research and analysis

For a cute little Lukadrien scene I wrote with my ✨ awesome girlfriend ✨ — something that was never even going to be published — I went through a dozen different sources trying to get a better understanding of what meditation actually is and to capture the philosophy behind it accurately. This does not make me special — all authors do it out of dedication and love for their craft, but it’s energy that could be spent doing literally anything else, especially when you consider how horrifyingly lonely the writing process can be (see point 1).

Also, there’s a reason I spend so much time making analysis posts on Silly Little Blorbos who do not exist! It gets my brain running and allows me to sharpen my understanding of the characters, so I can write them properly in my works.

3. A unique perspective on the characters, the source media, and life in general

Which gives all the flavour to my favourite AO3 works out there.

Like, yes, that extract you sent in your follow-up ask is cute, I guess, but it’s also incredibly generic:

When actual living breathing human (or Senti) beings share their work with you, they’re inviting you to a special part of their brain that they’ve decorated with their own experiences, references and visuals — things that they love and passed onto their favourite characters, so they can hopefully reach you. For instance, Character AI would never have had the genius idea to compare Felix’s eyes to an aurora borealis; this could have only sparked from @wackus-bonkus-maximus’ brain. Similarly, my version of Felix will often reference works of art and literature that left a strong impact on me as a child — an impact I’m sure can also be sensed in my approach to storytelling and even in the way I structure sentences and paragraphs.

Which leads me to my final and most important point:

4. EMOTIONAL BAGGAGE™

Because let’s be real — there’s a reason our brains latch onto certain characters, and said reasons aren’t always sunshine and rainbows. I’ve cried more writing about the Senticousins than over the loss of certain people or relationships in my own life. Long before that, I latched onto Clive and gave him everything I felt was missing from my life as a teenager, so I could live vicariously through him. And of course, I always make my characters some flavour of queer, because for a long time this was the only outlet I got for my own feelings and identity.

It takes a lot of vulnerability to put all of this on the Internet for others to read and judge, and it’s very disheartening to see that people would rather ask a machine to spit out some easily digestible but impersonal interactions than give your work a chance.

I can guarantee there are beautiful pieces of fanwork out there that will cater to your tastes and haunt you for years in a way Character AI or Chat GPT never could. And the good news is — if you don’t find anything, it means it’s time to write it yourself!

And of course, I cannot end this post without encouraging everyone to read about the writers’ and actors’ strike currently unfolding in the US.