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#please help with fanfiction

rosie-love98 · 11 months

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A Discussion On The Snape-Harbroom-Hobbes Relation:

CONTEXT: Before the “Harry Potter” films and the 1998 “Worst Witch” series, Snape and Hardbroom had secretly married and divorced. Their son, the future Nicholas Hobbes (of the “Worst Witch” spin-off, “Weirdsister College”), was a product of that union and given to another family to raise as their own. Fortunately, the family of three would reunite in 2006 under supernatural means. Long story short, members of R/The Cabal (of “Hogwarts Mystery”), had managed to resurrect Snape through a potion made with the Resurrection Stone. Snape would be revived and escape but would struggle to get his new life together. That’s when Constance Hardbroom renters his life...

Anyway, the (much older) Golden Trio and the Malfoys would be a part of the story. The Golden Trio due to investigating the murders/assault of Nicholas’s adopted parents (not sure if I should kill them off or not). The Malfoys thanks to Rita Skeeter’s scandalized rendition of Severus and Constance’s love story. This brings the question on how each of the characters would/should react to the revelation. Not only that but Severus Snape being revived and living in seclusion for years with them being completely unaware.

Would they all be mad? Would be in shock? Would any of these characters try to reach out to Severus, Constance or Nicholas? Would Lucius want to kill Severus out of revenge for either going against Voldemort? Would he hate Severus for leaving the likes of Lucius to be thrown under the bus after the Second Wizarding War? Would they all want to help protect Nicholas Hobbes from the likes of R/The Cabal in the R/Cabal’s efforts to track Snape down? Would any of the Golden Trio or the Malfoys even continue to keep in touch with Snape at the end of the story? And what about the Weasleys? How would they react?

I can see the Golden Trio being a bit apprehensive when finding out Hobbes’s origins and would comfort him. Though, would Harry take the role of a big-brother figure/Godfather like how he would be with Teddy Lupin (which could be a way to reconcile the Snape and Lupin families)? Or would those brotherly/Godfather roles be more fitted with Draco Malfoy as he and Hobbes would give a good parrellel to Harry and Teddy?

As for the staff of Hogwarts and Cackle’s Academy, the only people who knew of Nicholas Hobbes prior to the events of the fic would’ve been Amelia Cackle, Minerva McGonagall, Madame Pomfrey and Albus Dumbledore. There was also Minerva’s husband, Elphinstone Urquart (who offieciated snape and Hardbroom’s elopement, divorce and gave baby Nicholas to his new family), Nicolas Flamel and his wife, Perenelle (thanks to Dumbledore, they allowed Constance and Severus to hide at the Flamel House when their son was born). However, Elphinstone and the Flamels had been long gone. So this kinda makes me wonder if Hagrid, Neville Longbottom, and the other professors should have a part in the story.

Then there’s the public. There’s no doubt the reveal of Snape fathering a secret child would cause excitement. But, in my fic, the “Worst Witch” wizards are of a sect called “Ex-Codice” with the “Harry Potter” wizards being known as “Estne” “Stultus” or “Stultum” (can’t decide which). For their strict following of tradition and the ancient Witches Code, the Ex-Codice are dubbed as “The Inmates” by the Estne. In turn, the Ex-Codice would call their rivals, “The Barmy Ones” for their tendency to show off their magical ways. Bascially, the Estne are Protestants while Ex-Codice are Catholics. So with the Estne Wizard, Severus Snape being found to have married and having a child with the Ex-Codice Witch, Constance Hardbroom, a scandal could arise. But, to what extent? Was the hatred just a rivalry or a hatred as bad as the hate towards Muggles? Would it be like the Troubles War (Catholic vs. Protestants) in the UK?

What are your thoughts?

@yaviae @hrstories1234 @mamiferoaquaticoprehistorico @thecrazycackle

#harry potter #harry potter films #the worst witch #1998 the worst witch #constance hardbroom #hardbroom #severus snape #snape #nicholas hobbes #nick hobbes #weirdsister college #writing help #any ideas?#please help with fanfiction

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cecescomposition · 1 year

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the absolute struggle of knowing the exact plot of your fic, what the characters facial expressions will look like, what sounds will happen, the emotions, the lighting, everything….

except it’s all playing as a movie in your head and you can’t articulate any of it.

#writing #writing problems #writer problems #me rn fr #send help please #i have so many unfinished wips #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic writing #fanfic woes

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deep-space-lines · 2 months

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okay but like. I just had the weirdest thought about that ‘don’t look I’m naked’ comic. Which is that that’s essentially the same thing Adam and Eve did after they ate the fruit of knowledge of good&evil. So I feel like the theological implications of that could kneecap Gabe if he doesn’t think V1 is a being with free will.

yeah ok. i dunno man. is this anything

((side note. this isn’t necessarily meant to be in-character or story-accurate or take place at any particular point in time, just a way to explore some Thoughts. i was also imagining more that V1’s words aren't actually spoken, more like Gabriel’s more articulate interpretation of whatever garbled mechanical noise V1 is using to communicate. I think an angel could do that.))

and then they fucked nasty the end

#my art #my writing #who fuckin sent this. fuck you. come off anon so i can kick your ass. (the thoughts this ask sparked consumed almost 3 days of my life)#i dont know what this even is #i just work here #disclaimer i don't come from a particularly religious background so like.#most of my knowledge of christianity comes from when my mom sent me to vbs for cheap babysitting in middle school or absorbed via osmosis #so i have no idea what im talking about except for when i do! hope this helps #i love how i say that like i expect biblical scholars to tear apart my ultrakill gay fanfiction #if you are a biblical scholar and you want to tear apart my ultrakill gay fanfiction please know i am not going to read the bible for this #ultrakill #v1 ultrakill #gabriel ultrakill #gabv1el #blood #love tagging ultrakill stuff with blood. hmm yes the floor here is made out of floor

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misscalming · 11 months

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Immediately jumping onto tumblr to see if Ao3 legitimately crashed or if it’s just me

#ao3 funny #ao3 update #ao3 #archive of our own #tumblrpost #fanfic #fanfiction #please help #help #I was mid way through a good fic I can’t take this #like- not that I’m 24/7 on ao3 but wtf why now?

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bunnyreaper · 7 months

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𝓷𝓸𝓫𝓸𝓭𝔂 𝓭𝓸𝓮𝓼 𝓲𝓽 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓭𝓸 𝒶 𝒿𝑜𝒽𝓃 𝓅𝓇𝒾𝒸𝑒 𝓍 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝑒𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝓅𝓉 𝟣 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓅𝓉 3 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒

wc - 5.8k warnings - 18+/nsfw (eventually), mentions of cheating (not from reader or john), older male younger female, future daddy kink, mildly threatening behaviour notes - were going somewhere (hornytown) but not quiiiite yet. i still think there's lots to enjoy here though!! hope you do like reading!! also on ao3! ♥

"I've got you, everything's going to be okay." He whispers, over and over and over again, chanting it like a prayer.

You let yourself go a little limp in John's embrace, let the feeling of his comforting words and close touch wash over you—for a moment, everything feels right, the rest of the world falls away.

When John pulls away, a literal and metaphorical cold sweeps in, reality tipping over you like a bucket of ice. His hands still settle on your shoulders, but it's simply not enough to fight back against the shivers overtaking your body. The panic starts to kick in again, your chest tightening in response to the ice in your veins.

John stays stooped close to you, his face inches away from yours as concern radiates from him—you stare up at him glassy-eyed, looking at him for comfort, answers, something.

"Tell me what you need, love. Anything." His voice is so low, almost desperate to help and to fix things.

You struggle to think, struggle to summon anything—your mouth opens and closes, your lips trembling every time you try to speak.

What you want most right now is to fall back into John's arms, to feel that fleeting moment of peace you had just moments ago. What you need is to get away from this place that you've called home for so long, where you feel like the picture-covered walls are closing in—years of memories about to crush you.

Your eyes screw shut as you force yourself to breathe, to focus only on John's reassuring touch and what comes next. "I need to get out of here."

As soon as you finish speaking, he springs into action, a hand slips to your back as he guides you up the stairs, one step behind you. "Pack a bag, you can stay in my guest room until you get things figured out."

You pause mid-step, frozen on the stairs at the weight of John's offer. He'd do that? Have you in his home? "I can't ask you to do that..."

"You're not asking, I'm offering." He answers tersely, and you can feel him stiffen as he looms behind you, can feel the hand on your back grip ever so slightly. "He's my blood, my fuck-up. I should fix this."

There's a conviction to John's words, heavy and resolute, quietly angry through and through—it's more passion than you've seen in an age, and he has no real reason.

He taps you lightly, urging you on, and your body complies without question as you climb the rest of the stairs and lead the way to the bedroom.

When you pass over the threshold, you freeze—taking in the bed that you'll never sleep in again, the room that isn't really yours any longer.

It's freeing and paralysing in equal measure.

John isn't frozen by the same fear, able to fearlessly lead the way as he searches for a bag or suitcase to pile some of your belongings in. "C'mon, get what you need. I can always come back for more, yeah?"

"Or even if you just stay for the night until you can find a friend to stay with." His voice is soft as he tries to anticipate your needs and cater to your changing circumstances.

He finds a small suitcase under the bed, pulls it out, and sets it on the mattress as he waits for you to move.

"Thank you." You nod mindlessly, coming to life again. The two of you work in tandem—you recover items from various drawers and hangers and dump them on the bed, and John works on folding and organisation. Each item is carefully and strategically packed, as his experience demands, ensuring you can bring with you everything you desire.

Your priority is to grab everything important—ID, keepsakes, underwear. Perhaps you should feel some sort of shame or embarrassment when John starts packing away your panties without a word, but right now you can't find it within you to properly care.

The little frilly pieces look extra delicate in his hands, and despite his toughened hands, he handles them with complete care.

You practically empty your entire pyjama drawer onto the bed (or, onto John), anticipating a week on the couch doing sweet fuck all. After all, if you can't indulge and refuse to leave the house after a break-up, then when can you?

Though on second thought, perhaps John wouldn't be too pleased if you took up residence on his couch and refused to leave—his hospitality surely only extends so far, despite being the nicest man ever.

The two of you continue in dead silence, only broken by the occasional muttering to yourself as you think through everything you might need for the next few days.

It's John who speaks first, pausing midway through folding one of your oversized jumpers. "How did you find out?"

You meet his eye and see the emotion swirling within. It's clear he's hurting too, but wants to find out more as delicately as he can.

"Some account sent me pictures and videos, it's definitely him."

John's nostrils flare, his hands fisting in the fabric as anger washes over him. "He better hope I've had time to calm down before I see him again."

"It's not worth making a fuss over John. I'm not—" You pause before you say that you're not worth it, clearly James doesn't think you're worth much at all. The idea of causing issues for James and John's relationship makes you cringe—because, unlike James, you actually give a shit as to how your actions affect others.

"—I don't mean to come between you two." The words you settle on represent a solemn wish. Though, far more than that, a part of you hopes this doesn't come between you and John—that is something you hope for more intently.

After the last few years of knowing him, he's become someone you can truly depend upon.

"He's the one who did this, not you," John states in a way that's clear and leaves no room for argument. "I've got you. You can count on me."

His words soothe the deep sense of panic within you—after all, right now you're in desperate need of someone you can trust wholeheartedly.

With James, there was always this undercurrent of distrust. It was something you blamed on your anxiety and a belief he reinforced time and time again.

With John, you feel none of the discontent—perhaps because you aren't as invested, or perhaps because John has never given you any reason to doubt him.

Here he is, in your moment of need,

telling you the words he knows you need to hear most right now.

You come back to yourself, hastily zipping up the bag in front of you and trying your best to give John a warm smile.

"Let's get you home." John returns the smile with a firm nod, grabbing the bag immediately and throwing it over his shoulder. He waits for you to move first, holding his hand out in preparation for it to fall to the small of your back once more.

The room already looks emptier, and honestly a little ransacked—not your problem any more.

Taking a deep breath, you turn on your heel and fall into step beside John, relishing the warmth of him beside you.

"Oh." John pauses, bending down to pick up a cardigan from the floor, almost hidden beneath the duvet hanging over the edge of the bed. "Can't forget this, yeah?"

You take the cream knit from him, shrugging it on and wrapping it around yourself.

With everything packed for your emergency getaway, you head back down the stairs and grab your phone and keys. It's only when John closes the truck door after you've climbed inside that you finally feel like you can breathe.

Granted, your breaths are still a little shaky and uneven, but being out of the house makes you feel great relief.

John climbs into the driver's seat of his truck, immediately throwing the keys in the ignition. The radio comes to life along with the engine, Costello playing—loud enough to hear yet quiet enough to ignore.

"Thank you, John." You whisper, a little uncertain of how to express the depth of your gratitude. "I've always... you've always been so nice to me."

"Nothing less than you deserve," John states, his tone a little bitter as he begins to drive. "Shame my fucking son couldn't see that."

The older man's venom takes you by surprise. You're not shocked that John is ashamed of his son's actions, but the fact he is here, unapologetically caring for you while condemning his son? You suppose, when you think about it, a pattern is emerging.

In the past, when James has wronged you, John hadn't pried or pressured you to discuss it at length—he simply laid down the law and then spent time distracting you or making you feel whole again.

"You're really angry with him." You note besides, unused to seeing such unbridled emotion from the usually calm and in-control captain.

"I'd never condone cheating." His jaw clenches and the way he shifts gears is a little stiff. "But to do that to you? Unforgivable, darling. You've done nothing but run up the boy's arse since the day I met you."

"Yeah, well, I thought we loved each other." You shrug, feeling only slightly pathetic about it all. "I thought I was just insecure, reading into things too much, and he made me feel that way too..."

John glances at you, eyes full of shock and pity, before he turns his attention back to the road. "Fuckin' hell."

"Look, you can stay with me as long as you like, I mean it."

"I feel like a burden." You reply, not missing a beat.

John releases a sigh, preparing himself for battle. "If anything you're doing me a favour, can look after the place when I'm gone, yeah?"

"I suppose." You relent immediately, not having any fight left in you. "Will you be leaving soon?"

The thought makes you feel more unsettled than it should.

"Hopefully not for a little while." John flashes you a smile, his eyes kind and warm, "I'll make sure everything's sorted before I go anywhere, don't worry."

"I'm sorry."

"Nothing to apologise for, love." He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he meets your gaze.

The two of you fall into silence for the rest of the drive, accompanied by the easy-listening tracks from John's CD as you make your way across the city.

When you pull up on John's driveway, he's out of the car and opening your door before you can say anything, shouldering your bag and unlocking the front door to the house.

Once inside, you toe off your shoes, setting them onto the shoe rack that keeps all of John's boots neatly organised.

The house smells the same as it always does—smokey and wooden. Just familiar enough to feel homey, just foreign enough to still draw in your senses.

"Shall I show you to your room?" John asks—a gracious host despite the numerous times you've visited and stayed over.

You nod, shoulders already sagging at the idea of falling into the expensive guest mattress. "Please, I kind of just want to collapse into bed right now."

John chuckles as he leads the way up the stairs. "You're more than welcome to."

The bed is already made as if waiting for your arrival, sans the towels John usually prepares when he knows you're coming over. He sets your bag down on the armchair sitting in the corner, before turning to leave you in peace. "Anything you need, I'll be downstairs."

You reach out to him, hand settling on his broad forearm as you hold him still for just a moment, meeting his eyes with a sincere look of gratitude. God knows how the night would've turned out without his accidental intervention, but here in his home, you feel as safe and relaxed as you can in this moment. "Thank you, John."

He leans into your touch, mouth settling on the top of your head as he presses a barely there kiss, and then mumbles his words into your scalp. "Don't mention it, darling."

A second later the door is quietly clicking shut behind him, leaving you alone in the guest bedroom with nothing but your thoughts. Thoughts you'd really rather be without right now, so you rush to change out of your clothes and into some pyjamas and throw yourself into bed.

Exhaustion overwhelms you the second your eyes flutter shut.

—-

When you wake, bleary-eyed and achy-chested, it's completely dark outside—the yellow moon obscured by a layer of mist.

You rub at your eyes and attempt to wet your mouth, which is bone dry from fitful sleep filled with nightmares. The entire night you were trapped in a hall of mirrors, each one cracked and smashed and showing monstrous reflections that looked nothing like yourself.

It was all just a nightmare, and it's over now—all of it.

Peeling back the covers, you climb out of bed and head downstairs to fetch a glass of water—nothing you haven't done numerous times before when you and James had spent the night here after he and John had one too many beers watching the football.

You know exactly which of John's creaky stairs to skip to avoid making too much of a noise, know the small night light at the bottom of the stairs will brighten as you approach.

When you make it downstairs, a floor lamp in the living room floods the space with an amber glow as warm reverberated music drifts to your ears. The soft light highlights John as he puffs away at a cigar, surrounding him in thick, billowing clouds. You're unsure of the time, but you are familiar enough with John to know his late-night-turned-early morning proclivity for music and nicotine.

You take a moment to just watch him looking so peaceful, a moment where his guard is almost entirely down, and he's just John. Not a father or a soldier, but just a man—it's a rare treat and a side you don't often get to see.

His eyes are glazed over, fixated on a spot on the wall as he's undoubtedly lost in his thoughts, weighed by his burdens and memories.

Your eyes linger on his beard, no longer sporting his signature style as the mission has kept him from the upkeep, and that is something you've never seen before. It's charming how handsome he looks, not that he ever wasn't, but his good looks are easier to notice when he looks like this—for a moment he's not James' dad at all. He's all man, and you'd be lying if you said you'd never noticed him before, noticed how attractive he is. Admittedly, you've got very good at hiding your inappropriate, likely misplaced crush on the man.

But now, as you gaze upon him with his lips wrapped around his cigar and his thick thighs lazily spread, you can dip into your unrestrained thoughts and—

"'s rude to stare, love." He says, his eyes shifting to meet yours. In the dark, his usual shining blue is missing, replaced by dark pools of simmering emotion. A moment later, a half-hearted smile catches up with him, as he seems to pull himself from his sombre mood upon seeing you.

"Didn't know you were awake." You shrug, stepping out into the living room and wrapping your arms around yourself protectively—feeling a little bare in your pyjama top and shorts. "I was gonna grab some water."

"I'll get that for you, sit down."

He's rising from his seat before you can protest, the cigar still hanging from his lips as he makes his way to the kitchen. You take a seat on the long couch, not quite relaxing into the worn leather.

John returns a few moments later, passing the glass to you with a tight smile.

"Thanks."

He takes his seat back in his armchair, puffing away at his cigar, his eyes now fixed on you. It's almost like he's looking through you, rather than at you, his mind swirling with a million different thoughts.

Finally, you soothe your dry mouth with quick sips of the water and find yourself unable to tear your gaze away from John.

Now you've noticed him, you feel like you can't stop. It must just be the heartache, the loneliness, and the impending upheaval of your life.

He meets your stare, looking right back at you for every second your eyes linger upon him. Until you force yourself to look at anything but him.

Whether he catches onto your shift in mood or is just genuinely interested, you don't know—but he asks after you anyway. "How are you feeling?"

You let out a defeated sigh, taking stock of your emotions. Right now you're filled with a swirl of confusion and clarity. Some things make more sense than ever, but there's a lot still to figure out.

"Honestly? Betrayed and hurting... but lighter, in a sense. As if I'm glad it's all over?" Your voice wavers a little with uncertainty, as by rights, you should probably feel worse than you do.

John nods understandingly before taking a harsh puff, his eyes hardening. "I should've spoken up sooner."

It feels like the world drops out from beneath you. Does that mean...?

"You knew?" You whisper shakily, not prepared to handle another betrayal.

"No, love. I couldn't do that to you—" He rushes to correct himself, his expression softening as he tries to soothe you. "—but I had my suspicions."

Relief floods you, knowing John didn't sit idly by and partake in the whole affair. If he had known and not said anything, that almost would've hurt just as much as the act itself. Instead, you feel validated, knowing you weren't the only one suspicious of James. After so long of being doubted, it's liberating to have your concerns reaffirmed.

"From the last time you visited?" You ask, wondering if he caught the telltale signs then too.

"Yes."

"Makes sense, he was with her that night. A lot of things make sense now, looking back." You take a long sip of your water, trying to not let the emotion inside overwhelm you. "I'm glad I don't have to live with the worry any more."

"I am too, sweetheart." In his eyes, you see an undeniable genuineness, an underlying fondness.

John takes a deep drag of smoke before blowing it around himself, when he speaks, his tone is more gravelled and gruff. "I've tried talking some sense into him before about the way he treated you, but—"

"He doesn't really listen to anyone else."

"Hmm."

The shared frustration hangs in the air as the smoke does, as well as a realisation for yourself that there is nothing now really tying you and John together—it makes your heart hurt more than it should.

"You should get some more rest." John says, interrupting the impending spiral of your thoughts.

He cares for you, genuinely. But you know he's not yours to keep.

You set your glass down on the table before rubbing at your eyes, uncaring of the way your mascara is likely smudging even further across your cheeks.

"You're right, but I know it's not gonna come easily." You sigh, before peering over your hands to narrow your eyes at the man sitting across from you. "Hey, you're awake too, you can't lecture me."

He barks a laugh, smoke sputtering around him as he withdraws his cigar, holding it between his finger and thumb as he stares you down—a severe look in his eyes and a smile playing at his lips. "Don't make me use my Captain voice on you."

You can't help but roll your eyes at that, and are almost tempted to urge him to try.

John's phone lights up from the coffee table, drawing your attention.

"Fuck, I bet I have so many missed calls and texts." You shiver just thinking about James' response when he finally drags his arse home and realises you're gone. Will he even care?

You certainly know he'll care when he finds out John has offered you a place to stay, when he sees his father treating you with the kindness he struggled to ever afford you himself. "I don't know if I should tell him where I am."

John shakes his head, humming in the negative before giving his gentle command. "Tomorrow, love, you'll need your strength to deal with all this."

"Always so wise." You smile lightly, appreciating his insight just as you always do.

The two of you meet eyes, as he exhales a lung of smoke that comes drifting in your direction. "With age comes wisdom..." He smirks, and you instantly rise to your feet.

"I'm leaving before I age ten years just from sitting next to you." Or, god forbid, letting any inappropriate thoughts seep in at the idea of his words. "Goodnight, John."

You give him your best smile before heading back to the stairs, not missing his sweet response.

"Goodnight, darling girl."

———

James (13 Missed Calls)

Where the fuck are you?

Why is your shit gone??

Pick up the fucking phone.

Thankfully you'd had the good sense to turn off your phone through the night, but the notifications and the harsh light of the screen burn your eyes come morning time.

You don't even bother flicking through the rest of the texts, as you resolve to address them later, after breakfast and more importantly, a discussion with John. There's a message or two from work colleagues that also go ignored for now—them checking in on you and making sure you're okay.

While you appreciate the gesture, you really don't want to address it right now—instead, you opt for scrolling away mindlessly, waiting for the motivation to get up and face the day to finally strike.

Instead, the day finds you, in the form of raucous shouting and doors slamming from downstairs—James roaring at John demanding answers, John trying to defuse the situation.

Fuck. He's here.

You tiptoe your way onto the landing, whole body on high alert as you listen in to the two men's argument.

"Let me past, John." James sounds beyond impatient as his way upstairs is clearly blocked.

"If you think you're going anywhere near that poor girl, you're sorely fucking mistaken." The threatening undertone to John's voice is downright unsettling, even to you.

"She's my girlfriend, and this is none of your fucking business."

"You're my son, and you're acting like a complete prick."

"Your son, come the fuck on." James scoffs. "Move out of the way."

"Wouldn't try that if I were you."

"Oh yeah?"

The sound of a scuffle forces you to move, running to the stairs and stopping halfway when you get closer to the men. James is trying to push past John, but is met by an impassable wall of muscle and protective determination.

The expression on James' face sickens you, one you've not seen before, and especially not directed at you or John.

"James."

His eyes snap to you, the lividity within unwavering. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

A voice in your head tells you to cower in fear, to appease him just as you have so many times before—but this time you know things have to be different. Your eyes flicker to John's, his look softening as he catches your gaze, despite using his body as a shield to hold James back.

John thinks you're worth it. John thinks you're worth jeopardising his relationship with his son over the way James has acted this time.

It's not that you want to forgive James anyway, not that you want to keep him around—it's just the ice in your veins, the survival instinct calling on you to back down.

But you can't, not this time.

"I know about Lucy." You force the words out before you can rethink them any further, standing firm.

James' expression shifts, as he launches into an attempt to placate you, pacify you. "Babe, I don't know what you've heard but—"

"Don't even try to explain it away, I don't wanna hear it." He won't let you doubt yourself again, and you make sure he hears it in the certainty in your voice. "I saw videos of the two of you."

He laughs and shakes his head dismissively, his tone downright mocking as he speaks. "We need to talk about this."

You fold your arms over your chest, confidence coursing through you. "I don't have anything to say, I'm not your girlfriend any more, and I'd appreciate it if you left."

"Not before you listen to me." He growls, but you don't relent.

You look at James, through him even, a part of you disconnecting completely from the man before you. He's no longer the man you love, he's a loose end mere moments from being tied up—a weight you're about to relinquish.

"I'll be back to continue packing my things, and we can talk about the rent and everything later." You even surprise yourself with the steadiness of your tone.

"Just let me explain—"

"No." You snarl, as James surges forward to try to grab you.

Once more, he's stopped in his tracks, being pushed back and away to keep you from harm's reach.

"Out, son, now." John's words are all growl, before changing to a more sinister stillness—the calmer threats from the man speak volumes more. "Or I'll make you leave."

James at least has the sense to move away, but while he has no physicality to push back with, he resorts to taunting. "Always got to be the knight in shining armour, showing up when you're not even needed. Pathetic, John. Go back to your own life and leave mine alone, yeah?" He spits.

There's a beat of silence, an air of disbelief surrounding all of you before John snaps.

"I said, out." John pushes back on James chest once more, sending the younger man stumbling backwards toward the open door.

At least now, he swallows his pride and leaves, but not before shooting you the most venomous look, one you know will haunt you.

John practically slams the door behind his son, working the locks into place to ensure there's no possibility of a repeat performance. "Sorry about that, I shouldn't have opened the door." John sighs, hanging his head in failure. "I never expected—"

"It's fine." You sigh, genuinely believing it. "First step to it all really being... over."

John says nothing, his chest heaving with each breath as he continues to look troubled and disappointed in himself.

You make your way down the last few steps, meeting him at the door to settle your hand on his bicep—hoping the gesture to be soothing and grounding. "Thanks for having my back, for keeping me safe.

"He's hurt you enough, and if he ever laid hands on you..." John's jaw clenches, his nostrils flaring as something bloody and violent passes over him.

"I think he'd know he'd end up in a body bag in a foreign country." You laugh, attempting to lighten the mood. "Good job that it won't come to that."

With one final deep breath, John straightens up, schooling himself into a stoic facade and pushing aside whatever rage is bubbling within him in a display of perfect discipline. "Sit down, love. I'll make us some tea."

He heads into the kitchen, and you follow just a few paces behind—falling onto one of the stools at the kitchen island as John gets the kettle on. You watch him work in silence, thoughts ticking over about the display you've just witnessed, the events that had just transpired.

You had looked at James and told him exactly how things were going to go, and for that, you were incredibly proud of yourself.

"I suppose I should head back later and start properly packing my shit up. The sooner I get everything out of there, the better." You comment, trying to envision the logistics of everything to come.

"I'll be there." John comments, pausing for a moment to meet your eye.

"I'm sure that will go down well." You smirk, mentally preparing yourself for another onslaught against you and John when you both show up at the house. His anger at you was expected, but the things he said to his father had seemingly come from nowhere. "I'm sorry about what he said to you."

"Don't be." John shrugs, before setting two mugs on the counter with just a little too much force. "It's always been there, under the surface. Blames his mum too, as I'm sure you know."

You watch his face, watch as he tries to keep his reactions in check—something he's very good at, and something you think you're getting better at seeing through.

"Yeah."

Is he reconsidering his decision to support you, now he knows the potential consequences that may come along with it? Is he truly hurting at what James said, or dismissing them as a by-product of the heightened emotions everyone was feeling? Right now you wish you could pick apart his thoughts, but everything right now feels so delicate, for both you and for him.

John sets a steaming mug before you, then takes a seat beside you at the island. "Let me know whenever you're ready to get packed up, can ask the lads over to help too if need be." He half-smiles, a lightness in the dark.

"I'm sure the two of us can handle it." You laugh lightly. "Not sure where I'll put all my stuff though."

"There's plenty of room here," John replies, before his voice softens. You stare at your tea as it warms your hands, but you can feel him looking right at you. "I meant everything I've said, and you can stay as long as you like. I also understand if it's too strange for you, I can help you figure something out."

"It's not strange, not really." You meet his too-blue eyes and almost have to turn away from the emotion within. "Even so, I don't have anywhere else to go right now, to be honest. I'm sorry."

"I'm happy to have you, truly." He reaches out, settling a hand on yours, his skin even warmer than the steaming mug. "Brightening up the place."

"Not sure I'm doing much of that right now."

"You are."

You shrug, but relent under his insistent tone. "Fair, if my bedhead and ratty pyjamas weren't a source of amusement I suppose I'd be disappointed."

"Attagirl." His hand squeezes, lingers for a moment before withdrawing.

You never realise how much you're missing until you feel John withdraw.

"Can we... not go today?" The confidence you felt earlier wanes as the adrenaline continues to die down. "I'd rather go another day if that's okay."

"I'm all yours, just give me the word."

The blush on your face is entirely coincidental, and you force yourself to move past the moment swiftly. "Until then... Jeopardy marathon?" You ask, as you have so many times before.

"Jeopardy marathon." John nods, grabbing the mugs as you rush to the living room. "Been a while since we've done this."

"Stop being so busy then." You grumble, flopping down on the couch with a pout. "Though I suppose the world isn't gonna save itself."

"You overestimate me, love." John grins as he takes a seat at the end of the couch and hands you the remote.

You load up Netflix and pull up the series, picking up where the two of you left off months ago, and as the show starts, you wiggle to get comfortable.

Almost absent-mindedly, John pulls your legs into his lap, freeing them from being curled up at his side and making you instantly more comfortable. He's always so considerate, and his hands settle respectfully on your shins as you both turn your attention to this episode's contestants.

It's peaceful in a way you haven't felt in so long—getting to enjoy one of your favourite things with someone you care for. James almost hated trivia shows with a passion, where John had talked with you at length about your shared love for Only Connect.

"Why couldn't I have met you first?" You ask, mostly thinking aloud.

John coughs, taken aback by your words that are laced with heavier meaning than you intended. "Pardon?"

"I just mean... so I didn't have to feel so guilty about wanting to be your friend." Didn't have to feel so guilty about straining his relationship with his son.

"We've known each other as long as I've known the boy." He squeezes at your shins, rubbing ever so slightly as he does. "We're friends, love."

You shrug, eyes flickering down to watch the way his hands trace over you, though not thinking too much of it. You're too trapped in your head, lamenting your lot in life that you had to suffer through James to find a friend in John, a friend you might still lose anyway. "He gets 'custody' of you though, really, since you're his father."

John straightens up, his hands stilling. "Think he's made how he feels about me quite clear."

"He'll regret saying that... I hope." You whisper, before turning your attention back to the TV. You don't know what to say to soothe John, and you strongly suspect it's not what he wants to speak about right now.

"Such is life, love. He'll regret stepping out on you." He returns.

"Good." You laugh freely, feeling a moment of unrestrained joy. "Can I be honest? I don't think I'll regret having him gone, sorry."

John squeezes again, drawing your attention back to him as he shoots you an annoyed look. "Going to have to do something about all that apologising you do."

"Sorry." You freeze, before giggling sweetly. "I mean... fuck. You'll just have to give me your most vicious captain look every time I do it."

You joke, but John obliges, trying to look stern but failing as a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. "Okay, you're wearing a quarter zip, and you look like a dad, I can't take you seriously."

John chuckles, clutching at his heart as his look turns playful. "Threatening my pride, darling girl."

You can't help the way your eyes roll back in your head. "Something tells me you'll be fine." You mutter, before the infectiousness of John seeps through to you.

He looks upon you fondly, his warm gaze almost feeling like an embrace with its tenderness. "Nice to see a smile back on your face, bunny."

"If I have to stop apologising, you have to stop calling me that." You say, unable to fight the blush creeping onto your face.

"No deal, love." He smirks, not looking away for a single second. "We both know you enjoy it far too much."

#captain price x reader #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain price #captain john price #john price #call of duty x reader #nobody does it like you do #call of duty fanfiction #why are my chapters so long please send help??

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paynomindtotheinsanity · 5 months

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*SMASHES TABLET ON THE FLOOR*

I spent too many hours on this and I can't show anyone but you guys because I could never explain this shit to a normal person

Dib noms on Zim in an upcoming chapter and it's not as cute as this, but yes, Zim definitely secretly likes it. Dib's vampire amnesia can be helpful sometimes.

#invader zim #invader zim fanart #invader zim au #vampire dib #dib #invader zim fanfiction #zadr #invader zim zadr #your eyes are red #animation attempt kind of #please help my whole day is gone now #why is it dark out #the gayest shit

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myanxietydemonaretootired · 8 days

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Let me explain what I have in mind because it's almost 3 a.m. and I have a headache

Eloise saw a passionate kiss between two people, she knows what a kiss is, she has read about it and saw her siblings kiss their partners. But it's different that time, somehow. That time, maybe because it wasn't a family member or maybe because she just recently started to get into all the romance stuff, she actually understood that a kiss is romance, it is passion, it is a desire you have for other people.

She continues to think about it the following day, and the next one, then the next one, and like that until her friend, her unlikely match made in heaven, Cressida points out how much daydreaming she has been making.

Eloise then explains her conundrum, how she is puzzled by kisses because she has never experienced being kissed and well... How can she explain when she doesn't fully understand herself? Eloise feels like a child again, in a complete loss for words, and that's something that doesn't happen often. She would have to marry to be kissed, but she doesn't want to marry, but she does want to experience... oh well, I'm rambling.

"Well, if it makes you feel better, I heard that kissing an open orange feels a lot like kissing. But it's not really... neat" Cressida tells her.

Eloise discreetly looks at her friend's lips and wonders if when her friend marries, she'll kiss her husband.

Then she gets another thought, one far more scandalous but intriguing. What's stopping her from kissing Cressida Cowper?

A few days go by, and Eloise can't take the image of her kissing her friend out of her mind. Nor the growing heat out of her cheeks every time she steals a sight of her lips.

And then, an afternoon after stealthily escaping Mr. Cowper's gaze, behind a bookshelf, which is full of dust, they are sharing a small laugh. Eloise looks up, stands on her tiptoes, and kisses Cressida Cowper.

At first, it's awkward, not going to lie. Eloise, for a moment, could only feel regret. Then Cressida surprises her by slowly starting to move her mouth. And it becomes beautiful. They start to move and by doing so, dust particles start to float around but they pay no mind to them, as they are completely trapped by each other.

The following day, they kiss again, then the next one, and the next one. They hide, because they are aware they shouldn't be doing this, it's not proper and it's, it's SCANDALOUS. But is it possible to get enough? They don't think so.

Eloise thinks about kissing during day and night, kissing her under a tree, over a table, sitting in their garden, and she thinks about kissing Cressida at night, in the same bed, before going to sleep.

I CAN GO INTO MORE DETAIL OF THIS BUT WHY CAN'T I STOP WITH THIS SHIP?? I NEED TO WRITE THISSS

Part 2

#eloise bridgerton #bridgerton #eloise x cressida #elessida #cressida cowper #bridgerton fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #send help #please please please #polin #bridgerton season 3 #creloise #creative writing

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ibenology · 8 months

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A question for fanfiction readers & lovers

please reblog for a bigger sample size, and help out a writer who's unsure on how to organize their first long fic:)

#polls #fanfiction #ao3 writer #aziracrow #good omens #ofmd #our flag means death #blackbonnet #nandermo #wwdits #the magnus archives #jonmartin #supernatural #destiel #mauraders #wolfstar #idk just putting popular fic ships lmao #please help

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kikker-oma · 2 months

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I HAVE AN IDEA!!!!!!!<-click

Ok, so some of you replied to a post I made a while back about missing Whumptober, and people gave me lots of options for drawing challenges to do in the meantime. There were some great ideas but nothing in particular that jumped out to me.

BUT WHAT IF---

Instead of doing my own personal prompts, I think it would be really fun to draw 1 color drawing each day that corresponds to a scene in an LU fanfic!

So, for example, I would find fics that I've read and like and pick a scene to draw, then post it and tag the writer(if they have tumblr) and link the story!

This way I get to have fun reading and gifting art, writers get more exposure for their fics, and people get recommendations for LU fics they may not have seen!

I could probably do it in July, that way I have time to find 31 fics and pic the scenes. And ALSO get a head start on drawing, cus man, monotone sketches everyday in October was hard, color drawings will be even more time consuming, so I would need to hard core prep.

If I do this, would people be willing to give fic recs of their favorite stories? Granted I would reserve the right to pick and choose which ones I do. I wouldn't want people to feel sad if I didn't do their fic, but regardless, I think it might be a fun idea.

Thoughts??

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu fanart #lu fanfiction #what would I even call this challenge #Fangirl July?#Why Did I Do This July? lol #someone clever help with the name please😂😂#self promoting fics would of course be welcome too🤭#Favorite Fic July?

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hyper-fixated-princess · 1 year

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I’m at the point where I’m not sure if what I know is actually canon or if it was something I read in an emotionally wrecking one shot on the Ao3 at 04:13 am

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ebodebo · 15 days

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summary: ghost has to train recruits and his girlfriend just so happens to be one of them.

paring: ghost x f!reader

word count: 1.6k+

a/n: heyy! just wanted to thank everyone who voted on my poll🥰🥰hopefully you like what i came up with and plz let me know what you think! (lol ik this would def not happpen irl, but no matter)

warnings: very slight smut?

wanna be on my taglist ? fill out this form!

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Happy Training

It was a beautiful spring morning. A little humid, but the slight breeze made it tolerable, mainly since the training you were having to do would occur outside. There was nothing like having to wake up at the crack of dawn to do some training.

The demo was going to be taught by some highly skilled special operations team members, so it was a big deal and no surprise that when you walked in, you saw numerous hopeful recruits fill the outside space you were placed in.

You made your way to a metal bench beside a blonde guy who looked relatively young. "Hi," you kindly smiled. "Is the Seat taken?" you questioned. He shook his head. "Go ahead, sweetheart," he said as you gave him a light smile.

You made light conversation with the blonde man, who you learned was named Sam. His voice was evidently full of nerves, but you couldn't blame him. You were a little nervous yourself, not because you thought you weren't capable of the tasks that would be put forward, but because you didn't know what to expect from the instructors coming.

"Do you know anything about the instructors?" He timidly asked. You shook your head. "No idea." You continued. "But I'm sure they aren't as bad as you think." You assured him. He gave an uneasy smile in return.

As the clock ticked and ticked closer to 6:30, you could feel the nerves build. It didn't help that Sam filled your head with negative thoughts about what these instructors would be like.

Once the clock struck 6:30, you heard the big door you came in through open. "Gather round, " You heard the familiar gruff voice yell, causing you to glance over at Sam, whose eyes were wide.

"Don't have all day now." The voice said as no one moved. You and Sam made your way over to the huddle in the back. You could barely see, but nothing could hide the commanding voice the man held.

"I'm Captain Price, and this is my team," he said, as he pointed to each member, saying their names: Sargent Mactavish, Sargent Garrick, and Lutenient Riley.

"Shit." You whispered.

"What's that?" Captain Price questioned with a raised brow. No one dared to answer. He nodded. "Right. Well, let's get to work."

He made everyone stand in a line and filed the recruits out to one of his team members.

You cursed in your head as the line got shorter and shorter until only you and Sam remained.

"Well," Captain Price raised his brows as he glanced at Ghost. "Um... go ahead then." He gestured towards Ghost, and the corner of his lip lifted at the situation.

Ghost's eyes followed yours as you walked over to him. You looked up at him. "Lutentinet Riley." You greeted as you stuck your hand out. He looked at it and finally grasped it with his own.

It was an unusual situation you found yourself in. Your boyfriend was on one of the world's most elite counter-terrorism task forces, and you had to be trained by him.

He let go, and you shuffled behind another recruit. Captain Price instructed Sam to head over to Ghost as well.

Sam headed straight your way after shaking Ghost's hand, an action that he didn't miss.

Captain Price dismissed everyone for doing their respective tasks, so Ghost took the recruits, including you, to an empty space.

"Doin' some physical training first." He gruffly states. "Partner up." He commands. Everyone slowly moves around to find someone to partner with.

"Shouldn't be taking this long." He sighs. You locked eyes with Sam and walked over to him, past Ghost.

“Y/N.” You turned to Ghost. "You'll be with me." He finished, looking at Sam.

"I already have a partner." You plainly said.

"I wasn't asking." He snarled. You looked at Sam and gave him a reassuring smile before you turned to walk over to Ghost.

Ghost narrowed his eyes at Sam, and even though he wore his signature balaclava, Sam could feel the weight of Ghost's eyes on him, so much so it caused him to stare at the ground.

Ghost shifted his attention back to the rest of the recruits. "We'll be doin' a trust exercise." He looked around and saw the recruits sigh breaths of relief.

He casually turned around towards the walls closest to them and held a backpack. "This backpack is eighteen kg." He turned towards you. "Forty pounds to you, Americans." You raise your brow.

He turns back to the recruits. "You'll be wearing them and completing the course outside." He paused momentarily, "Blindfolded." He finished.

He watched as the recruit's eyes widened. "Grab a bag and meet me outside." He held the backpack in his hand as you followed him out.

"You know that guy?" He questioned as you walked outside with him. "Sam?" You breathed out as he slid the heavy backpack on your back, buckling it in the front.

"Mhm." He replied, making sure the backpack was tight enough. "No. Not really." He nodded. "Why?" You looked up at him. He shook his head. "No reason." He stepped away as the other recruits made their way out to the course area.

"You're goin' to rely on your teammates to go through this course." He gestured to a course full of high beams, mud, and a climbing rope.

He leaned back a little on his heels. "Who's startin'?" He looked around and heard not a peep.

He turned his head to you and nodded towards you. "Looks like you're the lucky one." You let out a breath and a nod.

He guides you to the starting point and puts the blindfold on your face. Although unprofessional, you let a quiet laugh slip.

"Cheeky one you are." He whispered so low only you could hear. He finished tying the blindfold and stepped away from you.

He begins giving you directions on how to tackle the course.

"Go left."

"Stop."

"Climb."

Short commands. Nothing was ever longer than three words, and you were doing quite well until it was in the middle of the course.

The portion where you have to wrap your arms and legs around the underside of a beam and make your way across a lake of deep, thick mud.

You couldn't get across it, even with the directions he was giving. He was getting frustrated, and you were getting angry that he was getting angry. He finally gave up.

"Dismissed." He said, crossing his arms.

You dropped yourself into the mud. "What?" You said, ripping off the blindfold.

"You are dismissed." He repeated.

You stared at him momentarily before pressing your hands into the mud to help you get your footing.

You finally stood up and walked towards the building's door, not sparing him a glance. You went to Captain Price and told him the situation, to which he gently squeezed your shoulder and told you to go home.

Once you made it home, you cleaned all the mud off yourself. Maybe you were being dramatic, but it truthfully felt like he had just given up on you.

After cleaning up, you lay in your comfortable bed, swallowed by your fresh sheets. You grabbed the book that had been haunting your nightstand these past few weeks and decided to read it. You needed to get your mind off of things. About thirty minutes into reading, you slowly dozed off to sleep.

You were startled awake from a nightmare. The book flew off the bed, causing you to groan. You sighed deeply and rubbed your eyes, casually looking at your alarm clock beside the bed—6:00 PM.

"Shit." You say as you stretch your arms over your head. You decide to slip out of bed and head downstairs.

You went downstairs and began to make a fresh cup of tea. While steeping the tea bag, you heard a knock on the door. You didn't contemplate who it was, you knew.

You walked over to the door, hand hovering over the handle for a moment before twisting it to be met with Ghost's face.

You both stood there momentarily before you stepped aside so he could come in. He pulled off his mask as he stepped inside.

"Tea?" You asked as he walked behind you.

"Uh..please." He said.

You made your way to the tea kettle, poured him a cup, and walked over to hand it to him.

"Look, I came to apologize." You nodded and gestured to the couch. "I shouldn't have lost my temper, especially with you." He took a sip of tea.

"Simon." You started. "I know you were just doing your job. I wasn't your girlfriend there; I was just another recruit." You took a sip of tea. "I admit I was angry at you, but then I reminded myself you were just doing your job."

"So, you're not mad at me?" He questioned, raising a brow.

"No, of course not." You set your tea on the coffee table beside you.

"Huh." He leaned back on the couch.

"What?" You questioned.

"Well, I had the whole thing planned." He continued. "So, you'd forgive me."

You pretend to think. "Well, maybe I'm still a little upset.."

He set his tea down and stood up, positioning himself between your legs before dropping to his knees before you. "What're you doing?" You question, with a laugh.

He leaned closer to you and began placing slow, deep kisses up your calf to your thigh. "So, sex then?" You question as your hands find his hair.

"Makeup sex." He corrected while he gripped the bottoms of your pajama shorts. "Want me to show you the rest?" He looked up.

"Fuck yes." You moaned as he harshly connected his lips with your inner thigh.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

taglist: @callsign-artemis @yuenity @diedoverahat @chonkaydonkay @imaslutforfanfiction-blog @contractedcriteria @lunars-somehow-alive @minihotdog @mrs-marc-spector @harpsinfinity @babygirl-riley @bleached-punk

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