College is always full of surprises, friends, and stress. And a dash of romance drama. George is a coder, always has been and always will be. His passion is based around the game Minecraft, although they aren't quite well-known. He's the typical stay-in-the-dorm hiding with his computer type student, rarely going out unless he needs food. Clay is an athletic god. It's an understatement saying the college swim team is good since, well, they're the best. If high school status's were still around, he would be well into the popular podium, the girls adoring him, many friends, and practically being a teacher's pet. Maybe it was fate that Clay decided to work at the local coffee shop, a quaint location amongst the common restaurants of a small town, which George finds to be a second home. Maybe it was fate that George manages to get tangled into the "popular" circle. All they know is that college is one helluva game to play.

Kirk and Spock both begin to have feelings for each other. They go to Bones for help, but realize that some things you can't learn from others; you have to experience them yourself. ------- I have tried to be as canon-compliant to the original series as possible so here you go please enjoy my love letter to TOS (P.S. sorry I'm terrible at summaries lol) (P.P.S. if you're looking for smut you can pass right on by because this is nothing but pure, heart-achingly sweet fluff you have been warned)

Spock had never tried it himself, but knew it was possible through stories and experiences from the Vulcan Elders, and as he moved to Kirk's side he pushed back all uncertainty-this was the only option they had to save the captain's life. "My strength to yours. My will to yours," he muttered ever so quietly, reminding himself of what he was doing. He focused on not intruding into Kirk's mind, instead only allowing the bond to offer him strength and project reassurance; he could hear Kirk's breathing even out. "Spock?" "I'm here, captain."

७ ‧₊˚ 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 thought their story was finished when it'd only just begun. 〖 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝟣𝟢.𝟤𝟨.𝟤𝟢 〗 〖 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗇 𝗑 𝗈𝖼 〗 〖 𝗌𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟣 © 〗

Philophobia - the fear of being in or falling in love One tournament, one winner. Two princes, many secrets. One with a secret that he can't hide forever. Prince Clay has come of age and a tournament is being held for his hand in marriage. Prince George, along with every other prince and princess, received an invite for this tournament. But he wasn't like the other royals, George didn't want to marry... so he decided to take matters into his own hands and fail the tournament on purpose. What will happen when these two princes cross paths? Will their secrets be kept or spilled? Sneak peek: ------------- "Oh god," Clay breathed, "I want to kiss you so bad George." George couldn't move, his breath locking in his chest. He was frozen in fear, in fear of what could happen. "But I won't," Clay murmured, pulling George into his arms, "not... not yet." ------------- THIS HAS BEEN EDITED Also, I do NOT take credit for the cover! Artist: @_rosesoul_ (twitter) Possible TW: Swearing Alcohol (and a short mention of vomiting) Suggestive themes Dark topics Death Suicide Intrusive thoughts Sad ending :(

GeorgeNotFound and Dream have been online friends for years, and one day George moves to The United States for his mother's job, and just so happens to be in Florida. At his new school he meets the flirty school jock named Clay, what could possibly go wrong..? [high school au] [No one has shown faces online, just for the purpose of this fanfic] THE COVER ART IS NOT MINE, I did in fact add the title, but other than that, it's completely not mine. This story will be in 3rd person POV unless I say otherwise:)

Clay and George both go to a large high school. Clay is a stereotypical star of the football team, always surrounded by girls, incredibly popular, you get the deal. And George, fairly quiet, considered a nerd by anyone who considers him at all. Little does the entire school know, the famous youtuber they all ogle over, NotFound, is the same brunette they bully on a daily basis. Soon though, a simple sticky note would change Georges quiet life by a landslide. I update at least once a day sometimes twice lmao, usually around 1000-1500 words. As far as writing style I kinda like to stick to the plot? As in if something is happening then it is related to the plot, no unimportant random stuff. TW; LOTS of cursing, some lime, not anything crazy tho

Dream learns three things when a man falls out of the sky and lands in front of him: 1. Normalcy is relative. 2. Guardian angels exist, and he has one named George. 3. He really needs to come up with better pick-up lines.

4,336 miles. The distance between London and Orlando. George has never been so aware of it until now, helplessly listening to the white noise coming from Dream's mic. Dread pools in his stomach as his fingers stumble over the phone's keyboard, searching for a contact he hasn't thought about in months. It seems to take ages for the call to connect, but eventually George hears the groggy "hello" he's been waiting for. He takes a deep breath. "I think there's something wrong with Dream."

"I'll read it out for you." Anne said, handing the cigarette back to you. "Wanted; for breaking and entering and robbery. Unknown bandit seen leaping from a window of a bank in Kempton, may be walking with a limp from the fall. Suspected to be about 5'8" and stocky build. Should any leads arise please contact local authorities." --- You hadn't even seen him there, obscured in the darkness of night - and it was obvious that he hadn't been expecting anyone to come out back. He startled, stumbling away from where he had been leaning, and your heart leapt into your throat, surprised in the worst way possible. So surprised, that you threw the bag of vegetable scraps at him as a form of self defense. The bag bounced harmlessly against the man's chest and landed on the ground. Your eyes darted to it first, but then up to the man you had thrown it at - taking in his features from the light streaming out of the still-open door. He wasn't too tall, but he had the build of someone who had known a farm life before - broad shoulders and muscle made for work, not show. His clothes were practical, and he carried a pack strapped to his back. It was his face that was the most interesting though - he couldn't have been much older than you, and he looked kind, for lack of a better word. Open, almost.