#I’ve got wips rolling around in my head from January or more

[arthyritis]

Longing to be able to work on a big writing project like I used to :(

[winterscaptain]

figure it out.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: this has been in my wips for literal months as i’ve done my best to get it just right for yall. i hope you enjoy it, and tell me what you think! There’s an addendum to this one, and i’m already working on it, but we’ll see a few more things before that’s ready :)

words: 3.5k warnings: sex mention, sex implication, language

summary: “love is like a backache. it doesn’t show up on an x-ray, but you know it’s there.” - george burns. au!january 2012. 

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

You roll over in bed when your alarm goes off, but you don’t get very far. Aaron throws an arm over you and pulls you back to him with a grumble. 

You huff a laugh and wiggle up against him. It’s all a tease and you both know it - there isn’t any time to get up to anything fun before work, but it’s far too entertaining to rile him up.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish.” His voice escapes his lips between your shoulder blades and you can feel his smile. 

“Oh, trust me, babe. I can finish.” 

He hums, his smile breaking out into something real. “I noticed.” 

+++

When the two of you finally make it out of bed (surprisingly still on time), you grab one of Aaron’s scarves and a hat on your way out. It’s your turn to drop Jack at school today on your way into the office, and the task serves two purposes. 

The first? It’s nice to spend time with Jack, just the two of you, when it’s your turn and you’re not on a case. It’s the same for Aaron, who always leaves a little earlier so he and Jack can sit down somewhere and have breakfast together.

The second is pure logistics. You two can’t show up to work in the same car at the same time, so a convenient excuse to separate and stagger your arrivals is welcome. 

“Really?” 

Aaron’s question stops you at the threshold and you look over your shoulder “What?” 

“My hat? My scarf?” 

It’s almost too tempting to cave when he’s looking at you like that - his tie hanging around his neck, shirt untucked, arms crossed, and playful frown hiding a smile. 

“Yeah. It’s warm and it’s here and we’re late.” 

Jack squints up at you and says, “We’re not late.”

“You’re not late.”

The observations come within split seconds of each other and you laugh. 

“Fine. Not late, but warm. And you have more hats.” You scamper back into the house to plant a kiss on his lips, smoothing the hair at his temples. 

Jack’s laughter is the underscore to your next quip. “You’re very handsome and I’m sure you’re very smart so you can figure it out.” 

“Yeah, Dad,” Jack chirps. “Figure it out.”

He has nothing to say to your retreating forms as he catches a glimpse of your smile through the crack in the closing door.

+++

Emily and Spencer are away at a conference-book-signing thing, so it’s just the five of you and Penelope this morning. You’d normally figure that would be Rossi’s purview, but apparently - 

“My book-signing days have been put on hold indefinitely in favor of -”

“ - He’s back.” Garcia interrupts, tossing case files at all of you. The conversation is cut short and you suppress a smile. “The Marin headlands last night.” 

You can see Aaron’s lips pull as well. 

It’s the little things. 

Penelope gestures with the notes and crime scene photos appear on the screen. “David Atley and Nicole Puli, both 24, both grad students at Berkeley, shot multiple times in their vehicle-- wait for it--” She clicks again and a familiar sigil appears. 

“The Zodiac?” Morgan’s shock is almost sardonic in its delivery. 

Rossi snorts. “No way.”

“Come on,” Derek says, amused, while JJ chimes in as well. 

 “It's gotta be the 2.0 version.”

While neither of you speak, you share a glance with Aaron. You’re kidding. 

He only raises his eyebrows for a split second and shrugs. 

There’s some part of you a little paranoid that you’re the most obvious couple to exist in the history of the universe. Sure, the team has been teasing you about your friendship for years, the will-the-won’t-they of it all, but now that it’s real you’re almost terrified that they know everything. 

Thus, the overcompensation has been wretched. You and Aaron barely look at each other in the field if you can help it (which you usually can’t) and he tends to put you with Derek more often than not. 

In truth, the others have noticed, but are far too interested in the spectacle to say anything. Emily’s almost certain the two of you have slept together, and Dave may or may not have suggested the possibility of a secret marriage during your period of suspension. 

However far-fetched and ridiculous their theories, they know you two well enough to know that something happened. The tension is gone. 

Derek almost finds himself missing the tension. There hasn’t been much to tease you about lately in its absence. 

“Yeah, you would think so, except for the crazy similarities in the MO.” Penelope clicks through the photos as she talks. 

“I'm talking same victimology, same geography. And,” she adds. “Two souvenirs were left at the crime scene.” She clicks once more and stands back for the full effect. 

“He left a photo?” Rossi asks.

She hums in the affirmative. “Local police say that is Marcia Miller. She was found near Napa in 1971. Strongly suspected that she was a victim of the Zodiac, but police never confirmed it and they didn't publicize the case.” 

Morgan’s still squinting at the screen. “So the Zodiac took this photo at the killing and then saved it all these years?”

“The Zodiac's last confirmed victim was the cabdriver Paul Stine,” Dave notes devolving into a conversation about The Zodiac, his timeline, his signature. 

It’s nothing new - The Zodiac Killer’s case details are common knowledge in your line of work, nevermind the sheer number of copycats that try their hand at the highly-ritualistic murders before inevitably getting arrested. 

There’s a reason this guy hasn’t been caught in forty years. 

After a few minutes of bouncing between you all, Hotch pushes back from the table and stands. “Have Reid and Prentiss meet us in San Francisco. Wheels up in 30.”

He heads straight to his office to collect his things and you swing in by the tips of your fingers for just a second. “You wanna call Jess or do you want me to?” 

In the middle of throwing files in his briefcase, he doesn’t look up when he answers. “Can you, please? I was supposed to meet with Strauss this afternoon and need to stop by her office before wheels up.” 

You smile at him, tapping the door frame twice. “You got it.” 

+++

It’s boots on the ground right away when you land in San Francisco. You drive to the crime scene with Aaron in the passenger seat beside you and JJ in the back. The radio’s on, and you sing under your breath, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel as you make your way up to the crime scene. 

Before you get to the local FBI agents, JJ catches you by the sleeve. “It’s nice to have music in the car again.” 

You just smile at her. Aaron looks a little puzzled. 

The three of you wipe the looks off your faces by the time you get to Agent Lynn. 

+++

“What did JJ mean?” Aaron asks you. 

The two of you are alone for the time being, posted up in the conference room with the old Zodiac case files. You look up. “Hmm?” 

“What did she mean when she mentioned the music earlier?” 

“Oh.” A little flush of embarrassment shoots down your gut. “Derek pointed out to me last summer that I didn’t play any music in the car.” 

...while you were gone is the thing you don’t say, but he knows that’s what you mean. 

“I didn’t really notice.” You shrug to cover your fib. “I guess I’ve reacquainted myself with the radio in the last couple of weeks.” 

Aaron hums, returning to his work. Something’s off, but you’re sure it’ll come up later. 

+++

“You don’t think it’s really him, do you?” You ask, unbuttoning your shirt and throwing your pajamas on. 

Surprisingly, this case seems to be one of those that allows for sleep at regular hours. For that, you’re grateful. It’s much harder to find time to wind down with Aaron at the end of the day when you’re all forced to sleep in shifts. 

Aaron shakes his head, “No, I think Reid’s right. We’re looking at a particularly sophisticated copycat.” 

“Isn’t that kind of worse?” Hopping up on your bed, you curl up and look at him over your nose - a clear invitation to join you. 

With a huff down his nose and a little smile, he flops down beside you and props his chin on his arms over your belly. “Could be. Luckily, we have Reid.” 

You almost think he’s going to say something else, but he gets that pensive look on his face again. 

“What?” 

With a sigh, he says, “I’m just thinking about what JJ said.” 

“Oh, Aaron -” 

He doesn’t let you finish. It’s probably a good thing. You didn’t know what you wanted to say anyway. 

“I knew how hard it was on me, but I’m realizing more and more how hard it was on you, too.” He shakes his head. “I feel ...I don’t know. I feel like I should have known better… or something.” 

Winding your fingers in his hair, you sit in silence for a moment. He doesn’t have anything more to say and eventually he crawls up your body and settles in under your arm, his head on your chest and legs wound between yours.

Sometimes, you’ve found, he likes to feel small.  

“You’re safe and you’re home. That’s what matters.” You kiss the top of his head. “And I love you.” 

He hums, arcing into your touch and wrapping an arm around your waist. “I love you.” 

+++

You spend much of the next day chasing Spencer around the city, keeping notes handy (for yourself, not for him - he doesn't need them) and reporting back on his discoveries to the team like some kind of overwrought and hyper-trained secretary. 

Stepping off to the side, you answer a call from Aaron. 

“Hit your limit yet?” 

You look over at Spencer, who’s flipping through a newspaper like a man on a mission. “It’s actually kind of entertaining.” 

And that’s actually true. Watching Spencer push the limits of his intelligence is always a treat - it happens so rarely you almost forget how much you enjoy it every time. 

He huffs into the phone. “Hang in there. We’ll all meet back at the precinct once Reid’s done -”

“Doing magic?” 

“Exactly. Keep me posted.” There’s a pause. It’s an odd little habit you two developed in the field to leave space for the words you can’t say in front of the others. 

I love you.

“Me too.” 

+++

You’re almost asleep when a sliver of yellow light shoots across your room, promptly disappearing as the door to the hallway closes. 

He pads across the room and slips under the covers. “Hi.” 

A little smile crosses your face as you roll over to face him. “Hi.”

Before you can say anything else, his hands are on you and he’s half on top of you as he captures your lips. 

Needless to say, the lack of sleep is worth it. 

+++

Emily, long after she and Aaron are the only ones left in the precinct conference room, squints as she notices something right under his collar. 

He’s already loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his dress shirt, no longer standing on ceremony now that all the local police have retired and the rest of the team gone up to their hotel rooms. There’s not much to do, but the compulsion to get ahead for tomorrow is one neither one of them can shake. 

What Aaron failed to remember when executing his wardrobe adjustment was the rather...spirited romp in your room the night prior. The little purple swatches painted on his skin just under the line of his collar stood out stark against the crisp lines of his dress shirt. 

Fortunately for you, there was no way in hell the rest of the team would find anything he left on you last night. 

Emily reaches into her purse and pulls out a tube of concealer and a powder compact. Though he’s more olive-toned than she is, it’ll be good enough in a pinch. “Hey, Hotch.” 

He looks at her over his nose, his eyes tired. 

“You might want this for tomorrow morning.” She pushes the crisis control kit across the table to him, but he only frowns and deepens his squint. 

By way of explanation, she reaches across the table and presses the tip of her finger into one of the visible bruises in the hollow of his throat. He flinches, freezes, and then immediately drops his head into his hands. 

It’s easy to say Emily is amused in the extreme. “Those look...really fresh.” 

He shakes his head, insisting as he picks up a file at random, “They’re from before we left.” 

It’s only because it’s Emily that he’s even humoring this conversation. 

“No they’re not.” She sticks her tongue firmly in her cheek. “These ones are though.” She points at yellowing marks on his collarbone and he smacks her hands away. 

“And I know what fresh hickies look like, Hotch. Those are fresh fresh. Like, last night fresh. And we’ve been here for four days.” She frowns, tracking back through the day. “When on earth would you have time to -” 

A series of images flash through her head, random wayward connections flashing together in an alarmingly clear picture.

You, avoiding her at the office back in September with quickly-covered marks painted across your neck.

You, flirting with Sean and having way too much fun doing it, looking over his shoulder at ...someone else.

Hotch, in a perpetually good mood (for him, anyway, and despite looking ill-slept) for the last five months. 

The way the mistletoe kiss at Dave’s Christmas party looked way too easy, too familiar. 

And now, the obvious indicators that Hotch is not only getting it, he’s getting it good. 

If he got those last night…

Wait. 

Their hotel rooms are right next to …

Oh my God. 

Hotch watches the realization flash across Emily’s face, and he knows you’re both busted. Instead of losing her shit like he expected, Emily just leans back in her chair - smug. 

“So. Are you still Not the Boyfriend, or has there been an update?”

He sighs. 

The corner of her mouth tips up. “How long?”

“For which part? The not-boyfriend part, the boyfriend part, or this part?” He gestures vaguely to the space behind his tie, and Emily snorts. 

“Just spill it.” 

Holding up a finger, he pulls his phone out of his pocket, dialing the first number on his speed dial. 

You’re hardly asleep, sitting up in bed waiting for him with a case file in your lap, when you get the call. You’re not sure who’s listening, so a “Hey, Hotch. What’s up?” will have to do. 

“Emily knows.” 

You straighten. “How?”

“Doesn’t matter. She knows.” 

There’s a scramble, and suddenly Emily’s on the other end of the phone. “He’s got very questionable and very fresh bruises just under his collar. Care to explain?”

There’s another shuffle. 

“Ignore her,” Aaron says. With a hand pressed to your forehead, you understand the question implicit in his phone call. 

“Just tell her. It’s basically her fault, anyways. If she hadn’t ditched it then we’d have our heads up our asses for another five years.”

“Alright,” then, after a second of realizing you don’t sound sleepy at all, “Go to bed.”

“I’m in bed.” 

He rolls his eyes. Emily can only look on with amusement, gleeful in the extreme. “You know that’s not what I mean. Go to sleep.”

“Alright, alright. Fine.” You reluctantly close the casefile and put him on speaker so he can hear the light click off. “I’m going to sleep.” Then, “I love you. Come up soon.”

“Okay.” He shoots a glance at Emily. Because he’ll never hear the end of it anyway, more ammo won’t hurt at this point. “I love you too. Now, really. Go to slee -”

You hang up on him. He double-takes at his phone for a moment before shoving it back in his pocket. 

He’s met with Emily’s surprisingly moved eyes. “You’re...okay.”

What she means is, You’re happy. 

He knows. 

He nods. “I’m okay.”

She puts her files down and leans forward, resting her elbows on the table and lacing her fingers. “Tell me.” 

So, he does. 

He tells her about the way you stuck to him like glue through the divorce, the way you wiggled your way into Haley’s heart, captured the love of his son, and earned the trust of his entire family. 

He tells her what Haley said in the hospital, the tenacious care you showed his unyielding and unwilling ass when he was healing, the way your grief soothed his in the wake of Haley’s loss. 

He tells her about the moments of euphoria in the years of want and doubt and fear. 

He tells Emily about the day she died, how there was nothing more painful than that necessary lie. He tells her how easy it was to lie to the others, how it ripped him in half to lie to you. 

He tells her about the day he left for Pakistan, about the fight the night before, the kiss he pressed to your cheek on the tarmac, the endless, wretched nights missing you in the desert. 

He tells her about the fight when he finally came home, skims over the following days, jumps and meanders around to Christmas, to moving in, to the bliss that now seems to follow him wherever he goes. 

Emily watches the smile that plays at his mouth when he talks about you, the softness in his eyes as recalls the look on your face and the words you said and the way you are with Jack. There’s a kind of peace in him that she’s never really seen before. 

Maybe, she imagines, it was there before she met him (the second time). Maybe this peace existed with Haley. Maybe this is the most she’s ever heard him speak at once. Maybe it makes her smile. 

Maybe this peace is what his love looks like. 

If that’s the case, she thinks, you are very lucky indeed. 

It could have been hours, it could have been minutes, but at some point he stops talking. 

“Hotch?” 

He looks over at her, the softness lingering in his eyes. 

“I’m really happy for you.” 

His lips twitch. “Thanks.” 

“And you know it’s my God-given right to tell everyone else once this case is over, right?”

+++

You actually are asleep by the time Aaron gets back to the hotel. He leans against the wall in the dark with his hands in his pockets, enjoying the peace before the inevitable shitshow. 

He crosses the room and crouches at your side, running the back of his fingers over your cheek. You stir, sleepy noises leaving your throat as your eyes crack open. 

“Aaron?”

“Yeah. Just me.” 

You smile a little and close your eyes again. “How’d she take it?”

“Remarkably well.” He kisses your forehead. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“No,” you whine, drawn-out and slurred. “Don’t leave. Stay. I set an alarm.”

With a resigned sigh, he strips and slides into bed behind you, wrapping you in his arms and holding you close. 

+++

You and Aaron sit on proverbial pins and needles for the rest of the case, but Emily keeps her word. The only indication of her knowledge came the morning after her chat with Aaron, when she pulled you to her and hugged you so tight you could hardly breathe. 

She seizes her moment on the plane, about halfway home. 

“Derek, you owe me fifty bucks.” 

She hardly looks up from her book as she speaks. 

He takes off his headphones and wrinkles his brow. “What?”

She repeats herself, slower, as if she was speaking to a child. “You. Owe. Me. Fifty. Bucks.”

“...Why?” 

Emily finally looks up from her book to pointedly stare at you and Aaron, seated next to each other and sharing a bag of Goldfish you stole from Jack’s snack drawer. You’re both reading from the same file, absently reaching for crackers as you go along. 

Derek’s confusion continues to smother his face until it finally clicks in. 

He steals a page from Reid’s notebook and balls it up, tossing it across the plane and breaking your concentration. You look up, only a little startled, to find a face-splitting grin blinding you across the cabin.

Derek’s small ruckus has drawn the attention of the rest of the team - well, all except JJ, who’s fast asleep on the couch. 

There seems to be a collective sigh of relief as money exchanges hands. You’re not quite sure what the bet was, but Emily seems to have won handily. 

Aaron takes your hand under the table, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

It doesn’t. 

Everyone simply returns to their tasks, little smiles on their faces. 

+++

tagging: @quillvine @agenthotchner @hurricanejjareau @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @genevievedarcygrangerwriting @ssaic-jareau @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @hotchsflower @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @dwellingsofrosie @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses @lcvischmitt @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @mandylove1000 @cevanswhre @qvid-pro-qvo @jeor @spencers-hoodrat @infinity1321 @zizzlekwum @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @this-broken-band-girl @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @winqhster @arthurmorrgans @the-falling-in-the-danger @softbibxtch @iconicc @mangoberry43 @andreasworlsboring101 @kerrswriting @mac99martin @itsalwaysb33nyou @baumarvel @kerrswriting @messyhairday-me @ssworldofsw @deagibs @crazyshannonigans @moonshinerbynight @jhiddles03 @teamhappyme @mendesmelodies @starsandasteroids @unicorn-bitch @ambicaos

[dramioneasks]

HP FESTS: For The Love of Fests (Part 1)

Love at Second Sight January 2021:

Second Time's the Charm by floorcoaster - T, one-shot - The first time Hermione sees Draco Malfoy again, she's in for a surprise.

Influence by Misdemeanor1331 - G, one-shot - Draco and Hermione bump into each other at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Draco thinks it’s a chance encounter. Hermione knows it’s anything but.

The Love Boat by Seakays - T, one-shot - Hermione Granger and her two best friends are embarking on a week long "Divorced Magicals" Cruise. Hermione took advantage of the Cruise's pre cruise chat room, where she met Scorly1203. After six months of texting, she has agreed to meet him on the first day of the cruise. Could she really find a second chance at love on the Lido Deck?

Second Time Lucky by rennaissance_woman - not rated, one-shot - During a trip to Weasley Wizard Wheezes, what do you do when presented with a second chance?

In Vino Veritas by beautyberry - M, one-shot - "Granger?" he asked disbelievingly. "Malfoy?" she asked, "What are you doing here?" Rated M for mentions of sex.

The Art of Second Chances by Blessedindeed - not rated, one-shot - A chance encounter at the museum brings up unresolved feelings

What Lies Beyond the Light by SlytherinHermione - M, one-shot - The thing about prisons is that it tends to change a you. The person you were when you went in, will not be the person that comes out. Sometimes for the better, oftentimes for the worst. For Draco Malfoy, the scales were tipped when a certain lawyer forced themselves onto his case with the start of one letter. A letter that turned into the type of correspondence where you end up baring your soul to a stranger. A stranger that ends up knowing every little part of you, from the darkest corners, to the sunniest fields - while barely knowing you at all. But then again, Hermione Granger was never really a stranger to begin with.

Silly Love Songs February 2021:

This Beauty By My Side by Amarillis39 - M, one-shot - My entry to the Silly Love Songs Fest. ____ "But as he watched her glide through the crowd, he decided he would take every second she would give him. Worthy or not, he was still a selfish git." ___ It's another stuffy gala at the Ministry and Draco is overcome with conflicting feelings as he watches Hermione in her element.

The Light That You Shine by SlytherinHermione - M, one-shot - Draco was adrift. All around him was an endless, unforgiving ocean, dull and grey in colour.  The waves kept crashing in on him. Back and forth, back and forth. Sometimes he felt like he’d been cursed to remain like a graying tower, alone on the sea. This all changed on a random cold winter day and a bright light. Because what followed the light was as unexplainable as the feeling of calm that suddenly enveloped him. He felt a twinge of something that he couldn’t explain. On the other side of the sidewalk stood Hermione Granger, more beautiful than he could remember, locking eyes with him for a second, as if she herself was caught with him inside of this time bubble filled with light and large, fluffy snowflakes. And with a blink of an eye, she walked the other way, as if this was just another Monday. As if she hadn’t just turned Draco's world up-side down. The tumultuous oceans that surrounded his untethered soul were full of waves, but now of a different kind.

Discord by Lostinthenightrain - T, one-shot - “I’ve seen your darkest, and it doesn’t scare me. You’ve become something so much more.” She placed a gentle kiss on his jaw. “I love you, dark and all.”

Time to Spare by Willowfairy - M, one-shot - Draco gets drunk enough to finally tell Hermione how he really feels, and once he starts talking he finds it impossible to stop.

Sometimes When We Touch by sodamnrad - T, one-shot - What if Hermione and Draco were dating when he took the Dark Mark? Submission for the Silly Loves Songs Mini-Fest One shot | Draco's POV | Sixth Year

To Be With You by Blessedindeed - not rated, one-shot - Her ability to show forgiveness intrigues him. Draco finds he has a soft spot for Hermione.

Masquerade March 2021:

Punch Line by tygermine - E, one-shot - Hermione seems to hide behind multiple masks.Draco wants to remove them all.

A Deadly Dance by MykEsprit - T, one-shot - An unexpected guest arrives at the ball. Dramione.

Ask it of Me by WritingFicariously - T, one-shot - Hermione has always had the ability to chase away demons, the darkness that twists his mind into believing he is not good, never enough. She sees and knows every part of him. But Draco has always kept one thing from her, one secret that he never dared say aloud. Until he did.

A Masquerade of Body and Soul by Annav94 - M, one-shot - She’s here to escape the reality, to break the rules. She is here to break the rules because all rules have only given her, is false hope. She turns her head and her eyes meet his. He’s there for the catch of the night. And while he finds himself smirking, smiling at the unforeseen turn of event, he wonders if truly Hermione Granger is flirting in a room full of witnesses with none other than himself - the infamous Draco Malfoy.

Imbolc by CosmicCthulhu - G, one-shot - Hermione celebrates the beginning of spring for the first time, years after the war. She's not the only one who wants a fresh start.

Suit Up by calico_kitten - M, 2 chapters - Gawain Robards has cooked up a new idea for the Departmental Hallowe'en Ball: comic book hero disguises!

This Mask I Wear by SlytherinHermione  - T, one-shot - This mask I wear feels cool on my skin. I slip it on, and the act is ready to begin.Safety. Protection. Freedom.

Lover of Fiction April 2021:

3 Words, 8 Letters by sodamnrad - T, 2 chapters - “Do you like me?” Draco’s flitty looks, his tart remarks about her feelings for Blaise, the way he’s following her around instead of chasing an eligible witch who isn’t pining over his friend is extremely telling.“Define like.”Her mouth unhinges. No effing way. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”“How do you think I feel?” He glares at her. “I haven’t slept. I feel sick like there’s something in my stomach, fluttering.” He presses a hand against his belly, as if he’s experiencing the sensation at this very moment.“Butterflies?” she deadpans. “No. No, no, no this cannot be happening.”“No one is more surprised or ashamed than I am.” He gestures to himself, lifting his chin tersely.“Draco, you know that I adore all of Earth’s creatures and the metaphors that they inspire,” she says as her hand forms a crushing fist, “but the butterflies have got to be murdered.”---Draco & Hermione: Their Story (2000s TV Drama Style)Dual POV | 2 Shot | Idiots in Love

The Ambition by In_Dreams - M, one-shot - After ten years at sea, Captain Hermione Granger has a ship and a crew of her own. But one of her new crew mates is a blacksmith from her past. Dramione Pirates AU.

Jitters by TheMourningMadam - M, one-shot - This was written for the Lovers of Fiction mini fest for April. Thank you to QuinTalon for being a gracious host in this fest.My prompt was Jamie and Claire Fraser from Outlander. If you have never seen Outlander, why not? You at least need to watch their first time to see some hot and bewildered Jamie. This is a tiny snapshot into what would be a much larger story, so please take it at face value.Also, I finished this story right at the wire, so didn't have time for a beta. All mistakes are obviously my own and I apologize. Bold sentences are word for word from the tv show.

I Meant Something Like That by CharliPetidei - M, WIP - “You know what’s funny?” said Hermione, crossing her ankles and leaning forwards on the slightly peeling leather sofa. “When I first saw your advert online… I thought you were Hufflepuffs.” The three men opposite her exchanged glances, and then the tall, platinum blond one (it had to be dyed, right?) with the funny name leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. Draco, that was it. “You thought we were what?” A New Girl Dramione AU.

The One Where Everyone Finds Out - Dramione Edition by Annav94 - T, WIP - Don’t we all know what happened when Phoebe finds out about Monica and Chandler in season 5 of Friends? Well, what would then happen if it was Draco and Hermione to be discovered by Pansy? Would then Theo try to calm her down, in the hope that she would stop screaming so his boyfriend (Harry bloody Potter, of all people) would be prevented from finding out about them is such crude way? And would Blaise go along with the scheme the two Slytherins would come up with to push the new couple to expose itself or will he be done with all the ‘pretending’ of not knowing, when he knew all along?Stay with me on this journey called: ‘The One Where Everyone Finds Out - Dramione Edition’.

The Dragon's Moving Castle by SlytherinHermione - T, WIP - Hermione Granger had accepted that her life wasn't going to be a great big adventure.She wasn't particularly beautiful, or interesting, and she hadn't been born with magic like her sisters. Really, she was just as plain as could be.One day though, a castle was seen rolling around the hills near her town.Not long after, she met a strange, handsome, and mysterious man.And she was cursed by the Wicked Witch of the Wasteland.Perhaps life was an adventure after all.

Lanky Brunettes with Wicked Jaws by Lostinthenightrain - M, one-shot - “You’ve got types?”“Only you darling.” He put his hand under her chin and brought her around to face him. He pulled her close with his arm held tight against her.  His head to the side of her own, he grinned. “Lanky brunettes with wicked jaws.” A gentle kiss placed against her jaw. She smiled, a blush prettying her cheeks as she pulled back.

Reader, I Married Him by Lostinthenightrain - T, one-shot - “Why must you?” he questioned as he pulled himself forward, using the rough pads of his fingers he gently touched under her chin, dragging her gaze to his own. “You know why!” She wrenched her chin from his grasp. “You are to be married, Malfoy.”

This fest is ongoing.

[ofmythsandmadness]

midnight | b.h

 FROM MY PROMPT LIST: #6. ‘just five more minutes.’  WARNINGS: probably nothing.  NOTES: gender neutral. ben’s alive here. it’s an au, not sparrow academy ben bc i don’t know if this would work for his character. also, this is messy. i’m trying to force myself to write so i can work on proper pieces, and this drabble’s what i came up with. kinda hate it. rolling anyways.

There was something so exhilarating about life, when the rest of the world wasn’t around to witness you living it.

It’s why you live almost entirely nocturnally. Maybe it’s why Ben does the same -- that, or he’s so head over heels with you that he would sacrifice a thousand good nights to be by your side. You embrace the cold wind blowing in your hair and sending shivers down your spine, regardless of how many layers pressed tight to your skin. It’s a relief; a moment to breathe, after a long day of suffocation and bare survival.

“This is nice.”

“Mm.” Your arm presses against his. In the dark, his black hoodie is barely visible; only the slightest form of fabric can be seen as it wrinkles against your own florescent clothing. “It is.”

“When do you want to go back?”

You laugh a little, leaning closer. “How about never? That work?”

“Yeah, sure. We can become forest beings-”

“-forest beings?!” You glare up at him. “You mean we’d be fairies.”

“Or like, nymphs, or some sort of guardian of the woods, or-”

“-give me fairies or give me death, Bentacles.”

He tries to scowl, but it fails miserably; his lips only remain downturned for half a second before he’s stifling the softest giggles behind his hand. You smile, too. It’s hard not to when it’s him -- Ben Hargreeves’ smile is a plague, and you’re defenseless against it. Might as well give in before it gets bad.

“We should go back soon.”

“Mm...” you mumble, trying to ignore his suggestion. Your body presses even nearer, chin tilted up so you could see every halflit detail of the man beside you. “You’re pretty, you know that? You’d be an awfully pretty fairy.”

The darkness hides his flush, but it can’t hide the way his eyes dart away, eager to escape the trap laid in front of him. Damn tension nearly gets him; he has to concentrate on the ground below him and try not to consider how big your eyes look in the moonlight.

“We can’t become fairies tonight. We’ve got work in the morning.”

You emit a gentle groan. Your chin hits his shoulder. “Five more minutes, Bentacles?”

“You’re going to-”

-he stops short as your fingers find his. In the darkness they look like phantom limbs creeping towards his own - but it’s almost comforting, watching your hands interlace with nothing but midnight shadows to cradle them. You tug a little and pull his hands to sit under your chin.

“Please?” You ask again, lips pouting and eyes as wide as they could get. You slide your chin from the interlaced hands and dip to press the softest of kisses to his knuckles. 

He shivers at the touch; you smile, doing it again.

“Just five more minutes, Ben?”

You look back up to him, only to find him leaning closer than before, turning to face you with a serious expression.

“What is it?” You pull your hands from his, eyebrows furrowing in thought. “Was that - I didn’t mean to over-”

“-you can’t do that,” he says, and his voice is a far cry from what it was mere moments before. It’s low and a little hoarse. His hands fall down to your lap, curling and uncurling as he considers his next words, “you’re gonna make me want to kiss you.”

“Wh - oh.”

He barely nods, his expression a little sadder then.

“Well...what if I want you to kiss me?”

Ben’s eyes dart up to catch yours, still imploring and wide. The moonlight drips like honey around the both of you, drenching you in its cold white rays; but the air around you both is suddenly warmer than it should ever be on a January night.

“What?”

You don’t answer him then. Not with words, anyways. But your legs scrabble, pushing you further down the wall and closer to him and you catch his hands again, tugging them to your chest. The wild beating of your heart thuds against your intertwined fingers. You smile, leaning up and into his face, nose just barely nudging against his.

“Y/N...” his voice comes out a strained whisper as he subconsciously leans in too, pulling you in. He pulls a hand away and lifts it to you cradle your jaw. His thumb swipes against the cold skin delicately, tentatively like he’s wondering if you’ll disappear right in his hold. “Are you sure?”

You don’t give me anything more than a wider smile before closing your eyes and pushing into his lips. His hand tightens around your jaw and you’re both pressing as close as you can, desperate for more and more touch from the other person -- more than you can even physically offer. You’re smiling into the kiss like two lovesick teens behind the bleachers, and your teeth clash once or twice, but you just laugh and lean in again.

“Maybe we can stay out a little longer,” Ben huffs, pulling away to press his forehead against yours. “A couple minutes. Yeah?”

You grin, hands coming in around his shoulders. You dare another quick peck, eyes flashing more mischief than he’d expect. Somehow, it’s even more alluring than before, and he’s eager to pull you in again. 

“Maybe a little longer...”

NOTES: that gif really has no place here but I’m using it anyways bc there’s so few ben gifs. and most of them are sad and i don’t want that vibe attached, so.

I have no idea how to end this drabble. I like -- this is so messy. My mind is just ‘???’ trying to write anything more. But here it is nonetheless and I’ll leave it before it gets too long and whack. I miss Ben and writing for him. I have so much Ben content, really -- I just don’t know how to write and I’ve been struggling with even any cent of creativity. So here we are.

I haven’t been writing stuff this pg in a while (in wips i mean) but I’m trying to get better at writing the build up because I find my mind is just like, blank when it comes to leading up. Bro, I live for sexual or romantic tension, and yet I can never imitate that in my own works.

As always, if you liked this, feel free to like/reblog/do all that stuff. It means a lot. And if you feel generous, my kofi is in my bio. :)

[taehyungsgrowl]

Perdón y Lo Siento - Jim Mason x Fem!Reader

A/N: Hey y’all! While I have a hundred WIPs (including sugar babies stuff and FDK) I’ve decided to uhh further procrastinate and start a different fic. 

Basically, I’m sitting in the dark listening to “Rosie” by John Mayer and got in my feelings. It’s a great song! Title comes from the lyrics.

Plot: Jim decides to visit his ex. Even if it’s just for one more night.

Warnings: angst. smut. cheating. not being over an ex lmfao. alcohol use. mostly soft smut. there’s some dirty talk. spanking. 

The bright moon illuminated his room as Jim laid in the dark comfort of his empty bed. 

Another dream of her. 

Her soft skin, her airy laughter, her touch. 

Her.

He scrolled through the pictures he had saved on his phone from his time with her. Time and time again he told himself he’d delete them, but he could never quite erase the memory of her. 

Of them.

12:22 a.m. 

“Fuck it,” he groaned out as he got out of bed. He let his feet drag him to the bottle of her favorite wine he still kept in the back of his fridge. Just in case. 

Just in case she ever wandered through his door again. 

It wasn’t like Jim hadn’t tried to move on from Y/N. Y/N had moved on from him; that alone was enough to make the pit of his stomach burn. He should be over her, but he wasn’t. 

He let the sweet cherry wine stain his lips and blur his thoughts. Drinking straight from the bottle he thought about the way her favorite lipstick matched the wine he drank. 

1:46 a.m.

Jim found himself buzzed off of yearning feelings and tinted wine. He sat in the back of an Uber outside her house. The driver cleared his throat for Jim to get out of the car as he stared longingly at her home. The cold rain pattered on the window heavily. The heavy rain mimicked the way his heart was pounding in this chest.

A home she was building with someone else.

Jim took a deep breath as he tapped his knuckles on the door. He knew she was home alone since his car wasn’t in her drive way. 

Y/N heard her phone buzzing from her nightstand. She saw Jim’s name flash on her screen. Her heart sank seeing the contact photo she still had for him; Jim in their favorite diner with the morning light making his blue eyes look as blue as the ocean. 

She knew he’d only call at this time if it were important. 

“Hello? Jim?” Jim’s heart skipped a beat as he heard her sleep coated voice over the phone. “Is everything alright?”

“Y/N, come get the door for me.” he tipped forward, resting his forehead on her door.

“What?” she sat up reaching for the switch on her bedside table. 

“Please, Y/N. I - I need you,” he tried not sound so desperate, but truth is, he was. It was the desperation that drove him there. 

Y/N grabbed a cardigan and threw it over her tank top and shorts she slept in. She looked like what she would describe as a mess, but it was Jim she was seeing - and she’s never really felt as comfortable around anyone like she did with Jim. 

Even if they weren’t together, it didn’t just erase all of their history. 

“Jim.”she let out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding. 

“Y/N.” Her name felt familiar on his lips. 

“I miss you,” his hand grabbed hers. He didn’t dare break away his eyes from her. He felt lost in them. 

She began to shake her head ‘no.’ As much as she felt the emotions tugging at her heart she knew it was wrong. She was with someone new. 

Jim and Y/N could both recognize the fire that had drawn them together - neither one was sure if it ever ended. 

For them, it was the right person at the wrong time. 

Y/N felt like Jim needed more than she could offer. It’s not that she didn’t love Jim. Because she did. She just needed to take care of herself before she could take care of him in the way he needed. 

A cold shiver ran down Jim’s spine. Despite the cold rain hitting his back, he felt warm to be in her presence again. 

“Jim you should go home,” she spoke softly, dropping her hand from his. 

“I had a dream about you.” Jim blurted out, feeling like he was losing her all over again, “It’s why I’m here,” he took a step forward. 

“I’m sorry, Jim.” Y/N started to step back, but Jim put his hand on the doorframe to keep her from shutting the door on him. 

“Please, baby.”

Baby. 

She paused for a moment blinking back tears she didn’t realize she had. 

“Shit. Sorry, Y/N. Y/N.” He corrected himself, “Just let me in.”

“Yeah. Okay. Yeah.” She could convinced herself to let him in. At least until he’s completely sober, she told herself. 

Jim followed her inside. Not much had changed since that last time he was there. Her home still smelled like cinnamon and vanilla and her plants were still withering away. 

He sat at her table as she wandered through the kitchen starting a pot of coffee. Watching her move around her home reminded him of how things used to be; reminded him of early morning dances in the kitchen and late night conversations of what the future would hold. 

Y/N handed Jim his mug before she took a sip of her own drink. 

Why was he here? 

Why did she not feel as bad as she knew she should for having her ex over at two in the morning? 

She knew the answer to both those questions, but it was easier to pretend she didn’t. Even if just for a little. 

Y/N looked down at her cup, avoiding Jim’s heavy gaze. 

“Where is he?” Jim tried to keep the emotion out of his voice, but it rang clearly in her ears. 

She paused. Weighing out her response. “Why does it matter?” 

“I guess it doesn’t, huh?” 

Another pause. 

“Are you happy?” his voice was quiet like he almost didn’t want to be heard. He noticed Y/N look up from her drink; finally meeting his eyes. 

Her heart was racing in her chest. She let out a long sigh, steadying herself. “Why are you here, Jim?” her head shook in slight disapproval. 

“I wanted to see you.” his held his mug tightly, letting the hot ceramic warm his cold hands. 

“At 2:00 a.m.” it wasn’t a question. 

Jim licked his lips, the corner of his mouth tugging up in a slight smile. “I had a dream about you.” Images of her body pressed against his flashed in his mind again. The silky tune of her moans lingered in his head. He got up from his seat and stood behind her. One hand on her hip, the other reaching for her hand. His lips were dangerously close to her ear, she could feel his warm breath on her neck. 

“You were in my bed.” he pushed her cardigan off her shoulder, placing a kiss on it. “We were like we used to be.”

“Do you miss me?” his nose nuzzled her arm, inhaling her sweet fragrance. Even if Y/N didn’t want to have a reaction to Jim - she did. 

Every fiber in her body her burning - yearning, for his touch. She couldn’t stop herself from relaxing back against his chest, letting his hand roam up and down her side. 

“We can’t.” she said, but leaned her head back allowing Jim access to her neck. 

Jim’s hand traveled up her neck and to her chin, turning her head to make her look up at him. “Do you miss me?” he repeated the question with so much more intensity.

He felt her head nodding against his hand. She turned around, her back pressed to the counter as Jim cornered her in. He cupped her face and smashed his lips to hers. All the longing was melting between their mouths as he tasted her lips again. 

Y/N kissed him back lost in his touch. The back of her mind compared the way their kiss differed from the ones her boyfriend gave her. The sudden thought of him entering her mind made her shove against Jim’s chest reluctantly. 

“Just tonight. Give me one more night.” Jim pleaded. He felt hallow without her, but that had always been his problem. Y/N couldn’t fill all his voids, but the spot she filled made him happy. 

The lump in his throat throbbed but he didn’t go all the way there to cry. 

She knew him well enough to feel an ache of her own. Despite all his flaws - all their flaws, she loved him. That wouldn’t change. 

“Just tonight.” she whispered so quietly, she almost didn’t hear herself. 

Y/N got out from between Jim and her counter and walked to her room, looking over her shoulder to make sure Jim followed her. And of course he did. 

He always did.

Again, Jim was content with seeing how little her room had changed in the period they were apart. Y/N bent down to pick up a mens shirt that was discarded on the floor. A sheepish look on her face crossed when Jim saw her begin to hide it in a pile of her clothes. He took her hand, shaking his head, letting her leave the shirt where it was. 

A silent reminder that this was just for one night. 

The room buzzed with anticipation as they both lingered around the bed. “No need to be nervous. It’s just me, remember?” Y/N wanted to freeze this moment - this night, for forever. 

“I know,” she stayed still. 

“Just me.” Jim leaned in to kiss her, hands on her waist. “And you,” he squeezed down on her sides making a giggle erupt out of her. 

“It’s more complicated than that,” she rolled her eyes, a hint of a lingering on her lips. 

Jim placed his finger at the center of her lips, “Shh,” he pushed her down on the bed, starting to climb over her, “Enough of that. Just you and me.”

He started to kiss her neck. Plush lips traveled to her chest that rose up and down. The temperature in the room began to rise despite the cold January rain outside.

“I missed you,” she admitted aloud for the first time that evening. She grabbed his face and pulled him away from her chest to kiss his lips. He smiled into the kiss. Jim relived his dream. 

Y/N (with some support from Jim) flipped them around so she could sit on his thighs. He hastily peeled off her top, throwing it across the room. Him couldn’t tear his eyes away from her body. If this were the last night, the last opportunity he got, he wanted to use it to memorize every curve and every dip of her body. 

She began to grind herself down on his lap. Her thin little shorts were close to no barrier from his growing bulge. Jim let his head fall back on the pillow as Y/N continued to feel his hardening cock tease her pussy.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he dragged his fingers down the side of her torso, watching as the goosebumps raised on her skin.

Y/N raised her hips and Jim helped her tug her shorts off along with her panties. Jim’s pants quickly followed. She sat back down on his lap, his hard length nestled between her glistening folds. She slowly moved up and down his length, teasing herself and Jim before he even entered her. 

He dug his fingers into her hips, stopping her mid-track. “I can’t take anymore teasing.” he rasped. “I need to be inside you.”

Y/N leaned down to kiss him, pulling away with a bite to his lower lip. 

She grabbed his cock at the base and began to jerk him in her palm a few times before aligning her entrance with it. His head opened her up and she slowly sank down on him. She hissed quietly at how the stretching ached. 

“Fuck,” she cursed. He was not even all the way inside her pussy when she began to rock her hips, helping him ease into her. 

“God, baby.” he choked out.

She missed this. More than she thought. She missed Jim.

His blissed out expression beneath her. The way he knew exactly where to place his hands. How he made her feel complete in more than one way. 

“Feels so good.” her nails dug into his chest when his tip finally brushed against her cervix; she sat snugly on the entire stretch of his cock.

“Move for me, baby.” he began to guide her hips. He got her started, but he really wanted this to be her show. 

The wet sounds that filled the room as she bounced down on his cock were enough to almost intoxicate Jim. Skin slapped together found a pace that worked for her. 

Y/N could feel every inch, every vein, being hugged tightly by the walls of her dripping cunt. 

“You’re so tight.” he growled, “Does he even fuck you right?” Jim’s hand smacked down on her ass when she began to pick up the pace.

She was way passed the point of forming coherent sentences; Y/N was rapidly chasing her orgasm to the tune of her moaning and whimpering. 

“Keep going. C’mon, cum for me.” he bucked his hips up me meet the roll of her own. 

His guiding words help send her over the edge. Her body convulsed and pulsed around his cock, edging him closer. 

Y/N crumbled around him, cumming all over him. Watching the way her eyes rolled back and her chest bounced along with her was enough to make him’s throbbing member explode inside her.

He groaned out her name as he spilled himself into her pussy. Her grinding and bouncing became sloppier and sloppier until she came to an exhaustion, making her collapse on his chest when he slipped out of her. 

Jim held her there. On his chest, he held his whole world. 

For just one night.

He gently laid her on her side of the bed and pulled the covers up over them. “I love you,” she mumbled around her yawn, letting her heavy eyelids close. 

“I love you too,” he whispered back. 

Jim laid her bed, in another man’s spot, watching her sleep as he dreaded the morning sun that would wash away their night. 

But he held no regrets. Jim replayed that last few hours from his lonely night in his apartment to being back in bed with her. 

6:23 a.m.

Jim wasn’t able to recall when he lost his battle with sleep and passed out. The warm sun of a new day broke through the window of Y/N’s room woke him up. The familiarity of waking up in her room panged his heart. 

Y/N was still sleeping peacefully. Her lips were pursed in a perfect pout as she dreamed of Jim.

Jim stood up and quietly redressed himself. He leaned down to kiss her forehead; leaving before she woke up. He left her with the memory of one more night and dreams of him.

--yeehaw--

is this trash? probably. but this has been one of my most played songs since 2017 so it was bound to inspire something. 

tagging: @langdonswhoreprobably @langdonsdemon @hecohansen31 @1-800-bitchcraft @moonanonwriting @xavierplympton @getdevils @lvngdvns @divinelangdon @fckinsupreme @angel-langdon @plsfuckmelangdon @leatherduncan @michael-langdon-appreciation @lathraios @coollangdon @rocketgirl2410 @desertsunflower00 @satcnas @duncvns @maso-xchrist  @ritualmichael @daydreamingofcody @kiwi-0497 @sammythankyou @lovelylangdonx @itsaticklekink @wickedlangdon @emmyrosee @blakewaterxx @asiafern @blackredrose27​ @psychowriter2702​ @angxlbaby666​ @discocalico​ @miss-diamonds​ @langdonsblood​ @antichristsxbox​ @letnaturebefree​ 

[finalgirlkateausten]

for the end of year ask game - all the prime numbers!

aaah thank you! let’s pretend I didn’t google a prime number chart for this. putting it under a cut bc it’s loooong

1. Favorite fic I wrote this year

Answered here!

2. Least favorite fic I wrote this year

Answered here!

3. Favorite line/scene I wrote this year

I’ve also answered this one, but I feel like I want to pick another. I’ll pick one I haven’t posted...

In truth, she doesn’t know if that’s a factor or not, but she hates this waiting, this holding out hope. She would much rather know firmly that Will doesn’t have a daemon; then she could begin working the problem, doing the math, figuring out a solution.

It’s from my Lost in Space daemon au, and I love it bc of Maureen’s characterization; I feel like I got it spot-on.

5. Most popular fic this year

Answered here!

7. Longest completed fic I wrote this year

Reunited! I actually am really proud of this one-- it’s a Psych au where Shawn and Juliet meet pre-canon and have a baby by the time the show rolls around. It was a lot of fun to write-- I’ve missed the vibes of s1-- and I hope to give it sequels soon!

11. Fandom you enjoyed writing for the most this year

Okay, it’s gotta be a tie. Psych I definitely wrote the most for, and I really enjoy it-- love the characters, love the versatility of the show. I can write hardcore angst or ridiculous fluff and it all could fit into canon (mostly). Plus, this year brought us Lassie Come Home, which I’ve already written a plethora of fics set after it. I loooove Psych and I love the gang on the psych discord!

Second place (although it’s honestly a tie) is Call the Midwife. I go through Phases that make me wanna write for it. In January of this year when I finished s7 I was like “WHAT the fuck” and felt  strong need to open up a google doc and fix that mess. In October I watched s9 and got into a new OTP. After I already knew one of them wouldn’t be around for s10, bc I’m Like That. But I really love all the emotional plotlines and the wonderful characters. There is a barely-tapped well of inspiration there.

13. favorite writing song/artist/album of this year

Taylor Swift. She’s got music for everything. Writing fluff? Fearless. Romance? Lover. Angst? Folklore. Stream evermore, guys!

17. fics you’ll continue next year

Oh, there’s multiple... I’ll talk about ones on AO3 I wanna continue.

It All Happens for a Reason: my absolute baby. the fic I am the most proud of, ever. I haven’t written or updated it in a while (and I used to be so good at weekly updates! I’m sorry!) but I’m gonna get back to it, I promise!

Hush: I have more chapters ready to post, but my xmas fic took over its posting slot. I’m def gonna keep working on it though! It’s got everything you want from a drawn-out whump fic, including feels and realistic (I hope) recovery!

I Think I’ll Just Collapse Right Here, Thanks: valtrix whump fic set at the end of s9. I wanna keep working on it but the holidays have swamped me! More vintage lesbian feels coming 2021.

Nothing in the World That Could Stop It: I have PLANS for this one, my psych zombie apocalypse au! It’s loads of fun as it’s a genre I don’t write often. Although it’s also a  combination of other genres I write very often... the point is, it’s cool!

Wow, those are the only posted WIPs I still have to write! That makes me feel better, actually.

19. any new fics to start next year

oh man... ones I want to start next year? Well, probably a few sequels for Reunited (see above) and generally other fics that will go in existing series. If all goes well I’ll have several for my CTM canon divergence series! It’s quite similar to It All Happens for a Reason-- I’m taking canon and giving my favs babies and also not killing them

23. fics you wanted to write but didn’t

Off the top of my head, a sequel to Couldn’t Hide From the Thunder where Eve goes through her Teenage Transformation (we all had that year we wanted to be Completely Different) and cuts her hair based off an old picture of her mom. Sister Monica Joan (who is immortal, sorry, I don’t make the rules) consequently mistakes her for Barbara. Actually, multiple people do, but Sister Monica Joan is the hardest to explain otherwise.

So basically... okay I tried to put captain holt’s paaaain gif in there but tumblr doesn’t like that >:(

Thanks so much for all the asks! Send in end of the year fic asks!

[lambourngb]

Behind the Scenes- Last Year’s Wishes

@zuluoscarecho - ““Oh man you have been busy! I’m glad the writing Has been going well for you. I would love to hear about your process when you get a chance if you’re keen. Like whether you plotted it out, whether the whole fic came to you (more or less) or how hard you had to work to fill in the gaps to get you where you wanted to go, whether you’re a “push through” kinda writer and just sit down and do it or whether you scribble stuff down all day and then type it up at the end or whatever. Many questions I have”

Oh boy, these are great questions- my approach to writing has changed from how I started “Last Years Wishes” and how I’m finishing it. First of all, I was out of practice. The last long story I tackled and finished on my own was in 2002-2003 on ff.net  (for a moment I thought it was 2012-2013 but I just looked it up and still can’t believe it was that long ago, hahah) Then I wrote a follow up with a co-writer that ended …poorly due to stuff outside of writing with that person. I hit a very bad depressive cycle and didn’t write again until 2019 and RNM.

The idea came after I watched some true crime story in August- I think it was “Murder Comes to Town” - which is all small town population less than 10,000 gets hit with a salacious murder. I immediately thought about Michael, and first I thought he could be blamed for Max’s disappearance, but then I remembered how visible Noah was to the town, and I was off plotting. Carina said on twitter- oh lord what a loaded sentence that is - that we don’t know when Alex was at the Airstream or what he had to say- which fine, but that made me think about juggling the time a bit, letting the police show up first, then Alex go to the wild pony, THEN MAX, and yeah boom! Conflict! Alex knows Michael wants to be with someone else, but he just gave him an alibi. They are stuck! Fuck Alex’s whole life, amirite? That part of the idea came all at once.

I wrote the first draft of the scene for Tumblr - August 8th - started it before work when I like to write- kept writing once I got to work (bad employee!) posted it and as the comments and likes rolled in, I kept writing. First day was like 6,000 words.

Then I didn’t really touch it for 2 weeks. I kept adding stuff here and there, using WIP Wednesday to motivate me to share a bit. In one month though, the story was at 10,000 words by September 12. Mainly because I just wrote as it came to me, and let my brain just fuck off on Tumblr or reading other fics. I wasn’t really serious about it. Six weeks later it was 15,000 words by the end of October. This time I thought the reason I didn’t have more progress on it was because I didn’t have the practice of finishing a story- so I attempted at the very beginning of October to do Whumptober. I managed to write 2 stories - truth (to the people we love) and If You Regret (What You Know).

So two stories finished, I went back to Last Year’s Wishes and used everyone working on NaNo for November to buckled down. I wrote out a rough outline of future scenes. I made a point to write, if I could, every day something. I do try and write in a linear fashion, but if I couldn’t move forward in the story, I would go back to previous stuff to add in descriptions, put in some introspection- sometimes a whole scene needed to be inserted, then I could push forward again.

The story grew from 15,000 words on Nov 1 to 28,000 words by Dec 1. Nearly double in size. And the more I put my ass in the chair to write, the easier it became to focus. It will never be easy to focus for me- I really like scrolling on my phone, chatting with other people, etc. But I had to build a muscle in my brain from the ground up with no real belief that I would succeed because I thought depression and anti-depressants had broken my brain. But Malex kept me interested.

By the time December rolled around, I made a goal of finishing it by New Years, but then my outline kept growing. I kept thinking about the underlying plot, I kept thinking about how big the communication divide was- I couldn’t just say “they talked, they fucked HEA!”. As December came to a close, I realized I had written 32,000 words in the month of December but I was only half done with the story. So while I was disappointed I hadn’t hit my goal of being done, I was very pleased at the progress. The story was around 60,000 words by the end of the year.

January- I increased my goal of 1,000 words a day, to 2,000 words a day.  I really believed I could finish it in one sustained push. I wrote nearly 40,000 words in the month of January- bringing it to just under 99,000 words but…it still wasn’t done. My assistant quit. I got sick. Progress stuttered. But I felt like the end was in site- so I contacted  betas, two of which came through- tasyfa and Maura - and kept writing. I thought it was just 20,000 words to go, and since I just wrote 40,000 in one month, I could easily write 20,000 2-1/2 weeks, right????

February- beta comments were great, I started releasing it publically in chapters, and then the feedback started rolling in- and instead of motivating me forward, I started obsessing over the next thing people would read- I wanted it to be perfect. I started inserting new scenes, fleshing out other areas- driving my betas crazy I think- because I kept poking at it. I wrote those 20,000 words easily as the story was getting posted, but they were all in the existing frame of the plot. New stuff … that didn’t really start happening until March.

Another thing that I realized was my outline needed to be supportive but flexible. Originally (which remind me once it’s complete) but I had some different ideas for how the last few chapters were going to go, and I had to let those narratives go because it no longer felt natural to me with the narrative I had established.

Even now I have 5 scenes outlined for chapter 22, but as I started writing it this morning, I am leaning toward blending it into 4 or 3 scenes. Oh- my scene should have a standalone point to accomplish, and if that point isn’t clear or can be accomplished in another way, then it gets moved or blended. I don’t really jot things down on paper- but I have two documents- the writing doc, and the story doc. Writing doc has the outline, I always write with my outline heading just below my cursor so I can keep looking down at my goals and construct the scene from there. The story doc is where I cut and paste it into the whole thing. Sometimes as I scroll to find where I am in the doc, I will add something or edit something, before putting in the next bit at the end.

This is what chapter 18-19-20 looked like on Feb 9th in my outline : [1.. After their pathetic attempts to decorate Alex‘s leg was starting to bother him. Michael took one look at him and advised that he remove the prosthetic. Alex protested mildly about being seen that way. Michael reassured him that Isabell not only knew but didn’t care.

1a. - Isobel and Kyle arrive- she found him in the grocery store attempting to leave with the last baked ham - Mom working a double, Rosa was going to midnight mass with Arturo and Liz- 1b. Isabell and Michael have a quiet talk that Alex overhears while he changes and removes his leg for the night-. He discusses talking to Maria and reframing some of what Alex had said. 1c- walks past them to the kitchen with Kyle]

[2.  Isobel and Kyle show up  to the cabin for Christmas Eve- Isobel sleeps over. Michael offers the spare, Kyle takes the couch, Alex objects to Michael sleeping in the airstream. ]

[ 3. Alex wakes up to an alert on the day after  Christmas Day that gets an alert about someone at the cave. Finds Michael staring at Jesse and not Max.. Why did you think you were like him- that night that Noah died. What did that mean. It means he was ruthless about his agenda and so am I. I’ll do anything to protect you. Michael is silent and closed off, but follows him back to the cabin - knowledge from the ship piece ]

ONE MONTH LATER on March 10 the notes looked like this based on how the story looked: [2.  Isobel and Kyle stay in the face of the weather- Isobel sleeps over. Michael offers the spare, Kyle takes the Airstream ,Michael volunteers himself to sleep with Alex - Michael quietly explains he isn’t going to have a conversation with anyone afterward, Christmas gift exchange- Michael gives him the handprint- remnant from the console and his mother, sharing the intensity - they have sex  ]

[ 3. Alex wakes up to intense sorrow by Michael via the handprint n the day after  Christmas Day that gets an alert about someone at the cave. Finds Michael staring at Jesse and not Max.. Why did you think you were like him- that night that Noah died. What did that mean. They discuss Alex’s family and the future- do you think you would ever forgive them? I’ve been mad at Max, but if he came back today I would take him back, What about Flint and what he did ? Do you think he���s sorry? knowledge from the ship piece- soul mates, forever tied together ]

Err— I’m long winded, so did I answer your questions? Feel free to ask more!!

[merrrcurius]

some step-papashi for you hoes

i’ve written several scenes for myself and i’m having a lot of fun with this au, but i’m not sure if i should add to my growing pile of wip’s on ao3 lol... lotta pressure, but i’m down if y’all are?

the gist: kakashi is a fine-ass soccer coach who cares. the following circumstances bring our two fav people together.

Fingers thrumming against the steering wheel in rhythm to the rock song playing on the radio, Kakashi drove down the winding exit of the park debating the pros and cons of cooking dinner or picking up takeout. The barbeque colored street lights illuminating the road made him crave some type of meat, but that would take too long to cook and he was feeling particularly lazy tonight.

Dealing with his latest team of brats tend to put him in the mood to sloth out for an indeterminate amount of time. Tonight had been rough. It was only the third week of practice with his new team and already he wanted to strangle these kids. They were a bunch of little shits that needed an ass-whooping, especially Tenzo’s team. Unfortunately, he could only dole out so many laps and exercises as punishment before the kids began complaining to their parents and then the parents started complaining to them…

Kakashi had to remind himself that he actually enjoyed coaching.

Whatever his food choice, or lack thereof, a hot shower and some smutty fanfiction on the back porch would conclude his day. Forget answering emails, cleaning his cleats, or managing the gym’s finances. All of that could be saved for tomorrow. He'd rather starve than waste any precious time relaxing, especially since The-Toad-Master's new chapter should have updated during practice if the last author’s note was anything to go by. Kakashi glanced at the clock on his dash and shift impatiently in his seat. Oh yeah, I'm way late.

Slowing down for the stoplight at the end of the drive, the man looked both ways out of habit despite the empty highway only to do a double-take at the sight of one of his U-10 soccer players sitting on a bus bench. Yanking up the mask he'd left hanging around his neck to hide his “degeneracy”, Kakashi rolled down the passenger window and called out to her. “Yo." 

She was either really smart or really stupid for ignoring him. Kakashi cleared his throat as he turned the knob down on the radio and said a bit louder, “Sarada.”

“Coach!” The little brunette startled, fumbling her flip phone like a football before turning to gape at him. “Ah - hi! It’s you!” She squeaked and tucked her phone away. “W-What're you still doing here?"

“Aa?” Kakashi cocked an eyebrow and withheld the amused chuckle bubbling in his throat. "I could ask you the same thing."

"Oh, um, this…" She gestured to the bench nervously and stuttered out, "I… I was just… er, you know… waiting."

“By the highway?” Kakashi asked and set his forearm on the steering wheel, giving a discreet glance around to emphasize that this was not acceptable. He cocked a brow. “What happened to the ride picking you up at the pavilion?”

Sarada pursed her lips angrily for a moment and tugged on the sleeves of her red jacket as if she were uncomfortable. Then muttered. “Er, s-something came up…”

“Okay…” Kakashi trailed off with a frown pulling at his mouth. Narrowing his eyes, Kakashi wiggled his fingers against the gearshift. Who the fuck leaves their - “But, wouldn’t it be safer to wait back at the field?”

“I’m fine, Coach! Really!” 

“Maa," Kakashi sat back with sigh and ruffled his hair as he thought about what to do in this kind of situation. He wasn’t fit to be a parent - or a coach really - hell, this whole gig had only started out to log hours for community service. Considering that, did he have any right to judge another parent for something like this? He cast an uneasy eye at the kid. Yes. Yes, he did. Consternation coloring his tone, he said, “I dunno if I can let this slide. Come on, I’ll drive you back. We can practice drills while we wait for your ride.”

Sarada scrambled for the laminated square hanging on her backpack as she tried to explain her situation and said, “You don’t have to, Coach! I take the bus all the-”

Perhaps he had been to open handed with his instructions. Kids these days.

“That wasn’t a question.” Kakashi interrupted firmly and stared at her. The girl crossed her arms and attempt to hold a glare, refusing to move despite the nervous bounce to her leg. Kakashi raised an eyebrow at her attitude and stated grimly, “If you make me step out of this car, you won’t be playing in next week’s game, Sarada. Get in.”

Sarada attempt to hold her ground a few more seconds until she heard his car door open and the overhead light came on. With a yelp, she ran to the passenger side door and yanked it open. Moving some binders for their stats and strategies out of the way, Kakashi eyed the large overnight bag she situated on his floorboard wondering if she was homeless but quickly dismissed that ridiculous thought. She was ten years old. And she had a mom. Although, that had never deterred him as a child...

Sighing inaudibly to mourn the chunk this would take out of his reading for the night, Kakashi twist in his seat to look for any cars behind him before pulling a u-turn in the entrance of the park. The ride back to the soccer field was quiet and tense; Kakashi pondering whether he had been too harsh on a child that wasn't even his about something not even sport related and Sarada embarrassed, worrying if opening the car door count towards her suspension.

Parked once more near the fields they'd claimed earlier in the evening, Kakashi reached under the seat to pull the lever and scoot his seat back for extra space to put his cleats back on. They were wet and muggy. He sighed.

“So, that’s what that smell was…”

Kakashi shot Sarada a look and retort. “More like your upper lip.”

Sarada blew a scoff through her lips to hide her laugh and turned away, crossing her arms defiantly. She muttered to the window, “What a lame comeback.”

“You’re just mad you don’t have anything to comeback with,” Kakashi mocked sassily, bobbing his head as he bent his leg for a better angle. Once his socks were snug in wet ass cleats again, he grabbed a ball from the backseat and stepped out. 

Sarada didn’t budge from her spot. 

Glancing back, Kakashi shrugged and decided to juggle while they wait. He couldn’t care less if she sat in the car and ignored him. After removing the doubts of his behavior, he'd decided it would simply be irresponsible of him to leave her by the highway and there was no way around that fact, even if Sarada chose to be stubborn about it. Perhaps, if she’d been smart and waited inside the pavilion like she’d originally said she would do... they wouldn’t be here. To think he had thought everyone was picked up. How had she managed to walk all the way to the exit without him noticing, anyways?

It didn’t take long for Sarada to get bored. She climbed out of his 4runner and stomped across the sidewalk to join him, a scowl maring her face. When he didn’t acknowledge her, she called out for him to pass. Looking all the world as if he were blatantly ignoring her, Kakashi turned away to take in the field with his hands on his hips. It was another cold night in January, a fine mist settling on some of the fields. He was glad the city park kept the lights on after dark, otherwise they would be in a pickle.

When asking didn’t work, she huffed and puffed before charging to take it by force. Kakashi smiled and adjust his mask as he await her approach. Her pigtails were whipping around her shoulders. Poor form. He needed to teach these kids how to run properly otherwise this season was going to suck. When she was close enough, he kicked the ball through the open stride between her feet at the last minute and walked around her.

Spinning to face him, Sarada growled impatiently, “Why won’t you pass? You said we would practice!” 

“Why should I?" Kakashi teased as he dribbled circles around her. "It’s no fun passing to a grump.”

“I’m not a grump! You’re a grump, old man!”

“Old man, eh?” A chuckle huffed through his mask as he backpedaled away from her, dragging the ball with him as he taunt her. “At least, I can keep the ball.”

“I’ll show you!” Sarada yelled and dove in, leaving her stance wide open when she ran up. 

He nutmegged her a second time and kept running toward the goal in case she tried to kick him like a savage brat. These kids were vicious. He called over his shoulder, "Maa, what was that, Sarada-chan?"

Now, normally, he’d feel bad for showing up a little kid, but not tonight. Sarada and Boruto had argued all two hours of practice about something completely unrelated to soccer. She deserved it for giving everyone a headache. Everyone being him and Tenzo. The kids thought it was hilarious.

“What a coward! You can’t run away!”

Stopping short with one foot on the ball and one hand rubbing his masked chin, Kakashi looked to the sky and said, "What were you showing me again? I can’t remember.”

Sarada bellowed a funny little shannaro he'd learned the girl favored over the last few weeks before he heard her running at him again.

Kakashi tucked his hands in his sweats as he waited patiently and listened to her cleats tearing into the ground. He had to admit, for a nine-year-old with poor form, what Sarada lacked in defense, she made up for in speed when she got going. Glancing behind him to confirm her position, he wait three more seconds and rolled the ball behind him, effectively nutmegging her again with his back turned. She squeaked and ran straight into him since he didn’t move. He glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “Hmm… how should I put this? You suck, Sarada-chan."

“O-m-g, whatever! I’m done!” Sarada yelled and kicked the grass angrily. “I should have caught the bus. This is stupid!”

“You’d be waiting till six in the morning for that.” Kakashi said, idly dragging the soccer ball back and forth under his foot as he watched her throw a fit.

Sarada stopped suddenly and looked up at him. “What? Why?”

“The bus doesn’t run this late, goofball.” Kakashi crumpled his brow and said incredulously, “Maa, you weren’t kidding when you said you were new in town.”

“Seriously?” Sarada cried and threw her hands in the air as she fell back on her butt. “Why is this place like this! What am I supposed to do now? Mom will have to drive all the way across town just to pick me up now. This is terrible!”

Kakashi hummed quietly, allowing his judgemental confusion to bubble for a moment as he swayed back and forth with his hands in his pockets. Then, he asked, “Doesn’t she usually?”

“Yes sir, but not this time.” She mumbled and crossed her arms angrily. 

“Well…” Damn, now he had to know. Sarada’s mom was pretty exotic and hella feisty. She punched one of the dad’s in the head at open tryouts for saying something or another. He’d never seen anything like it. It was one of the only times Kakashi wished he indulged in gossip with the parents. After a moment of deliberation, Kakashi adjust his mask nervously, afraid of overstepping boundaries and asked, “What about your dad?”

“Um… He’s not...” Tiny fingers pulled at the grass beneath her, ripping patches out until she found words. She looked across the fields and said quietly, “Around… very often.”

“Aa, I see...” Kakashi said, gaze flickering between her face and her angry sundering of the grass. He hadn’t known Sakura was a single mother, although he shouldn’t have been surprised. Both parents usually showed up for Opening Day, took turns picking their kids up, or showed up to watch the first game at the very least, but he hadn’t seen any male that fit the description. “And you don’t have anyone else to pick you up? Maybe a grandmother?”

“We don’t have family here. My mom was offered a better job at the hospital, so… we moved.” Sarada shook her head at the ground, too busy cleaving grass in two to notice his awkward inner dialogue. She ducked her head and sniffled. “I’m really sorry, Coach. I didn’t mean to… for this...”

Mild panic shot through his system realizing this little girl was about to cry. Fuck. Why? It wasn’t that big of a deal. Things like this happened. It couldn’t be helped. Kakashi sucked in a breath of air as he crouched in front of her and plucked a few grass strands of his own. He wasn’t good at small-talk or emotions, he knew this and that was fine. Coaching was easy in a way that allowed him to be a hardass, strict and precise without all the extra stuff, but this… He really should work on his people-skills if he wanted to continue working with kids. 

What could he say? What exactly should he do? The girl claimed she rode the bus often, she even had a laminated bus pass, although it was for a different city, but leaving her unsupervised was just… not his forte. Children weren’t supposed to be left alone so young. It was strange that her mother would allow this and yet it seemed she actually wasn’t, somehow. “Sarada... next time your mom has to work late, just hang out at the field. Alright? It’s no big deal, I’ll wait until-” 

“No! It’s not her fault this time! Please don’t kick me off the team!” Sarada cried out suddenly, big watery eyes gazing up at him imploringly. “Dad was supposed to be here, to-to pick me up f-for dinner - but... but something came up-” Sarada snapped her jaw shut and looked away, face twisted with all the fury of a child betrayed. Tears steadily dripped down her chin despite how fast she was attempting to wipe them away.

Kakashi rotate his jaw as he bowed his head to give her a moment of privacy, and if he also happened to be avoiding her emotional display, well, he never said he was a good coach. Her words weighed heavily on his chest, uncomfortably close to his own childhood wounds and he didn’t want to think about it. He pressed his thumbnail into a blade of grass and watched it split.

“It’s just… It’s so embarrassing! I don’t want everyone to know and I didn’t want them to think I was getting extra p-practice like my last team. They started a whole crap ton of drama and Boruto w-would only make fun of me and call m-me a loser if he knew.”

“Hey, don’t worry about that butthead.” Kakashi said as he tossed his grass blades at her, jumping on the chance to turn this conversation elsewhere. “If they thought you were getting special training, they’d probably ask me for extra on the sly, too. You’d be a trendsetter.”

Sarada’s face lit up with a small giggle, but it died out quickly. She wiped her nose and looked up at him nervously. “S-Still, wouldn’t you have to wait here the whole time? I mean, my last coach got… he got really mad when I had to stay late and eventually told my mom to stop bringing me... I-I don’t wanna h-hic-old you up…”

Kakashi frowned at the thought of a nine year old taking the bus in a city as big as Konoha and wondered what in the fuck was wrong with whoever she’d had last year. Coaches had a duty to the kids while they were in their care, they owed that to the parents. To abuse or neglect those unspoken vows was just... wrong. Kakashi suddenly felt lucky to have had the kind of coaches he did growing up. He took a deep breath and prepared himself for his next words. If she had no one else to tell her what was wrong with this situation, then he would have to. That’s something he had loved about Minato-sensei. The man never let bullshit fly. 

He picked at the bottom of his mask nervously, wishing he didn’t feel so constricted, wishing he felt more confident. Failure wasn’t an option, though. Lessons like this were imperative to learn at a young age, no matter how uncomfortable. Leveling a finger at her, Kakashi said perhaps too blunty, “Screw that guy. And your dad. It isn’t safe to sit by yourself next to the highway of all places, especially at this time of night… Do you understand what I’m trying to say, Sarada?”

Sarada looked down at her twisted hands and nodded meekly, eventually managing to croak out a weak ‘yes sir’ as another trail of tears dripped down her cheeks. Kakashi felt his insides twist painfully at the wobble in her lip. He hadn’t meant to make her feel worse or feel like it was her fault because it damn sure wasn’t. Maybe he should have worded it differently? 

Running an anxious hand through his hair, he tugged at the ends as he bowed his head and tried to think of what to say to make her feel better, at the very least, turn this conversation to something easier so as not to end on a bad note. How would this look for her mom to drive up and see her daughter crying? There would be hell to pay, for sure. She may even take her daughter off the team and Kakashi couldn’t afford that. They only had two substitutes this year… He didn’t have kids, but he considered his soccer team to be pretty close to what it would feel like to have some and he didn’t want her to quit the team because of this or have hard feelings towards him and he hated to think of what she might be going through at home.

“Listen,” He began, dropping to his ass to mirror her as he took on a more gentle tone so it wouldn’t sound as if he were attacking her. “You don’t even have to say anything next time, okay? Just kick the ball around and if you haven’t left by the time everyone else has, I’ll understand what’s up. And I promise - Hey, look at me,” Kakashi wiggled a cleat in her line of sight and ducked his head to catch her watery eyes past the glare of her glasses. “I promise I won’t be mad. Or kick you off the team. That’s stupid.”

“Really?” Tears welled up in her eyes again as her face screwed up with emotion. Then she held out her pinky and wheezed out. “Pinky promise?”

“Aa,” A quiet, uncomfortable chuckle escaped him as he looked down. “My big toe’s stronger. How about that?”

“Ew, no! I’m not touching your big toe!” Sarada giggled a bit hysterically and scrubbed under her glasses to wipe her eyes. 

“Are you sure?” Kakashi asked quickly and wrangled off a cleat to wiggle a sweaty sock at her. “Perfect timing. Big toe soup right here.”

Sarada shrieked and jumped up to run around him. He couldn’t help snickering as he pulled his shoe back on. Good. Things were… better. Okay, at least.

They passed the ball around a bit and he attempted to explain how to time a nutmeg until her mom arrived.

===

now that i’ve put this out, i’m debating whether or not to add their meeting when Sakura picks her up... i dunno yet. lemme know whatcha think peeps!

[solangelover]

City Date

@solangeloweek‘s Nico di Angelo Birthday Event: January 27 – “Friendship / Relationship”

A/N: I’ve had this WIP forever, I’m so glad it’s finished! Based on this lovely video :) Will and Nico go on their first date in the big city.

Read on AO3 or FF.Net or Wattpad

As he left camp, Will felt freer than he had in a while. He loved Camp Half-Blood, no doubt, but it became stifling when he was constantly working in the infirmary and taking care of his siblings. Leaving camp for something other than a quest meant freedom from typical responsibilities. He always liked the shocked feeling of what life was like before he went to camp. Everything was so normal (mortal normal, not demigod normal) that it was both disorienting and refreshing at the same time.

Also, he got to leave camp with his boyfriend for the first time. That was definitely a plus.

He and Nico had been going out for a couple months, but they never had a date outside of camp. To Will, it almost felt like their first date. It would be the first time they’re together outside of camp without some sort of impending doom looming over them. Will knew it was a bit more risky to be with a child of the Big Three, but he knew Nico was more than capable of protecting both of them, and Will was confident in his own healing abilities if they were ever needed.

The boys decided to just walk around New York City and window shop. Nico hadn’t explored the city much before, at least not with the goal of enjoying himself. Will had become familiar with the city over the years, so he took it upon himself to act as Nico���s tour guide.

“And on your left, you’ll see the Empire State Building. Fun fact: the 100th floor is Olympus!” Will grinned as he put on his little act for his boyfriend.

Nico rolled his eyes, an amused smile on his face. “No duh, Will, not like I haven’t been before.”

“Well sOrry I wasn’t important enough to go along. Maybe next time?” Will winked.

“Uh, no, I’d rather a major event that requires me to go to Olympus not happen, thank you very much.” Nico looked around as they walked, his cheeks a light pink color. Will figured it was due to the slightly nippy breeze. Nico liked to think so too.

Will exclaims, “There!” as they come up to a coffee shop on the corner. “I used to go coffee shop hopping with my siblings for fun. They were really into the whole aesthetic thing before it was a thing.” Will shrugged and held the door open for Nico, who quietly thanked him as he stepped in.

The place was cute – small, but cozy. Lots of woodwork, fake vines lined the walls, little tables for two with succulents were scattered about. The smell of coffee was strong, but not overwhelming. Nico had never really been into this kind of thing, but maybe that’s because he didn’t have anyone to go with.

Will went up to the counter and ordered two hot chocolates for them as Nico grabbed a table near the back. Will probably would’ve liked to sit by the window, but Nico didn’t like having every passersby’s eyes on him. He was slightly on edge, probably because he kept expecting to be attacked. At least, that’s what Nico kept telling himself.

“Here we are!” Will chirped as he set down their drinks. Nico held his gratefully, the warmth seeping into his cold fingers. “So,” Will sipped his cocoa experimentally, “what do you want to do?”

Nico shrugged. He had no clue what to do in the city, let alone on a date. He didn’t know what he was doing, and that made him a little more anxious than usual. To him, New York City was a place where monsters lurked, where he had to stumble around and survive on his own. His memories of the city were darkened with war and solitude. What did Will expect of him?

Before Nico’s thoughts could spiral, Will cut in. “Well, there’s plenty to show you, but I’d rather not run around the city like tourists.” He smiled, and Nico felt a bit of tension leave his shoulders. “I was thinking,” Will leaned forward over the table. “We could just continue walking the streets and stop in random shops, try on silly things, and run out before we get kicked out.” Will grinned wickedly, and it was so foreign to see such mischief on his face that Nico snorted.

“Wow, the city changes you, Solace. And here I thought you were a goody two-shoes.” Nico smirked over his mug as Will leaned back and laughed.

“Hey, I can be a bad boy.” Will wiggled his eyebrows at Nico, who blushed and looked away. No comment back, Will noted. They’re conversation moved on from there and Will never thought twice on it.

--

As Will said, the boys continued down the busy street, Will pointing out random landmarks or places where he had been before to Nico, who noted everything with vague interest. His eyes kept darting around, tracking every person around them for a second or two before moving to the next person. Will kept telling him not to worry so much, that the monsters wouldn’t do anything crazy right out in the open, but Nico was still on high alert.

Even so, they still stopped at random little stores and looked around. Sometimes, they were genuinely interested in the items. Will picked out a few souvenirs to bring back for his siblings and Nico bought a couple knickknacks for himself. At other stores, they’d try on random hats on the rack and Will would strike silly poses, making Nico giggle. They tried on some sunglasses together and Will snapped some pictures with the digital camera he borrowed from Cecil. They didn’t get kicked out of any stores, much to Will “the bad boy”’s dismay. Will took Nico to a hotdog stand he and his siblings apparently always went to when they took a trip into the city. He didn’t claim it was the best, but it was decent and had good memories for Will, so Nico was content.

The entire time they walked, Will kept trying to hold Nico’s hand. At first, he tried to be subtle, looking away and letting his hand brush Nico’s several times. But Nico didn’t seem to notice, always moving his had to do something else. Then Will tried being more obvious, glancing down at their hands and hooking their pinkies together. But, again, Nico pulled his hand away and would scratch his head or something. Will frowned, starting to wonder if Nico didn’t want to hold his hand. They did it all the time at camp. Granted, it took awhile before Nico did it in view of other campers, but now it was normal. And, right now, he didn’t really think a bunch of strangers seeing them was worse than all of their friends and fellow campers.

After leaving another shop, Will tried again. This time, he directly grabbed Nico’s hand and chatted excitedly, trying to brush over the hand-holding. It worked for a little – then it didn’t.

Nico noticed Will grab his hand instantly, and he felt his heartbeat pick up. He tried to listen to what Will was talking about, but his eyes instinctively glanced around them. Almost no one paid them any mind, too focused on their own tasks, but a few glanced at them. Some of them looked directly at their linked hands. They passed by too quickly, but Nico could imagine the disgusted looks on their faces. He could feel his anxiety growing and subtly disentangled their fingers, moving his hands to adjust his jacket. Nico saw Will give him a side glance as he stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets – his hands were cold.

Something was off, Will knew it. At the next coffee shop they saw, Will pulled Nico into it, telling him that he was cold and wanted something hot to drink. Nico put up no protest, simply nodding his head and walking over to a table in the far corner of the shop, again. Will frowned after him, confirming his suspicion that something was bothering Nico. At this point, Nico was barely making any comments, letting Will carry the conversation. While this was pretty normal, Nico usually cut in with his sarcasm and dry humor every once in a while. Will couldn’t think of what could have gone wrong since their day started out so well, but he would find out.

Will brought their drinks back to the table. He thought about sliding in next to Nico on the bench, but Nico didn’t seem to want that. He took up as much of the bench as he could and sat pointedly across from the chair on the other side of the table. Will sighed as he sat in the chair instead.

“So,” Will started off casually. “Are you enjoying the city?”

Nico shrugged, “It’s cool, I guess.”

Will frowned. “Okay, um, well are you having fun on our date?”

At that, Nico appeared to tense up a little, his eyes darting behind Will’s head before returning to his mug. “Yeah, it’s great.” He took a tentative sip of his latte, but it’s still too hot to drink properly. He scowled at it, but Will thought he was upset at more than the coffee.

“Nico,” he sighed, “what’s wrong?’

Nico blinked up in surprise at the question. “Nothing?”

Will gave him an unconvinced look. “Then why does it feel like you’ve been avoiding me?”

Nico’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, though he was starting to catch on. “What do you mean, I’ve been with you all day.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.” Will glanced down at his drink, slightly self-conscious. “You won’t let me hold your hand, or just stand close to you.”

Nico pressed his lips into a line. “You… know I don’t like PDA,” he stated hesitantly.

“But this is more than that. You seem,” Will searched for the word, “… distant.”

Nico looked away towards the front of the coffee shop. He scowled as more people came in the door.

“Are you… I mean, are we… okay?” That brought Nico’s attention back to the blonde boy in front of him. Will looked so worried and unsure that Nico felt guilty.

“What? No, I mean, yes, of course we’re good. Why would you think that?” Nico had given him good enough reason, he knew. He sighed, slumping down in his seat. “It’s just…”

Will waited. “Just…?”

“It’s just… hard, you know?” Nico glanced up before staring back down at his mug. “I see people look at us, and all I can think about is the horrible things they must be thinking. You would think I’d be used to it by now,” he scoffed.

Will’s uncertainty melted into understanding. Of course, of course this was a lot for Nico to handle. It was their first time out of camp together, the first time Nico has really been out in the world having come out to people, and now with a boyfriend. Will felt dumb for not considering his boyfriend’s feelings before.

Will reached for Nico’s hand that wasn’t gripping his mug, and for the first time all day, Nico didn’t pull away. Instead, he flipped his hand over and squeezed Will’s tightly.

“I get it, Nico. I’m so sorry for not thinking of that earlier.” Nico shook his head, but Will kept going. “No, I am sorry. It’s not something you should have to just get used to so quickly. It takes time.” Will smiled softly at Nico. “But I like you, a lot, and that’s what really matters here, not any random stranger on the street’s opinion. I just want to be able to show you off, and shove it in everyone’s face how much I like you.”

Nico chuckled, and Will counted that as a win. “Yeah, I know.”

Will grinned, his smile brightening up Nico’s mood, just a little. How could he be ashamed of who he is with this boy at his side?

“You know I like you, too, right? Like a lot.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Do I have to show it in front of all these people?”

Will squeezed his hand. “I’m just asking for small steps.”

“Those steps aren’t that small.” But Nico still squeezed back.

“I’m sure the Ghost King will manage.” Nico rolled his eyes and Will beamed. “Besides, I’ll be there with you the whole way.”

[freedom-shamrock]

Someone Chatty This Way Comes - Part 3

Also on AO3. This is a continuation of a piece from 2017 and 2018 Fluff August.  It’ll be more fun if you’ve read the first and second parts. It is also day 19 of my ML WIP-Completion Challenge.

When Marinette came downstairs for breakfast, she was surprised to find Adrien sitting at the table visiting with her maman in Chinese.  She probably made a noise, because they both stopped and looked up at her in the same moment.

"Good morning Mari," Adrien said, the bright smile he'd worn all last night back on his face.

"Good morning… you're here?" She gave herself a little shake. Of course he was here.  Her world had been turned on its head yesterday, and apparently that was going to continue a bit into today.  But she could handle it. She could handle anything.

"I'm heading back downstairs," Maman said. "You two have a nice breakfast, and keep an eye on the time. Swing by the shop and I'll send you both on your way with treats."

"Thanks Maman," Marinette said.

"Xiè xie. Zài jiàn," Adrien called as her mom left the apartment. He turned to grin at Marinette. "Morning, Bug. I couldn't stay away, and since everyone says breakfast is the most important meal of the day, I figured nothing could be better than breakfast with my Bugaboo."

"It's a good plan," Marinette said.  "Er… I mean, not specifically breakfast with me, but breakfast together."  She rolled her eyes. She hadn't been this awkward around him in years. She took a deep breath. "I mean, I'm really glad you came over for breakfast."

He reached over and linked their pinkies as they ate, and while she found it a little clumsy, it was sweet, and she couldn't quite wipe the smile off her face. Adrien kept them on track, and they were on their way to school much earlier than she usually managed.  Sure, she was far better at time management than she'd been in lycee, but she was rarely early, and still occasionally rushed in last minute.

"Hey Mari?" he asked, leaning forward to peek into her face as they moved down the sidewalk at a comfortable pace. "Can I hold your hand?" He reached out and brushed his fingertips over the back of her hand.

It tickled, and she giggled. "Sure you want to do that?" she asked, arching one eyebrow as she turned to look at him.

"Why wouldn't I be?" He shrugged, confusion clear on his beautiful face.

"People will notice," she pointed out. "Strangers, classmates, best friends ."

"I don't care about strangers, they already thought you were my girlfriend in the past." He winked at her.  "And this time they'd be right." He shrugged again. "Father didn't seem to care back when we were fourteen, so I don't expect him to object now."

"Are you talking about the same Gabriel Agreste I've met?" she teased.  She wouldn't push, but it was a given that his father wasn't always the most sensible or logical. She slipped her hand into his as he spoke, hoping she was making it clear that it was something she wanted, despite her words.

"Yeah.  He'll probably pop a blood vessel in his forehead, but what's he going to do?   Ground me?" He laughed.  "Anyway, I'm planning on telling our friends first chance we get and I'm not hiding it from our classmates.  I didn't chase you for so long just to have a secret relationship, like we're characters in a fanfic."

She giggled. Though she didn't read the stories people wrote about Ladybug and Chat, Alya had spoken of them enough that she was familiar with the central tropes.

"Are you okay with it, though?" he asked suddenly. "Things might get a little… hairy at times.  Fans. Paparazzi." He pulled a disgusted face.

"I've seen how people are when a new ad campaign drops," she said. "I can handle it."

"Good." He raised their joined hands to kiss her wrist. "Then I'm happy with everyone knowing I'm yours."

His stupidly sweet words took away her voice for a moment.  "And how are we going to explain this?" she asked, squeezing his hand gently.  "You know how Alya gets."

"With truth, of course, my Bug," he said cheerfully.

She stared at him, confused. "Truth?"

He leaned in a smooched her nose. " That will never get old," he said with a happy sigh. "Not the whole truth, of course." His expression went sly.  "You're usually the one with the plans, and I'm happy to follow you anywhere. But when it comes to spinning a story, I've got a bit more experience."

She shook her head, smiling. "Then I will gladly bow to your superior knowledge."

"Pfft. You're so much sassier than I'd ever guessed." He looked amused.

"And you aren't?" she teased.  "I thought you were all respectable and serious."

Alya and Nino were waiting on the steps as they approached the school. "What is going on here?" Alya called, her wide-eyed expression made it clear that she'd noticed their clasped hands.

"Hey Alya, thanks for pointing Mari in my direction yesterday," Adrien said quickly. "I went over to help her with her physics, and…" He glanced shyly at Marinette. "And I guess we figured some stuff out."

"Dude," Nino said, the word elongated but carried on a tone of pride.  "Mischief managed." He held out a fist for Adrien to bump. "I've been hoping you'd open your eyes and get honest with yourself one of these days."

"Yeah," Adrien agreed. "Yesterday was that day."

"So what does this mean, exactly ?" Alya demanded, her eyes bright and her smile wide.

"Double dates?" Adrien suggested.

"Yes!" Alya raised both fists overhead.  "Now if we can just get Chat Noir and Ladybug together, all my ships will be sailing clear."

30 Minute speed write

I still have seven pieces to go, and realistically, I'm going to have to go into the beginning of January with these. But we're nearly there!

[thestuckylibrary]

INFINITY WAR: ULTIMATE COMFORT POST

**THIS POST CONTAINS SPOILERS**

Infinity War Fix-It Fics:

AO3 tags: Canon Divergence - Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie),  Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) and  Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers - check these often for new fics!

To Never Have Loved At All by hitlikehammers (oneshot | 2,839 | T)

Steve will say they had work to do, and a universe to put to rights. They had people to find and hearts to unbreak. They had a mission. There was no time for any of them to mourn.

Steve, as it turns out, says a lot of things that are mostly bullshit.

in a world where you are possible my love by onibi (oneshot | 753 | T)

God, he looks good.

There were probably more than one thousand things on Steve’s mind right now, but that one thought rose to the surface like oil over water. Bucky looks so good.

the space between spaces by notlucy (oneshot | 294 | G)

We are all stardust. Some of us are better at it than others.

A Thousand Miles, A Thousand Years by stainedgreen (oneshot | 727 | T)

With the Time Stone mysteriously removed from Thanos, Steve and Wong travel back in time to the critical moment and Steve hug-tackles Bucky to the ground.

Not Again by grantbarnes (WIP | 492 | NR)

post infinity war fic centering around steve and bucky, but also with other character’s maybe idk i just need stevebucky fix it

my heart's the same by chai_lattes (oneshot | 930 | G)

"the end of the line's come and gone, pal. but i'm still here."

A New Normal by Skarabrae_stone (oneshot | 633 | G)

Steve, Groot, Rocket, and Bucky are happy in Wakanda. That's it. That's the fic. Super shameless, self-indulgent fluff.

Wherever You Will Go by Cryofreeze (oneshot | 15,762 | T)

If I could turn back time I'll go wherever you will go

This is the Perfect Time to Panic by emij1s, Slenderlock (oneshot | 8,784 | E)

James, the golden voice says. We can’t tell you where you are. But we can tell you that you’re dead.

Fuck his entire life. Except he doesn’t have a life to fuck anymore, apparently. So he can’t really do himself any harm by back-talking the Infinity Stones, can he?

“No shit,” he says.

or: Finding the infinity stones and restoring half the universe is the boring part. The fun part comes next.

Mods’ Comfort Reads:

Mod Blue suggests: These American Dreams (ain’t no white picket fences left for me) by kariye (oneshot | 50,608 | E)

In which Bucky has a house, a dog, an herb garden, and a serious case of insomnia. Welcome to Havensport, Indiana (population 8,294), where Tom’s Neighborhood Grocer stays open all night, little old ladies call the car shop to get their refrigerators repaired, and the heat of summer days and the length of summer nights can make you think that this perfect world will last forever. 

The Art Of Cooking For Two by littleblackfox (complete | 92,761 | M)

“Any questions?” “Uh. What the fuck am I doing here?” Bucky offers. 

took my love, took it down by LaughsAtThunder (oneshot | 31,785 | E)

The problem, Bucky thinks now that he has most of his memories back, is that his whole entire world has always revolved around Steve Rogers. Steve has been always been half of Bucky’s identity. Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers’ best friend. Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers’ wingman. Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers’ teammate. And now, well, now Steve had other people to fill those positions. And of course, of course he’d always been a little bit in love with Steve. So when he overhears Steve telling Natasha that he’s finally found someone he’d like to date, someone with similar life experience, Bucky clings blindly to the hope that maybe, just maybe, Steve is talking about him. 

4 Minute Window by Speranza (oneshot | 24,127 | E)

"Look, if they catch me," Bucky muttered, "they're either going to kill me or they're going to put me in a box with a little window and—Steve, I can't." 

Part 1 of 4 Minute Window

Through Cities And Churches by Speranza (complete | 37,256 | E)

A tale of many cities and churches and two boys. Happy 100th Birthday, Bucky Barnes: March 10, 2017. 

This, You Protect by owlet (complete | 64,326 | T)

The mission resets abruptly, from objective: kill to objective: protect

Mod Julia suggests:  the cold never bothered me anyway by icoulddothisallday (complete | 75,562| E)

Bucky Barnes has spent his whole life in a state of mild hypothermia. Steve Rogers has spent the last 70 years in the ice. The two things aren’t related until, suddenly, they are. Shrunkyclunks soulmate AU (AKA the awkward bb au).

Winter Gorgon by Quarra (complete | 74,067 | E)

For as long as Steve could remember, all he ever wanted to do was what was right. So when he hears about his father's old regiment being held as POW's by the Nazis, he's determined to put what Doctor Erskine gave him to good use and goes AWOL to rescue them.

But the 107th isn't all he finds there. Deep in the labs is a very unusual prisoner; one with snakes in his hair and a mask nailed to his face. Despite the man's monstrous visage, Steve can't in good conscience leave him to the enemy. That one act of mercy will change his life, the course of the war, and even the future of the world.

Put It on Repeat, It Stays the Same by giselleslash (complete | 20,205 | E)

Steve and Bucky have a one night stand that turns into a friends with benefits situation. A weekend snowed in at Bucky’s apartment brings to light how much that really doesn’t suit either one of them.

A Historical Relic and a History Professor Walk into a Bar- by thecommodore_squid (series | 48,122 | M)

Steve narrowed his eyes. “I’m beginning to suspect I’ve been set up.”

“I would never,” Natasha said, feigning shock.

Steve sighed.

“God fucking dammit,” he heard someone say and looked up.

AKA An AU in which Steve is still Captain America and Bucky is the unfortunate history professor selected to help him understand those references.

little windows by sheisraging (series | 52,488 | M)

Bucky looks at the paintbrushes Steve rolls nervously between his hands, at the box now sitting on the coffee table. He brushes his fingertips over the star. “You want to paint my arm?”

Grab Your Things (I've Come to Take You Home) by belovedmuerto (oneshot | 22,310 | T)

Steve getting hit with some sparkly purple sh*t during a battle and left with all of his old ailments gives Bucky the opportunity to do something he's been meaning to do for ages.

Mod Iamnmbr3 suggests: Your Kind of Idiot by dirtybinary (complete | 4,545 | T )

In which Bucky doesn't fall from the train, Steve has company when he wakes up in the twenty-first century, and neither of them knows how to talk about their feelings unless they're about to die.

The Art Of Trolling by Odsbodkins (complete | 4,414 | T )

Since everyone thinks they can ask all kinds of intrusive questions about Captain America, it's Bucky's duty to troll the hell out of them.

United States v. Barnes, 617 F. Supp. 2d 143 (D.D.C. 2015) by fallingvoices, radialarch (complete | 20,605 | T )

The Associated Press @AP Winter Soldier set to stand trial for Washington D.C. massacre and treason apne.ws/1og6SWE

give me your answer do by lazulisong (complete | 2,053 | G )

Bucky knows it's going to be a bad one when Steve wakes up again, lifts his head up from the side of Bucky's fancy electric hospital bed, and says, "Now don't get mad until I explain."

His voice has the tone that had meant he'd got into another fight and had two black eyes, or found a HYDRA nest and accidentally forgotten to tell Bucky or the other Howlies that he was going in to clear it out, or that he'd met a stray dog on the way home from the store and given it his share of meat for supper and was planning to eat boiled potatoes and stale bread, while expecting Bucky to eat his own share of the meat as if it didn't choke him.

A Precarious, Fragile Thing by Taste_is_Sweet (complete | 6,961 | T )

“I didn’t know he did that,” Tony said. He knew Bucky liked tucking himself so far under Steve’s arm that it was like he was trying to climb into his armpit. But he’d always stayed upright, just kind of plastering himself against Steve’s side. This blanket thing was new.

“Seventy years of skin hunger,” Steve said. His voice was just as soft, but for a moment his eyes flickered hot with anger, bright as the candy-colored screen. “He was always tactile. Now, when things get…well, sometimes it helps. The contact.”

And it looked…nice, the two of them together like that: Comfortable. Familiar. Safe. Tony knew what a precarious, fragile thing it was, to feel safe in the middle of the night.

Circling Back by chaya (complete | 59,642 | E )

Steve looks for Bucky, Bucky finds Steve, Steve tries desperately to put Bucky back together. Bucky tries desperately to let him. (Spoilers for Winter Soldier.)

A Person's Worth by melonbutterfly (complete | 810 | G )

For a brief moment Bucky remains silent, and then he says, voice quiet but factual, just a bare scratch to it, "I don't know if I'm worth all this to you."

And there will forever be only one answer to this. "You are."

things learnt upon reunion by dirtybinary (complete | 2,615 | T )

It is their first day on the run, and their first night spent together in seventy years: part mission, part honeymoon.

Bit by bit, Steve gets the hang of Bucky again.

Or: the CA:CW trailer gave me feelings and then this happened.

Things the men of the Howling Commandos are no longer allowed to do in the SSR by Odsbodkins (complete | 769 | G )

The Captain America: The First America version of Skippy's list - Things the men of the Howling Commandos are no longer allowed to do in the SSR.

buachaill sciobail by silentwalrus (complete | 5,271 | unrated ) 

“Okay,” Sam says. “Okay. Alright. O-kay. I just, I gotta say, man, when you told me ‘Bucky is a selkie’ this is not... really…. what I... imagined.” “What did you imagine?” Steve says. Across his lap - or rather covering his entire body from the waist down - the eight hundred pound tube of blubber that is J.B. Barnes blows a snot bubble.

January 2nd, 1938 by kristophine (complete | 1,201 | E )

“Stevie!”

Steve frowned harder down at the paper.

“Steve!” Bucky dropped down on the floor next to him. “Get a look at this!”

Grudgingly, Steve glanced up, and found himself laughing. “You didn’t.”

just goddamn marry me already, for fuck's sake by newsbypostcard (complete | 6,376 | E )

"Do you," Steve says, fingers newly tugging Bucky's underwear until it starts to slide off his hips, "want to marry me, or not?"

Bucky sighs. "You know, in some circles people would consider this interrogation under duress."

The Wedding of Bucky Barnes by stephrc79 (complete | 67,805 | T )

This is the story of how an instagramming, trolling, pain in the ass got married to an equally annoying, artistic, bossy, stubborn blond oaf.

Or, you know, how one James Buchanan Barnes, Instagram Extraordinaire, married Captain America himself, one Steven Grant Rogers.

The Not-Christmas Not-Truce of 1944 by dropdeaddream (complete | 1,416 | T )

Bucky stabs a man in the neck.

The cow moos.

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Tags:

Fluff 

Humour

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Meet-Cute

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Avengers Friendship/BFFs

Pet Names and Endearments

Pets

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Need More Fluff?

Check these AO3 tags:

Tooth-Rotting Fluff

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[itshigh-boop]

Late for the Date

Omg, I finally finished this thing. I’ve had this in my WIP since January but I thought it’d fit nicely with Mcsombra Week! This ficlet was inspired by red-12am‘s two pieces of art that are connected: you can see them here and here! Written with permission!

Mcsombra week - Day 1 - First  - this is kind of an AU!

“¡Chingado! Ándale...un...poco…¡más!” With trembling hands and as strong a grip as possible, Sombra attempted for the third time to inch the hem of her pants past her thighs. The stiff denim refused to budge past the first inch just above her knees. Depleted of her energy, Sombra groaned and released the grip on her jeans, dropping unceremoniously back onto her bed, letting an arm drape over her eyes. She knew skinny jeans were difficult to wear but she didn’t realize they were this frustrating. With a huff, Sombra rolled onto her side and sat up, bringing her legs close as she struggled to read the size tag on the pair of jeans. No, she bought the right size, which was lucky enough, finding skinny jeans that’d fit her wide hips. But getting them past her thighs and over her behind was another matter entirely, it seemed. She wanted this date to go well and part of that, for Sombra, meant dressing for the part. She already had the perfect blouse, sweater, coat, and boots picked out. They’d all been picked along with the jeans she was currently struggling to don. She was sure that her date would appreciate her choices and while she had no real experience with romantic affairs, she knew that making a good first impression was important. What better way to make an impression than dressing for the part? Sombra was well aware she was attractive and she planned to take advantage. But what sort of impression would she leave if she couldn’t even get dressed in the first place? With another grunt of determination, Sombra pressed her legs together as tightly as possible, laying on her back before swinging her legs into the air, momentarily using gravity to her advantage to inch and swish the impossible jeans down the contours of her legs. With each sway of her hips and tug of the pants, the hem slowly made it past her hips. Sombra grinned, happy that she was actually going to see results. Her fingers slipped into the belt hoops and tugged the rest of the pant length up her legs before she passed onto the next phase: buttoning her jeans. It took her a solid five minutes of aching, shaking fingers and grit teeth to finally button the pair of pants and she gingerly rolled onto her side, climbing off of her bed and walking toward her body-length mirror. Once she reached it, she smoothed out the few wrinkles that’d formed in her struggle, finally turning around to see the results of her efforts. Just as she expected. The word ‘perfect’ floated through her mind as she inspected her reflection over her shoulder. Now all she had left was...wait, what time was it? She turned, noting the orange light seeping in through the blinds of her window. Just how much time had passed since she got out of the shower? She rushed toward her night stand, grabbing her digital clock before nearly dropping it in alarm. How had an hour passed her by?! Did the jeans really take up that much of her time? In a realization of horror, she dove for her bed, tossing her sheets around until she found her phone, with its screen facing down. Upon turning it around, Sombra discovered two unread messages sent within the last ten minutes and a missed call. Dammit...they had agreed on this time, hadn’t they? The burn of shame and fear at the possibility of a good evening being ruined warmed her ears as Sombra quickly opened up the last unread message, her thumbs gliding across the screen in order to relay her message to her waiting beau. Please don’t let it be too late.

McCree checked his watch for what seemed like the hundredth time. It’d been almost an hour. He knew women had the universally known stereotype of running late for special events but this seemed excessive. And he was an even bigger fool for sticking around as long as he did. That, or terribly lonely. Probably both. He’d sent a few messages to the woman, even a phone call when he felt a bit desperate but each went unanswered. Why was he doing this to himself? Just because she’d seemed interested at the time didn’t mean she would still be interested at the time of their date. Quite honestly, he was used to this song and dance - a bitter tune, really, but begrudgingly familiar. McCree took one look down at the bouquet of roses he held and the numerous cigarette butts that littered the snow around him. Figured a no-show wasn’t any reason to ruin his lungs any more than he already did on a daily basis. Sighing, McCree lifted the brim of his hat, looking up at the setting sun and let his shoulders slump forward. Shifting the still lit cigarette between his lips, he took one last drag, intending to snuff it out and get going. Just as he started moving, vibrations in his pocket caused him to stop. At first he almost thought he imagined it, until he felt it again, and he grabbed his phone. A message - no, two messages. His brow lifted in question, slowly making his way to swipe his phone in order to read the messages until his phone began to vibrate once more, the plain jingle of the default ringtone filling the air. Her name - Sombra- flashed across the screen. There went his damn nerve. And his traitorous heart started beating like when he got his first kiss from a pretty girl. Would he ever learn? Apparently not, if his fingers moving to swipe right were any indication. Sighing, he lifted the phone to his ear, trying to sound as aloof as possible. “Hello?” “McCree? It’s Sombra.” The woman’s accented voice filled his eardrums and for a moment, he felt his stomach flutter in the same way it did when he’d worked up the nerve to ask her out. There was a sound of distress - a whine, almost, until she continued. “Look, I’m sorry that I’ve been keeping you waiting. It’s just-” “Ya don’t have to explain anythin’. I understand.” McCree figured he’d just fill in the gaps and awkward pauses that were coming up to save himself a headache. “Somethin’ came up, right?” “What? No.” Well, that was new. If it wasn’t silence and zero contact, he’d get some excuse or another about a friend suddenly getting sick or some important deadline that just happened to be that very night. McCree remained quiet, letting her finish. “It’s just…” A sigh resonated. “I lost track of time getting dressed. I just barely checked my phone and saw that sent me a few messages and called. I wasn’t ignoring you. I’m sorry.” When he didn’t respond, she continued, voice strained. “Look, I understand if you want to cancel plans tonight-” Ah, there it was. The old “give you the illusion that you’re making the call” line. McCree couldn’t lie - he felt himself bite down on the cigarette still in his mouth, the bitter, toxic taste spreading like the wave of disappointment over him. No matter how many times this had happened to him, it always hit him pretty hard. But this latest lady - he didn’t know how to explain it. Just that he felt someone might’ve been on the same wavelength as him, for once. “...but I personally still want to go out. Just let me know.” That...that was new. He almost didn’t know how to respond, not used to it getting this far. When he heard her voice again, asking him if he was still there, he nearly dropped his phone, fumbling to respond before she hung up, as if he hadn’t been the one waiting this entire time. “No. I mean, yeah, I still wanna head out tonight.” A sigh. “Good. Okay. Yeah.” She sounded just as nervous as he felt and that helped to calm some of the damn jitter in his belly. “I’m not going to lie, I’ve still got a bit to get ready. Is that okay?” The cold breeze that passed by subtly reminded McCree that maybe waiting longer for this woman wasn’t such a good idea. “Does it normally take you this long to get ready for a date?” he questioned, tone implying he was just teasing. “Only for those I actually want to go on.” That shut him up. “Why don’t you head down to the bar I told you about? Go ahead and order whatever you’d like, I’ve got a tab there, just mention my name.” At least it was better than standing around in the cold for another hour or however long she’d keep him waiting. He checked his watch again and sighed, though a weary smile made its way onto his face. “Tryin’ to get me drunk before the date even starts?” “Well, I hope you can hold your liquor. This might be a short date if you can’t.” The challenge in her voice spurred him into moving, already walking away from his spot as he began heading toward the aforementioned bar. “Alright. See you there, then.” He must have sounded hopeful, a hint of a question in what he perceived as a confident statement. “You will,” was all she responded with. -- True to her word, Sombra did end up having a tab. The bartender didn’t seem too suspicious, if only raising a brow at him when he mentioned her and glossed a look over the bouquet he still held, but otherwise gave him the drink he ordered. As tempting as it was to order to his heart’s content, he also wanted to make some sort of decent impression on the woman - enough to land him a second date if all went well. He’d refused to check his watch, if only because the stretch of time would feel impossible to bear if he thought about how many minutes actually passed him by. Instead, he chose to occupy his time with small talk with the bartender and by watching the holoscreen above. Just as he watched the same commercial that played for the tenth time that evening, he felt a hand tap his shoulder. He turned, perhaps a bit too quickly, and saw her again - Sombra. “Hola,” she greeted with a small smile and he swore she looked bashful. “Hey,” he replied dumbly after a few seconds. Realizing she was finally here with him, he scrambled off his barstool, moving to take off his hat and place it over his chest. “Glad ya could make it.” “Wouldn’t miss it, vaquero.” Her eyes glanced to the side. “Those for me?” He gave her the bouquet that’d been resting on the side of his barstool, awaiting their rightful owner. He hadn’t been so sure if they were a good purchase when he bought them earlier that day but seeing her holding them close and enjoying their perfumed scent, he was glad he did. The bat of her eyelashes had him feeling warm, and that was besides the drink he’d already partook. After offering to help her with her coat, he took a moment to admire her. Damn. If it took her that long to get ready and this was the result? He knows that rationally he should be annoyed at how much time she’s wasted but he can’t help but feel some level of joy that she concerned herself this much for a date with him. “Like what you see?” McCree looked up, seeing Sombra wink at him. She must’ve caught him looking. That or he took a second too long to gawk. If his jaw had been open, he had no doubt that she would have reached over to close it for him. “Mm. Ya do look stunning,” he admitted. “All that extra care ‘n attention really shows.” Sombra shrugged coyly, moving to sit on the barstool next to his. “I wanted to make a good first impression.” She turned her head, looking ahead at the shelves of bottles along the wall behind the counter. “That turned out to work out fine, didn’t it?” He took her hand in his, already trying to forget the rocky start that the evening began with. “Let’s not worry about that. We’re both here now so let’s just enjoy our time together, hm?” Quickly waving down the bartender, he turned back to his date, letting his thumbs brush over her knuckles. Slowly, but surely, he was gaining his confidence back. As much as he was charmed by this woman, he wanted to do the same. She looked surprised, violet eyes blinking slowly until she laughed through her nose, and nodded. “Of course, vaquero. I wanna see just how well you hold your liquor.” “Ya think I’m a lightweight?” he asked as the bartender placed two glasses of tequila in front of them. Sombra grabbed her glass and peered inside. “Prove to me you’re not?” The look she passed him was downright sinful, challenging, and McCree was a fool who took great delight in that fact. He laughed, instead choosing to take his own glass and lift it in good spirits. “To a good evenin’, with good drink ‘n even better company,” he offered, a grin on his lips. “Salud,” Sombra answered, lifting her tequila and taking a sip, humming in appreciation. “You’ve got good taste,” she all but purred her approval in his choice of tequila. “The best,” he answered, tipping his hat. Pleased with her reaction, he had a feeling that the rest of their evening would play out splendidly. -- “You sure you’re good to head out, McCree?” Sombra asked, holding her keys in one hand and the bouquet tucked in her arm. “We kinda got carried away there at the end.” McCree waved it off. “I’m good. I’ve ended up where I had to go worse off than this,” he explained. “Thanks for worryin’ ‘bout lil ol’ me though, darlin’. I appreciate it.” She rolled her eyes and huffed. “I’m just wondering if I’ll have someone to answer the phone when I want a second date,” she teased. He hadn’t even been thinking about it, having been preoccupied with the good time they were having that evening that McCree completely forgot about the possibility of seeing this woman a second time. Maybe even a third. “Oh?” he finally said, his head still lightly spinning. “I’ll be damned sure to answer that phone call, sweetheart.” The sweet laugh that bubbled out of Sombra’s throat warmed him right up even in the middle of the cold of that winter night. The glow of the light outside her door illuminated her face and he swore he never saw anyone more beautiful. “I’d like to kiss you,” McCree admitted, blunt and quickly. He wasn’t drunk but alcohol had the tendency to make him say things that were at the front of his mind. Instead of quiet acceptance, he felt her grab his coat and drag him down to her level before the lips he’d been staring at all night long finally pressed onto his. McCree wrapped his arms around her, as if anchoring himself to the reality that this day was ending so perfectly. As she pulled away, she made no move to remove herself from his hold, instead breathing along with him, the impact of their lip lock made evident from the visual puffs of air in the cold weather. “McCree,” Sombra started quietly. Just as he contemplated his name being the sweetest sound ever from her mouth, she continued. “Do you want to come inside?” She didn’t even have to ask twice.

[pennywaltzy]

The Cacophony Of Life (1/6)

So I am bound and determined to do this fic as at least the last fic I finish this round of WIP Big Bang, if not the second to last (provided I can figure our where I want the fic to go). This fic was originally asked for by @elliedilly and this first part has been up for ages. Hopefully I can find where I have all the info for this fic on my laptop and get to writing part 2 tonight. Enjoy!

The Cacophony Of Life - From birth, every person can hear the music that their soul mate hears, whether it’s music that they’re playing, listening to or singing along to, in their mind. Measures can be taken to lessen the sound, but there are times when the sound is too much, too overwhelming. For years, Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper use their connection to each other through the music they both hear to communicate: first to annoy each other as children, then to care for each other as teenagers and young adults, and finally to express the longing that hopefully one day, and one day soon, they’ll meet each other face to face and express the love that’s grown between them throughout the years.

Read Part 1 | Help Me Survive? | Commission Me?

January 1985 Sherlock Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy, “Symphony No. 4 in A major, Op. 90 "Italian" - I. Allegro vivace” Molly The Chipmunks, “My Sharona”

Sleep. He was sleepy. His tummy was full and he wanted to curl up with Redbeard and go to sleep. Sleep would be so nice. Quite lovely.

His thoughts were kind of squished together, all muddled and everything as he yawned and padded his feet towards his room. His mummy had gotten him the bee pyjamas with the footies, his favorite. And his favorite bear was on the bed, Mr. Snugglesworth. He gave his mummy a grin as she tucked him into bed. Normally Father did it but it was quiz night, and he was smart and that was how he showed it. He wanted to be smart too, like Daddy and Mummy and Mikey and Sherrinford. He wanted to learn everything.

He waited for his mummy to turn on the music. He knew his Mummy thought he’d like soft, soothing music to go to sleep to but he liked this song the best. This song gave him the best pirate dreams, where he was sailing the high seas with Blackbeard and they were looting all the ships and burying all the treasure.

Once the song started he settled in, waiting for his mum to turn off the bedroom light and then shut his eyes. He was almost asleep when he suddenly heard the most grating sound. His eyes flew open. No, no, no. He wanted to sleep. Why couldn’t they let him sleep?

Ooh, my little pretty one, my pretty one When you gonna give me some time, Sharona Ooh, you make my motor run, my motor run Got it coming off o' the line, Sharona

The voices singing the song were high pitched, giving him a headache. They didn’t even sound flas…fals…real. He just wanted it to stop, wanted to drown it out. He threw his covers off, padded to the record player, and then turned the volume knob all the way up until Mendelssohn-Bartholdy’s symphony drowned out the noise in his head.

He hated the person he was attached to, the person who could hear the music he listened to, the person who played music to annoy him. Hatedthem. And when they increased the volume of their music, out of meanness, he sank to the floor and sobbed. He hated them. Hated them so much.

Soul mates were stupid.

He didn’t want one. Not ever.

March 1986 Molly Falco, “Rock Me Amadeus” Sherlock Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, “O zittre nicht” (as performed by Lucia Popp in 1969)

She was bored. All the stations played all the same music. It was…boring. Boring boring

boring

. She’d rather hoped if she managed to wrest away control from her sister Emily and her brother Colby that there’d magically be something worth listening to.

But at least the stuff on the radio was better than the stuff in her head. Her mum and dad had explained that every person is born with a soul mate, someone destined to be the person they fall madly in love with, and when their soul mate is born they hear all the music they hear. They can hear anything they listen to on the radio, or any music they’re singing, or music they’re playing themselves.

And she had a boring soul mate who listened to nothing but the dreary classical music that Mrs. Eshaghicn made her listen to when she’d go over while her mum took her dad to the doctor. She didn’t like that music. She liked fun stuff. Stuff she could dance too. Everyone in her house was sad all the time. Mummy tried to make things less sad, and Daddy did too, but they were sad a lot. And she could tell, just like Emily and Colby could. They could see it.

She was four, but she knew some stuff. After all, people said she was a bright young thing.

Finally she found a song she liked. It wasn’t really a bounce around to song. It was an okay song, she guessed. Her brother said it was one of those songs you could learn something about. Some composer of the classical stuff her soul mate liked so much. She rolled over onto her back on the floor and tapped her foot in time with the beat, listening to the man speak the educational stuff in the song.

1756, Salzburg, January 27, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart is born 1761, at the age of five Amadeus begins composing 1773, he writes his first piano concerto 1782, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart marries Constance Weber 1784, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart becomes a free mason 1791, Mozart composes "The Magic Flute" On December 5th of that same year, Mozart dies 1985, Austrian rock singer Falco records Rock Me Amadeus!

The song was just about to go back to the more rock part when her soul mate butted in. She reached over for the volume dial, ready to drown him out, when she paused. This song…it wasn’t so bad, she supposed. It was almost pretty. The woman singing had a nice voice.

And then she realized she’d heard it before. Her daddy had it. Well, maybe not this exact version, but he had this song. She got up off the floor and went to his records. He liked music. Had a huge collection of vinyls from years and years and years. When he felt good, he’d let her sit on his lap and they’d go through and listen to things. Or she’d try with her stupid soul mate trying to blast it out of her head.

Finally she saw the record. She looked at who composed the song the woman was singing. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, it read, and she smiled a little. Maybe there was something to the classical music after all.

Not that she’d admit it to her stupid head soul mate.

May 1987 Sherlock Antonín Dvořák, “Humoresque No. 7 Opus 101” Molly Whitney Houston, “I Wanna Dance with Somebody Who Loves Me”

His soul mate had abominable taste in music.

He was trying to get through his lessons, the soothing sounds of “Humoresque No. 7 Opus 101” playing in the background of the kitchen as he worked. Not his actual school lessons, but the private tutor lessons in chemistry that Mummy and Dad had gotten him because it fascinated him. His actual school lessons bored him to tears, to be quite honest. It was all baby stuff. He’d learned that ages ago, it seemed. He wanted to learn the things Mikey was learning but Mummy said he couldn’t just skip grades. Wasn’t right. Wasn’t proper.

But tutors they could do.

Whoever his soul mate was had been listening to the most wretched music for the last two hours and he’d done every exercise he’d learned since the music had played in his head when he was three years old. His mum and dad had done a good job teaching him about it, getting him to understand when he was old enough, and he was thankful he’d had a few years peace as whoever it was who had parented his soul mate had tried to expose them to soothing music the first few years of their life, because listening to what he or she played had been torture ever since he was six. He craved the classical music that was soothing to all his senses. And whoever his soul mate was just wouldn’t oblige.

He hated them. He hoped he never met them. He hoped something grisly happened to them and they just…went away and he’d get blissful silence in his head. It wasn’t a nice thought but then he wasn’t a nice child sometimes. He tried to be, but it didn’t always work.

He was just about to add the last bit to the chemical solution under his tutor’s watchful eye when he heard a sudden clap and it startled him. He spilled the powder mostly on the desk, earning him a shake of the head and a slight clucking sound from his tutor. His jaw set at that. Damn them,he thought to himself as spoken part of the song ended and the sung lyrics to this wretched song started. He’d heard it before, multiple times in the last few days, and yet it still gave him a start.

Clock strikes upon the hour And the sun begins to fade Still enough time to figure out How to chase my blues away I've done alright up 'til now It's the light of day that shows me how And when the night falls Loneliness calls

Oh, what he wouldn’t give to be able to chase his soul mate away, he thought to himself as he went to get more of the powder, feeling the tips of his ears redden under his tutor’s disapproving gaze. Far far away, to somewhere where they never had access to music again.

Then life would be much more pleasant.

November 1988 Molly Taco, “Puttin’ On The Ritz” Sherlock Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov, “Hymn to the Sun”

She scanned the audience to see if they were there. Her dad hadn’t been feeling well. Mum had said they’d try to make it, try to see her performance, but…well, she knew she shouldn’t count on them being there. Dad was having less good days these days and more bad ones. Mum didn’t talk about it, but she knew. Whatever was wrong wasn’t getting any better. It was probably never going to get any better.

But she couldn’t think about that. Tonight was the charity event, the talent show that St. Margaret’s was putting on, and she had to do her bit whether her Mum and Dad were in the audience or not. She’d been working on the routine for weeks now. She knew it had been hard for her parents to afford the dance lessons along with the tuition for her and her brother and sister’s schooling, but she’d been grateful. She loved dancing, especially tap dancing. She was actually quite good at it, and tonight was her night to shine. She had on a special leotard her teacher had loaned her that looked like a tuxedo, complete with bow tie and tails, and she had a top hat and even a cane. She looked just like she could have come off a Broadway show.

“You’re next, Molly,” her teacher said. Molly nodded and then waited in the wings, giving another glance out at the audience. She still couldn’t see her family, but then she couldn’t see all the audience, and the lights were in her eyes. Maybe they were there after all. She’d do them proud. She’d show them the lessons were worth it, show them just how good she was.

Finally it was her turn. She made her way to the center of the stage, her heels clacking on the hard surface. She got in her position and then the music started. She’d picked the long version of the song for her routine, knowing full well she could pull off a nearly five minute long performance. She started to do her routine and it kicked into high gear when the lyrics started.

If you're blue and you don't know Where to go to, why don't you go Where fashion sits Puttin' on the Ritz Different types who wear a day coat Pants with stripes and cutaway coat Perfect fits Puttin' on the Ritz

And then it happened, the moment she’d been dreading. She heard something in her head. Oh no, she thought. Not now. Her soul mate had taken to trying to throw her attention by playing very loud music while she was going through her routine. And sometimes it worked. She tried every trick her parents had taught her to block the music in her head, but something was different. Her soul mate wasn’t listening to it on a record player or a radio. It sounded amplified, as if they were in an auditorium, but also quite close. And then it hit her.

They were actually playing it themselves.

She stood still for a moment in disbelief, forgetting she was in the middle of performing her routine. Thankfully she snapped out of it quickly and she felt she hadn’t made too much of a noticeable mistake. But…this was strange. She hadn’t realized her soul mate could actually play an instrument. How many times had she heard him before without realizing he was playing the song himself? How had she not noticed before?

She finished up her routine and then scurried backstage. Here she was, all proud of her dancing ability, and her soul mate was a bloody violin prodigy. Wonderful. She sat on a box backstage and caved in on herself. Maybe she just wasn’t talented enough after all.

December 1989 Sherlock Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy” Molly New Kids On The Block, “Hangin’ Tough”

One of the few things all five members of his family could agree on was the family tradition of watching a ballet performance of The Nutcracker around the holidays. It seemed there was so much more bickering these days, between Mycroft and Sherrinford, between Sherrinford and his parents…he tended to stay out of the family drama but he had the feeling that eventually it would all either explode and be a gigantic mess or implode and leave a hole in the family.

Either way, he wasn’t looking forward to the situation.

He was on the floor with Redbeard waiting for them to leave while his brothers occupied the chairs and sofa around the telly. His soul mate had been surprisingly quiet as he had listened to the music on his battered cassette player, headphones clamped firmly on his ears, so he didn’t have to listen to everyone’s snarling at each other. While this event only happened once a year he listened to the music from it as often as he could. He supposed he’d have to stop soon; he was ten now, and it was time to give up childish pursuits such as a love of ballet. He’d had to start to develop a tough exterior, a thick hide to keep the bullies at school at bay. A “stiff upper lip,” as Mikey called it. And there was the fact he had developed an interest in things of a criminal nature. Not causing crimes, but solving them. There was a suspicious death at a pool in London that intrigued him greatly but he’d be damned if he could get the authorities to pay attention to him and his theories.

But at least for right now, he wanted to concentrate on the music. For one more year he had the excuse of family tradition to enjoy the ballet and the music. Next year…who knew what the next year would bring? For all he knew, his family structure would no longer be the same.

The bit he enjoyed the most, “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy,” started, and he relaxed into Redbeard, resting his head on the dog’s soft fur. He was getting old, he knew that. He hadn’t been a young pup when his parents had gotten him, and he moved more slowly now. Still, they had time together. That was what mattered.

Suddenly there was a jarring sound in his head and he shut his eyes. Of course she would have to start listening to some incessant pop dribble now, he thought, clenching his teeth. He’d surmised his soul mate was a female nearly a year ago, when the music she tended to listen to skewed towards male groups with supposedly handsome male singers. He began to use the techniques to temper down the music in his head to duller levels, not wanting to listen to this particularly odious song again. She’d listened to it nineteen times so far this week and it was only Monday evening.

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

Listen up everybody if you wanna take a chance Just get on the floor and do the New Kids' dance Don't worry 'bout nothing 'cause it won't take long We're gonna put you in a trance with a funky song, 'cause you gotta be

Hangin' tough Hangin' tough Hangin' tough We're rough

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. If the members of this…this…boy band were what she fantasized about than he had no idea why they were soul mates. He’d never be caught dead being like any of them. Never in a million years. And if she liked inelegant fops like that?

Then he didn’t ever want to meet her.

Once he got it down to a manageable level, a dull murmur in his head, he turned back to his tape player and turned up the volume for good measure. It would be best to ignore her, he supposed. They weren’t right for each other, not matter what their stupid biology had predetermined. Simply not right for each other. One day they’d both realize that.

Mark his words.

[krokonoko]

I got tagged by @samcybercat for this meme. Since I’ve only been writing in English for a couple of years and I can’t very well post my German stuff, I’m gonna have to go with art for this one.

Rules: 1. Post a quote or short excerpt from your early days of writing/ARTING. (I’m talking old fanfics/ART, slash fics/ART, original fic/ART, etc., that are barely edited and have a ton of technical errors and misspelled words.) This is the cringe part. Don’t edit anything! Let it be horrendous. Don’t Panic. 2. Post a quote or short excerpt from one of your most recent works/WIPs. Something that you’re proud of. Something that you’ve written/ARTED that makes you smile when you read it. 3. Tag a writer/artist you admire, anyone who you think is amazing, new friends, followers, writeblrs, anyone who you’d like to know more about. If you think someone is a great writer/artist and you want to see how they’ve developed their skills, tag them! Everyone started somewhere. The Cringe Section:

Yyyyyeah. Despite what the date says, this was drawn January 18th 2007, not 2006. I went through my old folders and found that I fucked up the date on about three of the pieces I posted around that time, well into February as well. I was. A special kind of teenager.

I was 17 years old when I made this. and VERY deep into my. ”””IRONIC”””. Emo phase. Not sure what program I used for it, probablyy MS Painnnt...? The character depicted here is from a comic drawn by an artist I used to admire a lot, I think they’re called Rattenprinz over on DA but they unfortunately vanished from the face of the internet.

...Though honestly, lookin at it now it’s a bit unfair to drag my past self over this. I think it was one my very first digital drawings ever. I was mostly working with traditional media back then, and the stuff I created with markers and multiliner was. You know. It. It wasn’t THAT bad.

Just a bit. Erm. Cringeworthy subject-wise maybe. ...These were both drawn December 2006 and I mean LOOK at that Zuko fanart. Doesn’t it SCREAM edgy mid 00′s teenage art? Though I gotta give my past self credit, drawing that background without any reference must’ve been pretty hard, especially with traditional media. I honestly couldn’t do this anymore today. ...Goes to show how boring school was that I had to draw these kinda detailed pieces to keep me awake pfahaha~

I know I’m supposed to cringe here, and believe me, there’s enough stuff I created that’s worthy of ridicule, but... if it’s not because of really questionable content (which as we know we all created, but which I’m not gonna post here, sorry), I can’t really judge my old art all that hard.

OKAY let’s wrap this up and give you something REALLY old and REALLY half assed that ACTUALLY makes me wanna smack my past self upside the head with a rolled up newspaper.

There.

Something I’m Proud Of:

Idk I. I guess I actually learned how to draw faces? With features? And expressions that aren’t copy pasted? And bodies with. Volume. Or at least I hope so, cuz that’s really what I wanna do.

I don’t really know what to say about these. Erm. They’re fairly recent and have been made with PaintTool SAI and my old Bamboo tablet I’ve had for about ten years now.

With my character designs for Parhelion, I’m trying to do things that really challenge me to learn new things, such as... hard objects, like horns, moving in space. Bodies that have volume (in other words, the thicc). I wanna have a style that becomes more natural and defined, that departs a bit from its anime roots, while still retaining part of the fanciness and clean cut styles of it.

I’m ranting.

Uhm. Alright. Tagging.

@ssjumi, @seanfiction, @reikashino, aaaand I don’t wanna bother anyone else with this. Feel free to feel tagged :D

[lawsonwrites]

From Fail to Success or Something Like That #selfpublishing #author

Most of my followers know that I’ve always been transparent with my book journey. I’ve blogged about it in the past (wah, my old blog is gone. I don’t want to talk about it) and I plan to keep doing it.

I’ve been vocal about my success with Kindle Unlimited (although controversial it’s still a net positive for me—majorly so.) But I wanted to write up a little history of my last year. The good news is that 2016 was by far my best selling year yet. In fact, I made a goal with myself and I hit it. It was a BIG jump from anything I’d done in the past but I’ll tell you the truth; it was hard work.

A couple of things helped me jump tiers in the book world. Now understand me, I’m not making full time money. I’m not even sure if I’m making consistent money (we’ll see.) Not yet, anyway,  but I hope I’m headed in the right direction. Here’s a little breakdown of what I did and my process.

July of 2015:  I was part of a book collection release called Secret Worlds. I was able to put a backlist book in this collection (Vigilant) which was great for me because it had been out for several years and not selling much. Now, I had been part of several book collections prior to this, each with varying success. This one I stumbled on by chance when a friend suggested I submit. I didn’t even remember applying for it when I got the notice a few months later that I had been accepted.

The good news is that Secret Worlds published RIGHT when Kindle Unlimited 2.0 started. This was perfect for our book collection because there were not many other sets on KU at the time and people were looking for things in the program to read. Amazon had also not set page caps either which meant we were paid for every page whereas now there’s a limit to the number of pages in a book. To be honest, we did very well financially but it also trickled down into other book sales as well.

September 2015: Release Creature of Habit Book 1

I didn’t realize it at the time (Because I live in a cave and only recently started picking up on the realities of book selling) but between Secret World and COH 1, I did a good thing. I released two books within 90 days. Amazon apparently likes this. Then I did something else…

October 2015: Release Zocopalypse

I released a second book a little over 30 days later. Not in the same series and it wasn’t a big hit (because again, I didn’t know what I know now) but still Amazon smiles on frequent releases and my author rank in particular boosted much higher than it had in the past. And stayed there. Around this point I listed all my books in the KU program and started seeing good returns. Particularly on COH and my Wraith Series.

December 2015: Release Creature of Habit Book 2

Now this was planned. I knew to a degree that releasing a series close together would be helpful. I made sure in COH 1 and COH2 that my preorder links were in the back. All three books had pretty good pre-orders and that helped kick off the books well too.

January 2016: Release Box Set collection Happy Ever Alpha (make USA Today Best Seller List) Now, at this point I wasn’t making much money but things were rolling. It was better than before and I was still getting royalties on that first box set. The big kick came when I released the final book in the COH series.

March 2016: Release Creature of Habit Book 3

April 2016: Release Box Set Collection (Novella Collection-Seriously, I can’t remember the name)

This one in particular worked well for me. It was for novellas and I put the first novella in a book series I had released a year before. Those books had good reviews but not a lot of readers. It allowed me to breathe a little life in these books, particularly in KU.

July 2016: Release For the Win

This was a passion project. It actually sold well and I’m very glad I wrote it (with co-author Rochelle Allison) The only problem is that it’s not in my preferred genre and didn’t really help boost my Amazon profile.

August 2016: Release Box Set Collection 21 Shades of Night

November 2016: Release Box Set Collection Fall into Magic (make USA Today Best Seller List)

(*The release dates on the box sets are the live release—NOT the preorder date)

I haven’t had a new personal new release since August of 2016. It’s not ideal but I was exhausted from the release schedule the year before. And although I made more money than ever before, when I look back on that list I know I didn’t do everything right and definitely could have done better.

I did work (SLOWLY) on the second novel in my Zocopalypse series during the fall of 2016. I finished up the first draft at the end of the year, knowing I needed to turn what I had planned to be a 2 book series into at least three. I knew it was the best thing for the story and the best thing for me as a publishing author.

But I was tired. I was aimless. For months I had been lamenting that I just didn’t know what direction to go in. Keep with the zombies? Move forward with this other passion project I wanted to do some day? Work on a WIP I had in a drawer? I had zero focus and it was going to catch up to me. I knew it.

I needed a plan. Desperately.

Then the best thing happened to me. A friend from the box sets suggested a Facebook group. It’s called 20 Books to 50K. For some reason I clicked on the link (I’m notorious for not wanting *more* notifications and *more* information.) It was like a lightning bolt. It was the first of January, I was pumped for a New Year change and within days of immersing in the ideas, success stories and concepts behind Michael Anderle’s publishing theory I had a plan.

I had a big plan.

It took me 4 months to write the second Z book. Within weeks I had a third written. A week later I am halfway through my fourth and have two more planned. I already had new covers commissioned and was thinking of a reboot. Something didn’t fit and the group helped me realize I was in the wrong genre—selling to the wrong people. I got my head on straight, my design idea refined, my marketing and release strategy together and now I’m in the final technical stages (covers/edits) of rebooting that book and releasing the second.  

Plans. I have plans and I feel so much better.

Here’s to making 2017 the next step in a better, more focused career.

A

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