#i do a quick read through edit. write the next chapter. rinse and repeat

[lifeinahole27]

CS ff: “Walking the Tightrope” (Epilogue) (au)

Summary: Killian’s daily routines are a matter of habit. When he wakes up late one morning, his routines all change for the better. Emma doesn’t care about routines, but she does care about Killian, no matter how reluctant she is to admit it to herself.

Rating: E (the content warnings matter this time!)

Content Warnings: There’s uhhh... poetry smut.

A Special Thank You: My continued gratitude to my lovely friends, @captainstudmuffin and @phiralovesloki. And a heap of love to @captainswanbigbang for putting this together and helping me accomplish this.

A/N: Holy crap! Here we are! It’s the end of the story!! Now, for those of you who read the original story, there’s not a whole lot that’s changed. I edited everything to fit the rest of the story and writing style, since the original version was a little rough, but other than little bits, it’s what you remember. If you didn’t read this, then welcome to the end! 

My eternal gratitude to those who helped me finish this, those who helped find my errors (my two lovely ladies are listed above), to those who read this! Who reblogged it! Who left comments and sweet tags and sent messages and made this all worth it. I constantly say that I cannot express how thankful I am and it’s true. With only words, I can only say, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. <3<3

This epilogue is meant to tie bows around a couple major things and send these off the best way I know how. I still have a stack of headcanons and info that wouldn’t fit in here. I would love to share these things if anyone is curious. If you are, or have questions, or want to talk about specific parts, please send me messages. I would love to chat about this world that has lived in my brain and morphed over the last FIVE YEARS. 

(Poetry included is not mine: All rights reserved to Pablo Neruda "My love, understand me" and "Night on the Island" and to Leonard Cohen "The Mists of Pornography")

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 |

Find it on Ao3 & FFN!

-x-

Epilogue: The Art of Poetry

-x- April 

The day that Killian forgets the coffee mugs on his counter is the day he locks himself out of his apartment for the first time. He and Emma huddle on the front stoop together in the early morning chill waiting for his landlord to come unlock the door. He opens his jacket and pulls her closer, jumping when her cold nose touches his collarbone and she chuckles as she repeats the action until her nose is warm and he’s even warmer. They thank Marco profusely when he arrives with the spare set of keys.

They’re also both late for work that day.

The next day, when Emma comes back from getting coffee, there’s an envelope propped in front of her computer at work. When she opens it, a weight settles in the envelope and she pulls out the folded note. Killian’s neat handwriting stretches across the paper.

“My love,

understand me,

I love all of you,

from eyes to feet, to toenails,

inside

all the brightness, which you kept.

It is I, my love,

who knocks at your door.”

So next time I lock myself out, you can unlock it for me.

She peers into the envelope to see the key resting in the bottom and thinks he may be onto something with poetry if it always sounds like that.

Emma makes sure to beat Killian to the door when they walk back to his place after work so she can try out her new key, and she only smiles wider when the lock slides open. She makes a big show of swinging open the door, gesturing him inside with a sweep of her arm. 

When she gets home that night, Snow and David have once again broken into her loft, but she doesn’t much care for two reasons. Firstly, she knew they were going to do this after they texted her twenty minutes ago and asked whether or not she was spending the night at Killian’s. Secondly, it takes her five whole seconds to read the message on Snow’s shirt that proudly states that she’s “Pregnant AF” (the shirt’s words, not hers) and there’s a whole bunch of happy crying and flailing that follows. 

-x- Late August

Emma arrives home a little late one night to Killian already making dinner. The routines they do still live with all include household chores and the way they divvy them up, and she’s perfectly fine with the structure he’s brought to her previously chaotic lifestyle. He glances over his shoulder when she walks in and smiles.

“Get stuck late again?”

“Not quite,” she says as she comes to stand behind him. “That smells amazing, by the way.”

“It’ll be done in just a bit.”

“Want me to set the table?”

“I’d like to know why you’re avoiding a simple inquiry into why you were so late in such an obvious manner.”

Emma sighs heavily. “I kind of walked all the way back to the loft before I realized I didn’t live there anymore.”

“Kind of? I don’t think that’s something you can kind of do, love,” he says, still managing to stir whatever it is he’s making even when she goes to swat his arm. 

“Okay, so I did. You said it yourself, though. Old habits, right?” She hops up on the counter to watch him cook. 

“Indeed, love. So, I’ve been meaning to ask you. How do you feel our adventures have measured up to the expectations?”

“Well, you didn’t turn into a frog.”

“Aye, I’m sure there’s still time for that. We’re only in the middle of this tale. We’ll just have to see where the pages take us from here.”

“You are such a fucking romance novelist,” she says, laughing brightly when Killian removes his sauce from the stove and turns it off before he moves in to attack. And even though she’s squirming to get away from his nimble fingers as they target her ticklish spots, she sends up a quick thank you to Killian’s faulty alarm clock and his old habit of routines. 

-x- September

“You could just leave those until later,” Killian says, coming up behind Emma as she washes their dishes from dinner. He has his hand and hook on her hips and his lips on her hair, his voice full of implication. 

He’s learned not to try to talk her out of cleaning up, and instead he just enjoys distracting her in the best ways possible. 

She’s wearing a skirt - something she only does when she’s out of leggings - and the soft gray jersey fabric clings to her hips before flaring and draping down. It hides much of her legs, but her backside looks fantastic in it. On top, she has a light yellow shirt that’s tickling at his memories, the lines of a poem he once memorized during his university years making their way back to mind. 

Steady movements continue as she washes and rinses each dish, stacking them in the drying rack before starting to scrub out the sink. He’s struggling to remember the lines, yellow sweater, and with a smirk he glides his hand down to palm the back of her thigh.

“These are anything but boyish haunches,” he says out loud. Emma gasps as the shift from peaceful innocence to dirty.

“What?”

He hums, nosing some of her hair aside so he can find her neck with his lips. “From a poem. Your shirt brought it back to me. ‘The Mists of Pornography’ was the title,” he responds, moving his hand to the front of her thigh and sliding it up to rest on a spot right below her hipbones.

“Why am I not surprised that you know something with ‘pornography’ in the title?”

“Ah, but Swan, it’s about much more than that. Close your eyes. Listen,” he says, and uses his hook to brush the hair off her neck and lean closer to her ear. He sways just a little bit closer as he starts to speak. 

When you rose out of the mist / of pornography - He runs a single finger along her spine until it rests between her shoulders - with your talk of marriage / and orgies / I was a mere boy / of fifty-seven / trying to make a fast buck / in the slow lane / It was ten years too late / but I finally got / the most beautiful girl / on the religious left / to go with her lips / to the sunless place - and here he makes sure to push his hips against her to emphasize as she snorts. He continues reciting, crowding her against the counter, making sure the edge is pressing right where he wants it to.

This was my life / in Los Angeles / when you slowly / removed your yellow sweater - As he speaks, he slowly draws her shirt over her head and she lifts her arms - and I slobbered over / your boyish haunches - He runs his hand over the path that started this all and pushes the skirt off her hips to rub over the back of a now-bare thigh - and I tried to be / a husband / to your dark and motherly / intentions.

I thank you / for the ponderous songs / I brought to completion / instead of fucking you / more often - He punctuates by rolling his hips against her and she gasps as she clutches the sink for stability, and he keeps going.

Your panic cannot hurry me here / and my panic and falling / shoulders / our shameless lives / are the grains / scattered for an offering / before the staggering heights / of our love - His hand glides over her stomach and up to cup a breast through her bra. He’s sure she can feel where his cock is pressing against her ass, hard and wanting. Her hips are pinned against the sink and with each line, he thrusts against her, slowly lighting the fuse of what promises to be a spectacular orgasm if he doesn’t stop.

And the other side of your anxiety / is a hammock of sweat / and moaning - It’s getting harder to pay attention to the poem, especially when he pulls down the straps and cups of her bra, palm meeting her already hardened nipples as he alternates between them. Her body shudders with pleasure and he struggles to continue - and time comes down / like the smallest pet of God / to lick our fingers - he licks her shoulder instead - as we sleep / in the tangle / of straps and bracelets. 

With a great deal of effort, he keeps going, trying to make the lines appear in his head so he can read them off with ease and still give her the attention she deserves - and Oh the sweetness of first nights / and twenty-third nights / and nights / after death and bitterness - She reaches one arm back to wrap around his neck and firmly grasps his hair - and the impeccable order / of the objects on the table - He’s rocking her into the counter at just the right speed and he can tell how close she is with each new word - the weightless irrelevance / of all our old intentions / as we undo / as we undo / every difference.

With the last word of the poem out of his mouth, she tugs hard at his hair and she climaxes, coming undone and leaning back against his chest and tries to catch her breath. 

“Oh god, Killian,” she moans. He’s still rocking them against the counter as she rides out her orgasm. “By far, this is the most interesting way you’ve ever made me orgasm.

“Have I made you a fan of poetry yet, Swan?” He moves his hand back down to her hips, his fingers sliding just under the waist of her panties. She feels loose and light as she turns in his arms and pulls him against her.

“A couple more poems like that and I can definitely be convinced,” she says. “But for now I think I’m more interested in spending time with this one. What was that about lips and sunless places?”

His mind reels because she drops to her knees between him and the cabinets. He grips the counter for stability when she drags her teeth over the zipper of his slacks.

“Think you can recite another one?” She unfastens his trousers, sliding the material down and taking his boxer briefs with it. She wraps one hand around the base of his cock, lightly gripping his hip with the other.

“Hmm?” He’s concentrating really hard on not rocking his hips forward into her skilled hands, incredibly aware of the counter just behind her head. The absolute last thing he wants to do is accidentally give his girlfriend a concussion.

“Another poem, Killian. You have another one up in that head of yours?” She leans in and licks the tip of his erection, grinning up at him.

His mind scrambles for any other poems he memorized.

“You’re making it incredibly difficult to concentrate, love, but I did always love a challenge” he admits, another moan pulling from him as she wraps her lips around the head and sucks lightly. She pulls back again and looks up at him, her smile shining in her eyes.

“You once promised to read me dirty poetry. You’ve given me one. Surely you have another up there,” she says before leaning forward to kiss a spot below his hip bone. 

“There once was a man from Nantucket,” he starts, but she cuts him off with her laughter.

“No, no. Make it a good one.”

The poem that finally makes its way to his mind is not dirty, but he knows she’ll appreciate it. He clears his throat, closing his eyes and trying to concentrate on the words in his head instead of the love at his feet.

All night I have slept with you / next to the sea, on the island. He begins, and she runs her hands along his thighs. Wild and sweet you were between pleasure and sleep, / between fire and water. She grips his cock again and begins stroking it gently, placing kisses along his hip again as he continues.

Perhaps very late / our dreams joined / at the top or at the bottom, / up above like—

“Fuck, Emma,” he moans, her mouth going from the innocence of kisses to wrapping her lips around him once more and swirling her tongue around the tip.

“Keep going,” she pants out when she breaks away, dipping her head right back in when he starts reciting once more.

Perhaps your dream / drifted from mine / and through the dark sea / was seeking me / as before, / when you did not yet exist, / when without sighting you / I sailed by your side, / and your eyes sought / what now—/ bread, wine, love, and anger—/ I heap upon you / because you are the cup / that was waiting for the gifts of my life.

The hand that isn’t gripping the base of his cock trails up his thigh once more, pausing on his hip for a moment before brushing under the shirt that he’s still wearing and she runs her nails down his chest.

I have slept with you / all night long while / the dark earth spins / with the living and the dead, / and on waking suddenly / in the midst of the shadow / my arm encircled your waist. / Neither night nor sleep / could separate us.

She begins bobbing her head while her hand strokes the rest of his length, and it’s a struggle to remember the last stanza for a moment. He drops his head, opens his eyes again to watch her move and it’s too much. His movements against her during the first poem had already aroused him, and her attentions on him now are pushing him closer to the edge.

Emma moans around his length and his knuckles go white where he’s still gripping the counter. He can feel his release coming and she feels it too, speeds up and doesn’t prolong the torture. When it hits him, he has to brace his feet a little more so he doesn’t collapse. He’s breathing hard when she gracefully stands back up into the cage of his arms. She’s grinning, the cat that got the cream, as she winds her arms around his neck.

“Is that the end?” she asks, fingers threading through his hair. He shakes his head and swallows, wraps his arms around her and pulls her close.

I have slept with you / and on waking, your mouth, / come from your dream, / gave me the taste of earth, / of sea water, of seaweed, / of the depths of your life, / and I received your kiss / moistened by dawn / as if it came to me / from the sea that surrounds us.

He kisses her after saying the last verse, tasting his release still lingering on her tongue, and she hums into the kiss.

“Not bad,” she says when she breaks the kiss. “You may have just swayed my opinion. I’m now pro-poetry.” She’s smiling when she meets his eyes, and he chuckles. He places one more kiss on her forehead before bending to hastily pull his underwear back up, stepping out of his discarded trousers and leaving them on the floor.

“I’ll try a lofty and pretentious one next time,” he promises, remembering their previous discussions about poetry now that she’s brought them up.

“Only if you’re fucking me into the mattress when you do it,” she says off-handedly. He huffs out a laugh and rests his forehead against hers.

“You’ll be the death of me, love.” He hugs her tight to him as he says it and he can feel the laugh vibrate through her.

“But you love me anyways,” she responds, dancing her fingers across his shoulders.

“Aye, until the end of time.” He kisses her again, and she whispers her love for him across his lips.

And when they wind up in bed a short time later, he recites whatever he can think of—limericks, haiku, even a poem by Shel Silverstein—as he fulfills her request. 

When the Save-the-Dates go out a few months later, there is, indeed, an asterisk at the bottom that says “David was right.”

[unending-happiness]

Hi, I've got a question out of nowhere! I was looking to re-read a story And When You Soar that was on my AO3 bookmark list and it's apparently not there anymore! I think it was your story? Can I ask what happened to it? If it's indeed the story I remember, I loved it!

Hi! Oh wow. It’s definitely my story! I’m smiling so big because you want to reread it. So…..as for what happened to it, I got a little overwhelmed with all my responsibilities in real life and how little time I had for writing. All my wips just felt like a heavy weight on my shoulders, because no matter how much I wanted to finish them I just didn’t think I’d ever have time. And I also felt so guilty about leaving them for so long without updates and letting readers down. So, I deleted all my wips from AO3 and vowed to only post them again when they were complete on my end (except for editing) and I could update them on a regular schedule. And When You Soar was supposed to be a relatively quick story, but then, as stories do, it took on a life of it’s own and there ended up being way more to it than I originally thought, so it got pulled too. 

I’m actually in the middle of writing a long one-shot right now that’s fairly close to being sent to my beta. I don’t know what’s wrong with my writing brain right now, but I get huge bursts of inspiration for something new, then it fades, and rinse and repeat. Super unhelpful. 

Now, the good news is, I’ve found myself at the very beginning of a period of being off work and quarantined at home because of this delightful pandemic we’re all experiencing, so I’m going to attack my wips with intensity and AWYS has a very good chance of getting finished soon and back up on ao3. Honestly, thank you so much for this ask because I wasn’t sure what wip from my list to work on after the one I’m finishing now, and you’ve made the decision easy for me. Thank you so much, lovely human! To hold you over until I post it again………

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And When You Soar-Chapter 1

Alec ducked his head and stepped through the door and into the plane. He stopped when the elderly woman in front of him came to a standstill and looked around, transferring his suitcase to his other hand. He acknowledged the flight attendant standing to his left with his usual tight smile.

“Welcome aboard,” she greeted him, flashing him a bigger smile of her own.

“Thanks,” Alec answered her before his attention shifted to the open door just past her. A tall pilot standing just inside the flight cabin nodded at him and then turned his attention to who Alec assumed was his co-pilot. Always curious, Alec leaned to the side to see more of the other pilot, but his view into the small space was almost completely obstructed by the large man

“Sir,” the woman said to get his attention again.

He looked over at her and saw that she was motioning for him to move along into the cabin. He realized that the people in front of him had moved forward and he was holding up the line. 

“Sorry,” he whispered, as if talking at a normal volume would cause further disturbance.

She just smiled at him sweetly again, and then turned her attention to whoever was behind him. Alec shifted his suitcase so that he could fit down the aisle, and focussed on finding his seat without taking out the tiny woman in front of him. He located his row near the back of the plane and saw that his seatmates hadn’t yet boarded, so he quickly stowed his bag in the overhead compartment and sat down in the aisle seat. 

Normally, Alec loved being tall. He never needed a step stool, he had always been chosen first for basketball teams in high-school gym class, and he could see over everyone’s head in a crowd. It also made intimidating people fairly effortless, not that he would ever admit that out loud. Being tall was almost always a perk, but he found that flights were one of the few glaring exceptions. 

He always sprang for first class when he had to be on a plane for more than a few hours, but his sister’s last-minute plans had him booking the only available seat on the only available flight that would fit into his demanding schedule. He barely had time to get a workout in and grab a quick shower before his Uber pulled up. He was feeling very lucky that he at least got an aisle seat, and even so, there simply wasn’t going to be a position that would make his legs happy. It was going to be a long night and his only hope would be to fall asleep, which was unlikely, as he found it especially difficult to do in crowded places.

He grabbed his phone and earbuds out of his backpack and put it under the seat in front of him, barely leaving enough room to squeeze his black Nikes in there. When he glanced back up, he could see that there was a young man and woman waiting patiently for him to get up so they could take the seats next to him. He quickly stood and moved to the side. The man eyed him up and down suspiciously and then quickly changed positions with who Alec could only assume was his girlfriend so that he would be sitting next to Alec instead of her. Alec barely contained an eye roll. Heterosexuals. He gave them plenty of space while they got settled and then gingerly lowered himself back into his seat, already regretting going so hard in the gym that morning as his thighs still protested from yesterday’s workout. He would feel it doubly tomorrow. 

He went through the process of checking and returning messages on his phone. He handled a few work emails and then touched base with his family. He answered a text from Izzy.

 Did you make your flight?

Barely

That’s the spirit. See you soon. 😘

If by “soon” you mean in 9 hours, then yes, that.

Grouchy…..You got stuck in economy again didn’t you? Such a diva.

Next time you come up with some grand scheme, I’m going to need you to think of my legs.

Promise, but I’m sure you could use your powers of persuasion to get yourself into first class. 😎😍

You’re confusing me with you, again

Oh, Alec. Try not to have too much fun.😂 We’ll pick you up at the airport.

Hey, I know how to have fun.  

And by “we”, do you mean…..

Simon and I. I wouldn’t bring mom or dad. I’m not that mean.☹️

I have plenty of scars that suggest otherwise, but I’ll see you in 9 short hours.

Love you, big brother <3

Love you, too.

 The perky flight attendant had started her safety speech, which was thankfully straight to the point and not one of those lame ones trying to make everyone laugh. Alec fastened his seatbelt across his black joggers and logged into the airline’s Wi-Fi. He put his phone on airplane mode as soon as he was connected. He glanced over at his seatmates to see the man was huddled up next to his companion and they were chatting quietly and giggling. He didn’t think he had to worry about them trying to talk to him, but he stuck a wireless earbud in that ear anyway just to be sure. He scanned the rest of the passengers within view of him and tried to settle comfortably in his seat when he decided that everything was as it should be.

The pilot he had seen when he boarded the plane came out a few moments later and did the standard pre-flight announcement. Captain Garroway had a deep and booming voice, so Alec clearly heard the weather and their destination all the way from his seat in the back of the plane.

He busied himself with scrolling through his playlist to distract himself during take off. He wasn’t a nervous flyer, but the knowledge that nearly all plane crashes happened during ascent and descent kept him from really relaxing until they were fully up in the air. Being out of control in any situation went against every fiber of his being, and he just had to work through it. He spread his legs a little, pushing his knees all the way against the seatback in front of him, praying that the person wouldn’t want to recline their seat. He crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes. 

The plane had just hit cruise height, the most nerve wracking part over, and he was listening to a conversation between a mother and child in front of him when his phone buzzed in his lap.

Alec swiped down his notifications and pulled his eyebrows together when he saw what app the push notification had come from. Of all times to get a message from someone on Grindr, this one had to be the weirdest. He hadn’t even had an account for twenty-four hours yet, only having downloaded it late the night before out of boredom. His sister had joked recently that he needed to “Meet someone on Grindr or something to let off some steam”, and despite everything in his being telling him he wouldn’t be happy with such a thing, he had done it anyway. He wasn’t exactly sure why he had listened to her, because he had no interest in hooking up with a random guy just because he was within so many feet of him. There was actually someone he had something really casual with, but it had been a while since he’d seen him. So, he could probably chalk this horrible lapse in decision making up to being frustrated and horny. Still, he had no intention of using the app, not really.

He thought about dismissing the message without reading it, almost laughing at the thought of having sex with some random stranger in the tiny plane bathroom, when it hit him that the message actually had to be from someone currently on the plane with him. That thought had him sitting up straighter and looking around him as inconspicuous as possible. He didn’t see anyone staring at him, but still, like the truly paranoid person he was, he turned down the brightness on his screen so the people around him would be less likely to see what he was doing. Hesitantly, he opened the message.

It was from someone called “CoyNotCryptic” and the icon wasn’t a person, but instead was an aerial photo of a city he didn’t recognize. Oh-kayyy, that wasn’t going to tell him anything. He looked around the cabin again and then read the message.

 I see you’re on my flight.  Enjoy the ride to Rome.

 Alec stared at the words in disbelief. What are the chances? He quickly tried to figure out who this mystery messenger could be. A fellow passenger? The app informed him that it was someone ninety feet away, which would have to be someone toward the front of the plane. A passenger in first class maybe? Alec looked up at the flight attendants suspiciously. Both were women and he didn’t see a third, but that didn’t necessarily mean there wasn’t another one there. First class sometimes had their own attendant. Thoroughly flustered, he turned off his screen and laid it face down in his lap again, still eyeing the people around him and the front of the cabin.

He made it an impressive five minutes before he unlocked his phone and pulled up the message thread. He clicked on the mystery person’s profile. 

All he learned from that was that the guy was 3O ish years old, 5’11”, 175lbs, Bi, and Single. Seemed intriguing enough, but a picture definitely would have been extremely helpful. Fucking Grindr. This was why he didn’t want to mess with it in the first place. He wasn’t going to answer it. Absolutely not. What would he even say? What if the person was a total creep and it was a disaster for the entire eight-hour flight?

Just a few minutes later, bored and antsy, he decided that it was going to bother him if he didn’t at least find out who it was. Oh, what the hell , he thought, and typed out a message.

 The chances of this happening have to be a million to one, right?

 He tapped his foot nervously while he waited the fifteen seconds for an answer to come.

 I’m not privy to the exact statistics, but it doesn’t happen very often, in my professional experience. Does this mean you’re one in a million?

 Alec swallowed a laugh. The wording of the message made him feel more like it was someone working on the flight. That was probably less risky than a random passenger. More than a little intrigued, he typed a reply.

 By that logic, you would be one in a million, also. 

Oh, I definitely am.

How self-aware of you.

Self-aware and humble.

And….working right now??

Yes, although it doesn’t feel like work at the moment.

Because I’m distracting you?

Don’t get ahead of yourself.  It could be the 40-ton jet I’m flying. -MB

 Alec nearly dropped his damn phone and he was ninety percent sure he said, “No way,” out loud instead of in his head. The pilot!! The pilot was messaging him on Grindr. What the actual hell had Izzy gotten him into?! He had the passing thought that maybe it was somebody else on the plane fucking with him, and he looked around for about the tenth time. And MB? Most definitely not the initials of Garroway, the pilot he saw before. Must’ve been the pilot he hadn’t been able to get a good look at when he boarded.

He didn’t have time to go too far down that rabbit hole of thought, because just then a voice filled the cabin. This one was very different than Captain Garroway’s and it got Alec’s full attention, to say the least.

“Good evening, lovely passengers, this is Captain Bane speaking.”

This voice sent a shiver down his spine and made every nerve ending wake up and take notice. It was a voice of pure silk that made Alec think of skin on skin, of dark passionate nights, of hushed whispers between sloppy kisses.

He was absolutely reeling at the realization that “MB” from Grindr was also Captain Bane, the pilot of this airplane, a man whose voice alone stimulated every cell in Alec’s body. He was thoroughly fucked for the duration of this flight and he couldn’t even find it in himself to be mad about it.

“We are now cruising along at an altitude of 30,000 feet. You may use any larger electronic devices you have at this time, on airplane mode, of course. I’m very good at what I do, but I’d prefer a smooth and easy ride tonight.”

Alec pursed his lips to contain his disbelieving laugh, his eyes wide.

“Please also feel free to take your seatbelt off if you need to move around the cabin, but be sure to put it back on anytime you’re in your seat. This is just a precaution in case of unexpected turbulence, or in the event I jerk my stick a little too hard.”

The passengers around him chuckled at the joke, but Alec thought that there was no possible way in hell any of them could be as affected by those words as he was. This was an unbelievable turn of events.

“My darling flight attendants will be doing drink service soon, and I’d like to ask you to be patient and enjoy whatever quenches your thirst. Please exercise self-control, though, as this is a long flight for all of us. Also, just a reminder that any long arms or long legs that are taking up aisle space, are most definitely at risk of being taken out by Clary and her cart, and need to be tucked safely in your seat. Thank you very much and enjoy the ride to Rome.”

This man. Holy. Fucking. Shit. He needed a drink from Clary and her cart ASAP.

He stared at his phone and that last message. It was clearly his move now, and considering how buzzed he was from the announcements alone, he wanted to make it a good one. He decided he very much wanted to play this game.

 Aren’t there rules about texting and flying? 

You are in very capable hands. I wasn’t joking when I said I’m good at what I do.

In all seriousness though, my co-pilot is doing all the heavy lifting at the moment, but if this makes you nervous, I’ll stop. I like to keep my customers happy.

Don’t stop.

I’m not worried.

Good. Tell me something?

Ask away.

What takes you to Rome?

My little sister’s impromptu wedding.

Scandalous. Have you met her other half?

Oh, yeah. They’ve been together for a while. The engagement isn’t that surprising, and, really, the quick wedding isn’t either if you know my family. She’s avoiding a lot of drama. I can’t really blame her.

Ah, family drama, ever delightful.

Unfortunately there’s no shortage of it with mine. 

How long are you staying in Rome for the wedding? 

Just a few days. 

It’s an absolutely beautiful city. I can make some recommendations if you’d like……

That would be great.

 Perky red rolled up to him with her cart, pulling his focus away from the conversation. He reluctantly placed the phone face down on his tray and tried to not look impatient as he got his wallet with his card out of his bag. She asked the couple next to him what they wanted, and Alec dutifully passed a soda and a red wine over. She ignored his debit card and poured a whiskey on the rocks, probably the most expensive they had on board, and handed it over to him. His confusion must have shown on his face because she winked at him and pointed to the front of the plane. It took a couple seconds for him to get it and then he glanced to his side to be sure the people next to him weren’t paying attention.

“Oh, uh, thanks,“ he whispered, and immediately felt like a moron.

“No problem. If you need anything else at all, just let me know. I’ll be back around for meal orders in just a little bit.”

Alec took a big sip of his drink. It was easily twice the size of the drinks you normally received on a plane and he felt a little guilty that he hadn’t even paid for it. He resisted the urge to look around and see if anyone had noticed his special treatment.

He checked his phone as soon as he felt relaxed from the warmth that had burned its way down his chest. There were no new messages, but he decided that sending him a drink was a pretty loud and clear message of its own and he started typing.

 So, now you are flying a plane, texting, AND buying me a drink?! Show off.

Is that a thank you?

Of course. How did you even know where I was sitting?

Well, you see, there are these things called ‘Flight Manifests’ and pilots receive one for every flight.  Although I must admit I’ve never found one quite as useful as I do now. 

By the way, who uses their real name for a Grindr profile??

People who want their pilots to send them free booze.

Ah. Well, your grand scheme is working out quite nicely then, I’d say.

Seriously though, thank you for the drink. 

You’re most welcome, Alexander. (So useful, that manifest)

Nobody calls me that except for my mother when she’s angry with me. 

Would you rather I not?

No….you can. 

Good, because I’m fond of it. 

Speaking of things I’m fond of, Clary tells me that your "longest legs ever” have no business at all being in coach.

Ah, well, you can blame my sister and her last minute plans for that. 

Wait, do you have everyone spying on me?!

Not everyone, just Clary, I suppose. Though, to be fair, she mentioned your legs before I had her bring you a drink.  Seems “tall, dark, and handsome” appeals to all genders.

I’m going to need more alcohol if you’re going to keep saying things like that. 

I’ll let Clary know the gorgeous man with mile long legs in C36 needs another drink soon.

I’m actually blushing.

I’d give my Louis luggage to see that for myself. 

I don’t do selfies.

Really? Not even for the man who tried to get you a seat in First class? 

It was all booked. I checked. 

Yes, it is. But I tried to offer someone top shelf alcohol for the duration of the flight to switch with you. 

YOU DIDN’T. Please tell me you didn’t. 

Doesn’t matter. It didn’t work anyway. Please pass my apologies onto your legs. 

No.

No?

No. If you have a message for my legs, you’ll have to deliver it yourself. 

Do you really think it’s wise to cause a rise in the heart rate of the pilot who is flying your plane?

My bad. Pass my apologies onto your heart?

If I have to deliver messages in person, then you do as well. 

Can you put the pedal to the floor? Get us on the ground any faster?

Do you know anything at all about airplanes?

No, but you could teach me.

With pleasure. 

Lkkdfskhdkhsdfkhd.

 Did he really send a keysmash? He did. He did that, as eloquent as ever. Slightly mortified, he waited to be teased for it. When no message came through, he checked his Wi-Fi connection, then his watch, and finally scrolled through his playlist and chose some music, trying to busy himself with something other than shamelessly flirting with the man currently keeping them alive way above the surface of the earth. He was probably very busy at the moment and Alec had to get a grip, especially since they were only an hour and a half into the flight. 

By the time the dinner cart went through an hour later, Alec had returned a few more emails, done his budget for the month, organized all the photos in his gallery, and archived all the files on his phone that he didn’t need anymore. He also might have checked Grindr for new messages about twenty times, so he was more than a little ready for that second drink. 

This time the other attendant came through, the one with the darker skin and curly hair. She was just as helpful and nice as Clary, but much less hyper, and Alec found that she had a way about her that he liked. With a knowing smile she served him up the same drink as before. She didn’t even try to tell him where it came from, which he appreciated, because at this point he was more than a little self conscious that the entire staff seemed to know the pilot was sending him things. 

She took his dinner order and returned twenty minutes later with what could only amount to two standard airline meals and yet another glass of amber liquid. This one was smaller and accompanied by a bottle of water. He didn’t miss how she took his credit card and made herself look busy, before handing it back without actually swiping it. He gave her a genuine smile, very much appreciating her discretion and she patted his shoulder as she went by. 

He usually didn’t like to be touched by people, let alone strangers, reserving his physical affection for his family alone. Maybe it was the alcohol warming his veins or the fact that he was currently being lavished with gifts, but he found that the small touch made him happy.

Eventually, he was relaxed enough that he felt like he may actually be able to sleep, but he still declined a pillow and blanket when they came through passing them out to everyone. There was no way he was going to be able to get that comfortable around this many strangers. He made a quick trip to the restroom and stopped in the aisle to stretch his legs and torso as much as he could in the tight space, before regrettably sliding back into his seat. He knocked back the last bit of his drink and followed it with the water, before sliding his tray back up and settling in. His phone buzzed on his leg.

 How was dinner?

Pretty good, actually. I think I owe you a few hundred dollars at this point.

Nonsense, it was my pleasure.  

Thank you. 

Is it sad that this is probably better than any date I’ve ever had? 

That’s only because you haven’t been on a proper date with me ; )

Or because I’m bad at the whole dating thing. (Did you just winky face me?)

I think, given the right company, you’d do better than you think. (Yes, yes I did.)

Hah. A high compliment.

How about this for a compliment…….You really need to warn my staff before you go stretching in the aisle, again. Nobody benefits from a passed out crew.

Who told you about that?

Oh, just a little conversation between Clary and Maia.

Ugh. 

I like Maia. 

AND DON’T YOU HAVE A PLANE TO FLY?!

Shhhhhhhhh. I’m a professional, remember?

And I figured you would. She likes you, too.

Nobody likes me.

That’s very much not true. I happen to have it on good authority that just a small little sliver of your stomach can cause an impressive stir.

Please stop.

Are you blushing again?

I’m not sending you a selfie.

What if I pout?

Don’t do that. I’ll be forced to take one and then I’ll die of embarrassment. Nobody needs that. 

*Sighs* I rather like you living, so I’ll give you a pass this time.

So generous.

You have no idea how generous I can be.

You can’t just keep saying things like that to me.

Why not? I’m just trying to give you “sweet dreams” material.

That might be the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard.

Did it make you smile?

Maybe……

Yes.

Good. Regrettably, I have to go do the heavy lifting now. I’ll leave you to sleep.

Sleep. Sure. Easy. No problem.

Goodnight, Alexander.

 Surprisingly, sleep came easier than he ever could have imagined it would, given the situation, which made him thankful for the food, booze, and the exhaustion that came with being up for almost twenty-four hours straight. He drifted off replaying the messages from Captain Bane in his head over and over and a relaxed smile on his face.

Alec woke with a start when the man in his row slid their window shade all the way up. He squinted against the bright sun, a clear indication that he slept longer than just a few hours. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and tried to blink the sleep from them. When he looked around he saw that a few people were still sleeping, but most were awake and talking quietly, with various drinks and snacks. It seemed he had slept through the beverage cart and probably some announcements, and he imagined that they had to be pretty close to landing in Rome.

He hit his knee on something and looked down to see that someone had lowered his tray and placed a lidded cup of coffee, a bottle of water and a blueberry muffin on it. That’s when it all came back to him. He scrambled around in his lap to find his phone, dropping it on the floor in his haste. He leaned down in the tight space to get it and hit his head on the seatback in front of him. “Shit!” 

He glanced at his seatmates and said a quick, “Sorry,” for cursing and causing a ruckus, but didn’t pay attention to them long enough to see their reactions. He had much better things to do.

He managed to fish his phone off the floor and quickly straightened, sliding down his notifications with impressive speed and selecting the one he wanted.

 Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.  If you need anything else, let me know.

Alec grinned and took a big gulp of his coffee before replying. He needed to wake up fast.

You are a gift, you know that?

Does that mean you’re going to eagerly unwrap me?

It’s too early for sentences like that.

It’s never too early for sentences like that.

How long until we land?

An hour and seventeen minutes.

Aren’t you getting tired?

I’m used to it, darling. Don’t worry about me.

 Darling. He actively tried to keep a stupid smile from taking over his face. An hour. An hour until he exited this plane…..through the front of the plane. The front of the plane where this man currently was. Fuck. He needed a lot more coffee, a toothbrush, and a mirror STAT. He looked down at his crumpled t-shirt and jogging pants and swore under his breath. Truthfully, Alec wasn’t even sure he would be seeing him in person when they landed. He hadn’t seen him when they boarded, and so maybe it would be a repeat of that. That thought was too disappointing for him though, so he pushed it away and set about righting himself, just in case.

He drank his coffee down as quickly as he could without burning his mouth. Then he wrapped his muffin up in the package and put it in his backpack, knowing there was no way his nervous early morning stomach would tolerate it. He grabbed his toiletry bag and rushed to the bathroom before the imminent announcement that they had to stay in their seats.

Once he was folded in the cramped space, he brushed his teeth and thanked God for his recent haircut in preparation for the wedding. He spent a few minutes mussing his hair up with his fingers and a bit of water before deciding it was about as good as it was going to get. He ran his hand over his face and decided the scruff there wasn’t too bad, not bad enough to shave in an airplane bathroom, at least.

He started to stretch and then abruptly stopped, self-conscious that people would notice and he’d be the subject of mile-high gossip once again. He returned to his seat feeling a bit more human and a lot more nervous.

Clary came walking down the aisle with purpose, smiled way too brightly at him for 7 a.m. and handed him a folded up slip of paper. He hesitantly took it with a polite, “Thanks,” and immediately opened it and read the elegant script.

Meet me up front, if you want , after everyone else has deplaned. 

~M.

If you want. He wasn’t sure he had ever wanted anything so much in his life.

Captain Garroway came over the intercom to let them know they were beginning their descent and Alec didn’t comprehend any of it. He put his seatbelt on when others around him did and  tried to stop bouncing his leg nervously. Maybe he had a little too much coffee.

Ten minutes later they landed in Rome without incident, and Alec unbuckled his seatbelt and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. Why the hell was he so nervous? He watched as the other passengers gathered their belongings and exited at an agonizingly slow pace. Twice he got up and helped someone get a bag out of the compartment to hurry the process along. He tried really fucking hard to not compare the man across from him to a sloth, like a total asshole. Finally, when it got to his row he stood up and let the man and woman go by him. 

Once they had their stuff gathered, the woman unexpectedly turned to Alec and said, “I just have to know, are you some kind of celebrity or something?” 

Alec balked.

The man with her looked shocked as he nudged her. “Jules!”

She shrugged. “What? It’s kind of obvious.” She turned back to Alec. “Which movies are you in?”

Alec huffed out a laugh, “What? No…” 

He was relieved when her boyfriend tugged her along even if he was kind of amused at the last disbelieving look she shot him.

The last few rows went by without any more accusations of stardom, which Alec was very grateful for, and then Clary passed by him last, with a wink and a little wave. He groaned out loud and didn’t even feel bad for it. 

There was movement at the front of the plane from the crew and he forced himself to not focus on any of it, but instead he pulled his suitcase out of the overhead bin and threw his backpack over his shoulder. He started walking.

It all became too real when he saw Clary and Maia exit the plane behind the passengers. That wasn’t normal, was it? That definitely wasn’t normal. Jesus Christ, his heart was going to beat out of his chest. He got to first class and the other pilot, Garroway, was standing there in front of the cockpit door, his bag in hand. He shot Alec a smug, crooked smile and left the plane without a word. 

And then there he stood.

There he stood looking way more beautiful than anyone who had been working all night had any right to. His eyes were bright and kohl-rimmed, his features strong and beautiful even as he nervously rubbed the fingers of his left hand together. He really was a kind of perfect that Alec hadn’t even realized existed. He wanted to devour him.

Alec watched, a little stunned, as he stepped forward. Then, he tilted his head up in a challenge and parted his lips, and that was all it took. 

Alec abandoned his luggage right there in the aisle and went to him. He reached out with both hands, pressing one hand to his hip and grabbing his shirt with the other, pulling him into him. He kissed him hard, already drowning in the scent of him, the feel of him. 

They started stumbling backward, and Alec realized that he was throwing his weight around too much, but fucking hell, he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t even think as he pressed their lips together over and over. He wanted it hard and fast, soft and slow, any and every way he could have him.

They stumbled through the door and into the back of the captain’s chair with an “oomph” and Alec opened his eyes briefly to drink him in.

 “Alec,” he said, his breath hot on Alec’s lips, eyes still closed.

“Magnus,” Alec said, stepping into him even more, closing the tiniest bit of space that was left between them. “Fuck, I missed you.”

Magnus opened his eyes and smiled at him. “Yes, I can feel that,” he said, rolling his hips against Alec’s.

“You haven’t felt anything yet,” Alec said, his voice gruff.

Magnus slid a hand between them, “Oh, this isn’t just anything,” he said, rubbing fingers down Alec’s length through his pants. He curled them under the waistband and tugged, causing Alec to go from half-hard to fully erect in no time flat. “I like these pants…….a lot.”

Alec rubbed circles on Magnus’ ribcage with his thumb to distract himself so he could manage to speak a coherent sentence. “They’re perfect for long flights.”

He nearly whimpered when Magnus retracted his hand, but somehow still managed to narrow his eyes at him. “Speaking of long flights,” he said, “I’m supposed to be mad at you.”

Magnus smiled at him. “Oh, really? Whatever did I do?”

At that moment he realized how much he had missed that. His smile, his cunning wit, the elegance with which he spoke, his humor. All of it. He had missed all of Magnus. Desperately. He couldn’t believe he even considered the notion that anyone he met on a hookup app would be enough.

He stepped back a little bit, trying to be serious, but he didn’t remove his hands from Magnus’ waist, because he wasn’t planning on going far, maybe ever. “Well, you were in the city where I live and you didn’t even call me,” he accused, trying not to sound too desperate and probably failing miserably.

Magnus’ eyes twinkled with mischief, which should have prepared Alec for what came next, but before he knew it Magnus had changed their positions, and Alec was being pushed back against the chair, with Magnus pressing up against him, chest to hip. He leaned in and whispered in Alec’s ear, “Mmmmmm, well, if you needed me to dick you down, all you had to do was say something.” He nibbled gently at his earlobe and Alec almost forgot how to move air.

Fucking hell, if that didn’t make him damn near want to beg. “This is me saying something.”

Magnus kissed his neck ever so lightly, which sent shivers all the way down his body. “Hmmmm, what exactly are you saying, darling?”

“Magnus,” he said, exasperated and damn near floating with desire. Or lack of oxygen. Probably both.

“Alexander,” he practically purred back.

That was the first time Alec had ever heard him say his full name and he hoped it wasn’t even close to the last time. He actually fucking whimpered, and that was when he decided this wasn’t the time to be stubborn. “I need you to dick me down,” he admitted, snaking a hand up and grabbing Magnus’ hair. He pulled his head back and away from his neck to get back some control, instead kissing him deeply, sliding his tongue into his mouth and languidly tasting him. 

Magnus moaned into his mouth and returned the kiss with equal intensity, before pulling away to answer him, grinding their hips together once more for good measure.

“With pleasure, if you promise to put that beautiful mouth of yours to good use.”

Alec’s whole body was singing at that promise. “Deal.” He looked around, thinking of logistics for all the things they were about to do, and then he was snapped back into the reality of exactly where they were.

“You’re a pilot,” he said, matter of fact, even if a little breathless.

“I am.” Magnus smiled. “Are you impressed?”

“Very, but what else is new?” Alec answered.

Magnus laughed, “I have to admit this is turning out most favorable for me as well.”

Alec looked around, “How long before you have to fly out again?” 

Magnus said, “A couple of days…ish.”

“Ish?” Alec asked.

“That’s what I said.”

“Can you come to my hotel later?” Alec asked.

Magnus bit his bottom lip, then grinned. “You aren’t even a little tempted to do it right here, Alec? It is a Cock-pit, after all. It’s right there in the name,” he whispered.

Alec smiled, “Wow.” Honestly, fuck him for being so sexy while delivering such outrageous lines.

Magnus laughed deeply, and Alec ran a large hand down his chest and pulled his shirt down to kiss what he could of his collar bone. “Believe me, I’m very, very tempted, but I want to get you completely naked, lay you out on a bed, and take my time with you. I’ve had enough of cramped spaces for a while.”

“How could I possibly argue with that logic?” Magnus asked.

“You can’t,” Alec said.

“Text me your hotel information and give me a couple of hours?” Magnus asked.

The “couple of hours” part had him rethinking the whole “fucking in the cockpit of this plane” business, but he pushed away from Magnus with Herculean effort and placed one last and lingering kiss to his lips. 

Alec forced himself to go back into the plane to collect his belongings, feeling Magnus’ eyes on him the whole way. When he passed by him again, Magnus was leaning against the door, a knowing smirk on his face. 

Alec gestured to Magnus’ uniform. “Are you going to be wearing this when you stop by?” He couldn’t resist asking.

Magnus’ eyes crinkled with his smile. “Ooh, does someone have a kink?” 

“Says the man who’s obsessed with my legs,” he countered, grinning back.

Magnus laughed, and Alec thought that it might very well be the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. “Get out of my airplane, Alexander.”

[hopeless-namjin]

Hey hello yes hi Just a quick question for you to come back to if you feel like answering What is your approach to writing? How much of the story do you plan ahead? Do you have a concrete plan for every chapter or more of a general idea? Basically what do you do before writing?

Mystories always begin with either a character or a scene. I get an image clearas day inside my head, like I’m remembering a movie or a picture. That scene orcharacter is always what I build my stories around. With IBFY is was thehospital scene, Jungkook having already said his goodbyes and Tae realisingthat Jungkook is his soulmate, crawling up in the bed to kiss him. It was thewhole visual at that moment, the emotional torment Tae would feel that beganunravelling IBFY at first. With Affinity, it was the idea of Taehyung walkingin, mushrooms sprouting from where his soles touch the floor and Yoongi’s angerthat suddenly created the idea of the garden and the shop and all the othersthat followed seconds behind. In Seasons, it was a scene with Jungkook thatbegan the idea.

Secondcomes the characters. I know where they’ll end up or begin… but who are they?This is easy for me. I’ll come right out and admit that. Some find it really hardbut these characters just pop up in my head and I just need to sit down and getto know them. I write character-based stories so this is the most importantstep and I’ve even taken people out of stories inside my head and moved toother works simply because they didn’t fit. I always think you need to buildyour characters. Why are they as they are? Why do they do this? Why do they dothat? How can they do as they do? Build them up from scratch. It’s hard, but ifyou build an iron tight character you know really well you won’t suddenly writea story that feels wrong because your character is contradiction the wholebackstory. I bounce ideas with Nan. She is good at asking questions like ‘whydoesn’t he just do this?’ or ‘how come all these people know each other?’. Justthe other day she asked me how the all the characters in IBFY made money andbecause I know my characters so well, I didn’t even have to think about whatthey we’re doing. Namjoon’s parents payed the security deposit for their flat,Yoongi bought Hoseok a place and Hoseok persuaded Jimin to leave his shittyplace to come entertain Hoseok and like we know Tae lived in a goshiwon (tinyone-bedroom flat, to those who don’t know). It’s a answer that doesn’t matterin the story, but makes all the difference to how thay act.

Itseems silly at first to know imaginary people that well, but I feel it helpsout later. Often you will want to move the plot in one direction, but if youfeel your character gets awkward or suddenly feel like they sound off, you’llbe able to stop yourself from making that character unreliable. Like, I knewKookie was lying to himself, becoming a more and more unreliable narrator asthe story progressed; meaning that him putting himself down, making Tae soundmore uncaring than he was fitted his personality since he was ready to give up.I also know Tae lies to everyone, even me and himself and I knew I had to makehim talk in riddles always hiding half of what he actually wanted to say. Itmakes some of Tae’s dialog with himself muddled and kinda uncaring at times,but that’s how he is. Full of secrets and contradictions. The more you know aboutyour character the easier it is to write. You don’t have to know everything andsome things will come to you later, for example, I didn’t know why IBFY Yoongiknew CPR, I just knew that he could, but some days ago me and Nan were talkingand then the reason as to why Yoongi knows CPR just came up.

Almostas important as the characters: What do I want to say? What the heck is thepoint of this? Do you want to have a quick glimpse of someone’s life? Do youwant a story about love and friendship? In short, once you reader is done, whatdo you want them to walk away with?InIBFY I wanted friendship to be central and I wanted to make sure that nobodywalked away feeling like one member hadn’t had a role, I wanted to tell howplatonic love matters just as much as romantic love and how friendship isbeautiful. With that in mind it’s much easier to plan ahead and build thestory.

BeforeI begin writing anything I always find out where I want to start and where Iwant to end. In IBFY it was the introduction, the true start of Jungkook’s lifein Seoul and the beginning of it all and in that hospital bed. Since I knew thedirection I just needed to add plot to make that journey possible. I wanted toshow the friendship between the characters in IBFY - then I need to show theminteract so Kookie just won’t ditch them after being “ignored” by Tae and italso gives a reason why he feels pain about dying. I need Jungkook to fall inlove – then I Have to show what it is about Tae he loves. I need Tae to hurtKookie – well, how can I do that in a way that makes Kookie upset enough tofeel unloved. Not all of these things will come right away and sometimes thingslike dialogue or interactions can’t be planned too much ahead, but you just needa general idea to at least get you to these points of your story. You have tohave a beginning, you need to build up you story, shit needs to hit the fan andthings must come to a conclusion and an end. There are many models for this, findone that works for your story. In this case I feel it’s easier to think as areader; show what you’d like to read if it was you read the story instead ofwriting it.

I’llusually come up with most of my plot points before writing, just quickly addingideas on a page in word. Most of Affinity is currently a list like this;

Tae tries to flirt

***

Yoongi want to hit Namjoon over the head withan exploding yam

***

Jin is an underappreciated saint and he is wearingforget-me-nots in his hair

***

The Blood Oak has a tough life, fuck pruning

Doingthis I know what the key elements are that I need that scene to show. It makesit easier to keep the story flowing and to see where there is somethingmissing. Like here, why does a scene with Tae need to be followed by Namjoon;he must have done something above to make Yoongi upset, or whatever happensleads to what Jin is doing. Basically this is the easiest way to keep track ofthe plot progression (for me) and enable me to see what I’m going for in thenext scene as in writing the one above. It also makes it easier to see wherethe plot gets weak and needs to be backed up. Now I know what to do, if I finda weak spot, like why did Jungkook end up talking to Tae again after theirfirst fight in IBFY; I add scenes like the one with Jin in chapter 4 (that was Nan’sidea okay) or the take-away in Yoongi’s apartment (also Nan, she thought thechapter needed Yoonmin)….

In short get a Nan….

Jokesaside, keep it believable and keep all actions supported by characters traitsand behaviour and things will be alright.

Inthe comments of IBFY a lot of people was after me about why Jungkook keptrepeating the same thing over and over again, how he needed to keep silent, whyhe had to keep the secret, but he was convincing himself (and you as readers)that what he was doing was the only right choice. This was a way to shut thebiggest problem with IBFY; why didn’t Jungkook just tell Tae. I knew Jungkookwould want to tell him, but I also knew Jungkook wanted to avoid being a burdenand so the confession in chapter 10 came to be.That is how you need to think about everything when writing.

WithIBFY I wrote almost the whole story, went back an edited it…. And found outthat was a shit way to do it. I had rushed a lot of it, so while I had ageneral plan to follow all I really had - that I could use - was some dialogueand basic interaction. I also realized I needed to add a shit ton of extrascenes, and movement. Always freaking movement (Nan is meticulous about this,peeps, keep those people moving and keep them talking). Affinity is writtenchapter by chapter and with a much clearer direction. I’m a better writer nowso I don’t feel like I need to have a basic draft anymore. I had nothing to goon in chapter 16-17. That was all written after chapter 15. I ran out of mydraft around chapter 13 and had only partial scenes (like the realizationscene) in chapters 14-15. And tbh I think that I had a fresh mind made thosescenes better than if I had had a draft. This is a personal preference andchapter 1 of Affinity did go through an edit where I added a good 2k to some ofthe scenes because after writing the whole chapter I had a much better idea of whatI wanted.

Butthat is how first chapters are, confusing and usually they are the one I findneeds the most work.

Withthe above in mind me and Nan do edit several times, always adding and removing.This process makes us able to write like this. If you need a draft to edit,then do that. Writing is all about finding out how it works for you. It’susually why I say ‘to hell with authors advice’. Use what you can, everythingelse in the bin. I don’t care how many books people sell, they aren’t you andonly you can write like you do.

InIBFY the plot came mostly on its own, Affinity had a different kind of worldwhere it took a while (read: like 2 hours of 3am ramblings between me and Nan)to get the plot. Affinity Yoongi was harder to get to know, so the plot was moredifficult to spot and most of it wasn’t really clear until after we wrotechapter 1. With Seasons I just know where I need to end, everything in betweenis still being planned, but I know exactly what needs to happen (again keep tothose key points; beginning, build up, shit hits the fan and conclusion plusconsequences, gotta show that choices are hard. Rinse and repeat until storyfinishes) The only fic I have is that I really need to plan out in detail, isone I really wanna do but haven’t begun writing yet. I can’t say anything as itwon’t be written before next year and, yeah, life, so I can’t get into too muchdetail. But I have a mayor plot twist I want to pull off and it really needssome planning. It has like 6 separate documents and character profiles as ofnow. Other fics are just in a shared note on my computer, and we add ideas tothem (again often at 2-3am) and just go with it. The planning is all about howcomplicated the plot is or how detailed it needs to be.

Inshort; be true to your characters, show why they do as they do, know them andtreat them nicely, if the plot is good don’t force it and don’t be afraid of adetour if you need to shut a plot hole.

Nowyou have the idea, the characters and the plot… Now you just need to find the courageto write.