#yes i decided to scrap my home/plot idea and start over from scratch AGAIN

[bewitchingbloom]

Lil guy resting by the fire

[emospritelet]

Heatstroke - chapter 3

These prompts arrived within minutes of each other XD

I’m open to more embarrassing and awkward prompts for these babies!

[AO3]

x

Realising that the woman who had thrown a drink over him and then disparaged the size of his manhood in the middle of Granny’s Diner was now his next door neighbour was not how Mr Gold had wanted to start his day. 

The previous evening had started badly and finished even worse. After completing his rounds he had gone home in a foul mood, trying not to remember the derisive way she had spoken of him to Miss Lucas, or the look in her eyes as she had glanced up and down his body. A toxic relationship and an acrimonious divorce years earlier had left his self-confidence battered, almost non-existent. He had worked hard to build it back up, or at least to wall himself off from others to keep them from knowing the truth. Most days he could pretend that he didn’t hate himself. Today was not one of those days.

He had gleaned from listening to her conversation with Miss Lucas that she was staying in Storybrooke. At first he had thought that perhaps she meant that she had a room at the inn. There was very little property in Storybrooke that he didn’t own, and he certainly couldn’t recall agreeing to any new tenancies. Perhaps her stay would be short-lived; what was there in Storybrooke for a young woman to do, after all? She would have more luck in Boston if she was seeking work. Whatever it was she did when she wasn’t talking about his unimpressive cock.

The following morning, he glanced out of his bedroom window and was surprised to see her in the backyard of the small house next to his, a yoga mat spread out on the grass. She was working through some poses, stretching and twisting, hands raised to the sky before folding forwards and wrapping her arms around her legs. The pose made the lilac pants she was wearing hug her buttocks, and Gold found that he was staring. He shook his head, twitching the curtain back across and going to get dressed. So. He had a new neighbour. A neighbour that had not only seen him naked but had laughed and gossiped about it in the diner. Wonderful.

The house next door to his was one of the few he didn’t own; he had been trying to convince Regina Mills to sell it to him for years, but she had refused, no doubt because she knew it would annoy him. He wondered how much she knew of the tenant, and whether this was all part of an elaborate plot to piss him off. If so, he wasn’t about to admit that it was working.

Tugging the knot in his tie straight, he looked himself over in the mirror and nodded curtly before heading downstairs. It was a coffee-for-breakfast type of morning. Two cups, and he could head to the shop and make a start on inventory. He needed to restock in a few areas, and switch some of the pieces between his home and the shop. That would take up most of the day.

He was just pouring his first cup of coffee when the phone rang, the noise shrill in the still morning. Gold frowned to himself, but as he saw who was calling he broke into a smile.

“Neal,” he said. “How are you?”

“Morning Pops.” His son sounded a little harassed. ��Sorry to catch you so early.”

“No problem. I’ve been up since six, you know me.”

“Yeah. Listen, Emma asked me to call and I figured I’d do it before work sucked my soul out of my body and left me for dead. We’re thinking of paying you a visit. Maybe next weekend?”

“Sounds good.” Gold tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder and headed for the lounge. “You’re always welcome, you know that.”

“Great! We’re just waiting for Henry to get rid of the latest cold he’s managed to pick up. Friday okay?”

“I look forward to it,” said Gold, with a broad smile, entering the lounge. “Maybe we can—”

He broke off as he saw something in the middle of the patterned rug. Something that had certainly not been there when he was drinking his whisky the previous evening. A scrap of fuchsia lace, one end just touching the leg of one of the chairs.

“Dad?” said Neal. “You there?”

“Yes yes,” said Gold vaguely. “I’m here.”

“You were saying something?” prompted Neal.

Gold put down the cup of coffee, bending to pick up the scrap of lace, his eyes widening. It was a pair of panties, if one could call them that. Little more than a triangle of pink lace with strings at the side. He held it up in bewilderment, his mind whirling.

“Dad?”

Gold shook his head, tossing the underwear onto the couch.

“Yes - uh - Friday,” he said quickly. “We can go to Granny’s if you like. I know how much you and Emma like the ribs.”

“Sounds awesome.”

“Right.” Gold found that his eyes were straying to the panties. “Uh - see you then. Love you, son. Give my love to Emma and Henry.”

“Sure thing. Love you too.”

Gold hung up, putting the phone on the coffee table and turning his attention back to the underwear. He had a sneaking suspicion that they belonged to his new neighbour. An image of her bending over in her yoga pose wearing nothing but the pink thong leapt cheerfully into his mind, and he shoved it away before it could cause too much mischief. 

He went to check the doors at the front and back of the house, frowning to himself when he found them both locked. This was getting more curious by the minute. Perhaps she thought it an amusing prank to break in and leave her underwear around the place, but he couldn’t see how she had done it without using a key, and he knew where every copy of the keys to his house were kept. He was tempted to march around to her house and demand an explanation, but he suspected that getting a rise out of him was what she wanted. She’d probably film the thing and post it on one of those stupid apps to giggle over with Miss Lucas.

Mouth flattening, he scooped up the underwear and put it in one of the drawers of his bureau. If she wanted to leave her panties around the place, he wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of letting her know it was pissing him off. She’d get bored eventually.

x

He made sure to check all the locks before he left for work, and spent a fairly enjoyable day buried in the back room of the shop, going through his stock, deciding what to display and updating his records. It was a quiet day; only two customers attended the shop and given that rent day was done, he had no tenants coming in to pay rent. He found that he enjoyed the solitude. Not that that was anything new.

By lunchtime he was hungry, and went to the diner to buy a sandwich. Miss Lucas greeted him pleasantly, as though she hadn’t been giggling with her new friend about him only the previous evening. For a moment he was tempted to ask about the woman, to at least find out her name and reason for being in Storybrooke, but pride was making him stubborn, and he bit back the question before he could ask it.

By the time he got home the sun was setting in a blaze of gold, pleasantly warm on his shoulders as he walked up the steps of his house. Locking the door behind him, he shrugged out of his jacket and hung it up, and glanced around as he heard a tinkling noise from the kitchen. Gold frowned, listening intently. There was nothing further, and he moved as quietly as he could, edging towards the kitchen, cane grasped tightly in his hand and ready to be used as a weapon if needed.

The kitchen was empty, and a quick glance around showed that nothing had been moved. Shaking his head, Gold went to fill the kettle with water for tea. He carried a cup through to the lounge when it was made, and stopped in the doorway, eyes narrowing at what was looking up at him from the rug.

Today’s offering was white, the underwear dropped casually in the middle of the rug, as though their owner had undressed quickly. As though she had been ravished in the middle of his lounge. Gold put down his tea, using the cane to hook through the waistband of the panties. They were small, with a mesh triangle at the back and a lace waistband and front with a tiny satin bow in the middle. Whoever owned the panties was petite, which ruled out a number of possible candidates in the town. Gold’s suspicions still tended towards his new neighbour, but he currently had no proof. Nor a motive. Nor an explanation for how she was getting into his house. 

Growling under his breath, he shoved them in the bureau drawer with the other pair and stomped back through to the kitchen, where he stopped dead. A black cat was sitting in the middle of the floor, staring at him with jade-green eyes. It was a handsome creature, its fur shining, long tail wound around its feet and a blue collar with a bell around its neck. On the floor beside it was another lace thong, this one a pretty powder blue, and Gold looked from the cat to the panties to the cat flap in the kitchen door, realisation dawning. He grounded the cane between his feet, fixing the cat with as stern a look as he could manage.

“So,” he said. “This is your doing, is it?”

The cat let out a faint miaow, pink mouth showing sharp white teeth.

“You do realise that these are neither my colour nor my style, hmm?” added Gold. “Perhaps you should take them home.”

The cat mewed again, getting to its feet and stepping forward to wind around his shins. Gold bit back a grin.

“No point trying to get into my good books,” he said. “I have to think of a way to get this underwear back without crossing paths with its owner. Unless you’ve got any bright ideas, go on home.”

The cat was purring, butting its head against his legs, and Gold bent to scratch its ears, receiving a nuzzle in response. He picked up the panties while he was at it, stuffing them into his pocket, and the cat trotted off to the cat flap, tail flicking as he disappeared through it. Gold shook his head. At least he knew who the intruder was now. He just needed to return the underwear.

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 80

Chapter Summary -   Tom comes to terms with Danielle's leaving.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously

The Magdalen is not a happy book, very depressing in that it actually happened a lot in Ireland.

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe​ @wolfsmom1​

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

Tom lay awake in his bed, thinking of the day before. He had slept very little, all that he could think about was the conflict in Danielle's eyes before she put her hand on his chest and gently pressed for him to get off her. He had felt different versions of disappointment before, from not winning awards, from his parents' separation and subsequent divorce, to not getting jobs he wanted but when Danielle declined him, when she said she needed to take time away, he felt a pang of heart-breaking disappointment not like the others and it hurt.

He looked over to the side of the bed she usually took, it smelled of her, her book that she had been reading on the nightstand, she had left it in her rush to leave. He reached over and looked at the cover, "The Magdalen" he didn't know it, so he read the back cover; the last thing it could be accused of being was light reading if the description was anything to go by. He opened it where she had left a scrap of paper as a bookmark, he noticed immediately it was his writing on the paper, he read over it and swallowed. A note, he had scribbled it one afternoon when she was gone out to the shops because Luke had asked him to the office, there was an issue that needed immediate rectifying. But at the end was a quote, one he had taken from something he had read only a day or two before, it reminded him immediately of her "You have bewitched me body and soul, and I love, I love, I LOVE YOU.— Pride & Prejudice". He knew she loved that book, and him writing it to her had clearly meant something to her, she had kept it. In a mixture of sadness and anger, he threw the book off the bed, cursing why he had not had the cop on to tell her more about the interview, or just apologise immediately rather than think little of it.

She had struck a few low blows too with her calling him fame-hungry but it was after she had been hurt and he knew Danielle, he knew if she wanted to be brutal, she could, he witnessed it first hand with everything with Taylor, she was trying to get him to feel a fraction of what she had, successfully enough.

His thoughts went back to her words as she left and he found himself praying that with time apart, she would see that though they had a few things to work through, she would want to continue their relationship. As he turned on his phone, he felt himself become more disappointed as he realised she had not contacted him.

*

Mac panted heavily as they returned from their run, they had been spotted in the park by photographers that were clearly waiting for someone else. They took a photo or two, Taylor's name was something that seemed to be audible in the muffle of words, but overall, they were not overly bothered with him. Thankfully, Tom was becoming less interesting to people once more, he hoped that with time, it would die down again, the magazine interview, which featured more about Taylor than he had planned, had piqued people's interest again, but it would die down, it always did. "That was a good run for today." He scratched Mac's ear as the dog sat waiting for him to remove his collar and lead. "We had better get something to drink." He filled Mac's bowl and placed it down for him, watching as the dog spilt more on the floor than could possibly have gotten into his mouth. "We need to get something for that."

He went and checked his phone, realising that Luke had sent him an email, his agent had sent him two and there was a text. He was going to leave it but he decided to check it, it was from Benedict, simply asking if he had started patching things up. In need of an understanding and somewhat intelligent ear, he pressed the call button.

"Hey, Tom."

"Are you free?"

"Shit, still bad?"

"Better." It was honest at least.

"But not good?"

"No."

"Right, do you want to come round, Sophie is gone to some pregnancy yoga thing, I have no idea what really, they seem to just use it to have others to understand crappy pregnancy stuff more than anything."

"Sure I'll just get Mac settled and head over."

"Wait, the dog is there?"

"Yes."

"So Elle is still there?"

"No."

"But she left Mac, that's a good thing, right?"

"Hopefully."

"Right, get your arse over here, clearly I need to hear everything."

Tom hung up the phone and walked into the kitchen again to a very remorseful looking Mac, who seemed to be trying to use his body to hide his water drinking mess. "What are you doing?" Tom chuckled. Mac lowered his head guilty. Taking out his phone, Tom took a photo, he was about to add it to a text to Danielle but stopped himself. She said she needed space, he wanted to respect that, to show her that he was able to actually listen to her, since his actions the day before made her think he did not. "I'll have to show her when she comes home." He smiles sadly at the dog before putting the phone away again and getting kitchen towel to clean the mess.

*

"Hey." Benedict opened the door. "Kettle's on."

"Good." Tom gave his friend a smile as he walked in the door.

"Right so, a PG-rated version of after the phone call if you don't mind." Ben indicated to Christopher, who was currently "eating" food in the form of smashing it around the bowl.

"There was very little swearing."

"A good sign," Ben interjected.

"She said how it upset her, and that she wanted to hate me but couldn't."

"Ouch."

"And how she needed time to just back away from things, she was feeling as though she could make a mistake that she could regret if she stayed."

"And you think she means that staying with you, working it out is a mistake?"

Tom scoffed. "You think it's not what she meant?"

"She could also mean that she could call it quits and regret that, that she loves you and that she doesn't want to risk losing you."

"A tad far fetched."

"Not really. Did she say specifically that she thought to stay was a mistake?"

"No, she said if she stayed she'd forgive me too easily."

"Not the same." Ben shook his head. "Sounds like she wants to make you realise your mistakes in this too." Tom looked at him sceptically. "How long is she in Ireland?"

"Until next Monday."

"Right, so a week. Use the week to your advantage, take some time, assess yourself, assess what you want and what you need to do to achieve it. Hopefully, she will do the same and you will both arrive at the same place."

"And if we don't?"

"Accept, cherish what was and move on."

"You sound like some sort of self-help guru wannabe."

"I do a lot of mindfulness. You see the world differently when you take the time to step back, it means a lot of self-reflection and critiquing."

"How do you find it?"

"Most of the time, pretty good."

"The rest of the time?"

"Sometimes I realise things about myself that frankly, I don't like, so I see how best to change the things that bother me," Ben answered honestly.

Thank you for the advice."

"Anytime."

"How is Sophie?"

"Good, she went to the spa day that Elle suggested, met a mom there that suggested she go to this yoga class twice a week and honestly, she has been so much more upbeat even on the tiring days now, I think she just needed to feel human and not like a balloon for a few times a week."

"How much longer?"

"Bout a month, so she is looking forward to that, though the idea of another lot of night feeds and a tonne of nappies is not so appealing."

"No," Tom tried to stay smiling as he thought of all of that.

"What's running through your mind?"

"I just thought, you know, maybe it was my turn, that I finally…"

"Okay, you need to stop this, right now. First of all, it is just a fight, all is not lost, Elle will relax when she takes the time to think things through, she loves you, so much it is actually equal parts adorable and nauseating. Clearly, you mean an incredible amount to her, but she is hurt, which is understandable and from what I gather, she, as an only child, is not used to having people around her, even siblings, after a fight, she is just taking time to regroup her thoughts now. I refuse to think she will leave this, she loves you almost as much as you love her I think."

Tom was about to argue when his phone rang. He looked at it and groaned. "Emma, she knows something is going on."

"Well, you can't avoid her forever."

Tom groaned again and pressed the answer button. "Hey, Emma."

"So, have you fixed everything?" Tom tried to think of a diplomatic answer. "You're an idiot." She sounded exasperated. "Seriously mum is going to lose the plot with you when she finds out."

"We are just working through things," Tom explained.

"What did you do?"

"I made a bit of a balls of something, but I am trying to fix it."

"If I lose my friend because you are an ass…"

"If Elle stops talking to you because of me, then that is wrong of her." Benedict nodded at that particular statement.

"Okay, I'll give you that, but you would make things awkward and she might avoid me when you are around."

"Yes, I would be at fault there." Tom conceded. "She is gone home to Ireland for a few days, I will be talking to her, I am working on it, Em."

There was a moment of silence on the phone. "Okay, if she is too much of a bitch, let me know. She needs to be a bit of one to get you to cop on, but too much and I will try and get her to back off."

Tom smiled a little, it was true, Danielle could get vicious and would admit herself she could be a bitch, and yes, he deserved some of it for his actions but knew that if she got too stubborn, she would not forgive him, he needed his sister on his side. "Thanks, Em." The siblings said their goodbyes and Tom hung up the phone, "Sorry."

"Don't be, it sounds like I'm not the only one who wants this to just be a small bump on the road for you guys."

"Poor Em is really in a ‘no man's land’. It would be everything she ever feared."

"Positive thinking Tom, it will be fine, you just need to work through it. Nothing is harder, the first bad fight is hard, fighting for what is worth fighting for is incredibly so."

"You are being annoyingly positive and adult right now."

"Yes and you are being somewhat pig-headed," Ben joked. "Give it all some time."

"And if not?

"There is nothing you can do, if Danielle feels it is better to call it quits, you can only respect that and try and find someone else in time."

Tom sighed. "I didn't think the article would focus that much on Taylor."

"It was the first time you spoke about it, of course, any magazine would jump on that, though I expected more from GQ."

"That's why I said it to them, I thought it would be a paragraph, nothing more, instead it was the most of the piece, pictures and all."

"Nothing you can do about it now."

"It's done." Tom nodded sadly. "That's what Elle's dad used to say, it's done."

"Good mantra to have." Benedict agreed. "Now, what're your plans for the next few days?"

"Milan fashion week."

Ben chuckled, "Because that is so you." He scoffed.

"Gucci made it part of the contract."

"So you wear some gear, enjoy and when you get back, talk to Danielle, she'll be back by then, right?"

"She seemed to indicate she would be, yeah."

"Good stuff. Plan and think through things until then."

[annacwrites]

the wip list

Alright, gang. Buckle up. This is going to be a long one, and at this point I can’t even bring myself to be sorry about it. I meant to put this off but then I started thinking about it, so here we are (at 1:05 in the morning when I have to work at 8:30, what am I doing?). 

I’m going to break this down in a couple of ways—fanfiction vs. original fiction, fandom (if it’s a fanfic), series/universe (if it’s in one), and then the individual books themselves (if I have the ability to do that, because quite frankly, for some of these I don’t because I have no idea what the titles are or where I’m splitting the story yet).

Also, “WIP” is an incredibly broad term here. In some cases it means I’ve already written the whole thing but I plan to 100% rewrite it (and haven’t started yet). In some cases it means I’ve written half of the thing but haven’t finished yet. In some cases it means I have it all outlined but haven’t started writing yet. In some cases it means I haven’t really touched an outline on paper yet but I have it all worked out in my head. Take the “in progress” part of WIP with a grain of salt.

(Putting this whole thing under the cut because it is so freaking long. I apologize if the read-more doesn’t work on your dash. Idk what tumblr is doing.)  

Starting off easy—the fics:

Harry Potter: (JKR can fuck off with her transphobia and cultural appropriation and all the other stupid and fucked-up shit that she’s done/promoted but, as I said to my friends, she can pry my next-gen fanfics from my cold dead hands. Cursed Child is not canon in my life because I’ve never read it and I don’t care what nonsense she came up with.)

The “In Your Arms I’ll Stay” universe (Tedtoire/Scorose): 

The first fic in this universe is the first fic I ever finished. 110k words followed up by a ~137k word sequel. It is a disaster and a half but it’s also my baby and I fully intend to rewrite it one of these days. It is full of standard Tedtoire trope-y nonsense—best friends since childhood! two-year age gap! jealousy about other relationships! obliviousness!—and at 15 I thought it was a really good idea to try to turn it into a mystery too, which is a mistake that I have every intention of rectifying because it was unnecessary and I just didn’t know how to do drama and tension back then. 

Anyway. It will probably be two parts again when I rewrite it because one part per school year just works, yeah? We’re covering Vic’s fifth/Teddy’s seventh year and Vic’s sixth year/Teddy’s first year out of school over the course of these parts.

Within this universe we also have Heartbeat and Bone, which is a Scorose fic that I’ve written probably 75% of already but have no intention of actually finishing before I rewrite it. I want to get the stories in the right order so that I can get details straightened out, so Teddy and Victoire get the rewrites first and then I’ll be revisiting this fic. Also full of trope-y nonsense (and my continued acceptance of the headcanon that the Heads have their own dormitory at Hogwarts, because it’s just too much fun that way).  

some things were meant to be (Tedtoire):

Oh god, another fic with a cliché title taken from Can’t Help Falling In Love. I have zero regrets because it fits them perfectly.

This one is... half-done? I fully intend to finish it but I need to finish the outline first. It was my 2019 NaNoWriMo project and I am 100% just writing it for the lols (and because Teddy and Vic are like... my comfort ship where writing is concerned). I wanted to play with a different universe and change up their relationship and roles at school a bit, but once again... trope-y nonsense. It’s unavoidable with them. There is obliviousness everywhere. 

Star Wars: (it’s Reylo, okay? It’s Reylo. I don’t want to hear it about how the ship is ~so terrible.~ That is literally the furthest thing in the world from a hot take, you can’t say a single thing that I haven’t heard before, and I’m a grown adult and can do what I want. Bite me.)

looking for the map that leads me home (Reylo): 

Stole the title on this one from We Take Care of Our Own by Bruce Springsteen, because why the fuck not, right? 

To put it simply: musician AU. To put it a little less simply: he’s got a dead career, she wants to have even the slightest shot at one, Rose is the best, Poe’s a singing heartthrob, Finn is a love-struck goofball. You know, all that fun stuff. The entire thing is based on a playlist that I made and every chapter has a song that acts as its theme. I haven’t touched it since January 2018. I want to finish it eventually but it’s not really at the top of the priority list. 

There’s a few other fics from other fandoms that I’ve started and never finished but the odds of me touching them again are like... nonexistent, so I’m not including them here. I’ll update this post if anything changes on that front (but it probably won’t).

Now for the complicated part—the original fiction:

Maker’s Magic 

This is a trilogy (or at least, it’s supposed to be). This is also a rewrite of the first story I ever finished—the fantasy novel that I wrote for my first-ever Camp NaNoWriMo back in August of 2011, when I had literally no clue what I was doing at all and essentially stole the plot structure from The Obsidian Trilogy by Mercedes Lackey and built my own story around it. This is not a good way to write a piece of fiction that you want to publish, kids, but it is a damn good way to get your feet wet when you’ve never really written before.

I am reworking this story entirely from scratch. The characters are... kind of the same as the original story. Kind of. Maybe. I’ve changed a few names and merged a few people together and scrapped some others and entirely shifted the backstory of pretty much everyone, but... they’re definitely still the same, right? 

Basically, at this point the plot is really only similar to The Obsidian Trilogy in that we’ve got a trilogy, we’ve got some elves, and it’s your standard good vs. evil fantasy story (in its own unique fashion, of course). I’m still working out the details of this rewrite, but this is kind of the Holy Grail of all of my writing projects and the one that I’m most concerned about getting right, so I’m anticipating that I’ll be in it for the long haul on this one. I’m hoping I might be able to get a draft of the first book done this year, but... we’ll see.

(I also don’t want to give too many details about this project, ‘cause it’s the one that I’d really like to maybe publish one day, so...)

The Willow Hill universe

This started as a single story plus a standalone sequel set in the same universe, conceptualized when I was fourteen and missing horseback riding terribly (so yes, it is a story for all those Weird Horse Girls™ out there). I wrote a good portion of it, then deleted it, then rewrote the entire thing, then deleted it again a few years ago because I was no longer satisfied with the writing quality (after hitting top 100 on the Teen Fiction list on Wattpad way back when, so... I didn’t do too badly as a 16-year-old, but the writing still sucked). I’ve been promising a rewrite to my Wattpad followers since 2016 or something like that (2014? Whenever the hell it was that I deleted it the second time) but haven’t delivered at all.

I now envision this universe as a duology plus the aforementioned standalone sequel, except it’s not entirely fair to call it a YA duology in that the first book is definitely YA, but the second is more romance-y?

I originally just revealed the main character’s endgame relationship in the epilogue of the story, but I love both her and her boyfriend and their relationship so much that I decided that I’m going to be self-indulgent and write the story of them actually falling in love with each other, so that’s book two (so really, you don’t actually have to read book two to understand anything, I’m just writing it because I want to and it’s also kind of a present to anyone who read the original story when they were also a teenager and is now an adult who wants to read other stuff). 

Book one is now about the teenage struggle of crushes and trying to figure out what it is that you actually want out of your life and what you value (I say “now” because it was definitely way more self-insert-y the first time I wrote it and it is decidedly not at this point). It’s also sort of a love letter to trainers who are amazing and the kind of person we should all be so lucky as to be coached by.

These characters are my comfort characters where original fiction is concerned since they’ve been bouncing around in my head for the last ten years or so, and I’m hoping I can get at least the first book rewritten in the next year-ish, partly because I’ve been promising it for so long, and partly because I just really enjoy this world and I want to get back to it again.

The Coffee Shop Chronicles

AKA, I lived in one coffee shop on my university campus for pretty much the entirety of my college experience and it was a very inspiring place to be, so this has less to do with coffee shop AUs and more to do with the fact that I met several of my favorite human beings on this earth over a vanilla chai latte and mutual sass with the baristas.

(One of said baristas is very near and dear to me and introduced me to another regular who is now a very good friend with the statement “You’re both sarcastic assholes. You’ll love each other.”) 

None of the characters in this universe are based on actual human beings whom I know, but I liked the idea of the campus coffee shop serving as this thing that tangentially connected all of these people to one another, much in the way that I am tangentially connected to god knows how many people via my barista friend. Essentially, the idea is that the stories in this universe are all standalone, but the characters sometimes cross paths with one another at Caffeinated, so it’s sort of... Easter-egg-y in terms of who pops up where in which story. 

Currently I only have two stories in this universe that are legitimately plotted out, but there is room for any number of spin-offs based on whichever characters show up in those stories (or don’t—that’s the fun of it being a coffee shop. The barista is the only reliable character). Those two stories are as follows:

Chance Encounters (title so totally subject to change, also stealing the terribly summary from the Wattpad draft that never saw the light of day):

For Bennett McGuire, things with guys just didn't seem to want to go her way. From the disasters that were her attempts at dating in high school to the problem that had been Elijah Becker, she hadn't exactly had the best luck. With all that in mind, it made perfect sense to swear off dating until she finished college—that is, it made sense until one frozen day in February when Gordon Evans walked into her life. After that, who was to say what would happen?

What’s Your Metaphor? (once again, enjoy the terrible summary from the Wattpad draft that never was. I am cringing reading it but also too tired to come up with anything better):

"What's the point?" 

It's a question asked widely, for all sorts of reasons, and it's one that April Hayes didn't know the answer to any better than anyone else. All she knew was that she had her plan, and she was going to stick to it, because it was the only thing that seemed to have any sort of logic to it in her life. The things she thought, the things she believed—well, they all fell before the plan, because she didn't have time to ask herself "What's the point?"

That is, she didn't have the time to know the answer—her answer—until one guy by the name of Drew Collier showed up and made her consider things that she had never even thought of before.

High Blood

Yinz can go read my WIP introduction post for this one. It’s a fantasy story. Just for the hell of it, here’s the summary from said WIP introduction post: 

At the age of seventeen, Thessaly of Averak had a choice—take the crown of her people and her place as her father’s heir, or set it aside to become one of the High Warriors, dedicated to protecting their people and the country that her long-dead ancestor Enred built after leading its citizens out of a long and bloody war. Amidst raids and famine at the borders, she gave up her crown to better serve the people that her family rules.

Ten years later, all is quiet. At least, all is quiet until Beca’s pendant is stolen by a thief who disappears into the night on the journey back from the summer palace, Tess gets herself stabbed, and the discovery is made that the rock-solid foundations of their family’s claim to the throne—and the peace that depends upon them—are laced with hairline fractures.

(I didn’t write anything to speak of for Camp NaNo July 2020 and actually wound up deleting my project for this on the NaNo site because my dad was hit by a car while cycling the Friday before the weekend when I was planning to write like... 30k words to catch up, so obviously I gave up on that plan (he is doing well now, thank you for asking). I’m hoping I’ll get around to this one eventually because this particular universe arguably has the most potential for having multiple stories set in it, fantasy-wise.)

Emerson’s Lights

Natalie Flynn has been best friends with Evan Acheson practically since birth. They've stuck together through thick and thin, from her braces in seventh grade to his jump to stardom as a singer-songwriter their freshman year of college. 

She’d do anything for him, but spending a week with him on tour involves a lot more than she bargained for, culminating in the turn of events that is Caleb Blake, lead singer and primary songwriter of opening act Emerson’s Lights, moving into her house for the better part of a month.

She always knew there would be complications being the best friend of a rock star, but this? This was one that she didn’t bet on.

(Aka, girl meets boy in a band trope. Yay.)

(NaNoWriMo 2020 project)

The famous musician story (this thing doesn’t have a title right now and I’m not even going to try)

Stupid, trope-y nonsense idea that I came up with for my own personal amusement and nothing else. I’ve written a few chapters of it but genuinely have no idea where this falls in the hierarchy of things that I want to get done. Long story short, she’s in grad school for history, he’s a famous musician in town recording for a new album, they meet in the library, she pretends she has no idea who he is, and shenanigans ensue.

And that is where I think I’m going to leave it. There’s four other stories that I can think of off the top of my head that I could theoretically add to this list, but they are legitimately just ideas right now so they can be added at a later date when they’ve manifested themselves a little more strongly. There’s also another quartet in the Willow Hill universe that I came up with in high school that could theoretically be added but I think I might just steal those character names and give them their own little world instead. We’ll see.

Basically, if you didn’t get the point from this list: I am working on a lot of things, and when I say I’m writing, it could mean literally anything on this list (or any of the other ideas that I have floating around). The stories/universe here are the most likely candidates for my time, depending on whether I’m doing a deep dive into my writing or just playing around with something fun, and hopefully (god, hopefully) I’ll be able to move one or two of these to a “completed works” list in the next year(ish). 

(Or at least, as complete as a draft ever gets before you start going in on it again.)

[thegeminisage]

well I’m obviously very fascinated by your writing process and I admire it a lot. So you should do the questions 1-4 which are obviously very process oriented. But I’m curious about 50 too 😜

MCCCC that’s so nice of you to say i’m gonna write “fascinated by your process” down in my book of favorite compliments waaah

OKAY HERE WE GO (edit: this got long NOBODY is obligated to read all of this)

1. Favorite place to write.

so i actually don’t get out much firstly because i am kind of a homebody and secondly because where i live there’s not really many places to go…we don’t have starbucks, we don’t have cafes or coffee shops in general, and the few we do have would be weird to just HANG OUT in unless i go to the local college campus and i’d never pass a student LOL so mostly what i do is just write at home. which is fine! my favorite place to write IS at home on my computer bc it’s where i can be most comfortable. i have written in different places (especially when i travel to visit buddies - i have written in a starbucks in dc, a parking garage in dc, the ferry that goes past the statue of liberty, a mall food court in sanfan…i have also written fanfiction on my phone while over at my grandparents place or on the computer in the high school library LOL) but when i’m in public 1. i can’t relax and so have a harder time getting into my zone 2. unless i have earbuds i cannot utilize MUSIC which is simply crucial to my Process™

2. Favorite part of writing.

this is a close tie between outlining and actually rough drafting. i do not and never will understand why all writer culture jokes are about writers not actually writing because i love to write?? writing is the best part of writing? when i really get going and knock out like 2k or 3k in a day that’s the best feeling in the world. i LIVE for that feeling. however i also REALLY enjoy outlining because it’s sort of like rough drafting without the extra work (i can just block things out w/o worrying about making them look pretty) and also the outlining process is where i run into and then solve most (not all, unfortunately…) of my plotholes. there is nothing in the world like trying to untangle a plot problem for hours or even days and then suddenly coming up with the PERFECT solution. that is a GOOD feeling.

3. Least favorite part of writing.

editing/rewriting can go straight to hell THANKS! i already wrote this once! i don’t want to do it again! i had to pause work on the current thing i am doing to go back and clean up a subplot that was finally coming to a head and it took me THREE WEEKS because thats how unenthusiastic i am about editing. i can never decide what needs cutting, it’s tedious to decide where to jump in and start rewriting new stuff, it’s too much work and to depressing to have to scrap a whole scene and start from scratch…i have a real problem killing my darlings (just ask @callowyn, who has been co-writing @cambionverse with me for nearly a DECADE - she knows the struggle). it makes editing hell

4. Do you have writing habits or rituals?

yes!! i have 3, a small one and 2 big ones. 

small one is: i like to turn pomodoro on and have some sort of snack/beverage/gum nearby. this is to minimize distractions, firstly because if pomodoro is on i have to use my phone to access the internet which is not my preferred method and secondly because if i get momentarily bored i can stimulate my brain with like a sip of coke or a cheez-it or something and that will satisfy the momentary urge to get up and walk away a lot faster than picking up my phone to scroll social media will. then i can go back to work and not lose my momentum!

big rituals are FIRSTLY is that i always always ALWAYS have to block out a scene before i start. i talked about this on this blog before so i won’t repeat myself but the gist of this is that i basically write the entire scene in the ugliest shorthand possible and then “edit” it just like that - delete/add lines of conversation, switch things around, remove off-topic threads, etc. it’s easier to see “zoomed out” like this, more malleable, and i’m not attached to any pretty sentences or turns of phrase. it’s also EXTREMELY fast because once i get to actually drafting it i know exactly what i’m doing, i’m basically just transcribing my notes! i have written almost 7k in a single day with this method. i can absolutely fly

adn finally the most important ritual of all is that i have to be listening to music. there are some albums/songs i can listen to to write anything (mostly soundtracks) and that’s “writing music” but more often than not i pair a specific song or handful of songs with a specific scene, something that matches the “feel” of what i’m working on. if i’m really getting into it i might even go and play some ambient noise (like rain sounds during a rainy scene). this is actually especially helpful at triggering hyperfixation to get from feeling kind of “bleh” about something to absolutely enthralled with it. (edit: for especially long stories i MAKE PLAYLISTS i can tell you exactly which of these songs corresponds to which scene in my current project and i will never be able to disassociate the scenes from the songs so long as i live)

50. Weirdest story idea you’ve ever had.

it’s @cambionverse! haha no that’s cheating, that was cally’s idea

actually i think most of my story ideas are a little on the cliche/predictable/tropey side bc that’s what i enjoy consuming. but i DO get weirdly obsessed with like, the most unimportant background characters or very off-the-wall rarepairs and then devolve straight into OC territory. and then when i was younger i would actually write fanfiction of my own fanfiction - so my first fanfic ever was a novelization of ocarina of time, and then when i was finished with that i actually went back and wrote stories about link’s parents before they died. i had a name and a backstory for that little deku kid (the butler’s son) in majora’s mask. ganondorf and nabooru had a daughter who featured as a main character. it was wild. i becomes absolutely obsessed with minute details and the longer i spend in a fictional world the more i branch out into utterly irrelevant shit. that said i think the WEIRDEST idea i ever wound up writing to fruition was a teen wolf fic that feature my teen wolf rarepair (which i don’t talk about on this blog BC I TRY TO KEEP IT SFW HERE but like…it’s on ao3 LOL) and in the sequel to that fic i spent about half the screentime talking about the death of an OC in one pf the characters’ pasts. ask me before i started and i would have said that sounds like the most boring shit in the world but i wrote almost 100k in that verse in 3 fics and i think it’s one of the better stories i’ve ever worked on solo.

(send me a writing ask)

[imaginesmai]

Ubbe-The sweet baker and the bad biker (SOA AU) (2)

The original idea was from @recklesslonelyblond! I will make a third angsty part, because you already know I live for angst. I hope you like it, here is the first part if you haven’t read it yet!

I’m not quiet happy with the first part, so I made a huge gap of time with this one. It’s placed a year later, but everything is explained.

Plot: Ubbe has finally found what he needs, his safe place, his home. His sweet baker.

Warnings: FLUFF.

Ubbe was sitting in the bar, reading the new “demand” that Hale had given to the sons; since the deputy discovered that Ubbe was your friend, he had been giving SAMCRO a hard time. The biker was trying to find something wrong, something that could get them out of the mess. The paper said that the sons had been present on the shooting that happened a few weeks ago outside Charming, where two black guys were found dead. They were involved, of course, yet there was nothing that could place them there. But he couldn’t find something that proved Hale wrong.

-          So, you and the baker. -he heard his mother talking, and he looked up. -What was her name again?

-          Y/N, mum. -Ubbe answered. -And there is no me and Y/N, we’re just friends.

-          Friends who have sleepovers and talk through the phone until late night. -Hvitserk added, who was sitting beside him with the computer. -Just like teenage girls.

-          Does she braid your hair, Ubbe? -teased Tig as he let out a loud laugh. -And does your make up?

-          Why don’t you shut the fuck up, hm? Don’t you have anything better to do?

-          Take care pres, your nails might get scrapped.

Soon, all of the guys were teasing Ubbe about you. It was true that, lately, Ubbe spent a lot of time with you; and that when he came back, he was happier. It had been nearly a year since you came to Charming, and it had not been a day where he didn’t see you. Sure, there were some times where he had to travel away with the club and that shit. But when he came back, he made sure to spend all day with you and with Sully. Ubbe threw one of the pens on his desk to Hvitserk, who was mocking him with Tig; and it hit him in the front, making him fall down. All of them laughed until Aslaug talked again.

-          I want to speak with Ubbe, boys. Alone. -she said with a voice that left no place to argument. They all left, including Hvitserk; she might had been his mother, but even he was scared of her. -As I was saying, you and the baker.

-          Her name is Y/N, mum. -he frowned. -She’s not the baker or another part of your game, she’s Y/N and she’s a person. Who is not related with the club.

-          But she’s related with you. -she raised a brow.

-          Well yes but-

-          Then she’s my business. -Aslaug interrupted. -I couldn’t help but search a little about her.

-          Of course you did. -Ubbe rolled his eyes.

-          She was Jax’s friend. And now, she’s here running the most famous bakery in Charming.

-          There’s nothing wrong with that.

Aslaug was his mother, yet he did not trust her with you. He knew that she would kill for the club; before him, his father, Ragnar, was an important member of the club. The president before Jax. When he was killed, Aslaug stopped trusting people; maybe that was the reason why things were alright in the club then, but Ubbe knew that she could be a danger to you.

-          Oh, no. -she smiled. -What is wrong is that we have received nearly ten demands from Hale in less than a year. The deputy has been a pain the ass lately, since your baker arrived.

-          She has nothing to do with that. -Ubbe scoffed. -Hale has always been a pain in the ass.

-          Yeah, but lately-

-          Y/N is a good person, mum. Hale is her neighbour and is just jealous that I spend so much time with her.

-          If Hale searches deep enough, Ubbe, he will find things against us. -Aslaug got up from her seat and walked towards Ubbe. -And if he does, all of us will be going to jail, just because you got a silly crush on a stupid girl. Is she worthy risking our safety?

-          Stop being so paranoid. -he glared at her, getting angry. -You don’t know her, but Hvitserk does. And he will tell you there is nothing wrong with her. Besides, Hale got nothing on us.

-          Maybe we can change that. -she smirked. -Bring her to Friday’s dinner.

Friday’s dinner at the club were not like an usual dinner. There was alcohol, drugs, croweaters, and a lot of people who were in the bad side of the law. The sons invited other clubs who they had business with, and they created an environment dangerous and dark. Ubbe thought about your kind smile and your innocent eyes, and got angry at her mother for ever suggesting it.

-          This conversation is over. -he said, getting up and walking to grab his vest. -Y/N is not coming over neither you will meet her. She will stay out of the club. And that’s an order from the president.

-          So there is a “you and the baker”. -she let out a soft laugh. -I didn’t know if what the boys said was true, but seeing you all riled up about her is enough. Try not to show that you’re crazy for her, Ubbe.

-          Wh-I’m not! -Ubbe turned around with his vest half-put to see his mother already leaving.

-          Tell her I say hi.

-          How did-

But she already gone. It was not hard to guess where Ubbe was going; everytime he wasn’t at the club, he was at your house or at the bakery. In a way, you were his anchor. He understood why Jax left the club; it was all too much. Too many guns, too much death, and too little peace. Ubbe would have left if it wasn’t for you, the sweet baker who held his heart.

Ubbe jumped on his motorbike after looking at the sky. It would be night shortly, and you probably were at your apartment by then. He had wanted to help you to clean the bakery and then take you home. Sure, you had a van, a new one thanks to Ubbe and Hvitserk. But he enjoyed taking you to work each morning and bringing you back, and he did so whenever he could. On his way to your apartment, as he heard the rumble of the motorbike, he thought about his mother’s words.

It had been a year since you two met, and still, you hadn’t kissed once. He was infatuated with you, that for sure. And sometimes, he swore that you wanted to kiss him too. Like that time when he surprised you on your apartment.

Ubbe had been away for the whole week, fixing some things outside the country. Usually, when he travelled with his brothers, he spent the week getting wasted in a pub and enjoying some croweater’s company. But that Monday’s night or any other day he didn’t touch any girl; he stayed in the motel they rented while their brothers enjoyed the night, thinking about his sweet baker. It was almost mid-night when he decided he couldn’t do it no more. The sons still had to attend to some things there, but if he was fast, he could be back in the morning. Sure, he could have called you, yet your voice wouldn’t be enough that time. With care of not waking up Chibs, who was sleeping besides him, he walked out the door and started his bike.

He drove above the speed limit that night, and when he arrived to your apartment door, he called you.

-          U-Ubbe? -your sleepy voice greeted him, and he almost felt bad.

-          Hey darling. -he smiled. -Did I wake you up?

-          Kind of. -you laughed. -I drifted off on the couch. The movie was too boring without your snarky remarks.

-          Oh, that’s flattering Y/N. That means you miss me?

-          Of- Sully, no, bad girl!

Ubbe heard barking and your muffled voice as he was propping in his bike, watching with a smile how your light was still on. He kept hearing to you trying to fight off Sully as he walked up the stairs. Luckily for him, the main door was open.

-          Sorry, Ubbe. She has heard your voice and gone crazy. -you sighed. -Guess she misses you too.

-          I miss my girls too. How has been the bakery today?

-          Good! Mrs Lowman has told me that her son is getting married, and she was so excited. She wants me to do the wedding cake.

-          That’s amazing darling. -he was then on the first floor, trying to make no noise.

-          And your day? When are you coming back?

-          You know, club things. -Ubbe hated to tell you thing about the sons; not because he didn’t trust you, but because he thought you were better than that.

-          Are you all alright? I’ve made some cookies for Hvitserk for when you come back.

-          Oh, and I don’t get anything?

-          I might or might not made the cake you like so much. -you said. -You know, that one with cream and sprinkles.

-          Y/N, you didn’t have to. -he chuckled. -I know it’s expensive and takes you a lot of time.

By then, he was on the second floor. Ubbe was walking without turning on the light; he knew it made a strange noise and he didn’t want to ruin the surprise. So guiding himself by the wall, he continued walking.

-          Well, I did it. -you laughed. -But I might have to give it to Sully, because it will rot if you don’t come home soon. Come on, when are you coming? I miss you.

-          I miss you too, darling. -he smiled. -The trip is planned until Wednesday, but I will have to go sooner if I want to taste the cake, won’t I?

-          I can do it again, Ubbe, don’t worry. As long as you’re safe, I don’t care how long it takes. -you were going to say something else but Sully’s loud barks interrupted you. -Sully, stop! Come one, the neigh- ow!

He was in front of your door, and he could hear Sully running around the apartment; also, he could hear your voice, from the phone and from inside the door. The dog must have smelt him, because she ran to the door and Ubbe heard her paws on it.

-          God, Ubbe, I will have to hang up. -you said, and that time Ubbe knew you were on the other side of the door, trying to get Sully back. -I don’t know what has gotten into her, she’s crazy.

-          Maybe there is someone outside the door?

-          Who would be -you stopped, and Sully used that hesitation to bark and scratch at the door again. -How do you know she was by the door?

-          What can I say, I can’t just resist a good cake, darling.

As soon as the door opened, Sully greeted him with excited licks and happy barks. He tried to make her lower down a bit, but she was wo excited that she even fell back. One or two neighbours shouted not so kind words, so he had to walk inside and close the door. While the dog circled around him and searched for his hand, Ubbe looked at you. You were in your pyjamas, some sweatpants and a big blue t-shirt. And you were looking at him as if you saw a ghost; you eyes wide and your mouth trying to say something. Just when he thought it hadn’t been a good idea, you jumped into his arms.

Ubbe stumbled a little, but caught you and pulled you close. He had missed how your body fit perfectly with his, how you smelt and, most important, how you would look at him like he was something in that world. You pulled away from his shoulder, yet your legs stood around his waist.

-          Wh-what are- I mean, how did -you interrupted yourself with a laugh. -Why are you here?

-          Most of the guys were out in the pub. -he smiled, noticing how your faces were inches away. -I had a little free time since I didn’t go, so I thought that what I wanted most was to see you.

-          You’ve driven here? -you rose your brows. -Ubbe, it’s the middle of the night! You could have had an accident.

-          Then I would have crawled here, Y/N. -he bumped your nose with his. -Because I missed you a lot.

A little giggle left your lips, and your breath hit Ubbe’s mouth. His eyes went down to your mouth, that was curved into a beautiful smile. And God help him, he wanted to kiss you. He wanted to stay with you a whole life, hiding in your apartment where nothing could get you. Without really noticing, both of you got closer until your lips nearly touched. Just when you were ready to close your eyes, the annoying noise of your door made your pull away. Ubbe let you on the ground and pet Sully as you opened the door, revealing a concerned Hale. That night, neither of you slept, and you talked until he had to go in the morning. As he rode away, your face accompanied him in the whole trip

He shook the memory away when he almost crashed with a car, and focused on the road again. By the time he got to your apartment, it was already night time. He jumped two stairs at a time, holding his helmet against his side. When he reached the third floor, he heard Sully barking and your soft voice begging her to lower her barks. He knocked loudly twice, and waited until your bright smile greeted him.

-          Ubbe. -you smiled, moving so he could enter. -I thought you weren’t coming today.

-          Sorry, got held up with some club business. -he threw himself on the couch, petting Sully with one hand while the other was behind his head.

-          Would you like anything else, sir? -you faked a bow. -Are you comfortable enough?

-          I would be more comfortable if you would sit here with me.

-          Let me finish dinner first. Are you staying? Because I was making food for two.

Ubbe smiled, feeling relaxed and free for the first time in his day. It was like he had finally found his home; you were doing dinner for the both of you, a comfortable silence in the apartment with the TV on the background, and Sully on the floor used to Ubbe’s presence. Yeah, the sweet innocent baker was his home.

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Hi! Okay, so a while ago @minky-for-short wrote a fantastic fix it post for the Reynolds Affair, really cleverly figuring out a way for Alex to not be a cheating asshole and Maria and Eliza to be happy. And because my friends is so damn talented and comes up with fantastic headcanons and art and just generally makes my life a whole lot better, I decided to turn it into a full fic! Hope you like it, all credit goes to my incredibly talented friend @minky-for-short <3

Alexander would be lying if he said there wasn’t a moment.

It was only a split second’s worth, shorter than one of his loud, erratic, terrified heartbeats. Where the stranger, the scared looking young woman who’d turned up at his office that afternoon completely unannounced and caught him off guard in more ways than one, where her lips on his had grabbed him. Alex had tasted comfort and heat in that kiss, the kiss that had come out of nowhere; she’d just grabbed him as he’d turned to leave her living room. He’d come so close to…

But Alex had woken up quickly. After that single moment of hovering on the edge, he remembered that these lips weren’t the ones he wanted. The hands roughly, almost frantically clinging to the lapels of his suit weren’t the ones he missed so much his heart ached. He’d been so desperate for any kind of comfort but this…this wasn’t right.

He wanted Eliza. He wanted his wife. But she wasn’t here.

 Alex jumped back, breaking the contact suddenly, his eyes wide with shock. He found himself against the wall, tripping over the threadbare couch, breathing heavily.

“No,” he stammered frantically, his voice hoarse, “No. I…this…I’m sorry, I don’t know what you thought Mrs Reynolds but, God, I’m married.”

He realised how young this woman was in that moment, as she stood in the middle of the tiny, sparse apartment, her cheeks burning, her eyes filling with tears. He noticed how she’d started to twist her fingers anxiously, staring down, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. Despite the way she’d gazed at him as she’d leaned in his office doorway, the way she’d taken his hand and pulled her close after he’d offered to walk her home. Despite all that, the sudden and disarming flirtatious edge to her movements, it looked like she hadn’t enjoyed the kiss either. Almost like, even with her actions, it wasn’t her idea.

“I need to go,” Alex said quickly, his heart stammering, “Good night Mrs Reynolds.”

He’d fled all the way to the front door before he heard the soft sobs, shuddering and wretched and so sad. His hand stopped on the doorknob, his whole body freezing.

It only took him a second to make his decision.

 The young woman was weeping brokenly, not even covering her face, just letting the tears run down. It was like she’d just stopped caring.

“Mrs Reynolds…” Alex began, awkwardly, gingerly putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped suddenly, grimacing through her tears and stepping back to break the contact, “Please.”

Alex frowned, putting his hands up, placating, “Okay. I’m sorry. Um…”

She had given him her first name, back in his office what felt like years ago, as she’d asked him for some financial help.  But everything that had happened since then, it had sort of knocked it out of his mind.

“Maria,” she wrapped her arms around herself, shrinking in front of his eyes, her head bent in misery. She said her own first name like it was something shameful.

“Maria,” Alex repeated, wanting to reach out and comfort her but it really looked like she didn’t want to be touched, “Maria, I’m sorry but is there something wrong? Is there anything I can help you with?”

He’d already loaned her some money, that had apparently been the whole purpose of her unusual midnight visit to his office, but Alex was starting to get the sense that this was the kind of problem thirty dollars wasn’t going to fix.

“I’m beyond help,” Maria murmured sadly, her hair falling over her face, clinging to the tear tracks.

Alex frowned. Why didn’t she push it behind her ear? Why did she let it cover half of her face, one of her eyes completely concealed?

“Maria, at least let me try?” he said softly.

He hated to watch people upset, he hated feeling powerless. It wasn’t in his nature to accept that there were things he couldn’t change.

Maria fixed her wide, dark eyes on him for the first time since she had appeared in the doorway of his office. Before now it had been sideways glances, looking at his eyes but never quite in them, pupils flickering and travelling nervously. She hadn’t wanted to think of him as a person, as a man with a wife and children and a life. The kind of life she wanted but would never have.

No, Maria hadn’t let herself think about that. Alexander Hamilton just had to be a means to an end, a way of getting what she wanted, what she needed. Not the thirty dollars currently tucked away in the pocket of her jeans. That would very quickly become whiskey down James’ throat. What she needed was another day’s safety for her daughter.

In the week since James had grabbed her wrist and told her in no uncertain terms what she was to do, how she was to approach Hamilton and seduce him, blackmail him, all Maria had been able to see Alex as was a key to protecting her Susan.

But now she looked at him.

He looked…sad. Scared. Lonely. Exhausted. Like everyone he loved was far away and he missed them terribly, burying himself in his work to forget that fact.

Maria could understand that.

“It’s my husband,” she admitted after a deep breath, her voice suddenly flat and devoid of emotion, “He beats me. He threatens to beat our daughter if I don’t do what he says. He cheats on me. And he told me that I was supposed to go to your office, get you to sleep with me so he could blackmail you for money.”

Alex blinked, his jaw falling open a little as he absorbed that. That was…interesting.

But most of it could be shoved to one side for now. There was only one part of this that was screaming at him.

“He beats you?” Alex repeated carefully, his voice dangerously quiet.

Maria gave him a twisted facsimile of a smile and pushed her curtain of dark hair back.

Alex felt sick at the sight of the bruise that fell across her eye and the beginning of her cheek, yellowing against her teak skin. When he looked at it, for an instant, Maria’s face shifted and melted, turning into someone else. Someone who’s features he only half remembered, seeing scraps of it in his dreams, his nightmares, in the faces of his children. He’d seen that face when it was bruised and beaten and it had broken his heart as a child.

And it broke his heart now.

“Oh god, Maria…” Alex groaned, stepping forward on instinct to reach out for her, making her flinch away again. Because of course she did. When was the last time anyone approached her with anything other than anger and violence?

“I’m sorry,” he backed off immediately, his hands dropping to his sides.

Maria blinked and nodded slightly, letting her hair fall back down, hiding the awful mark on her face. But they both knew it was there.

“Maria, let me help you. Let me do something,” Alex sighed, hating the familiar feeling of helplessness, of uselessness.

The young woman just shook her head, resignedly, “What can you do? You don’t think I’ve been trying for years to find a way out of this? There is no hope for me.”

She spat the word hope, like she was saying the name of some awful poison.

Someone so young didn’t deserve to feel like that, Alex thought darkly, his hands balling into fists. He suddenly felt the strong desire to beat the shit out of this Reynolds guy.

“But you can’t live like this!” Alex exclaimed in frustration, the sound bouncing off the walls in the tiny apartment.

Maria shrank back a little from his raised voice; Alex felt a stab of guilt. He couldn’t help thinking back to that split second, that heartbeat, where he’d been so ready to take advantage of this poor woman, to break his Eliza’s heart. What he’d almost become…

“I have to,” Maria murmured, her eyes growing dark, slipping back under into the emotionless state she’d survived so many years with, “You have children don’t you, Mr Hamilton? A daughter?”

Now it was Alex’s turn to flinch. He missed her, his little girl. He missed them all so much, “Yes. Her name is Angie.” Angel, that was what he called her.

“And what are you prepared to do to keep her safe?”

That was a hard question to think about but easy to answer, “Whatever I had to do. Anything.”

Maria’s eyes fell, “Then you understand. That there’s no way out for me.”

Alex blinked. He took a breath. His brain began to start working, ideas forming, constructing, building.

“What was the plan? After tonight?” he asked quietly, his hand moving up to scratch at his goatee, the way he always did when he was thinking.

Maria’s face flushes, “To get you to invite me back. Two nights from now.”

Alex feels a little ill, the idea that someone had actually plotted to ruin him, like they were in some kind of hackneyed political drama. He knew he pissed a lot of people off on a daily basis, he just had no idea it would come back to hurt him like this. And not just him. Eliza. His kids.

Maria.

“Do it,” Alex nods, “Be at my place on Thursday.”

Maria blinked at him, her expression turning sour. She’d thought…after risking everything and telling him, he still wanted to…

“Let him think whatever he wants,” Alex continued, his voice picking up speed, “But you and me will figure this out. Bring your daughter, if you want. It’ll be okay. You’ll be safe.”

That last word caught with Maria, her face relaxing. Safe.

It had been so long since she’d felt safe, since she’d dared hope that Susan might be safe. Since she’d dared hope, full stop.

But here she was.

“Okay,” Maria nodded.

 It was only when he was back on his front doorstep, after practically sprinting home, that everything hit Alex. He rested his forehead against the wood for a long few moments, trying to make sense of it all, the nauseating mix of panic and anger, unwelcome old memories surging up in his chest. It was…a lot.

So Alex did what he always did when living in his own head became unbearable. What he should have done weeks ago, when he started feeling himself come undone at the edges.

He pulled out his phone, still out there on the stoop, sinking down on the steps heavily, and he called Eliza.

He didn’t try and bullshit her, the way he had been doing since they’d left the city for the summer. He didn’t try and hide his exhaustion and his fears; he didn’t try and pretend that everything was okay when they both knew it wasn’t.

“Alexander!” Eliza answered after just a few tones, even though it was nearly two in the morning. He had a brief moment of worry as to why she wasn’t getting any sleep before the warmth and affection in her voice made him want to cry.

“I love you, Eliza,” he sighed. They were the only words on his lips.

He could almost picture her heart shaped face crumpling with worry, it was right there in her voice, “I love you too, Alex. What’s the matter?”

He gave a small, crooked smile, “Okay, this is going to be a little hard to explain…”

 Of course Eliza’s first instinct was the same as Alex’s, to track down this James Reynolds and hurt him. He only just managed to convince her to stay put, to spend the rest of the summer with her parents as planned, there was no sense in uprooting the children and fixing this was going to take subtlety. Still, she’d paced and growled and spat in fury for nearly forty minutes, Alex holding the phone so close to his ear there was a mark. But once her anger had given way to the selfless determination that came to her as natural as breathing, they began to talk. They talked for hours, until Alex could see morning light starting to filter in through the blinds of his living room.

“Have you slept at all tonight?” he rasped, running his fingers through his hair, frowning at the dawn.

Eliza’s voice cracked with similar exhaustion but he could still hear the tease in it, “Have you?”

She had him there; Alex smiled fondly. “You need your rest, Eliza, c’mon.”

“What I need is to rescue that poor girl and her daughter,” she sighed, though it sounded like she was stifling a yawn.

“We will, Eliza. We’ve got a plan,” he promised, wondering how someone so selfless and good had found it in them to love him, “It’s going to be okay.”

He heard her adorable little huff as she finally relaxed, “Alexander?”

“Yeah, Betsey?”

Any tension still between them, any anger left over from Alex’s impulsive, careless decision not to go to Albany with her and the kids, the problems and worries he’d been hiding from her in a misguided attempt to protect her, the shock of having this distressing situation tipped into their laps with no warning, the dregs of it all blew away with that one word. That was the name he used in their most gentle and close moments, in the middle of the night when they found themselves searching for each other, when she worried about her appearance, when he saw each of their children in her arms for the first time, whenever he knew she needed to be reminded of how much he loved her.

“Thank you for telling me. I’ve…I’ve missed you,” Eliza confessed, her voice quiet.

That was when the tears spilled down his cheeks. He was tired, he was sad, he was scared and he loved her so, so much, “I’m sorry Eliza. I’m not going to shut down again, I promise.”

There was a bitter taste in his mouth as he spoke and he thought he knew why. Of course he hadn’t told her about that split second, that moment of doubt, the thought of it made the tight knot of self-hatred that always lived at the pit of his stomach start to writhe.  He was never going to admit to that. But standing here now it felt so ridiculous, how could he ever have doubted that the woman on the other end of the phone was his soul mate?

“I know you won’t, Alex. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he murmured, “Talk to you soon.”

As difficult as this situation was, it felt so good to be fighting the same fight again, on the same team.

The way Alex and Eliza were supposed to be.

 The first time was a little awkward. Maria stood in the hallway, her arms hugged defensively around herself, like that was where they naturally fell. Her eyes cast around at the toys and crayons and books, still scattered about the place despite the fact that the kids had been gone for weeks (Alex couldn’t bear to move them). Her eyes grew wide at all the pictures on the walls, of Mr Hamilton and a pretty woman with dark, kind eyes and a warm smile, a crowd of children that had a mix if their features. Children that looked like they’d spent their lives certain of their safety and their parent’s love, who’d never had to comfort their mother as she sobbed on the bathroom floor, nursing a fresh bruise. Maria felt like she was standing in the middle of a daydream, something that shouldn’t actually exist- a loving family home.

It made her lip curl, to think of what she’d been sent here to do, the instructions James had hissed in her ear as he’d gripped her wrist hard enough to leave marks. What, in another universe, she’d be seconds away from doing right now. Forced into using her body to break apart this family, to burn down all the domestic safety and comfort she saw.

Her heart began to beat faster, she felt the familiar grip of a panic attack. She wanted to run…

“Maria?” Mr Hamilton’s voice called her from the kitchen, “Are you going to come in?”

She blinked, following the sound through the unfamiliar house before she lost her nerve. Before she was really aware of what was happening, there was a mug of something hot and nice smelling in her hand and he was talking, talking at a pace that would be worrying for most other people but she got the sense that this was just who he was.

“So, I guess you need to be here at least an hour so he doesn’t get suspicious, maybe two to be on the safe side but I understand if you want to get back to your daughter. You can do whatever you want really, you can read or watch TV or anything or we can talk if that’s what you want, otherwise I’ll just be in my office…”

The sound of the mug hitting the tiles and splintering shocked them both. Maria could hear Mr Hamilton repeating her name as she sank to the floor, shaking, her vision blurring as the panic attack that had threatened her out in the hall found her and leaped on her. It was a familiar sensation but what was very unfamiliar was the hand on her shoulder, the faint but vaguely comforting voice in her ear, there and present until the tight grip loosened and she had control of her own mind again.

“You’re okay, Maria. I’ve got you, you’re alright,” Mr Hamilton was saying in a low, steady voice, sat next to her. He retracted his arm quickly, remembering that she didn’t like to be touched but the tide of comforting words continued.

“I know,” she murmured after a while, blinking hazily, to make him stop. But it was so strange…she wasn’t lying. She knew she was okay. She believed him.

That was unfamiliar.

Mr Hamilton studied her carefully, “You’re sure?”

Maria nodded. And it wasn’t a lie, it really wasn’t.

And then there was a glass of water in her hand. A cookie. Mr Hamilton explaining that she needed to get some sugar into her, that she needed to keep hydrated, almost like he had memorised how to recover from a panic attack.

He saw the question in her face, shrugging in the way people did when they were trying to pass off something that was a very big deal as something that wasn’t, “I’ve been on medication for stuff like this since I was in college, Maria. I’m familiar.”

That made her blink, that surprised her. She’d thought that only people who were as messed up as she was had problems like this, people who on some level…deserved it.

So either Mr Hamilton deserved it too. Or…she didn’t. Either way, they had something in common and Maria felt less alone.

“I think I’d like to talk, Mr Hamilton,” she answered his earlier question, her voice calm and level.

He grinned, it was a little manic but oddly infectious, “Sure thing, on one condition?”

Maria tensed.

“You call me Alex,” he shrugged casually.

 After that, the next few weeks fell into some kind of strange but comfortable pattern. Maria would simply sit in the Hamilton’s living room or his office with him, reading, actually reading just for fun the way she used to do when she was younger and life was easier. Or she’d watch TV, the worst, most mind numbing shows because why not? That was what normal people did and here, Maria could feel normal. She even started to sketch again. It had been a long, long time before she’d done any art.

Alex was good company, she could see why so many people seemed to like him but also why so many people seemed exasperated by him. He pulled no punches; he just spoke like there was no filter between his mouth and his brain. It was bemusing and a little scary for someone like Maria, who’d spent their life having to keep quiet. She actually enjoyed perching on the sofa in his office, listening to him as he raged and ranted about that ‘dickass Jefferson, oh my god, Maria you wouldn’t believe…’ She got the sense that he’d been very lonely, that he was missing his family and was glad to have someone to talk to and, hey, she was more than happy to listen.

It was hard, to leave that warmth and friendship and go back to her apartment with the dents in the walls left by James’ fists and the damp and the bare walls. But her husband left her alone these days, now he thought she was funding his drinking and gambling every night by sleeping with a married politician. And she’d take sneering glances of disgust over blows and threats against Susan any day.

And now, when she held Susan as she drifted off in her arms, she could now whisper that it would be okay one day. That one day they’d be able to escape.

For once in her life, Maria could offer her precious daughter something they’d both been to scared to take hold of before.

She could give her hope.

 Maria still couldn’t help the nervousness that flared up in her chest the first time Alex handed her his phone, saying that his wife wanted to talk to her.

She heard so much about Eliza, all it would take was a mention of her name and Alex would go on for hours about her, rambling unashamedly about how great she was, how much he loved her. He didn’t hide any of his emotions, anger and frustration or love and affection. That kind of open and unashamed trust and devotion just seemed so alien to her, something from a fantasy novel, something made up. But there it was, written plainly on Alex’s face.

And it had been her job to tear that down.

So she’d stood shivering with anxiety before blinking and taking the phone hurriedly before she lost her nerve. It would be okay. Wouldn’t it?

“Hello, Maria?” the voice was low, gentle, the kind of voice you’d expect someone who spent their life taking care of children in need to have.

“H-hello,” Maria hated the tremble in her voice, making her sound scared.

“Oh it’s so wonderful to talk to you!” Eliza’s voice flooded with brightness, like she actually meant the words she was saying, like it wasn’t just an empty sentiment, “Alex has been telling me so much about you, I’m so glad we’re able to help you. Now, listen, can I ask you a question?”

Maria blinked, panic rising in her throat “Um…”

“Make sure Alex sleeps for me? And eats? And takes his meds? I’m being serious; knock him out if you must. I worry I’m ninety per cent of his impulse control and he reverts back to a college student when I’m not around…”

Maria hadn’t been expecting that. Although now she thought about it, there were an awful lot of empty pizza boxes piling in the kitchen, Alex had worn that shirt twice already this week. She had a feeling Eliza might be right.

“Oh god, what am I saying, you’ve got yourself to look after. Sorry, it’s been a while…”

“Um, no?” Maria nods, her voice a little more confident, “I can do that, sure. It’s no trouble.”

There was a relieved sigh from the other end, “You are a saint, Maria. Thank you so much.”

From there they just started talking, like it was the easiest thing in the world. Eliza had this way of setting people at ease, of finding a way past barriers and making opening up feel easy and right.

Now whenever Maria was at the Hamilton’s Eliza would call, spending half of her time with her husband and then asking to be passed to Maria, to see how she was doing. Alex started to wonder whether introducing the two of them had been a good idea, every time he heard Maria exclaim “No way!” laughing and glancing over at him surreptitiously.

“Maria, I swear whatever my wife’s telling you it isn’t true! That think with the roller-skates at the park was one time, okay? One time!”

And so Maria went from having no friend in the world to having two people willing to put in so much effort to help her, to make sure she and Susan could be happy and safe and free.

To give her some hope.

 The three of them had a good laugh over the letter that eventually arrived in James Reynolds’ scrawling hand, demanding money from Alexander Hamilton or he’d reveal his sordid affair with Maria.

“Sordid? He actually used that word?” Alex howled with laughter, leaning against his desk for support, “Oh Jesus…”

Eliza, who’d come home a week ago and had been hugging Maria at every opportunity since, was giggling uncontrollably, “When did our lives become a really terrible soap opera?”

Maria didn’t say anything, she just laughed. She had a really nice laugh, she realised, musical and ringing and alive.

She’d forgotten what her laugh had sounded like.

 For some strange reason, Maria cried. When Eliza came flying into the kitchen, her eyes bright, taking hold of the pacing Maria by the shoulders and breathlessly explaining that it was okay, everything was fine, it was over. She’d confronted James, she’d explained the whole situation, that Maria and Alex had done nothing, that the only one in any kind of trouble was James himself. That if he came anywhere near Maria or Susan, he’d be arrested. Or simply punched in the face, quite happily by Alex or Eliza.

“He’s out of your life, Maria. Aaron sorted it all out, the divorce has been finalised, the paperwork’s all done,” Eliza explained, holding her securely, a smile growing on her face, “You’re safe.”

And for some reason, either because of relief or joy or fear or disbelief that she was actually standing where she’d dreamed of standing for so long, Maria cried her eyes out.

And all Eliza did was hold her, stroking her hair gently and murmuring comforting words.

“W-where are we going to go?” Maria murmured after her sobs turned to hitching breaths, her voice cracking, “We’ve got nowhere to live…”

Eliza gave a gentle laugh, squeezing her friend’s shoulders comfortingly, “With us, of course! We’ve got plenty of space, Susan can share with Will, you can have the spare room...”

And on and on, plans and fixes for all the little problems that could possibly spring up, taking Maria’s worries and shrinking them down until they could be held and carried easily.

After a while, Eliza ran out of words, just holding Maria closely.

“It’s going to be okay, hon. I promise.”

And for the first time in years, Maria’s face broke into a wide smile as she buried her face in Eliza’s shoulder, “Yeah. I know.”

 Maria Lewis had never believed in God. But she would always thank whoever might be up there for the day she walked into Alexander Hamilton’s life.