freakypumpkin:

As promised … and I’ll try my best to keep it updated. If some of the lnks don’t work, let me know.

AU ideas:

#1 detective / coroner

#2 musketeers

#3 warlock / warlock apprentice

#4 shapeshifter 

#5 boarding school / math genius

#6 best friends

#7 Thieves

Highschool/College AU ideas

FF ideas for 2015

Short written stuff:

First Meeting ‘Hug’

First Meeting ‘Time Travel’

One-Shot Vernissage (FF.net)

WitchHunt Prologue 

‘Every time I get in a fight you patch me up but now I’m the one patching you up after you tripped on thin air’-prompt

highschool / best friends scenes #1

multi-chapter FFs on FF.net:

Wanted 

Tell me, would you kill?

monicashipscoliver:

ty bb ;w; #34 “If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed.” (from this meme)

“So.” Oliver props one elbow on the bar and leans closer to Connor sitting on the stool beside him. “Come here often?”

Connor, drink halfway to his mouth, stills. His eyebrows nearly reach his hairline.

Minor setback. Oliver drapes an arm over the back of Connor’s chair and moves
in. Lips close to Connor’s ear, he says, “Guy like you, I’d remember.”

Connor’s
wide smile nearly breaks their game, but he quickly schools it into one
of his smirks. He places his drink on the bar and glances sideways at
Oliver. “Guy like me, huh?”

“Hottest guy in the room.”

Connor’s shoulders tense. He licks his lips. “When did you get so good at this?” he asks under his breath.

“What’s that?” Oliver asks, though he heard him, giving Connor a chance to get back into character.

After
a quick head shake, Connor swivels to face him. Oliver pulls up enough
not to clunk heads, but quickly eases back in when Connor settles.

“If
I’m hot,” Connor says, eying Oliver up and down. Mouth open slightly,
he runs his tongue along his teeth. “Then you’re sizzling.”

And okay, this had seemed like a really good idea at home. Hey, let’s go out and pretend we don’t know each other so I can try to pick you up.
Oliver had thought it’d be fun, like a role-reversal of their first
meeting. He’d been a blushing, fumbling mess back then, and though it
all worked out for the best, he was eager to prove to Connor that he
could also be a flirt.

But now that they were here. Now that this was happening.

Why did they ever leave the apartment – no, their bed this morning – and how fast can they get back there?

Connor’s
smirk breaks, but Oliver’s sure he broke character first. He’s not
smiling anymore. His breath is heavy. There’s a lump in his throat, an
itch under his skin, and his pants are running a little tight.

Connor swallows hard. “Oliver, if you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed.”

seateeth:

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” Connor complains, grumbling slightly as he sits up to glare at Oliver just one more time.

Oliver doesn’t have the decency to look abashed or guilty in any way, he just grins, stepping forward to ruffle Connor’s hair, of all the things.

Connor gives him his best unimpressed look, the kind he reserves for Asher’s dick jokes and Michaela’s bright ideas. “You know, if you’re gonna make me dress nice, the least you could do is help to preserve it.”

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leosfitz:

Thank you so much! c:

Oliver isn’t a Halloween party type of person. Normally, he stays at home and hands out full-sized chocolate bars to all the kids is his apartment building, wearing a grey sheet and calling himself Gandalf. 

But Connor had promised him candy. Sour candy. And since the party was consisting of just the two of them, in Oliver’s apartment, he figured it couldn’t be too bad. 

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ilikeyouxactually:

Ughhh, why must I be destroyed by such adorable prompts? For real though, this is probably the cutest thing in existence, and I really hope that this does it the justice it deserves. Enjoy. ❤

Landing the job of makeup artist for the Broadway musicalCats was perhaps the greatest thing that could have ever happened to Connor.
Ever since he was a kid, Cats was always his favorite musical. He would study
the songs and choreography, reenact them, and every year for Halloween, he
always went all out and did Cats makeup on himself. It was his most favorite
thing in the world, and to be so immersed in it like this for months at a time
was complete heaven. He could do characters’ makeup and listen to and watch the
performers sing and dance. It was truly amazing. But his favorite part was the
makeup. Helping people transform completely into a character was always like
magic.

Doing
this brought him a lot closer with the cast. He would sit down with people for
sometimes thirty—sometimes more—minutes at a time, just applying makeup. But
Connor always got so immersed in it. Studying the actors’ faces, and the characters
that they became. It was incredible to witness, and be the one to create that
transformation. That was why he went to theater school. Not just to study
theater and varying types of performance, but to also study makeup and makeup
application.

 Arts
were always his thing. Drawing,
painting, acting, dancing, singing—all of it. Granted he wasn’t very good at
all of it, but it was the things he could create with his hands that he loved.
Drawing, painting, makeup. He took pride in the things he could create, because
everything he made was treated like a work of art. Even if it was just paint on
a persons face. But to him, it wasn’t just
paint on someone’s face. They became his canvas. And he would drag his brush in
skillful strokes, dab on colors, blend, and work at it until he was left with a
final creation that was a true piece of art that he could look at and say, “I created this.”

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monicashipscoliver:

“I think we need to talk.” “Marry me?” (from this meme)

“I think we need to talk,” Oliver says, not quite meeting Connor’s eyes. He’s been like this all dinner – fidgety, nervous, short with conversation. He barely ate his pasta.

Connor knows what this is. He’s been dumped before. Never in a fancy restaurant where he had to wear a tie, but hey, there’s a first for everything.

He’s been expecting this. It’s always been inevitable. Oliver is a good, pure person – all heart and kindness and forgiveness. Connor never had a chance. Never deserved a second one.

This is overdue. Though Connor’s been the best boyfriend he can be, he’s not enough. He’s short sometimes. He works too much. He’s not a good cook. Oliver deserves someone as bright as him. Connor’s just a smudge.

Yet even expected, it hurts. Connor twists the napkin in his lap. He bounces his leg. He wants to run or cry or beg, or all three somehow at once. His heart’s too tight. His stomach’s in knots.

He’s not good enough for Oliver, but he wanted to be. He tried to be.

Why wasn’t that enough?

“Connor. You know that I love you… I do, and I -“

"But?” Connor supplies. If this is going to happen, let it happen quickly. It’s still early. Connor can head to a bar and drown himself in booze and men, and forget all about Oliver. Except even thinking about being with anyone else makes Connor’s skin crawl.

And forgetting about Oliver? Impossible.

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ilikeyouxactually:

This message made my day today, I just want you to know that! You are such a sweetheart, and it makes me so happy that you love my fics so much. You’re really amazing and sweet. 🙂 Enjoy the fic! ❤

French class was a bitch, and Connor hated it. The only goodthing about that wretched class was having his best friend, Oliver Hampton,
there suffering with him. Madame Perrault was a kind older woman who was very
grandmotherly. But she was ruthless. Her grading system was atrocious, and even
when she spoke English her accent was still too thick to understand. Thankfully,
for the final project of the semester, she was allowing everyone in the class
to partner up and work together. Oliver and Connor immediately turned to one
another with wide, happy grins plastered on their faces.

The
project was simple. All they had to do was put together an itinerary of places
they would go to in France, where they would eat, what they would eat, and
write it all out in French. Easy right? Sort of.

It would’ve been a hell of a lot
easier to concentrate if Oliver wasn’t so distracting. And little did Connor
know, Oliver was just as distracted by him. The two were sat up in Oliver’s
room; a place Connor had been many times. They’d been best friends the last few
years. Having sleepovers, playing video games, studying for tests, talking for
hours and hours about nothing in particular. They were thick as thieves, and
nothing could separate them.

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sparklingtrashwater:

4. “Do you…well…I mean…I
could give you a massage?”

Oliver loved his job, he really did.
But the long hours spent in front of a computer, typing endlessly, in
a stiff backed chair, were not the most comfortable. He usually ended
up going home, stiff and aching, with stinging eyes and cracking
knuckles. He’d tried heat packs, electroshock therapy, and even a
brief stint with yoga, but the only thing that really helped was a
massage. Since he couldn’t afford to spend the time or money on
professional help, he just tried to deal with it.

After a particularly long day, in which
his boss asked him to stay after and work on patching a security
breech, Oliver emerged from the office at around 7:30. He was in a
foul mood worsened by a downpour of rain that kept his windshield
wipers on full speed and soaked him on the walks between building to
car to building. He didn’t even notice Connor in his living room
until his arms and lips engulfed him in a welcoming kiss.

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ilikeyouxactually:

Gahhhh this is ridiculously sweet. I love it. Thank you for the prompt! Enjoy!

If Connor were being honest with himself, he would just admit he was having a stressful day. It was finals week at school, which was enough to drive him over the edge of insanity. Plus on top of having to study,
he had to cram in time to work on the latest case for Annalise. It was too much
for Connor to handle. And he should have just told Oliver he was stressed out and had a lot going on; rather than
ignoring him and shutting him out.

He
wasn’t trying to be an awful boyfriend, it just sort of happened. With all the
time he was putting into work, and studying, it seemed like there wasn’t any
time to see Oliver. So for the past four days, he had been holed up in his
apartment. Dishes piled up in the sink. Take out boxes strewn over the
counters. And paper was everywhere. Spread over the coffee table, littering the
floor, everywhere.

Currently, Connor was slumped on
floor, eyes burning from lack of sleep and the late hour, a pen tucked behind
his ear, and a cup of coffee half empty in his hand. Taking in slow, careful
sips, his eyes scanned over the paper clutched tightly in his other hand. All
the information was blending together. Things for the case, study material, he
could hardly distinguish it. A sudden pounding in his head made him clench his
eyes shut, hoping it would just go away. It didn’t.

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ramblesandreblogs:

ramblesandreblogs:

Prompt fill: Could you write something where Oliver and Connor are teachers and Connor is a new teacher at the school? Bonus points if their classrooms are right across the hall from each other! 

School dances are the absolute worst, Connor thinks as he starts another lap around the gym. He thought the days of terrible music, horrific dancing, and spiked punch were behind him but then he’d had the brilliant idea to drop out of law school and teach high school. Now he’s stuck chaperoning these things and if he thought attending school dances was awful, he was wrong. There is truly nothing more awful than chaperoning them.

“Step back, Mr. Anders, Ms. Gutierrez,” Connor calls out to a pair of his students all but having sex on the dance floor. He really wants to add in “Leave room for Jesus” but his superintendent is wandering around here somewhere and he really doesn’t want to have that conversation with Annalise on Monday. His first year at Middleton High has been going remarkably well; he doesn’t really need sarcasm to be the reason he’s not asked back next year.

As he rounds a corner he spots one of the girls from his second period American Government class, Nina, sitting off to the side on the seats near the punch bowl. She’s looking glum as she watches the couples on the floor dancing along to some song that Connor can’t understand the words to (when did he get so old?). Part of him wants to just keep walking, there are a number of students hanging around who also don’t look like they are having the best time either, but there’s something about the look in her eyes and the way she’s hunching her shoulders that stops him.

“What’s up, Nina?” Connor asks as he pulls a chair up close, but not too close, next to hers.

“Huh? Oh,” Nina looks over to see who sat next to her before dismissing him and turning back to watch the dancers. “Nothing much, Mr. Walsh.”

“Really? Nothing’s going on?” Connor knows he should just leave the kid alone, she clearly doesn’t want to talk to him but again it’s something in her eyes that’s bugging him. “Then why aren’t you dancing?”

Nina looks over at the dance floor, her gaze fixed on one couple in particular. “No one to dance with.”

Connor looks out onto the floor; trying to follow her gaze and figure out which student Nina is talking about. “Well, I’m sure any of the boys here would—”

“It’s not—” Nina stops herself and then swallows once. Angling slightly towards him, she whispers, “It’s not the boys.”

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