#this is my first edit in about seven years please forgive me for this mess

[wexpyke]

During his teenage years, Robb had been a big fan of boyband Four Kingdoms and of bad boy Theon Greyjoy in particular. He never would’ve been able to predict that he would ever get to meet Theon, let alone work for him. Of course, Robb is a professional — the Kingsguard Agency wouldn’t have hired him if he weren’t — and he will do everything in his power to protect Theon as he takes his first steps as a solo artist after a five-year break. However, coming face-to-face with his teenage crush on a daily basis proves too hard to resist, even for Robb. Especially when he gets to know the real Theon…

read he's all over me (but i'm into it) now.

#theon greyjoy #gottheongreyjoy #robb stark #gotrobbstark #theon x robb #throbb #robb x theon #theonrobb #this is my first edit in about seven years please forgive me for this mess #how do the kids do this these days? #mine: edit #mine: fic #.png #he’s all over me (but i’m into it)

[multifandom-girlie]

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐜 𝐂𝐨𝐧 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟓

Imagine: “Could I request a Daniel Gillies smut like they are both at the comic con(they are both in the originals) and he is teasing her while he answers a question ? Or makes fun with Joseph and he says some dirty things.” Requested by @elijahspersonalwifeyyy .

Pairing: Daniel Gillies x Reader

Warnings: Smut

Words:

Edited: Yes

A/N: I apologise @elijahspersonalwifeyyy for the incredibly long wait. I’ve had this lined up to post but with coursework and writing so much at the same time, it’s made it difficult but I refuse to quit. I’m not a quitter. I’m also not a person to announce a hiatus. Either way, hope you enjoyed ! There is a lot to read I know but we needed a build up and this is one of my favourite comic cons ever, I wanted to do the before hand scenes either way so. Don’t forget to check out my new story “On The Way” !

All of us at the current moment in time were stood backstage waiting to be called on. I couldn't tell you how irritated I was when I went on after Joseph and then Daniel followed. They were both irritating enough to me together anyway but they were in a particularly annoying mood today and I was not prepared for it.

“The man who will break your heart and then rip it out and then probably eat it. Joseph Morgan.”

The whole audience cheered as he walked on and he waved quite casually as he did. 

“The women who brings all men to there knees but still can't find anything better to do than drink wine. Y/N Y/L/N”

I giggled as I walked out and I saw the audience screaming and Joseph giving me a mischievous look.

“The brother with a suit for every occasion. Daniel Gillies as Elijah.”

He walked out, threw me a quick smirk and blew a kiss to the audience as they screamed. He pulled his chair out and smiled at everyone.

“Nice jacket.”

“Yeah. Give it up for this jacket ! Huh ? Out of a suit and into a smoking hot jacket.”

“I know right, the one time he's not wearing a suit.”

“Thank you. It was actually a gift from Y/N.”

“Aw that’s super sweet Y/N.”

“Thank you. It was actually a gift for our anniversary.”

“Really ? How many years ?”

“Seven.”

“and very sweet.”

He called the rest of our costars out and we continued on with the panel.

After the host had started the panel with a question for Julie and Michael, it was now a group question for me, Joseph and Phoebe.

“Uh now going to the show, we've seen Klaus and Lily and Klaus and Hayley kind of trying the uh co-parenting thing and it did not really go so well as we all saw. How is Klaus going to be as a parent now that Hayley isn't around and Lily and Elijah have reconciled ?”

As soon as the question was asked, we all turned to Joseph.

“Uh you know, before he alienated his whole family by toasting Elijah's girlfriend, sleeping with his wife and and and cursing the women he thought he was in love with um Klaus survived under this sort of umbrella of Elijah's protection and forgiveness I suppose and so Elijah was always a voice of reason and Hayley was always there to battle it out with him. So, I would say badly. He's gonna do badly as a single parent you know and I think he knows he's kinda messing it up but he's trying. At least he's trying. You gotta give him that. Even if he's warping the minds of his two daughters, one before she's even uttered a syllable and the other before she get's old enough to realise that Klaus and Lily aren't actually together you know like she’s thought for years.”

“Geez. So uh how are are Lily, Elijah and Klaus going to tell her ? Who's going to be the one that does it or will they all do it together ?”

I decided to answer this questions, being more involved with the story line of my children.

“I think that Lily will have to be the one to tell her and whilst doing so will definitely have to be quite cautious when telling Sofia, you know not only because she's only 7 years old but also because she’s thought of Elijah as her Uncle her whole life- and although that hasn't changed it's still going to be difficult since this latest revelation is that, her Uncle Elijah that she adores oh so much is now also 'mommy's boyfriend' or in more formal terms her step-dad. So I think she's going to be confused and it might be quite difficult for her at first but I think she’s mature for her age and that she will understand quite quickly that, Mommy and Daddy aren't together and that despite realizing that her mom was married to her uncle I think she will quickly appreciate the fact we told her because of her understanding personality. “

Daniel quickly leaned forward and spoke before the host could ask another question.

“The moral of the story is, don't sleep with your husband's brother. Especially when not using protection and then deciding to get back together with your husband before trying to force him to sign the divorce papers.”

The whole room suddenly echoed with loud laughter and I couldn't stop giggling myself despite being offended for my character. I hit his arm playfully. He grinned at me and rested his hand on my leg as the room calmed down and he slouched back in his chair a little.

“Very true. So, I mean he can always just compel a few dozen nannies but he does have Elijah there to help him co-parent you know not just with Sofia but with Hope. I'm thinking like shared schedules, late night feedings...Whose doing what ?”

“It’s like we both wake up and the baby is crying and it's like, are you going to get her or am I ? Alright, I'll get her.”

“Yeah no it's gonna be me. I'm gonna do the graveyard shift, I know that all to well. But we gotta remember too, Lily and Freya are going to be doing a large share of the work.”

“Oh yeah, they can do it. There you go.”

I giggled and hit Joseph in the shoulder for the comment.

“Sexist.”

“No, come on. Lily's already been through this twice she knows’ what she's doing and Freya's Switzerland at this moment in time, I think for both of us to be in there...I’m gonna stop talking.”

We all chuckled at Daniel's comment.

                                               *

“Now we're going to go to audience questions in just a little bit but first I wanted to do something fun. I know it's not the holiday's and I know we don't have a big ass bonfire in front of us but I thought it would be quite fun if everybody kinda thinks about a wish for their character for the future, just throw it in the imaginary bonfire.”

“Well, I'm a human....so I just want to stay alive.”

“Good answer.”

“Oh I forgot you weren't a character.”

“I have wishes for everybody but I don't have a character.”

“I do wish for Julie that Supernatural Judge Judy becomes her next spin off and Exploding Ovaries is the title of Daniel Gillies' next memoir. 

“A wish for Hayley would be that Hope can live a normal, happy existence. I think would be what she would want the most.”

“That’s very sweet.”

“Thank you. That's it, I'm done.”

“Uh, I think for Elijah...I mean other than wishing that his girlfriend's wouldn't be incinerated or his wife doesn't sleep with his brother again...”

I giggled at Daniel's comment, despite his comment towards my character and spoke with Joseph, simultaneously. 

“Oh, come on.”

“I'm not letting that one go easily. So, uh...I would wish for him. Oh man. I wish for him, I’m actually wishing for something dark, like I sort of would wish for...a great division between the brothers before reconciliation.”

“So that's how it's going to be.”

“So, my wish for Lily is um...to finally find that bloody fertility spell that she's been looking for, for centuries. So that her and Elijah can have children of their own which they want more than anything and move somewhere outside of New Orleans in a nice family home, away from the drama.”

“That’s very sweet.”

“Uh, I wish everyone would just do what Klaus says because he's always right. He knows what he's doing. It's for the greater good. Come on. Get on board with his plans. Everything will be alright in the end. Not everyone will be alright in the end but everything will be alright in the end. Right ?”

“Um, I wish Marcel would cross over. No.”

“I wish for more of your cleavage.”

I couldn't help but laugh a little when he says comments like that. Even though it wasn't directed at me, I knew the double meaning behind it. Daniel has not taken his eyes away from my chest today. That's what breast feeding does to you, I suppose. When Daniel picked my outfit this morning, I was glad. I was going to wear some leather pants and a red blouse with some heels but he somehow convinced me to wear a dress. God was I glad, I actually listened to him. It was hot in San Diego summer heat and I underestimated a little when I decided on leather pants. 

“Yeah. We gonna get some dollar bills. Let's see some ones. Tryna make some money out here. Somebody, put on some Usher. Slow jam. Uh yeah...”

“I have a twenty. What can we get for a twenty ?”

“Break it up. Break it up.”

“Make it into ones and let's make it rain.”

“If I throw loose change at you, can I make it hail ?”

“Alright, moving on. Next subject.”

“Um, Davina is a witch and I think it would be really cool if she could fly. So, whether it's a broomstick or something else...I still think it would be really cool.”

“That’s a good one. Um, mines pretty selfish. I hate shaving, so I wish we could work something in so Vincent could have like a huge beard.”

“I changed my mind, I want superpowers as well. Three one foot long, retractable adamantine claws from each hand please.”

”Why is the camera on me ? I wanna fly. I wanna see these guys fly. I want them charging up walls and...we don’t have the budget for that. I wanna see more vampirey stuff. Why am I wishing again ? I exhausted my wish.”

“You guys can make as many wishes as you want. This is your made up tradition.”

“It’s raining wishes on you.”

“Raining for your wishes.”

“God this is embarrassing.”

“T it up.”

“T what up ?”

“What do your need for a rain of wishes ?”

“What happens when it rains ?”

“An umbrella.”

“What ?”

“An umbrella, sweetheart.”

He closed his eye in frustration and dropped his upper half into my lap, whilst we all laughed at his slow mind.

“Oh shit. Umbrella. So sorry, so sorry.”

“The rain, the umbrella...”

“Dropping hints. Awesome, alright well let’s turn it over to some audience questions.”

                                               *

“Hi, my name is Julia and first I'd like to say, I love you all. Especially Joseph Morgan and Danielle Campbell.”

“Thanks. Thanks a lot.”

“Don’t worry, I love you Daniel.”

He squeezes my thigh and leans in to kiss my head. Before deciding to move his arm around my shoulders and hugging me into his side. I rested my hand on his thigh as I hugged him back.

“I love you too, beautiful.”

I blushed and smiled, whilst the audience all awed. Which prompted the red in my cheeks to darken. I sat back up straight and he returned his hand back my thigh, yet this time a little higher up and whilst stroking the fabric of my dress up my thigh.

“My question is for the whole cast and it is, if you were able to play another role...who would you wanna play ?”

“On our show ? Or just in general ?”

“Yeah. On The Originals.”

“I..I think I would choose Hayley. The Hyrbid female. She's a pretty cool character. Your welcome.”

“Um, I would play...Klaus. Mind you probably better but...”

“I don't wanna play anybody else, I wanna play Elijah.”

“I would play, Elijah....purely because it would be an absolute blessing to wake up that hot everyday and he's a pretty awesome character.”

He smirked at me and moved his hand further up my leg, his fingers now resting at the hem of my white lace thong. I gulped a little but held my composure. It seemed hat every time I complimented him, he got further up my leg and closer to my core. Like a game...and I was more than happy to play.

“If...If I had to absolutely play someone else uh, I would play Oliver because I just think he needs to be brought back to the show...and uh #saveollie. Bring him back !”

“Uh, I would play Elijah because I think I look damn good in a suit.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“Buttoned up to the naval.”

“There we go. I know it's distracting for you, my body.”

“I cannot concentrate. I refuse to continue.”

“Um, I would play Genevieve. I thought she was a really cool character. She was a lot of fun to work with.”

“I see some Genevieve fans in the house, awesome.”

“Um, yeah I think I might choose Elijah too. I think uh, it's a really cool character that Daniel has created.”

“They both quietly believe they can bring more to the role, is what they’re saying. Not quietly, they're saying it to an audience of like three thousand.”

“Only because of what you've done with it Daniel.”

                                            *

“Hi Guys, wow that's loud. I'm so sorry, my name's Marissa. First, I want to say Daniel I watched saving hope and your death killed me. I'm so sorry that you died.”

“Yeah, tell me about it ! I was gutted.”

He squeezed my thigh a little more and started making circles with his finger on the spot closed to my core.

“Oh my goodness.”

Yeah, oh my goodness indeed. He really knew how to make a woman feel good, without hardly doing anything...quite literally.

“Um, so my question is for Julie and Michael. Um, I was wondering...there’s so much violence on the show and so much adult stuff and I was wondering if the network or the studio has ever told you, 'No you can't do that’ ?”

We all started laughing in reply to the questions.

“Oh, we have a story about that don't we...Leah.”

“I don't wanna tell the story again.”

“There's things that we did that couldn't be shown.”

“So here's the thing about broadcast television is that, apparently you can decapitate someone, you can drive a knife into a vampires skull, you can rip out their heart, you can shove a pencil up their nose, you can stab them a million times with glass but when stimulating a sex scene...if there's any movement at all that one would define as thrusting...”

“No thrusting. Pull back on the thrusting.”

“A motion that originates from the hip.”

Charles decided to get up and share a demonstration of thrusting and everyone on stage started laughing and the audience started to scream. Daniel gripped my thigh a little harder, due to jealously. I didn't have to ask him what the reason was, I already knew. At the best of times, he was not a jealous person. He loves and trusts me and Charles a lot and he knows nothing would happen but when he's horny and in need of some attention...he does get jealous. Understandably so, I know because we both do. His pinky finger then started to stroke me, through the lace of my pants.   

“It’s difficult because I don't actually remember thrusting being in the script. That was something the actors chose.”

“It was a creative choice. I mean, look at Charles...you would do the same thing. Also, let's not forget the originators of this little problem.”

The audience stayed silent, indicating that they weren't sure how to react to her last sentence. I leaned into Daniel and rested my forehead against his bicep in retaliation to Leah's comment. I couldn't stop giggling, despite the finger rubbing against my wet thong and the blush rising on my cheeks. Daniel was using his other hand to pinch his forehead, whilst chuckling.

“Come on guys, explain it.”

“So, what happened was we were doing the flashback sex scene of Elijah and Lily's wedding night. Daniel got a bit too excited and started to thrust a little and I tried hiding it by opening my legs a bit more.As I did, my underwear snapped because it wasn't as flexible as I thought. So, I had to pay a fine for showing too much skin because the sheets had come off of me a little and we hadn't realised. Not that it was much it was just a little side boob, still.”

“So, it wasn't the thrusting ?”

“No, ironically it wasn't.”

“Let me tell you. There was some excellent, simulated thrusting in those scenes. That was cut, per broadcast standards. While, I think in the same episode seventeen people got brutally massacred. It is what it is.”

“Some of the best thrusting. I hope it makes the special features.”

“Charles called Leah, for some extra rehearsal before hand.”

                                           *

“Hi I'm uh Skylar. Um, I know that between you there has been a myriad of different supernatural creatures. Uh, Phoebe...I think you've been a werewolf, a witch and a mermaid. Uh, in really life...What would you wanna be ?”

“Well, I would say witches because witches don't have to turn on a full moon and they don't have to be like plagued by vampire...the demon’s of vampires. They can just have all the power and really cute outfits...and if I can look more like Danielle Campbell. I'll take it.”

“H20 rocks!”

“Thank you ! Well actually I-Im gonna say a mermaid then. Like, life is better under the sea and I think I would be a mermaid.”

“I don't know-"

“Merman ?”

“Merman. No, I...um. I'm pretty pervy...so I'd say like invisibility.”

“Um, so I'm not pervy at all unlike Daniel. I do think that Heretics are soooo cool though. Like, they can do magic and they are vampires but still have all those human capabilities...like procreation. So, yeah a heretic.”

His hand stopped stroking me through the lace of my panties suddenly and I instantaneously felt a cold gush of air race up my well-shaved legs and punching me in my core. I felt the frayed edges of my lace tickling my upper thigh, where they shouldn't be. Hinting that my favourite pair of thongs had been snapped. I turned to Daniel and narrowed my eyes at him whilst he just continued the panel, like nothing happened. His hand when back to it’s original position resting on my thigh, clearly in punishment for making a comment about his pervy answer. 

“Nah, I'm happy where I am. You know, Hyrbid. Definitely not, invisibility. When I joined the show, I thought I was only gonna be a vampire so I was thrilled when I was a werewolf-vampire. I'm sticking to my guns.”

“I like being the token human. I'm just gonna like stay there. Create more mermen.”

“Season three, season of the mermen.”

“The next spin-off.”

“That would be so cool, let me be a mermaid. I would kill it .”

Joseph put his arm on the back of my chair, looking at me after I made my wish known to be a mermaid.

“You better not cum in the water.”

The entirety of the room ruptured into fits of laughter. Even Daniel, who had now moved his hand closer to my core again. Letting his fingers stroke my entrance. Meanwhile, I continued laughing...ignoring the feeling of my husband’s gentle and sensual touch. 

“I’m blushing.”

                                            *

“Hi, I'm Katie. If you were to go to Comic Con, on the floor. Is there anyone you would dress up as ?”

The first thought that came to mind was pleasing Daniel. If I said him there was no doubt he'd give in. The problem was, was it a risk I was willing to take...at a comic Con in front of three thousand fans and some of my closest friends.

“Daniel Gillies.”

Every one repeated my answer and whilst doing so I was discovering that I was unequivocally correct with my thought process. Sure enough, Daniel plunged his fingers straight into my entrance leaving me to deal with the resounding squeal that ripped from my throat. Causing Daniel to laugh at me, influencing Joseph to join in.

                                            *

The final question had just been answered by Daniel and I was leaning my head into Daniel's shoulder to help with controlling the moans erupting inside me. The warmth in my stomach has just appeared as quickly as it vanished again, Daniel had stopped and chuckled at my irritated expression. Nevertheless, I got up and shoved my now broken thongs in Daniel's jacket pocket and waved at the fans with a bright smile on my face as we all walked off. We had just got out of the fan's eyesight when a hand delivered a hard slap to my barely covered assume cheek as this dress was so short. I span around and grabbed his wrist before dragging him further backstage, behind a screen next to the dressing rooms.

“What do you think your doing ? Playing around like that during a panel and then not even letting me finish ?!”

I didn't even let him reply as I dragged his face down towards mine and kissed him lustfully. His hands wandered down to my waist and clutched the already tight fabric tighter around me. The other unoccupied hand drove down to my ass and clutched it, allowing the skirt to rise up. Exposing the bare skin of my cheek. I used one of my hands to undo his zipper before pulling his dick out and stroking it. Clearly, he was eager because before I knew it. I was pressed up against the wall, sticking my tongue down his throat and moving myself up and down on his already hard cock. What we hadn't realised that the screen had moved, as Daniel had knocked it with his foot when walking to the wall. He pulled away and smirked at me.

“You told me we wouldn't have public sex after last time.”

“This is the last time Mr Gillies, I'm promising you.”

We smiled at eachother and kept going against the wall. His tip caused some tension when arriving to a depth he hadn’t before but it was a pleasurable one most definitely. The lips of my pussy enveloped his tip and he ran it through my drenched folds before deciding to plunge into me once again. I was about to scream and he knew I wasn’t good at being quiet when he fucks me so good. I clung onto him hoping it would relieve tha ache he’d created by filling me so good. He sat down on a chair that was sat in a chair of the little area backstage. Sitting down, allowed his thrusts to speed up rapidly and his face to rest in between my smooth and nearly covered beasts. He bit my hardened buds through my dress and caused a shive of please to shoot down to my core and promoting me to burst.

I then decided to let go and couldn’t help but let out a gratifying scream for him. I was coming down from my high and the screen pulled back. A man that looked about 40, eyed us disgusted and told us to move it.

“Well atleast I won the deal ?”

“Remember the deal we had ? If I was right about is having sex in public again no matter how much you denied that we wouldn’t. Your were very adamant.#

*

MASTERLIST

#imagines #the vampire diaries #the originals #to imagine #tvd imagine #tvd #the originals imagines #elijah mikaelson #daniel gillies x reader #daniel gillies has ruined me #daniel gillies smut

[coffeestainsandcashmere]

Let No Man Steal Your Thyme - (older Dramione) Part Five

I hope you enjoy this one! It features a surprise snooty owl (I wonder who could own such a creature???) and some well-meaning concern from a friend. And some banter. And an expensive lunch. Because Theo is extra and can’t help himself. And it’s 4.6k words long...

I also realised that, since I wrote the first chapter basically out of the blue and not really intending for it to blow up into a big multi-part story, I’ve messed up the timeline a little with Harry’s kids, so I’ll have to go back and fix that when it comes to a re-edit before it goes up on AO3, but for now, just handwave it, ok? :)

Finally, many thanks for your lovely owls, anonymous or otherwise, about this story and where it’s going! I was honestly floored by the feedback I’ve got, and thank you to those who’ve reblogged it and helped get it out there for folks to read. I have a very small following since this side-blog is fairly new, so all reblogs are very much appreciated. I did a quick doodle for the cover of the story which you can find here, if you’re interested in how I pictured Draco and Scorpius standing in the steam from the Hogwarts Express from chapter one.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

___

Far earlier on Monday morning than she was accustomed to these days, Hermione woke with a start and frowned, confused. Eyes dry and prickly, and hair absolutely everywhere, she sat up and looked around, straining her ears as she blearily tried to work out what had yanked her so unceremoniously from a deep and mercifully dreamless sleep. Her Muggle alarm clock silently showed 05:54 in harsh red numbers, and nothing had touched the wards or tried to get in, though there was something thrumming against them, like the lingering reverberations of a plucked harp string.  

The temporary stillness was shattered when a wild scrabbling of claws and the beating of enormous wings started up against her bedroom window. With a flailing shriek of surprise, she nearly fell out of bed, but after taking a deep breath, she stumbled out from under the covers to wrench the curtains open.  

“Bloody owls!” she began, but drew up short when she saw the unfamiliar bird waiting impatiently on the other side of the glass.  

There, battering its truly monstrous talons against the glass, was a colossal eagle owl. When it saw her, it stopped its fussing to perch haughtily on the brick windowsill outside and fix her with a fiery red glare. If owls could have raised their eyebrows, she got the impression that this one would have done it at the sight of her.  

“Yeah, well, it’s early. What did you expect?” she groused as she slid the window panel to one side and the bird looked around her bedroom with obvious disdain. Imperiously, it stuck out one leg, like a noble expecting a servant to remove a dirty boot, and she saw a rolled-up piece of parchment with a green wax seal and a green ribbon to bind it together.  

“Who do you belong to then?” she asked, going automatically to stroke the bird’s flight-ruffled chest plumage. It instantly hissed and nipped at her fingers, and she barely drew them back in time. “Christ! No need for that,” she gasped. She’d never met a postal owl as cantankerous as this one. “I usually give visiting owls a treat, but I don't think I like your manners one bit.”  

With the letter in hand, she slid the window closed again, leaving a gap just small enough that the bird wasn’t going to barge its way in. She wondered if it had been instructed to wait for an answer because it began almost immediately clicking its beak against the glass and hooting indignantly. 

“Manners makyth bird,” she snapped without looking up, and broke the unfamiliar wax seal on the letter.

It had a cursive ‘M’ within a circle, but was otherwise unadorned. Unfurling it, she glanced at the name on the bottom and her eyebrows rose as her growing suspicions were confirmed. It was signed in a princely English roundhand by none other than Draco Malfoy.  

She snorted, glancing back at the bird who was doing its best basilisk impression from the other side of the glass. “Who else would have such a snotty owl?”

It hooted childishly at her again and she laughed.  

Dear Hermione,

I must beg of you to forgive the unspeakably rude hour of this correspondence, but I am leaving this morning for France by portkey for a couple of days and I had hoped to get your answer before I left. I should add now before you read any further — although with your kind heart I fear it may be too late already — that Cassiopeia here is not fond of physical affection, but is very partial to owl treats. She can be bribed into doing almost anything for food, but affection is sadly not in her nature, so please be careful with your fingers around her beak. The only reason I was able to get her to fly at all at this time of the day was to bribe her lavishly. She’s terribly spoilt, and for that, I’m sorry too.  

Hermione shot another look at the bird, who narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Cassiopeia, eh?” she said and the enormous owl bobbed a few times. “Prideful about your good looks then, are you? You should know how your namesake’s story ended then. But, I suppose you could be forgiven since you are an inordinately pretty bird. You’ll still not get a crumb from me after trying to take my fingers off though. I’ll be having words with Malfoy about that.”  

Cassiopeia ruffled her feathers and promptly turned her back on Hermione. The bird didn’t take off, so she returned her attention to the letter.  

I spent all weekend thinking about our evening together on Friday, but it will come as little surprise to you to learn that it has taken me all that time to muster up my limited courage to ask you to dinner at your next convenience. Naturally, I left it to the last possible moment to ask you. I have a place in mind in London, but it’s a little more out of the way than the restaurants on Diagon Alley. I have it on authority from the owner that you have never been there, and I would very much like to surprise you, but if you would feel more comfortable knowing in advance, then you can ask Theo while I am out of the country.  

Staggered, Hermione stared at the letter and found her vision swimming a little. Blinking, she was shocked to find tears blurring his formal — almost painfully formal — words.  

But how long had it been since anyone had actually asked her on a date? ‘Too intimidating’, ‘too boring’, ‘too work-orientated’, ‘too bossy’, ‘too driven’ were all things she’d heard at one point or another, and admittedly many of them from Ron.  

Thirty seven wasn’t even old - especially by magical standards - but she didn’t exactly have the same bright-eyed charms as someone like, say, Lavender did anymore. Hard work, and a draining marriage seemed to have sapped much of the youth and vigour from her. And, if she were honest, being replaced by someone supposedly ‘more attractive’ had damaged her more deeply than she cared to admit, even to herself. There were certainly days when she felt like a washed-up, burnt-out, dowdy old matron. She had crashed out of a sparkling career in the Ministry to run a scruffy old second-hand bookshop next to the newly-refurbished Florian Fortescue’s ice cream parlour.  

“Why are you even bothering, Malfoy?” she murmured aloud as she stared blankly at the letter in her hands. With looks like his — and a groaning Gringotts’ account if the rumours were to be believed, not that that mattered a jot to Hermione — he could probably have had almost any witch he wanted, his past and reclusive behaviour be damned. And yet he was asking her to dinner after having only met twice since they turned eighteen? Three times, she supposed if she included that brief encounter at the Ministry on the night of the attack.  

Perhaps he was lonely just wanted the company. Perhaps she was just… convenient; a chump with a soft spot for outcasts…

Before she let herself go too far down that unsavoury rabbit hole, she forced herself to read on, heart pounding. Outside on the windowsill, the owl had gone very still, watching her with curious, orange eyes.  

Please feel free to send Cassiopeia back with your response either way. I hope I have not overstepped or misread how things are between us now, especially given our history, but I find my thoughts returning over and over to our evening, and to that surprise lunch on the 1st of September. I’m not sure what I had expected when you asked me to join you that day, but I certainly hadn’t expected to enjoy myself as much as I did. In the years since I became Scorpius’ sole guardian, I have not sought the company of others, nor have I particularly enjoyed it when it has been inflicted upon me, but those two occasions spent with you have drawn me out of myself. You truly are a remarkable witch, and I’m more moved and honoured than I can express that you have given me even this much of your precious time already.  

Before I begin to ramble too freely, I think I must sign off here.  

Yours,  

D.M.  

P.S. Scorpius did write to me in the end. He has a detention already, and Potter’s youngest is also involved somehow… I will get more details from him anon, and no doubt a letter from McGonagall in due course.  

For a long time, Hermione stood in her bedroom, with her hair in a wild halo around her head and her scruffy old pyjamas hanging low on her hips, just staring at his signature.  

When Draco’s owl began to fidget and fuss again, she sighed and looked up. “Sit tight,” she breathed. “I’m going to get a piece of paper and if you keep quiet, I might bring an owl treat with me when I come back, ok?”

Cassiopeia narrowed her eyes and ducked her head suspiciously, but remained put on the windowsill, so she took that as a ‘yes’ and disappeared into her tiny study.  

Grabbing a biro from the chipped mug that served as a pen and quill pot, and tearing a sheaf of paper from a muggle notebook, she scrawled a note back to him.  

With that done, and before she could talk herself out of what she had just accepted, she returned to his owl with a treat. The bird mobbed her for it instantly, but Hermione scowled at her, snatched her hand back, and barked, “Wait! My goodness, you are spoilt. Let me attach this first, and if I manage it without you drawing blood or otherwise maiming me, not only will it be a flipping miracle, but you’ll get your sodding treat, alright?”

The bird went still with a tiny shuffle of her wings, and stuck out her leg.  

“Thank you,” Hermione said tartly.  

Cassiopeia took off with her note attached by the same green ribbon and secured with a basic sticking charm. The downdraft from her departure sent bits of accumulated detritus from the window ledge spiralling up into Hermione’s face, but she coughed and blinked, and watched the bird soar way up into the sky. The receding dot of her silhouette banked west, out of sight and in the eventual direction of Wiltshire and Malfoy Manor.  

Malfoy Manor.  

She’d hardly given the place any thought since that fateful night ten or so years ago when Malfoy had been attacked, a whole wing had been burned to the ground, and Scorpius had nearly been killed. They’d never said in the papers who had done it, and the Auror Office had been distinctly tight-lipped about it. Not that she’d really bothered to find out more, if she were honest. Once Malfoy’s little yowling mandrake had left her office in his father’s arms, she had been almost instantly reabsorbed with her own caseload, and Harry had never mentioned the outcome of the investigation to her. A twinge of gilt shot through her but she pushed it down. It was hardly a topic for dinnertime conversation either, so she doubted she’d find out immediately.  

She thought vaguely about clambering back into bed, but since she was up, she headed to the kitchen and put the kettle on for a cup of tea. It had been a while since she’d been up before dawn, and she had some paperwork to do anyway.  

Cassiopeia’s appearance was not the only unusual thing to happen to her that day. She had no visitors to the shop at all for the entire morning, but when the brass bell above the door did finally chime, she looked up from the desk at the back of the shop to find Theo striding in.  

“Hi, love,” he grinned, stepping deer-like over the stack of recent arrivals beside the counter and stooping to hug her where she sat. “Lunch. You and me. Now.”

“Theo, I have a shop to run,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I can’t just… leave. Besides, I brought sandwiches.”

“I will literally pay you the price of an entire chest of first editions to spend the next few hours in my company if things are that tight. Or I could just… buy you an entire chest of first editions,” he said, adding with his most dangerous puppy-dog eyes, “Seriously, please come to lunch with me?”

She flicked her wrist and the ‘open’ sign hanging in the glass-panelled door flipped over to ‘closed’. “I’m not accepting your money, Theo. What’s the occasion?”

He twitched slightly and then flashed her a grin; a combination that made her instantly wary. “Does a gentleman need ‘an occasion’ to ask a beautiful lady to lunch?” he asked, his brown eyes wide with feigned innocence.  

Hermione slowly raised one eyebrow. “You’re gay. And happily married. And that’s a terrible line. Try again.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t take my very best friend out,” he shrugged nonchalantly.  

Something was definitely up.  

“Draco Malfoy is, and always has been, your very best friend in all the world. Try again.”

“You,” he said, actually growling the word this time with comical frustration, “Are one very persistent witch.”

“Mmhmm. How do you think I made it to Minister by twenty-seven, darling,” she grinned, still without getting up from her chair. “Last chance or I turn that sign around and forcibly evict you from my shop.”  

Theo whipped his wand out from his inner jacket pocket like he was in a duel, and apparently vanished the offending sign from the door altogether. “There. Your threats are empty. Come to lunch with me.”

“Theodore Nott, you return my sign this instant.”

“Say you’ll come to lunch with me, and the sign goes back up.”

“I will not be threatened in my own shop!” she laughed, arms folding across her chest like a petulant child. “Put it back. Now.”

“Say you’ll come with me,” he said with a wide, playful grin, planting his hands on the counter and leaning his long frame forwards.  

She had to bite her lips to stop from giggling. The charming scoundrel knew she’d say yes anyway. “I’ll tell Dan you were bullying me,” she said.  

“Tell him; he’ll never believe you. He thinks I’m lovely. Come on, Hermione,” he added, softening from playful to plaintive. “I need to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“You and my ‘very best friend in all the world’, that’s what,” he said, and levelled her with a flat stare.

Her stomach dropped and she remembered the letter from that morning. And its contents. ‘…if you would feel more comfortable knowing, then you can ask Theo while I am gone’ Draco had said. He’d spoken with Theo about asking her out. She didn't know whether to be honoured or embarrassed.

Seeing her expression slip, Theo came round the side of the counter to stand beside her and leaned his hips against the wooden desk. “So you like him?”

“I… Why would that be a surprise?”

Theo blinked, and then his gaze flickered down to her left forearm. Everyone knew about the word engraved into her skin with the point of a cursed knife — she’d never tried to conceal it — but not many knew the real truth of just how the slur had come to be carved indelibly into her flesh. Theo was one of the few who did. “You’re really asking me why I’m surprised you like him?” he said in a hoarse whisper. “You, of all people?”

She took a very deep breath, held it, and then sighed. “Let’s go. You’re paying though. And I’m drinking.”

He managed a shy smile, and as they approached the front door of her shop his shimmering illusion around the sign dissolved to reveal it once again.  

“Cheeky bugger,” she smirked at him and he waggled his eyebrows disarmingly. An undercurrent of anxiety still lurked beneath his jovial expression though.  

A number of new restaurants had opened up in Diagon Alley, but Theo’s and Dan’s favourite was a sleek, modern establishment, quite different from the fusty old decor of the Leaky Cauldron or the other more traditional restaurants in wizarding London. It also sat overlooking the crooked columns of Gringotts, and was eye-wateringly expensive. Naturally, Theo was greeted by name at the door, and the pair were shown without fuss or fanfare to one of the nicest — and most secluded — tables.

With food ordered, and enormous balloon-glasses of wine in front of them, Theo fixed her with a serious look and steered the conversation around to the real reason for his impromptu lunchtime kidnapping. “He finally grew a pair and asked you to dinner then?”

“Mmm,” she nodded. “I take it this is… unusual for him?”

Theo tipped his head back and chuckled softly, sounding more tired than amused. “That’s putting it mildly, love. Until Friday, I had the devil’s own job trying to get dear Draco to leave his gloomy little manor house and come to anything. I had to blackmail him into coming to our anniversary, you know?”  

Hermione just frowned, not entirely sure if he was being serious or not.  

Theo let out a slow breath and stared into his wineglass, idly twirling the stem between long fingers. “Don’t get me wrong,” he said without looking at her, “I’m beyond grateful that he finally seems to be opening up to the idea of… being somewhat… vulnerable again, but…”

“You’re worried I’m going to hurt him,” she said quietly, and Theo bowed his head. “Theo, I’m… You know me. This isn’t just some one night stand with a rich, attractive bloke I met in a bar. I haven’t —” she leaned in close over the table and hissed, “I haven’t even had sex with anyone in years, Theo. Years!” She brushed an errant corkscrew of hair back out of her eyes, embarrassed.

His lips twitched at that, but his eyes remained stormy.  

“I’m not going into this lightly. I was honestly as surprised as you are, but I wouldn’t even be considering going on a date with Draco Malfoy if I wasn’t completely convinced that he was no longer the bratty little owl-pellet he was back at Hogwarts.”

At that, Theo barked such a loud laugh that the patrons at the tables nearby turned to look at him like he’d sworn in a church. He covered his mouth with his hand and snickered himself into silent tears for a good thirty seconds before she rolled her eyes and sat back with her glass in her hand, waiting for him to control himself again.  

“I’m telling Dan you called him that. And Pansy. They’ll love it.”

“Right,” she said, cheeks suddenly hot. “Well, as much as he might have been an owl pellet, let’s not have it become a ‘thing’, hmm?”

The mirth in his face simmered back down and he looked at her steadily over the rim of his wineglass. “Look, I care about both of you, and I can see this going two ways. One: you realise that the two of you actually have an awful lot in common, he takes you to increasingly fancy places for dates, you have lots of steamy sex, and finally settle down together. Two: the past gets in the way, you both say hurtful stuff you don’t really mean, and you both end up single and twice as miserable as you were before you went for lunch at the Leaky. Don't think I didn’t know about that, either,” he added.  

“You’re such a gossip,” she snapped.  

“I was being serious, Hermione,” he said, leaning to one side as their food arrived.  

She paused until the waiter had left but didn’t make any move to pick up her cutlery. “Are you looking out for him or for me?” she asked.  

Theo sighed. “Both of you. But…”

“Mostly Draco, huh?”

“He’s like a brother to me, Hermione. He was there for me when no one else was. You know the things my father did to me as a child, and Draco helped me through all of it. And ‘Cissa too. And I couldn’t believe it when he actually showed up at drinks the other night. Watching him, it… it was like the old Draco had come back to me. The nice ‘old Draco’, I mean.” His eyes glistened and he blinked rapidly, voice cracking as he continued. “After the attack, he shut himself away at the Manor with Scorpius, as if he could keep the whole world out just to keep little Scorp safe. I thought… I thought he’d never leave, Hermione.”

“You never talked about any of this,” she said gently, forcing herself to make a start on her linguine despite the fact that her appetite had vanished almost completely.  

Theo shrugged. “I guess… I guess I wanted to give him the privacy he craved, and to be honest, I didn’t think you’d be all that sympathetic to him after your history.”

At that, she scowled, but she could see his point. “Theo, I held his screaming infant in my arms for hours while he was being questioned by the Aurors that night. I saw his face when he came to my office for Scorpius afterwards.” She shook her head. “No one who saw him then could believe he was even a shadow of the person he had been at Hogwarts.”

At her words, Theo had stopped eating, fork held loosely between perpetually-ink-stained fingers even as it rested on his plate. “You did? He never said.”

She tried not to examine that last comment too closely. “Mm. Harry didn't know what else to do with him, so he brought Scorpius to me to see if I could quieten him down. In the end all it took was a handful of my hair and a few poorly-sung folk songs. But you’re missing the point, Theo. You could have trusted me with things that were worrying you. I would have listened to you.”

“I —” he cut off and cleared his throat. “I know. I’m sorry. I just… Aside from Dan, I don’t think I love anyone as much as I love him.”

It was Hermione’s turn to choke up a little, but she swallowed and said, “Then I can think of no greater accolade for his character.” She looked up at him and added, “So where’s he taking me then?”

“You said yes?”

“I did. I like him. And not just because he looks like a flipping marble statue brought to life. He’s thoughtful, and he always was extremely intelligent and articulate. I’ve really enjoyed talking with him this time around. I think… I think…” she pursed her lips and took a too-big gulp of wine. Luckily it all went down the right way, and she forged on. “I think… we could work. Or at least… I want to see where it goes, Theo.”

With a slow nod, Theo finally relaxed his shoulders and let out a shaky breath. “He wants to take you to The Foundry.”  

“I’ve never heard of it,” she mumbled. It wasn’t one of the ones in Diagon Alley, for sure.

Theo made a side-to-side movement of his head. “I’m not surprised. It’s…”

“Oh God, is it horrifically expensive?” she asked, eyes wide with a sudden abject terror. “Theo, if he’s going to take me somewhere hideously fancy for our first date, I’m going to back out right now…”

The corners of his lips lifted and he shook his head. “Not in the way you’re thinking. You have to know the owners to get a table though, and there are no menus. They’ll ask if you have any allergies, but other than that, you eat what they serve you.”

“Holy fuck, Theo…”

“Trust me, you’ll love it. The place used to be a bell foundry in the seventeenth century — hence the name — and it’s this gorgeous brick building with arches and vaults, and cosy little corners,” he added, raising his eyebrows. “You’ll forget where you are and be as comfortable as if you were in your own pokey little Muggle living room. I promise.”

She narrowed her eyes and took another gulp of wine. “I’ll take your word for it, Nott,” she said. “What should I wear?”

Without hesitation, he said, “That burgundy number you haven’t worn since Pansy told you to buy it.”

She blanched at that. “Theo, it’s…”

“Gorgeous? Revealing in all the right ways, yet modest enough to suit you? Dead sexy? Exactly the kind of thing that will make Draco lose his goddamn mind when he sees you in it? The kind of thing that will make him spend all evening simultaneously admiring you in it and mentally tearing it off you —”

“Theo, stop!” she hissed, flushing darker. “For God’s sake shut up!”

He cackled into the remainder of his wine, but refused to give any more sartorial advice.  

“Burgundy dress and heels it is, I guess,” she said, and the two of them focused on their food again.  

“I hope,” Theo said as they left a very leisurely two hours later, “I hope you don’t think I was too…” he jiggled nervously on the balls of his feet as he held the door open for her, “Overbearing…”

“I mean, you did ambush me, blackmail and threaten me into having lunch with you at the fanciest restaurant in Diagon Alley where I couldn’t reasonably kick up a fuss, and then proceed to tell me all sorts of heartrending stories about Draco and yourself…”  

When she saw the wounded look in Theo’s brown eyes, she stopped and turned to face him.

“Theo, no. You’re one of my best friends, and you clearly care about us both. Stop panicking,” she added when she saw the slightly wild light in his eyes. “You didn’t try to tell me what to do or who to see. You’re looking out for your friends, and making sure we’re both… serious about this. And I appreciate that.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and added, “But know that if you keep meddling beyond that, I will hex your bollocks off and make you explain it to Dan.”

“Understood,” he said with a watery smile. “I was worried I’d overstepped.”

“I’ll forgive you if you tell me one thing.”

“Name it.”

“Did you have the same talk with Draco about breaking my heart?”

His handsome, freckled face split into a blinding white grin. “I did.”

“Forgiven,” she said. “Now, some of us actually have to work for a living.”

“I work!” he squealed. “I work bloody hard up in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, thank you very much!”

“I know you do,” she conceded. “Not that you actually need a job, you filthy rich prick.”

Theo laughed long and loud, scooping her hand up in his and walking arm in arm down the bustling, cobbled street towards her bookshop. “And to think,” he chimed with a sidelong look down at her, “You used to be Minister for Magic with that mouth.”

“I know,” she said. “It nearly got me into trouble on many an occasion.”

Kneazel and Quill’s little sign swung jauntily in the breeze and Theo gave a slight bow from the waist when they stopped at the door. With anyone else, it might have seemed foppish and insincere, but with Theo, she knew he meant it. He was only silly like this with his closest friends.  

“Good day, fair maiden of the dusty bookshop,” he said. “And thank you for giving my idiot best friend a chance.”

Hermione nodded and smiled. She stood and soaked up the autumn sunshine for a while as she watched his retreating back, until he eventually disappeared into the Diagon Alley entrance to the Ministry and she slid back into the musty quiet of her little sanctuary.

Chapter Six

___

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter of friendship! Next time, Hermione and Draco go for that date...!! Things will start to gain momentum too, fear not. It’s not going to be an eternal slow-burn...

writing masterlist | Ao3

#dramione #dramione fic #draco malfoy x hermione granger #hermione granger x draco malfoy #draco x hermione #hermione x draco #theodore nott #hermione granger #let no man steal your thyme

[gucciwins]

Confessions ll

Harry messed up and Y/N doesn’t know how to move forward

A/N: The long awaited part two. Confessions was written over a year ago and I’d like to think my writing has grown since then. I honestly debated a part two for forever but here it is. I hope you love it as much as you loved part one. 

read part one of confessions here

* * * * *

“Tell me once again what you did for the past week?" 

"Sarah, I told you I watched all seven seasons of Gilmore Girls. Ate food I cooked, not reheated. Well, it was mainly soup and simple pasta. I did take showers and change clothes. Although I have not washed any." You share as you pick up your laundry basket and begin to fill it with a few lose clothes around your room. The room was always kept nice with a bed made and no scattered garments, but that couldn't be said now. You had clothes all over, pillows on the floor, and an unfolded comforter which Ginger was taking advantage of and sleeping on top of. Not mentioning how the living room looked, you started with the laundry. 

"You're telling me you spent roughly 154 hours in front of your television watching a show on Netflix." Sarah pauses. "That means you've either slept fourteen hours straight or slept two hours each night." 

"Your math skills are great still." You laugh, not answering her. “It wasn’t even a good show. But oh well now.”

"Y/N," Sarah pesters. 

"Fine. I slept roughly two hours after I finished a season." 

"What about work?" 

"I am working from home on this project. It's due in three weeks, and I'm ahead, need to edit a few things, then I'm all good." 

You put Sarah on speaker and place your phone on top of the basket as you walk to the washer. You know she's frustrated with you, but this is the best way to heal heartache. Well, your best approach. 

"Are you feeling better, hun" Sarah sighs. "I know it's hard, but I'm here for you. As is Mitch." 

You drop the basket in your basement and begin to load your clothing. "Look, Sarah, I know you both care. I just need to solve this on my own. Ha-" You cut yourself off before saying his name. "He's a great guy, but I don't need a jealous boyfriend in my life. He knows how I act, how cuddly I am, but if he saw me as someone unfaithful, then what's the point of trying. No trust. No love." 

"He's not a bad guy." Sarah starts.

"No, I know that. Trust me, the time we got to spend together, I saw how kind and generous Harry is. He's more than just another famous guy, but second chances. I'm not known for that." You know second chances are good, but it is also a way to lead to being hurt once again. "I know he's your friend, but he was mine as well."

"You're not going to give him the chance to apologize?" 

"Of course, I will. I forgive him, but what else is there to do, it's not li-like he was my boyfriend." 

"Y/N, you confessed your love to him." 

Sarah is trying her best to be neutral, but you know she was rooting for the two of you to make it. To defeat the odds thrown your way. No one expected it to end before it started.

"Yeah, well, come-what-may." 

"What does that mean?" 

"Well, if a bus is heading right at you, let it come." You say quoting Liz from the series you just watched. Not the brightest philosophy, but it's all you have right now. 

"That sounds like a disaster."

"Yeah, it does. You'd save me from the bus, right?" 

Sarah laughs. "Of course, I would. Who else cooks for me expecting nothing in return?" 

You laugh for the first time in what feels like months. Sarah is always able to break you out of your deep dark times. 

"Dinner at my place on Wednesday." You tell her, wanting to get together without having to leave your house. 

"We'll be there." 

You go to hang up, but remember an essential thing for dinner. "Mitch needs to make his brownies, always taste so heavenly." You let out a low moan just thinking about the melting chocolate. 

"I'll tell him, I will also leave out the part where you get wet for brownies." Sarah laughs, and you can't help but join her. Those brownies are just too sinful. 

She hangs up, leaving you in the quiet of your basement. It would be good to see Sarah and Mitch even if Harry blew up at you the last time you saw them. You shake your thoughts away and finish loading the wash. Picking up the previous item, it's a blue Mickey Mouse shirt. Except, it's not yours, it's his. He had come over for dinner and decided he wanted to do the cooking. He brought the spoon to his mouth to taste and ended up spilling. You were quick to strip it off him and rinse it, not wanting it to stain. But did not wash it in a load right away. He was in no hurry to put a shirt back on. To his displeasure, you handed him a Washington State sweater that belonged to your brother. He had looked good in it. That night you didn't sleep until four am not noticing the time and lost in pleasant conversations.

It's crazy how fast the night changes. 

* * * * *

"Mitch, I made chicken tinga with you in mind. I remember you saying how much you were dying to try some three weeks ago." You say as you set a plate of shredded lettuce on the table. "I have it in good authority that I make one of the best. My grandma said I mastered it, so if you don't like it take it up with her." 

Mitch laughs, remembering saying that when you all went out for drinks. "It smells amazing, I'm sure it's great." 

"Anything you touch tastes amazing." Sarah comments.

The conversation flowed calmly over dinner, not one mention of Harry. It feels off being without him, but you can't change what happened, only move on. Sarah and Mitch were your friends before you even knew Harry, but the same goes for Harry. One moment they were strangers and the next they were best friends, now you had no idea where you stood. 

Mitch got up and went for the brownies and set a plate of two in front of you and Sarah but only one for himself. You were about to bite into the delicious treat when there was a knock on your door. 

You all froze, not knowing who it could be. Not your brother, seeing as you drove him to the airport on Sunday. You briefly talked about Harry, but he knew it was your decision to make. Thomas was a good man, but all too forgiving something you never understood. You look at Sarah and shrug as if to say you don't know who's behind the door. You miss the nervous look Mitch gives Sarah as you stand up and make your way to the door. 

You live in a safe community, preceding checking the peephole. The door opens and in front of you is Harry. He looks nervous, cheeks red, and smile small. He takes a step back, and all you want to do is close the door. Not caring for a word that comes out of his mouth. 

Harry sees the look in your eyes and is quick to react. "I'm not here to stay, but I do want to talk.  

You narrow your eyes at him. "Not tonight." 

"It has to be tonight." He pleads. 

You refuse to do this on his terms, let alone without warning. "No."

"Please," Harry takes a step closer, and you catch his eyes glistening. 

"I need you to leave." It's hard telling him to go, but it's what you need.

"Will you hear me out, if I leave?" Harry's stubborn, you learned that the hard way during one of your first arguments where you needed to go home after a late night of drinking, but he wouldn't hear it practically pushing you to his guest room.

"Of course." 

Harry grins, and it almost makes you forget your anger. 

"But not tonight."

His smile falters. You've caught him off guard. 

"Then, when?" He whispers, all confidence gone. 

You think for a moment, "Friday, I'll meet you at Carol's Diner."

"Okay, 12," Harry says, knowing that was your usual time to have lunch there together. 

"Eight" You're embarrassed to correct. "If that's okay, I've got meetings all day." 

Harry nods. "No problem at all." 

He walks down the steps and to his car. You can't help but stand there as he walks away. He would always drag his feet playfully joking how he didn't like being kicked out. He didn't stay the night unless he had some alcohol. You told him one drop, and you'd have the couch ready for him. Which always ended with him in your bed because he said your living room was haunted. 

You miss him, but you don't know how to move forward. 

* * * * *

Late. You're late, and Harry knows he deserves it, hell you might not even show up. 

Harry ordered a black coffee, not knowing if they'd eat or not. The waiter had just served him his refill when you walked in the diner. You spot him right away, and he can't help but begin to sweat. 

"Harry, I'm sorry. My last meeting ran a little longer." You shrug your coat off before sliding into the booth across from him. "I hope you didn't think I was setting you up."

"'Course not. You hungry? Didn't know if you wanted to order." 

"Starving, I've been craving french toast and a milkshake." You laugh, looking at Harry. "That sounds like a lot of sugar. I'm sorry." 

"It's fine, lo-Y/n." He clears his throat. 

You both place your orders, and then the silence takes over. Harry sits there staring at you while you look out the window staring at the park entrance. You count three couples walking in and four families coming out. You also spotted two dogs, frowning when no more showed up.

You're surprised at how fast the food comes and dig right in. Harry and you eat in silence. The chatter of the diner is the only noise around you. Harry steals glances at you, but you never meet his gaze. Too nervous for that. You finish most of your food, but stop once you see Harry set his fork down. Your hands are quick to go in your lap, slowly tracing patterns up and down your palm to keep calm. 

"We've got to talk." 

You sit there patiently, allowing Harry to be the first one to speak. Harry wanted this so bad he has the floor.

Harry stares at you, and he's afraid he's going to lose you after this moment. 

"I'm sorry, let me start with that." He reaches his hand out but pulls back when he sees them in your lap. "There's no excuse for what I did. I was awful, and you deserve better. You deserve trust, and I didn't give it to you." He takes a deep breath. "Looking back, you let me in, really in, but I always kept you at arm's length, waiting for you to mess up. An excuse to hurt you instead of being the one who gets hurt, but in the end, that didn't work out."

"Harry," You try to cut in.

"No, let me finish." You give the nod, and he continues. 

"Those words I said were not true at all. You never used me for nothing. We always did things in private. I'd always force you to go to the bar with us. That dinner was the first time you initiated a public outing, and even then, the place was small and quiet."

"I don't like crowds, and you don't like paparazzi." You say because it's just that simple.

"See, Y/N. You look to put others before you, but I don't want you to do that now. I acknowledge what I did was awful. I told my mum about it because the guilt was eating at me, and she was so disappointed in me. I'm disappointed in me." 

Harry frowns, looking down at his bare hands. The rings at home, no comfort. He holds himself bare in front of you. 

"I want you to put yourself first even if that means not being in my life anymore." 

You focused your eyes on him. This is Harry, honest and nervous Harry. The guy who recites love actually as it plays. Who laughs out loud to all of Mitch's jokes. The one who always rushes to open your doors. 

"Thank you. This is still a lot." Your eyes begin to burn as you remember his confession. "You said-"Your voice cracks. "You said you were falling in love with me." 

Harry's green eyes begin to fill with tears. He nods in acknowledgment of your words.

"My brother is my best friend but Harry, so were you. Those two months felt like ten years, I felt like you've been in my life forever. That hurt Harry, all because what I was sleeping on was someone's arm like I didn't do it before you, and I won't do it after you." You pause to get your emotions under control. "My brother vouched for you. Said you apologized and cried. That you were quick to see your mistake. My brother approves of few people and to have his approval even after what happened means he sees the good in you." 

"Thomas was amazing. I'm glad you have each other." Harry inputs wanting you to know the feeling is mutual. 

"Harry," you take a drink of water. "We were never together. never went on a date, never asked to be boyfriend or girlfriend, we never kissed." 

"It felt like we were," Harry tells you.

"You're right," You set your hands on the table. "That's why it hurt so much when you said all that to me." 

He doesn't deserve you, he knows that, which is why your next words surprise him. 

"I forgive you."

"Thank you," Harry moves to hold your hand, but you don't let him. 

He doesn't hide his shock. 

"I just can't be with you, at least not now." He nods. "You have to understand, I think we'd burn together."

"You don't mean that." It comes out in a whisper. 

"I'm doing what's best for us now. I care too much about you to go into a relationship only for us to break each other's hearts." 

Harry's heart is breaking, and there's no one else to blame but himself. 

"We're bound to run into each other again, Sarah's my best friend and Mitch is her sidekick. I'm not asking you to wait for me, that'd be wrong. But if we ever find yourself in the same place and the feelings are there, and we both feel the timing is right, then I'll be open to asking you on a date or you asking me."

Harry smiles in understanding, no matter how much it hurts him.  

There's not much left to say. Harry knows this is goodbye. "You'll always be my friend, I hope you know I'll always be a phone call away."

You nod and stand up. "Thank you, Harry. I'm here for you as well." 

Harry stands and wraps his arms around you, giving you a tight squeeze. 

"I'm sorry for hurting you. I really am, but thank you for giving me the chance to grow and learn." He steps back. 

"You're a good man, Harry." 

"And you have the purest most beautiful soul." Harry's staring into your eyes, and you can't help but tear up. 

You reach forward and squeeze his hand three times. 

"Take care, H."

 Harry watches as you walk out of the diner. 

He's lost you once again, but he knows your paths will cross once more. 

* * * * *

I love you so much! Thank you for reading! 

Please let me know what you thought about Confession ll 

#harry styles #harry angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles writing #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #angst #harry styles x you #harry styles blurb #writing

[miss-choco-chips]

Soul shards part 2

This isn’t edited in the slightest folks. Wrote this in a LONG car ride and I’m beat. Tumblr was being difficult and wouldn’t let me copy an paste so I had to copy every individual paragraph, so there might be some mistakes.

Shoutout to @sideeffectsofwriting who suggested damitim and kicked the muse into motion and @the-quiet-carrotcake who let me cry about this on chat.

.-.-.-

He needed to do what not even the Batman could achieve.  

He would bring Drake back.

-.-.-.-

11  - 16

Damian’s first gifted soulshard came from his mother, when he turned five. It was a beautiful orange-red dagger, with flecks of gold here and there, and he wanted to hold it more than anything in the world.

Then his mother put it in his hand, closed his fingers around it and held a kitten by the scruff and hind legs in front of him, as an offering. An order. A mission. And, once it was carried, the slightest hint of satisfaction in her eyes.

Those were the feelings the dagger was imbued with; expectation, and pride. Not for who he was, but for what he did. A heavy weight, and a cold one, right until the moment the mission was complete; after that, a short-lived warmth crept up his arm, the starting point the dagger in his hand.

Or maybe it was the kitten’s blood what chased the cold (and his sleep) away. It should have been comforting.

It wasn’t.

When Grayson chose him as his Robin, he sealed the deal by giving Damian an R shaped soul shard in the form of a brooch. It should have been an ecstatic moment for him, his second ever soul shard being gifted to him by his Batman.

It wasn’t. 

While warmer and lighter than his dagger, it felt… off. Their bond was just growing then, no trust nor love giving shape to the soul given away. Instead, Damian was presented with Grayson’s feelings of responsibility (to the city), despair (because they both have just lost their father) and reluctant resignation (because even when Grayson choose him, it was obviously not what he wanted, it couldn’t be, not when there was already a Robin fully indoctrinated in The Mission perfectly available and… more loved), as well as the barest hint of hopeful fondness.

He doesn’t hold it against him; that was just their beginning, and it was the gesture what was important, a gift from the soul that Damian hadn’t yet earned, a trust at giving himself away to the child he had just decided to take under his wing. Were Grayson to give him a new soul shard, he was sure the feelings wouldn’t be so harsh now that they had formed and nurtured this bond between them. Still, he treasured his brooch for what it was: a chance to prove himself, a chance at a home.

Drake’s soul (not a shard, not a piece, but the remainings of his actual soul; his core) was an entirely new phenomenon. The moment he received it, clenched it in his hands for the first time, it was imbued with a rage and contempt that didn’t surprise him, as those were the grounds of their relationship. But, with every passing minute, the feeling just… calmed down, like… forgiveness? Acceptance? It was like a pat on the back after a hard patrol with Grayson, after he made a mistake and the man would just sigh and tell him ‘do better next time, but let’s just put this behind us’. But… from Drake?

It- that was- there weren’t actual words to explain it. Damian had never heard of it, of a change on the emotions inside the soul, but, he supposes, this wasn’t something Drake had sharded with an idea in mind, this wasn’t a love confession or a methaporical friendly hug. Drake had just… given himself away, entirely.

Damian wasn’t sure what it meant, but the mystery of that pushed him relentlessly to the batcave, to the monitors where he would watch and rewatch old footage of Drake’s training, read old reports, dig as deep as he could in search of information that might clear things up for him.

That might explain the clench in his heart when he held the tiny soul.

.-.-.-.

He is missing.

Bruce can’t process it at first. He has every camera, every metahuman, every genius hero at his disposal… and nothing.  No one could find Tim, and he’s been gone for over a week. Seven days and twelve hours, if he was counting. Which he was, because seeing the pretty ice blue watch on his wrist, warm with admiration, respect and adoration, slowly turning cold and red and black was high on the list of the scariest moments of his life. 

He was holding his son’s soul, soon it wouldn’t feel any different than the Rolex he might wear for a charity.

It terrified him.

The only piece of Tim’s soul he could find (and it had taken him a while, to track down everyone Tim ever gave a shard to, even going so far as to dig Janet and Jack’s graves, because there were so many pieces; too many, although his Titans friends had flat out rejected his request to give them to him) to remain icy blue was Damian’s. Which would be fantastic for testing, for figuring out what was wrong, maybe even for tracking Tim down…  If Damian weren’t so dead set on keeping it in his direct line of sight, on the little leather pouch by his hip or dangling from his neck.

The twelve year old had proven willing to stab any hand that tried to take his soul shard away, accepting only those tests that were safe and could be made in front of his eyes.

-We could try to, like… mesh my piece of soul with Damian’s? -had suggested Dick, once, earlier on the week.

-And how, pray tell, would you do it? Drake himself is the one that shaped your necklace. This are his soul shards, no one but him can bend them to their will. 

-I mean… Cass’s father, Cain, he made dents and bumps in her soul, so it’s not like its impossible…

-…after years of abuse, from which her soul has yet to recover! Of all the stupid/!

Dick, on very little sleep and with worry and guilt battling it out inside his heart, rolled his eyes at Damian’s objections.

-We won’t hurt him for the hell of it, but he could be in danger, or lost, or who knows what! There’s little to no precedent about soulless people. Since when do you care so much about Tim’s wellbeing, anyway?

-And since when do you *not*?

That had ended the argument quickly. Guilt had won in Dick. Damian’s gifted little piece of soul remained at it’s pouch.  And Tim was still missing.

Bruce wanted to pull at his hair, yell and throw fists. He did none of these. Damian needed him. He had already failed one son.

.-.-.-.

12  - 17 

Life goes on, after a tragedy. And this tragedy in particular was a silent one; there was no blood, no screaming, no tears. Just someone that left it all behind and disappeared on the wind. And, as much as the Bats wanted to find him, Tim going on a solo trip wasn’t alarming enough for them to ignore the day to day dangers of Gotham, the multiverse threats, the alien invasions. As concerning as multiple soul shards changing color and losing emotion had been, the fact remained that it… just wasn’t priority.

Timothy could look after himself; the civilians of Gotham and the world at large couldn’t.   At least, that was what father said.

Damian was of a different mind.

He noticed it at first during a Justice League meeting. He had taken to playing around with the little ice blue ball when lost in thought, or was nervous, a habit developed after hours, days and months sitting by the cave’s monitors studying his predecessor.

So there he was, idly rolling it between his fingers, careful to not drop it, when he catches sight of Superboy…

(The Titans were a mess, Wonder Girl, SB and Impulse running around like headless chickens, dropping everything, no matter how mission-important, at the slightest mention of anything Red Robin related, recruiting the help of old fiends from their Young Justice days, hurting so much not even him, usually indifferent to his peers’ drama, could remain untouched by their pain) 

…being scolded by Superman. Which, would normally not even phase Damian, impartial about the clone outside of his relationship with Drake as he was.

But. But. When Superman layed a condescending hand on Kon El’s shoulder, something spiked inside Damian, a sudden and strong desire to slap that hand away, to growl at the man, to protect his/ 

…his best friend?  

That thought it’s what gives him pause, stops him mid step, where he was unthinkingly approaching the aliens. 

Those weren’t his feelings, but Drake’s.

At the realization, the little soul in his hand glowed and warmed and almost jumped right out of it.  It seemed to say ‘finally’.

Damian couldn’t breath.

.-.-.-.

He kept quiet about this new knowledge, but it nagged at him. He had to test this out. 

He held the small soul while watching Grayson train by the Cave’s trapeze. Rolled it between fingers with little to no trouble while covertly listening to Cain and Brown tease each other. Made a protective fist around it when he stumbled across Red Hood during patrol, catching the -now reformed- antiheroe mid flight. 

Admiration and yearning (teach me, choose me, love me).

Fondness and familiarity (bond with me, laugh with me, stand by me).

Trepidation and want (please look at me, please stop hating me, please let me watchadmirelove you). 

Those weren’t his feelings, so. Confirmed then. Holding Drake’s soul, he apparently had an open door to the man’s feelings. An insight to the deepest parts of him. 

Weeks into his discovery, he learned a few things. For example, how annoyingly emotional the young man was. Did Drake always feel everything this intensely? It was exhausting, and Damian at least had the option to put the soul away at it’s pouch, stopping the flow of emotions. Drake… well, he did leave it behind, after all. 

Which made him wonder, if he had Drake’s emotions at hand, what did it leave his predecessor with?

.-.-.-.-.-.

13  - 18

It pained Damian to admit this, but Drake was… good. Too good. Unbelievable so, for someone that started his formal training way later in life than Damian.  

The footage in front of him was one he had viewed already dozens of times, and he still couldn’t believe his eyes. A gift requested to his mother, footage from the Cradle, about two years before.  

At first, Damian had just wanted to uncover the mystery of Drake’s time away during Father’s absence. What happened during those months, to drive one like his Gradfather from mild admiration to almost obsessive, possessive desire? What elevated the, by the time, teenager to a spot previously occupied by none other than The Batman, and even beyond? 

His in into the League allowed him access to the answer. And he understood.  The mixture of recklessly brave plans, creatively executed acrobatics, heart-stopping genius and iron clad morals. Fighting against the Spiders, protecting the innocent at his back, all the while under tight schedule on his plan to land an unprecedented hard blow to the League.  

It was breathtaking. The young detective, that unmasked the man many believed was no more than a myth, the novice hero that when told ‘no’ started his own team of fighters, that while no one else thought it possible defied Death itself for the life of his adoptive father. Barely older than Damian himself, with half his years of training, and still so far away. Leagues ahead of him. 

Out of his reach… 

A grimace,  an unfamiliar tightness in his chest and then Damian was cracking his knuckles and typing away at the computer.  If his Grandfather viewed Drake above Father, then maybe Damian was going about this the wrong way, in his quest to surpass every Robin before him. He needed to succeed where even Father had failed, reaching to a step below Drake instead of the entire flight of stairs he had ahead of him.

  …but not for long.  

He needed to do what not even the Batman could achieve.  

He would bring Drake back.

.-.-.-.-.

It takes some time. He studies for weeks under Gordon, shadows Cyborg’s steps for a while, even declines patrol once or twice claiming a stomachache when he feels he’s close to a clue. Has the Titans permanently hacked (props of connecting from the Batcave’s computer, no one questioned the backdoor on their system, assumed it was Batman checking on them) and an alert programmed on his phone for every time some reporter catches sight of the Drake-Wayne heir (none so far, but, like a voice that sounded like Grayson singsonged, cover all your bases).  

And even after all of that, it was still Drake himself that pointed him in the right direction.  

Damian was idly scrolling down some online headlines, mind numb with tiredness barely paying attention to the titles, when the little soul between his forefinger and thumb gave him a spark, so sudden it was like an electric shock, sapping him out of it and forcing his attention to the article on screen. 

Serial killer known as The Gardener found tied in the front lawn of his supposed next victims, after seven months evading the Parisian police force. Family claims they never saw nor heard anything until the morning, when the father was about to head for work and stumbled across the handcuffed man, hand clutching his signature weapon, unconscious and still bleeding from, what the police assumes, was a short lived fight… 

The soul pulsed again. Disgust, rage, adrenaline… pride, vindictive pride. The same emotions that soared through him when a would be rapist fell to his sword during patrol. 

Quick eyes scanning through the article, nothing pointing towards a vigilante, no pattern that he could see pointing to his missing predecessor. And still, Damian knew.

Energy renewed, he scanned through older news, titles. Nothing sparked the soul, until a thwarted robbery on Scotland gave him pause. Again, the article itself was generic, no common points except the mystery of whoever stopped the crime from happening, but… his gut, and Drake’s gut, they were both screaming at him.  

This was him. What was he doing on Paris? Was he still there? Two articles, separated by a few weeks, was more of a clue than anyone had found this far, but it was still nothing. And the last one, with the Serial Killer, was from two days ago. Even if he told Father and he dispatched a velocist or super, it’d still be too  late. Drake wouldn’t have been able to evade them this long if he iddled long somewhere. Sighing tiredly he fell back into the chair, raising the little soul so it was eye level.

After all this time, after all his training, after all of father’s efforts to track his wayward son, it was proved only Drake could find Drake. A little, sleep deprived smile broke his scowl.  

He was too tired to feel frustration.

Not too much for admiration, though.

.-.-.-.-.

That same night, oceans away, a slim figure dealt the finishing blow to some wannabe gangsters on a upper class Venetian neighbour. They had been armed, but only the slightest of scratches decorated his arm. The other guys… weren’t so lucky. They’d be lucky if their broken ribs didn’t pierce a lung.  

The scared girls that he saved from being jumped (or worse) rushed forward once their attackers hit the ground, sobbing between their heartfelt thanks and praises. Trembling hands reaching for his cap-less back, the slippery material of his dark shirt slipping from their fingers. Still, he carefully moved out of range and tonelessly told them to call for the police, letting them comfort each other and waiting only until he could hear the sirens approaching. Then, he was gone, lost to the night that had spited him out to fight the treath minutes before.  

On the back of his mind, something told him he should be annoyed. He had been good to keep himself out of the media’s attention, dealing with crimes where no one would be able to pinpoint exactly who had been their saviour, or how had they been spared from the danger. Like the Parisian family. Now that was a clean work. Found the killer, guessed his next target and caught him just before the crime. In, fight, out. Easy, untraceable.

Two scared girls might not have the clearest memories of their traumatic attack, but ‘young, black clothed man fights off gangsters with a staff’ would surely make the headlines, which meant hailing ass as far from here as possible before anyone could trace this back to him.  

People tracking him raised in his gut… the closest thing to emotions he had nowadays (something he hadn’t been bothered with for years now), namely annoyance. He had a goal in mind, rules he played by, things to avoid. Having all that endangered was troublesome, and even worse was how inevitable it was. He couldn’t exactly ignore the crying girls, not because he cared, but his body always moved on its own on situations like this, personal preferences overrode by muscle memory.

How inconvenient.

And speaking of…

He barely nodded in acknowledgement when a shadowed figure fell into step besides him, keeping up on his sprint from rooftop to rooftop.

-My Master wishes to extend an invitation to dinner. He demands your company.  

Not Pru then, but not so different from what he expected.

He hummed, for show more than anything else, eyeing the leather pouch by the man’s hip. A Soul Carrier, nothing flashy but firmly attached. Classic League.

The shadow flinched. They all did. Something in his lack of soul scared them shitless when he payed attention to theirs, as if he would snatch them and steal away with it.

Ha. Please. He didn’t even want his own soul back, why in hell would he take theirs? He’d never feel lighter before.

And even if sometimes the emptiness inside made him eye with attention the knife he carried on his boot as a last resort, those moments were few and easily forgotten.

-Depends. Is he ready to pay for the pleasure of it? It’s been a while, I’m on need of cash and resources, so my fee has gone up.  

A moment of silence while the shadow listened on his earpiece for his answer. Then, a nod.

-Okay then. Tell him to send me directions to the place once I’m out of this country. And that if he wants me to wear something pretty, he better chose a nice, camera-less place. Also, if he doesn’t keep his hands to himself, he’ll need one of those shiny green pools of his to regrow a few fingers.

.-.-.-.-.

14  - 19

Todd’s emergency beacon called from Tokyo, interrupting their post patrol debrief. Father had programmed all their distress signals so they would always come through, no matter what else was doing on or what Do not Disturb protocols he might have. Nothing would get in the way to saving his sons ever again.  

When they answered, tense and (in Damian’s case, reluctantly) worried, it was to the sounds of heavy breathing and clang of metal against metal. A fight.

-/ing hell! Fuck! Goddamned little/ anyone copy me?!

Father, cowless but every bit the Batman, pressed a finger against the keyboard and dropped his voice am octave. 

-Red Hood, here cave, we copy you. What’s the situation?

The sounds of fighting never stopped, and whatever could keep Hood on his toes like this and forced him to call for help was enough to have Damian reaching for his Soul Carrier, where two different (in size and colorthen) spheres guarded each other. It was a habit he needed to train himself out of, but for now, a needed comfort. 

-I /shit shit SHIT, YOU LITTLE FUCKER/ I found the bastard! Tim!

A needle dropping could be heard in the following silence. Cain steps as she approached the batconputer could be heard  and that was something.

The smallest of the souls in his carrier pulsed at the sight of Brown’s distress as she clutched Black Bat’s hand, her other going to the almost completely red locket hanging from her neck. If it followed the pattern of both Grayson and Father, it would soon turn dark.  

(Unlike the clone and velocist, those two’s soul shards still retained the icy blue color, and Damian couldn’t help but think it had something to do with the fact that the people that had betrayed Drake the worst were the ones that were losing their connection to him first; Cain’s own compass was still mostly blue) 

Damian’s own soul basically jumped to his hand at the implication of what Todd was saying (he ignored the flash of disappointment that he wasn’t the one to find Drake, the little spark of something on the icy blue little ball that still reacted to that idiotic Todd…).  

Grayson was the one that basically pushed father out of the way, so he could lean over the keyboard, as if that would make him be heard clearer, hand fondling with the chain around his neck that was Drake ’s first shard, both to be created and to lose it’s warmth. 

-A-are you sure? Our Timmy?

-You have eyes on him? -demanded father as he typed away, faster than Damian ever remembered seeing, probably sending some kind of message to the Justice League for assistance.

-Damn right I’m sure, stumbled across him during my mission here, don’t know anyone as annoying/ FUCK can’t you see I’m on the phone ya lil shit?! I can do you one better than eyes on the bastard, B, I’ll put my hands around his weasly lil neck/! 

A window popped on the Cave monitor (of course Gordon was eavesdropping) as Oracle traced the call and hacked the street camera closest to Todd’s location. 

The figure was all in black, taller and leaner than Damian remembered. Or was that because he spent so much time watching footage of his time as Robin?

Drake was smaller then, baby faced and bird-boned. A child. Somewhere along the line, lost in studying his formative years, Damian had forgot the fact that he was a man, now.

He certainly looked the part, now. Graceful as fought Hood off, tough a lot more brutal, if Hood’s grunts of pain everyone the shiny staff made contact could be believed. He seemed in a hurry, too, judging by his almost too fast to be seen movements. 

The fight moved a little (likely Hood’s doing), and they shifted just enough for them to see, in the grainy quality of the camera, a second of Drake’s face before before he seemed to sense that he was being watched.

Something was thrown the camera’s way, a little gadget, and everything turned black. The only connection the Cave had to Drake now was the still going sounds of fighting. 

-Hood, tell him to stop! We don’t mean him any harm/

-I do, the little fucker broke my left wrist! Imma gonna show him!

-Hood! -now not only Grayson, but Brown too, chided. 

-Just stall him -commanded Father- Clark is on his way.

-Easy for you to say! Whatever he’s being doing this last few years, it gave him a hell of a boost. I can barely/ 

Silence. Not just Hood shutting up, but no more breaths, no more metallic clang. The line had been cut, something that shouldn’t been possible after all the upgrades father made to their comms. 

By the time Superman arrived to Gotham, an hour had passed, and not even Gordon could re install the connection to either the street camera nor the comm. Not that it would do any good: Hood was unconscious and brutally beated up, and not even a full scan of the city by various metas gave them any hint of Drake ’s location.  

The icy blue soul pulsed with guilt at hood’s state, but also an undeniable pride at the fact that Drake got away.

Damian felt like throwing it against a wall. Instead, he cradled it in his hands, against his chest, as he went to sleep that night.

He dreamed of grainy camera footage, the face in the recording handsome and lethal, the coldness on pretty eyes replaced by the emotional icy blue of his soul.

.-.-.-.-.

He woke up in the morning and laid on bed for a while. 

Ignorant on the emotional side of things as Grayson might believe him, Damian wasn’t about to lie to himself. 

There was no denying the clenching on his gut when the camera displayed the video of the dark figure fighting, the disappointment  when Hood failed to bring Drake home, the spark of annoyance at the fact that the tiny soul still reacted to the second Robin, the flash of white warmth that crept up him when he saw the results of Drake’s power on Hood’s battle wounds.  

The craving pumping his heart was like nothing he ever felt before.

It was kinda like seeing his mother holding her soul shard his way, like Grayson hands fastening the R brooch on his cape for the first time, like giving Father a ring and Nightwing a bracelet, nervous in a way that was unbecoming to someone of the Al Ghul’s household.   

It was wanting to receive and to be accepted.

It was even more than that.

It was holding Drake’s entire soul in his hand, small and battered as it was, and thinking ’I’ll fix this’. It was masterfully twirling it in his hand, easy from practice, letting Drake's  emotions wash over him, his fierce protectiveness over his friends, his honest fondness over the family, the growing approval every time Damian cracked a case or figured out a mystery on his own.

It wasn’t Drake himself, but at the same time it was.  

Damian dropped his head back into the pillow and raised the hand holding the tiny soul, his own gold, green and blue one laying on the mattress by his hip. It had tiny specs of ice blue on it, influenced against his will by the soul that shared the soul carrier with for so long now, not too different from the way his mother’s orange red soul had some dark blue hues dancing near it’s core, or how Pennyworth’s silver one had the barest hints of yellow, which the butler once told him were remnants of his first love.  

He never would admit to be emulating Todd, but in that moment, he couldn’t help it.

-Fuck.

#Soul shards #soul shards au #tim drake #damian Wayne #the bats #it's a pain to tag everyone but they are all mentioned #this was a BITCH to publish tumblr wouldn't let me copy paste everything from my docs so i had to do paragraph by paragraph #pre damitim i guess? #soulless tim #Ra's is there for a sec not in person but by creepiness factor #Damian is developing a crush how cute baby assassin #i did this during a eight hours car ride this isn't edited in the slightest #my writing #oh yeah #tw: animal cruelty #at the beggining though but still #forgot to tag before sorry

[pencilwritessometimes]

A Dragon’s Eccentricates (Part two)

Wattpad link

Part One

TW: Curse word

The next day

Lillian woke up to the sound of birds chirping. She yawned, not fully awake, then rolled over in her bed. She stayed in that position for about five minutes before realizing that her father was leaving on another business trip, and would expect her to be at the door to say goodbye. In gaudy clothes that he thought were “normal”. If this was normal, she didn’t like it that much.

So she got out of bed, and put on a fancy dress, a bit of makeup, then styled her hair. She looked at herself in the mirror. Tall, and a bit lanky. Fair skin, bright green eyes, and long black hair that was half-up, half-down. Instead of her usual lilac dress with a bit of black embroidery, she was wearing something pink and frilly, much like Lottie’s princess dress from The Princess and The Frog. But underneath the mess of frills, were a worn out pair of leather Victorian-Style boots her mother had slipped her once. (At least she thought it was her mother, they were sitting unmarked at the foot of her bed one day.) No one- not even her father- could make her take off her boots.

She looked at the clock- 7:25. Five minutes to get downstairs. It might sound like a lot, but as she never got used to walking in really fancy dresses, it might be a close call. 

As she walked downstairs, she thought of her father. She had mixed feelings for him. On one hand, she loved him with all her heart. He cared about her. He always made sure to be home on her birthday, even if he had to tell his work he was “sick”. But on the other hand, she didn’t much like his ideals. She remembered a day when she was five or six. She had told him about how she wanted to share stories with the world! But he said that it was a man’s job. That men were the ones to share stories. A women’s job was to get married, then have and raise kids. That was all.

And then came the part that she would never-could never-forget.

“But Father, what if a woman doesn’t want to get married, or have kids? Or what if she wants to do more?”

He gave her a look that she could only describe as terrifying. She almost cowered. “Women want to get married. Women want to have and raise kids. Do. You. Un. Der. Stand.” He snarled, each syllable of every word pressing down on her like a hammer to a nail.

“Yes Father.” she said meekly. 

She didn’t mention those things again.

By time Lillian had finished reminiscing, she was downstairs. “Hello Father!” Her father turned around, as he was just heading out the door. He was tall and plump, with salt-and-pepper hair and mustache. He was wearing his nicest suit, the one he always wore when leaving for a business trip. “Oh, hello Lillian! I’m sorry, but I must be leaving now. Goodbye!” He closed the door. “...Goodbye.” she said sadly. Unfortunately, this was not the first abrupt goodbye, nor would it be the last.

But now that her father was gone, she could finally start writing stories. She started towards the library, then thought that she should probably get out of her dress into one more favorable. 

After she had changed, she raced towards the library. She removed A Lesson in Practicality from a shelf, to reveal the quill-and-ink set she had gotten from A Dragon’s Eccentricities. She sat down at the desk, a piece of parchment paper already set down. And she started to write.

After about ten pages, she set the quill back into the ink bottle. She looked over it, to make sure she hadn’t made any spelling or grammar mistakes, when she noticed something odd. Random letters were written in red ink. She was quite puzzled, as she had been writing in black ink, and hadn’t switched ink colors. She looked at what the letters spelled, if anything.

“E”

“C”

“C”

“E”

“N”

“T”

“R”

“I”

“C”

“I”

“T”

“I” 

“E”

“S”

 “Eccentricites” A bright flash of while light emerged from the ink bottle. Out of the feather came an Albino dragon, starting as large as the quill, but growing steadily, until it was about three feet tall, and seven feet long. Lillian blinked, her mouth open in awe. “Holy sh*t.”

The dragon gave her a mom-type look. “Oh, sorry. But I mean, a dragon just emerged out of my quill. I think that’s a valid reason to say sh- The s-word.” The dragon rolled it’s eyes. “I’m Lillian. What’s your name?” The dragon lifted it’s head, to reveal a red ribbon with a medal. Upon closer inspection, Lillian realized it had words on it. 

Annabelinda

Female Dragon, Quill-and-Ink

A Dragon’s Eccentricites 

“So, your name is Annabelinda? Can I call you Anna? It’s much shorter.” Annabelinda snorted, as if to say, “Sure, why the heck not.” Lillian stood in front of her, not really sure what to do now. “What happens now? Usually, there’s a magical adventure after someone finds a dragon in the quill-and-ink bottle, right?” Annabelinda shrugged. “Well, if it’s not mandatory, I’d like to proofread my story.”

So Lillian sat down, and as she started to re-read her story, Annabelinda curled up around her chair. As she read, she traced her finger along the words, and mumbled under her breath. But suddenly, about five minutes into proofreading, Annabelinda let out a small burst of white flames.

“What the world Anna!” cried Lillian. “You could have burned something, and no one can know that you’re here.” But Annabelinda ignored her, and simply put a claw on her story. Lillian re-read the sentence. “Oh.” Annabelinda had simply been pointing out a grammar mistake. The girl fixed it. “Thanks Anna.” 

So, for the rest of the pages, Annabelinda assisted with her proofreading- as it turned out, she was quite the editor. After they had gone over the story about five or six times, she stopped. Without thinking, she put the quill back into the ink bottle. The second Lillian had done that, she realized that she might have just sent Annabelinda back into the feather! She quickly went to pull it out, but not before she heard something that sounded like a laugh-Annabelinda! 

“Anna! You scared me!” The dragon showed no sign of remorse. “Well, what do we do now?” Annabelinda smirked, and Lillian noticed a glint in her eyes. “Wha- Oh no. No, we are not doing this.” Annabelinda lowered down, and spread her wings, almost as if to say, “Oh yes we are!” Lillian looked at her. “Do I have a choice?” The dragon shook her head. Lillian sighed, put the quill in her dress pocket, then got on her back.

Annabelinda backed up a bit. She then took a running start, and forced herself through the wall, making a hole in the tower that was the library. Lillian looked back, and stared at what Annabelinda had done. “You- how- what-,” Annabelinda shook her head, suggesting that  Lillian should just enjoy the view.

Lillian looked down, and gasped. The bird’s eye-dragon’s eye?- view of the town was remarkable. She could see the sweet shoppe, the grocer’s, and even the lot where A Dragon’s Eccentricites had been only 24 hours ago. 

They kept flying- over lakes and rivers, hills and mountains, flatlands and plateaus. They flew for hours, until Annabelinda landed them in front of a small house. Lillian got off, and looked around. She knew this neighborhood! It was only about a fifteen minute walk from her house. Annabelinda pushed her forwards. She knocked on the door.

A middle aged woman with black hair greeted her. “Oh, hell- Lilian!” Lillian stared in shock at her. “Mother?” she said. Her mother had disappeared years before, so it was a surprise to find her right here, in front of her!

The woman ran towards her, and wrapped her up in a hug. Lillian started crying of happiness. “I can’t believe I found you!” They kept hugging, Lillian not wanting to leave her mother’s embrace. But she needed to ask her mother the question that had been bothering her for years  “Why did you leave?” Her mother released her from the hug briefly. “You know your father, and his ideas about women.” “But he loved you!” Lillian said. “No sweetheart,” her mother told her, “He loved the me that fit his ideals. That wasn’t the real me. I just couldn’t stay.” 

“How’d you find me anyways?” “My-” Lillian stopped herself. It might not be the best idea to tell her mom that a dragon brought her there. “I just stumbled upon the neighborhood.” Her mother nodded. “Alright. I’m making dinner, do you want to come in?” “Sure! I’ll be in in a minute.” “Ok!” her mother said, then closed the door.

Lillian walked around the house. There lay Annabelinda, in the small alley between the homes. She went over and hugged her. “Thank you Anna.” she said. “Is there anything I can do to repay you?” Suddenly, a voice filled her head. It was rich as chocolate, and sweet as honey. “Be my friend.” Lillian went up to her ear, and whispered into it.

“Already done.”

~~~

30 years later

1924, United States

Lillian was walking back to her home on Stars Ave.- her father had left it years ago- when all of a sudden, she stopped. Right there, in front of her, was A Dragon’s Eccentricites. 

1600 words exactly! (not counting this note, or part one)

Thank you for reading this! I hope you enjoyed it, and that this ending worked well.

If I misspelled anything, or made any grammar mistakes let me know in the comments, along with your general feedback!

If you enjoyed this story, please vote!

Have a great day/night!

(also, I know I spelling “Eccentricities” wrong, forgive me, this is old writing and if I edit it somehow it will end up a very different story...)

#pencil's writing #dragons #19th century #fiction #short stories #my writing

[mikauzoran]

Ladrien: Drunk Ladybug on My Balcony? Yeah. This is Fine.: Chapter Seven

Read it on AO3: Drunk Ladybug on My Balcony? Yeah. This is Fine.: Chapter Seven: Encore Performance

Marinette was still giddy from her heart-to-heart conversation with Chat Noir the next day as she flopped down on Alya’s bed and pulled the same throw pillow to her chest that Adrien had been squeezing excitedly the night before.

“It’s just so freeing!” she giggled. “It feels amazing to have it all out on the table finally. I should have told him years ago, but I was afraid he’d wear me down and make me change my mind if I gave him even a hint about my feelings. He’s so stubborn, Alya, and he doesn’t always think things through, but…” She finally took a breath as she beamed in awe of the outcome. “He really heard me about how dangerous it could be bringing romantic feelings into our partnership while Papillon is active. He heard me, and he respected my decision, Alya. He’s really grown over the past few years. He’s a lot more mature.”

“I’m happy for you, Girl,” Alya chuckled with an indulgent smile, giving up hope of getting any editing done. “Sooo…now that you’re all squared away with Chat Noir…are you ready to finally resolve the Adrien dilemma?”

Marinette sat up with a jolt, her euphoria fading. “What? Now?!”

“Well, yeah.” Alya shrugged as if it were a matter of course. “Didn’t you tell me last night that you’d told Chat Noir that you were tired of wasting time on the Adrien problem but that it seemed a shame to let all the years of your life you’ve already poured into this go to waste by not actually ever telling Adrien how you feel? I vote you get some closure, Marinette. The sooner the better.”

Marinette pursed her lips, not looking convinced. “I don’t know, Alya. I’m kind of having a good day. What would really be a shame is if I ruined it by confessing to Adrien, making a fool out of myself, getting rejected, and completely messing up our friendship with my feelings.”

Alya groaned but resisted the urge to pull her hair out. She got up from her desk and went over to sit on the bed beside Marinette, taking her best friend’s hand in her own. “Marinette, listen to me.”

She fixed Marinette with an intent gaze, clearly enunciating, “He likes you. He really, really likes you, and if you bring him flowers and ask him on a date, he will be putty in your hands because he thinks you’re amazing.”

She wished she could break confidence with Adrien and just tell Marinette about Adrien’s crush on her, but she couldn’t bear to betray the poor cupcake like that. She wasn’t just his friend because he was Nino’s best friend and Marinette’s love interest anymore. True, it had started like that, but things had changed over the years. They were genuine friends now, and friends didn’t spill secrets entrusted to them, even if it would make setting up her two favourite idiots a heck of a lot easier.

“I don’t know, Alya,” Marinette sighed, looking away and focusing her gaze on the posters on Alya’s wall, not really seeing them. 

“Well, you could always just try,” Alya urged, strongly tempted to scream and bang her head against her desk. “Just really no pressure ask him if he wants to get coffee as a date. Seriously. Hand him a rose and say, ‘You know, I really like you, Adrien. Would you be interested in going on a date to see how things go? Maybe get coffee together?’ He will definitely say yes, I promise you. After he’s done blushing and processing that you, the great Marinette Dupain-Cheng, have deigned to notice him.”

Marinette rolled her eyes and turned back to glare, perturbed, at her friend. “Alya, he’s literally a model. He gets hit on all the time. There’s no way I’m going to fluster him by asking him out to coffee. I am under no delusion that Adrien Agreste thinks I’m out of his league. Thank you for the encouragement, but let’s try to keep expectations realistic.”

Alya tried not to pout. Screaming and pulling her hair were sounding really, really good.

Maybe she needed to just lock them in a closet together and not let them out until they kissed. That always worked in the movies, right?

“I think it’s more likely that he’ll like the rose, be flattered by my confession, but won’t feel the same way, so he’ll politely turn me down,” Marinette went on, oblivious to Alya’s mounting frustration.

“Well, then, go confess and get turned down politely, then. Then you’ll have your answer and be able to move on without regrets,” Alya snapped impatiently, causing Marinette to look at her in surprise.

“I’m sorry,” Marinette apologized uncertainly. “I know I’m a huge pain and you’ve been dealing with this for years now, but…I just can’t help it. The boy makes me stupid and nervous and…and he brings out all of my insecurities and fears. It’s just…I’ve put so much time and effort into this…for it to all be over in such an anticlimactic way…” She shook her head sadly. “I’m really sorry, Alya. I know I’m a mess. Thank you for putting up with me.”

Alya heaved an enormous sigh, pulling Marinette into a tight embrace. “Girl, I’m not mad at you. I’m mad because I want you to be happy, and you can be if you would just get out of your own way. I’m sorry. I just want good things for you.”

Marinette squeezed back, burying her face in Alya’s hair. “Thanks, Alya. I don’t know what I would do without you. Thanks for being such an amazing friend.”

With a sigh, Alya pulled back, giving Marinette’s cheek an affectionate pat. “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to tell you a secret, but you can’t tell anyone I told.”

Marinette nodded. “Of course. What is it?”

“Adrien told me the other day that he has the biggest, most embarrassing crush on Ladybug,” Alya announced, praying that Adrien would forgive her once he and Marinette were blissfully happy together.

Marinette blinked in confusion. “He…what?”

“He’s over the moon for her,” Alya reiterated. “Total goner. Girl, he’s crazy about you. At least, a part of you. Knowing that, do you think you can confess to him? I mean, he already likes a part of you, and he’s always calling Marinette his ‘Everyday Ladybug’, so he obviously sees you in yourself, so...can you just ask him to get coffee with you now, please?” Alya begged, beyond desperate. “Maybe now it’ll be easier knowing he’s going to say yes.”

Marinette was still utterly taken aback. “He likes…Ladybug?”

“Yes,” Alya replied emphatically. “And guess who’s Ladybug.”

“…Me,” Marinette slowly realized.

“Yep.” Alya gave Marinette a clap on the back. “And I swear he thinks Marinette is just about as wonderful as Ladybug in every way, shape, and form, so go on out there and get yourself a date, okay?”

Marinette began to nod, the gears in her head starting to turn.

Adrien liked Ladybug. Marinette was Ladybug.

“Okay,” she giggled, feeling giddy at the sudden rush brought on by that realization. “Okay!”

“Awesome!” Alya cheered, feeling the weight of years of frustration finally come off her shoulders. “Now that that’s settled, let’s make lunch. All this matchmaking is exhausting work.”

 Adrien was lounging upside down on his couch with his legs draped over the back, reading volume three of Monokuro Shounen Shoujo when a tentative knock came at his window, startling him and causing him to drop his manga.

There, standing on the lip of his window, smiling sheepishly and waving at him, was Ladybug.

He’d had this dream many times over the years, so it took him a minute to discern that he was, in fact, very much awake. That accomplished, he hurriedly swung his legs around and got to his feet, rushing to open the already unlocked window for her.

“Ladybug. Um…hi. Hello. Come in. How are you this fine evening?” he babbled, motioning her in as he tried to get a hold of himself.

It was a little difficult as his mind flew off in a dozen different directions, including, “Ladybug is in my bedroom.”, “Does she know my identity?”, “I’m wearing my pyjamas. Ladybug now knows I own handmade Ladybug pyjamas.”, “I’m such a mess. Ladybug probably thinks I look like a slob.”, and “Ladybug is in my bedroom!”

“Good evening,” Ladybug greeted softly, a rosy blush highlighting her lovely cheekbones. “I’m really sorry to barge in unannounced like this. I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Not at all!” he assured, maybe a little too loudly. “I’m glad you’re here. I mean…”

He rubbed at the back of his neck, wondering where the heck all these nerves were coming from. Hadn’t he just sat under the stars with her, holding her hand for nearly an hour the previous evening? There was just something about being there with her without the mask for him to hide behind. He felt so exposed as Adrien. It was one thing to be bold and speak his mind as a superhero whose mettle had been tested. Standing before her as just plain Adrien with nothing but fame, fortune, and good looks to recommend him was more than a little intimidating.

He cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and forced himself to act naturally.

“Sorry. I mean that it’s an honor to be paid a visit by Paris’s favourite hero,” he recovered nicely with a charming smile that his photographer always lavished praise upon.

Ladybug seemed to appreciate it, chuckling as her smile widened and her blush spread.

“Was there something in particular you needed, Ladybug?” he attempted to suss out the purpose of her visit. “Or, if this is purely a social call, that’s fine too,” he quickly added.

“Oh.” She gave a start, as if suddenly remembering herself. “Sorry. I guess it does feel pretty random having a superhero unexpectedly show up at your window. I was just…” She bit her lip and shifted her weight anxiously. “Sorry,” she laughed, making herself take a shaky breath. “Nervous. I’ve been trying to psych myself up to do this for a long time, so…”

She raised her hand, extending it out to him, and, for the first time, he noticed the single red rose she held.

His eyes widened as he looked back and forth between her and the flower, unsure of what to make of it.

“Here.” She offered him the rose again, her whole face now dusted red in embarrassment. “It’s for you. It…It goes with my suit,” she added, obviously flustered. She winced. “Not that that really means anything to you, but—”

“—Thank you,” he interrupted in an attempt to save her from any additional word vomit.

He reached out and took the rose with a warm, reassuring smile, still not sure what was going on but recognizing a need for intervention from his many years of friendship with Marinette.

Their fingers brushed, making Ladybug jump reflexively, even though he was certain there was no way she could have felt the touch through her suit.

“I love roses,” he continued. “My mother used to grow them, so I have many fond memories of the scent of roses, the feel of their petals, how pretty they look when the sun hits them just right…. It’s such a lovely gift, so thank you.”

He brought it up to his nose, closing his eyes as he inhaled its perfume.

Ladybug curled her fingers into fists, gathering her courage. She took a slow breath in, exhaled, and squeaked, “You’re hot! Get coffee with me?!”

Adrien’s eyes snapped open, and he stared at her in shock as he recalled what he had told Ladybug as Chat Noir the night before about confessing to her mystery boy.

Ladybug took his stunned silence the wrong way and began to panic. “No big deal! No pressure! Just…” She grimaced, groaning in frustration. “I am so sorry. I sound like a crazy fangirl. I swear I’m not like that. I-I like you, Adrien.” She looked back up at him with desperate tears beading in the corners of her eyes as she confessed, “I like you. I know we don’t know each other well, but, from what I’ve seen—your bravery, your determination, your unwillingness to give up—I like you, and I admire you, and I heard you were a fan of mine, so I thought…maybe we could go get coffee and get to know one another better. I’m not asking to be your girlfriend or for any kind of commitment or anything, but could we maybe just get coffee and see how it goes from there? Is that…too ridiculous to ask?”

Adrien was barely able to process all of the incoming information that she was throwing at him. It shouldn’t be possible, but…all signs were pointing to the mystery boy being him. Which meant that she really loved him, both sides of him. Which meant that he probably knew her in real life because there was no way the smart, down-to-earth woman he knew would fall that hard for a boy she had only talked to in short snatches over the years. Ladybug wasn’t the type to devote herself wholeheartedly to a celebrity crush. She knew him, and he was not allowing himself to think about that too hard because he knew how important her secret identity was to her, and it would be a total breech of trust for him to purposely try to figure her out, tempting as it may be.

Besides, now wasn’t the time for thinking. He needed to get ahold of himself and respond because she was panicking and likely to go into a full-on anxiety attack if he didn’t say something soon.

He awkwardly took her hands in his, careful not to smash the rose as he did so. “Ladybug, calm down. It’s okay. I am beyond flattered that you would even ask.”

“But you don’t feel the same way,” she immediately jumped to conclusions, a cold terror washing over her and tying her stomach into knots. “Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry to bother you! I—”

“—Ladybug,” he cut her off with a fond chuckle. “Listen to me. I am beyond flattered that you would even ask because I have had an embarrassingly huge crush on you since I was thirteen, and I never thought someone as amazing and pretty and talented as you would ever deign to notice me.”

She blinked at him uncomprehendingly. “But…you’re so wonderful,” she informed him, sounding mystified. “How could someone not notice you?”

Adrien smiled sadly as his eyes dropped to the side momentarily. “I’m afraid I don’t always see it the way you do.” He looked back up at her. “I’m sure you doubt yourself sometimes too, don’t you?”

Her mouth rounded into a small “o” of understanding.

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “I know I’m portrayed a certain way in the media, but the persona I put out there for public consumption isn’t necessarily the real me. I’m actually a huge dork and a little socially inept. I hope I don’t disappoint you.”

She shook her head vehemently. “No. No, not at all. I totally get that. I mean, the public thinks Ladybug is practically infallible, so I constantly feel like I have to live up to that image, but…I try my best, but it’s impossible to be perfect, so…but I could never be disappointed in you, Adrien,” she assured, giving his hand a squeeze that sent his heart soaring.

“The real you may be nerdy, but he’s also kind and valiant and creative and resilient,” she insisted. “I know you probably think you failed when I gave you the Snake Miraculous, but you most definitely didn’t.”

His eyebrow slowly arched at her assertion. “You don’t think so?”

She shook her head, stepping in closer. “Adrien, I was the one who didn’t set you up to succeed. I should have waited for Chat Noir. Maybe then it would have worked, but…looking back with a clearer head, that Miraculous wasn’t a good match for you in the first place, but you did an amazing job even then. You kept trying past the point when anyone else would have given up, and I was really impressed by that, impressed by you. No matter what you think of yourself, I’ll always think you’re amazing…so…coffee?”

She cocked her head to the side and gave him a hopeful smile.

It took a lot of self-control for Adrien not to jump up and down for joy. Instead, he grinned like the cat who’d gotten into the cream and squeezed her hands.

“I would love to get coffee with you.” He almost squealed at the very thought. “Actually…would it be okay if I took you on a full-fledged date?” he inquired tentatively, pressing his luck. “If you just want to start with coffee to test the waters, that’s totally fine, but…” He trailed off, letting her make the call without pressuring her further.

“A date…would be nice,” she decided, her face starting to hurt from smiling so hard. “I’d really like to go on a date.”

His grin spread even wider at her answer, and he couldn’t help but bounce in place in his excitement. “Awesome! That is awesome. When? When works for you?”

“You probably have the busier schedule,” she pointed out with a chuckle. “I’m fairly flexible with advance warning so long as there’s no akuma attack. Maybe this coming Saturday or Sunday afternoon? Do either of those days work for you?”

He scanned his mental calendar thoughtfully before informing, “Saturday is probably best. My days typically start early or go late, so afternoon is usually best.” A thought suddenly occurred to him, causing him to frown. “Except that my father is constantly adding things to my schedule last minute, so… Sorry. I’ll try to get out of it if he tries anything like that Saturday, but if I do have to cancel on you, please know that it was completely out of my control and I would like nothing more than to be on a date with you.”

“No worries,” she chuckled, heart brimming over at that little tidbit of information.

Adrien was always so painfully sweet, and he said the most romantic things.

“I totally understand,” she assured. “Um…I should probably give you my number so that we can hash out the details via text and you can let me know if you do have to cancel.”

“Is it really okay for me to have your number?” he wondered, eyes going wide.

She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, rethinking the offer. “I mean…maybe. Obviously, don’t save my number under ‘Ladybug’ or anything, but it should be okay. I doubt you’re going to give it to anyone else or prank call me or anything, so…”

“I would never,” he assured.

He may have been tempted to call and bother her about mundane things as Chat Noir, but he would never abuse this trust she was placing in him as Adrien.

“Okay.” She gave a decisive nod. “Give me your number, and I’ll text you so that you’ll have mine.”

He readily complied and was soon in possession of the holy grail: Ladybug’s number. Of course, it probably wasn’t her personal number (Chat Noir’s number on his baton did not match Adrien’s), and he technically already had it on his Chat Noir phone, but the act of her giving it to him made it finally feel legitimate.

“What are you saving it as?” she inquired curiously, going up on the balls of her feet to try to catch a peek at his phone screen.

“‘Eve 6’,” he replied, turning the phone to show her once he was done. “They’re a band my friend Luka likes. They have a song called ‘Superhero Girl’, so…” He shrugged. “My brain makes funny connections like that.”

But Ladybug wasn’t concerned with the automatic associations his brain made. She was too caught up in squinting at his screen in confusion. He’d saved her contact information to his favourites, and it wasn’t a long list: Gabriel Agreste, Alya (Lois Lane on Steroids) Césaire, Orpheus Couffaine, Eve 6, (Victor) le Gorille, Ninja Turtle Lahiffe, Maman, Nathalie, and…Princesse.

Her brow furrowed in confusion. “Who’s ‘Princesse’?”

Adrien’s eyes widened as he whipped his head around to stare at his phone in surprise, obviously not having thought twice about the nickname in years. “Oh. Yeah. Um…That would be Marinette. You know my friend Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

She blinked at him blankly. “Uh…Yeah. Yeah, I know Marinette. That’s…an interesting nickname.”

The thing that had her most puzzled was how Chat Noir and Adrien had both come up with the same nickname for her. Was there something innately princess-like about Marinette that she just wasn’t aware of? Did she give off a damsel in distress vibe or something? She wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“I think it’s fitting,” he replied, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Marinette’s really epic. I mean, don’t get me started because I can and will rant about how amazing this girl is, but she reminds me of a Disney princess. She’s so kind and so good and unbelievably clever. She always stands up for people and does the right thing and uses her creativity to solve problems and save the day. She’s the kind of everyday hero they make movies about, so…she’s more of a ‘kick butt and save the world’ princess than a princess in a tower, but a princess is a princess, and Marinette is a princess.”

He ended his speech with a little “it can’t be helped” shrug.

Meanwhile, Ladybug was trying not to internally combust because Adrien Agreste was the most precious, sweetest human being, and she loved him so much. How could he say such nice things about her with a completely straight face?!

“Wow.” She tried to clear her throat. “You… That’s…”

“A little intense?” he asked through a grimace. “Yeah,” he sighed. “I know. To be honest, I kind of have a bit of a crush on her.”

“What?!” she shrieked.

Her temperature shot through the roof, and her eyeballs felt like they were about ready to pop out of their sockets.

Adrien took her outburst the wrong way and instinctively put his hands up in a placating gesture. “Not to worry! Marinette only thinks of me as a friend. My crush is totally one-sided, and I’m extremely loyal as a partner. To a fault, actually,” he chuckled weakly, thinking of the years he’d continued to carry a flame for the woman in front of him to the exclusion of all others.

“If you and I decide we want to pursue a relationship, my feelings for Marinette won’t be an issue,” he assured. “Seriously. She really doesn’t think of me like that.”

Ladybug’s eyes narrowed as she wondered how on earth he could be so oblivious to her ridiculous crush on him. “How can you be so sure that Marinette doesn’t return your feelings?”

He shrugged. “She’s told me several times over the years that she doesn’t think about me that way. She’s a big fan of my father’s work, but her feelings for me are purely platonic. If Marinette was interested in me, she would have said something by now. She’s really brave and straightforward when she wants something. She’s not afraid of anyone. Heck, she’s even stood up to my father on my behalf at least twice a year, so…I’m pretty sure she’d say something if she were interested in me romantically.”

Ladybug had the distinct urge to go home and bang her head against one of the wooden beams supporting her loft.

She buried her frustration with herself, however, and pasted on the best appeased smile that she could. “Okay. Well. That sounds… That’s good.”

Adrien cringed. “I’m sorry. Developing feelings for Marinette wasn’t something I could really help. Is this a deal-breaker?”

She gave a start. “What?! No! Not at all. That’s… It’s… It’s good. It’s fine. You’re fine. Seriously. I just…I was a little taken aback, but I am still very much interested in you, and I have no doubt that you will be true to your word, and your feelings for Marinette won’t be an issue.”

“Oh,” he sighed in relief, his luminescent grin returning to light up the room once more. “Good. I’m so glad you feel that way because I am seriously looking forward to our date.”

She managed to smooth out her facial expression in order to give him a genuine smile. “Me too. …But I should get going. I didn’t mean to stay so long. I’ll text you about the details?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Can’t wait.”

“Same,” she chuckled, stepping back and readying her yoyo. “Night, night, Beau Gosse.”

With a wink, she blew him a kiss and slipped off into the night.

He caught the kiss and pressed it to his heart, nearly swooning as he watched her go.

“Oh my God,” Plagg hissed in disgust, coming out of hiding in his sock drawer once the coast was clear. “I can’t believe she confessed to you as Ladybug. What was Tikki thinking, letting her do that?”

“Oh my gosh,” Adrien sighed dreamily, sinking down onto the couch and throwing his head back to laugh in unrestrained glee. “Plagg, she loves me! I’m the other guy! I mean, I have to be, right? I just told her last night to tell the guy he was hot and ask him to coffee, and—”

“—Kid, I hate to burst your bubble, but you can’t secretly date your superhero partner,” Plagg interrupted, not sounding the least bit loathe to suck all the joy out of the moment. “You should tell Ladybug that you can’t date a masked superhero and then go ask your girlfriend out. We had a plan with the waiting until after Butterfly Breath was in jail to reveal identities and date Ladybug. You were supposed to be happy now with Marinette.”

Adrien chewed on the inside of his cheek as a large part of the joy he had felt seconds before faded.

Deep down, he knew Plagg was right, but…

“…But I want to date Ladybug now,” he whined, running his hands roughly back and forth through his hair.

Plagg shrugged. “Tough. Ever hear the expression that good things are worth waiting for?”

“I don’t like that expression,” Adrien pouted. “Haven’t I waited long enough already? Seven years is a long time, Plagg, and I feel like we’ve already wasted that time, so why can’t we just be happy together already?”

Slowly, Plagg shook his head. “But she doesn’t know you’re you. Do you really think you can live hiding that from her? You won’t feel like you’re being dishonest or tricking her? You won’t be disappointed because she doesn’t recognize you? She’s going to treat you differently as Adrien. Adrien isn’t her partner. Adrien isn’t her trusted best friend. It’s not going to be the same as when you’re Chat Noir with her.”

Adrien looked down at his feet, frowning, trying not to hear the things Plagg was saying.

“Ignoring the truth doesn’t make it less true, Kid,” Plagg added gently, floating over to land on Adrien’s head and affectionately start grooming his kitten.

“I know,” Adrien mumbled, reaching up to carefully scoop Plagg into his hand.

“Thanks, Plagg.” He brought the kwami down to his face to nuzzle.

“Sure thing,” Plagg promised, for once not putting up his usual aloof front. “…Think about it,” he urged. “The last thing you need is to be dating Ladybug and still be miserable. …Maybe talk about it with your one friend,” he suggested.

Adrien looked up. “You mean Alya?”

Plagg shrugged. “Sure. She’s supposedly Ladybug’s friend, isn’t she? Maybe she can help you talk it out.”

“Can we go now?” Adrien inquired hopefully, perking up.

Plagg sighed, his whole body slumping. “Oh, all right, but let me get some cheese first, will you?”

#Ladrien #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Alya Césaire #Chat Noir #Plagg #Friendship #Friends to Lovers #Love Confession #Mikau's Writings #Drunk Ladybug on My Balcony? Yeah. This is Fine.

[ahiddenpath]

Seven Years of Writing Fanfics

I’m being a little premature- I’ll celebrate seven years of writing as ahiddenpath in September- but I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what I’ve learned.  Please read on if you want to hear about the writing habits I wish I had when I started in 2012, and about the habits I wish I didn’t have back then!

I’ll also be talking about my writing plans in general.  Check it out below the cut!

1.)  Make a story bible.

A story bible is a reference document for your story.  Before you post a new fic, I strongly suggest creating one.  For digimon specifically, this means making some choices before you begin:

Which version of the character names will you use?  Do you intend to remain consistent with this choice?  For example, I’ve seen a lot of writers use Japanese character names and English digimon names.  Will you use official honorifics?  Custom honorifics?  Will you use terminology from one translation of the show, or a mashup?

Make these choices upfront, create reference charts, and remain consistent.  

After that, you can also keep references for topics such as characterization details (if you say that Bob’s favorite drink is coffee in one chapter and tea twenty chapters later, be prepared for a flood of comments pointing out the inconsistency), setting details, and anything that you don’t want to forget.  Spending half an hour hunting down a silly detail instead of writing is a huge bummer.

Growing Up with You is my worst offender of ‘problems a story bible would have fixed.’  It’s got... every issue you can imagine, lol!  For example, pairing Hikari with Gatomon (instead of Tailmon), using ‘digitama’ and ‘digimental’ interchangeably in the 02 arc, using the English terms for evolution stages while using Japanese names for other things, confusing Bakemon and Bakumon, it’s a mess.  It’s so bad that a complete, painstaking edit is the only thing that can fix it...  Which is enough to make me weep, given that the story is over 400K words long.

Organize yourself before you start.  Here’s a link to some printable Digimon Adventure and Digimon Adventure 02 references.

2.)  Avoid Longfics.

I know I’ve said this before, but it bears repeating.  NEVER PUBLISH A NEW STORY WITHOUT HAVING AN ENDING IN SIGHT FROM THE BEGINNING.

I’m not saying you can’t write huge, epic tales.  God knows I’m unlikely to stop doing that.  But, if I could go back in time, I would separate Growing Up with You into four fics.  It would be something like this:

Growing Up with You I: Childhood

Growing Up with You II:  Digimon Adventure

Growing Up with You III:  Liminal Space

Growing Up with You IV:  Digimon Adventure 02

I’m sure some arcs would be longer than others, but this way, I’d have four stories that are roughly 100K words long.  

A lot of folks just... don’t want to read a 400K story.  It’s intimidating, man!  Although it varies by genre, the average word count for a fiction novel aimed at adults is 80K words.  That 400K fic is like FIVE NOVELS, DUDE!!!!  That’s a commitment for readers!

Shorter stories are more reader friendly, but there’s also a huge benefit to you, the writer.  Separating your longfic into multiple stories allows you more opportunities to write towards an ending.  Breaking your story into digestible chunks decreases the writing paralysis that comes with being nowhere near the ending.  It also cuts back on meandering chapters that don’t carry the narrative closer to that ending.  Furthermore, thinking of the story in arcs before you start writing forces you to plan more...  Something I never did in 2012!!!!

Best of all, once you reach the end of an arc, you can take a break before launching the next one.  It’s hard on a writer to continue endlessly producing without a break.  It’s hard on a reader to hit the final available chapter in a fic and wonder if it will ever update again.  But if you complete an arc and take a break to plan and write a few buffer chapters, the tension and impatience is gone for your audience, and you get to breathe.  It’s a win-win!

3.)  Avoid long chapters.

Back in 2012, I often posted chapters that were 10K words and longer!  Here are some benefits to posting shorter updates more frequently:

-Shorter wait times between updates.

Let’s say your planned chapter is 15K words long.  I could update my story once in the span of a month, or I could break the chapter into three parts and update three times in a month!  This keeps readers happy and interested in your work.

Over time, you’ll develop the ability to create sub arcs/movements, finding spots to break them up into separate updates.  This also creates natural moments for cliffhangers, tension, and mini resolutions.  It’s a great way to insert more moods and movement into your narrative.    

-More exposure for your story.

Every time you update your fanfic, it gets pushed to the top of the update list on fanfiction.net or AO3.  The more you update it, the more hits your story will receive, thanks to all the extra time it will spend on the first page of newly-updated fics.

-Easier editing.

I do my best editing when I’m working with 5K words or fewer at a time.  Personally, I can only focus on close editing for about 90 minutes before I start missing mistakes and forgetting details.  I could edit a 10K word update in two sittings, but then it’s possible to forget about details and moods from the previous editing session!  So, unless your story bible is really hardcore, your editing process could benefit from shorter updates.

-More feedback/support

I have a few amazing readers who leave some form of feedback/appreciation for me whenever I post a new chapter.  A supported writer is a happy, productive writer!  More updates means more chances for feedback and support from your readers, which in turn can fuel and direct your writing!  Again, everyone wins!  (Thanks, guys, I love you!).

4.)  Publish your story on both fanfiction.net and AO3.

Why reach one audience when you could potentially reach two?  There are plenty of readers who only use one platform or the other.

At this point, it would be ridiculously difficult to post my 70+ chapter fanfics to AO3...  Do yourself a favor and post to both from the start!

5.)  Remember: writing and editing are two separate processes.

Guys guys guys guys guys.  Lemme be real here.

I used to painstakingly write a first draft, check for spelling/grammar errors on my word processor, and then post it.

Here’s what my process looks like now: word vomit a first draft, do an edit in my word processor, print the edited draft, make edits on paper, transfer edits to word processor, print new draft, make edits on paper, transfer edits to word processor, final read through, post

If my new method looks more time intensive...  In a way, it is, but in a way, it isn’t?  I bang out that first rough draft without a care in the world, where I used to agonize over every word.  Agonizing is not fun.  Word vomiting can produce some, ah, discouraging results, but it feels like creative play.  It’s fun, it’s flexible, it’s fast...  And you can fix it later through the magic of editing.  And if you’re having fun, you’ll keep writing.  If you’re agonizing, you’ll find yourself making excuses to avoid writing.

Plus, my current method produces tighter, more deliberate prose, while maintaining the freedom and energy of word vomiting...  And avoiding the angst and doubt.  This is my best defense against writing paralysis and my greatest weapon in the battle of producing words.

My method can’t be right for everyone, but I do encourage you to try it out, especially if your writing hasn’t been joyful lately.

6.)  Don’t run too many fics at one time.

I encourage writers to have one longer fic open and one shorter fic, preferably of different tones/settings/main characters.  This gives you a way to keep writing when you’re sick of one project without bogging you down.

You will likely have some readers who love everything you do (god bless), but many people have particular genre, character, and setting preferences.  If you have three fics open, then readers of any one story have to wait much longer for the next update while you alternate updating each fic.

And more importantly, having a ton of open stories just...  It feels heavy, guys.  It’s a weight, a pressure.  Trust me.  Forgive me, fanfic gods, for I have sinned.

7.)  Maintain a buffer

Okay, so my Nanowrimo project for 2018 was to write 50,000 words for After August, my current open fic.  By the end of the month, I had a roughly 80% complete first draft of the entire fic.  

Guys!  Guys!  It’s so cool to know exactly where the story is going, from start to finish.  My editing is so deliberate on this piece!  I can spot repetition and inconsistencies, since the draft is printed and sitting in front of me in a binder.  I can tweak emphasis and maintain more balance between character appearances.  It’s a whole new ballpark for me, someone who always wrote one update at a time and posted it upon completion (or worse, wrote ahead and lost the material when I changed my mind about the plot before reaching that future point).

Plus, even if my life gets extra busy or hard, I can still maintain my updating schedule.  I can print out a chapter, take it to work, and do hard edits during my lunch break (I realize that makes me antisocial, but have you ever endured coworkers telling you all of their problems while you try to eat a sandwich in peace?  The editing is much more fun.  I am antisocial, is what I’m saying.  Born into it, baby).

Regular updates are a big part of maintaining steady readership, so having a buffer both increases the quality of your work (since you know where the story is going for sure) and ensures that more people read it.  Awww yisssss.

Okay, well, my concentration is gone now, so that’s the end of my advice!  If I think of anything else, maybe I’ll add it?  

I do want to touch base with my writing plans, though.  Currently, of course, my goal is to complete After August.  If I can post one chapter per week, it will be compete in early March, but I’m going to aim for completing the story in May, to allow for any issues that might come up (for example, Kingdom Hearts III is coming out soon!).

After that, I want to complete Seeking Resonance...  Although I have no idea how long that will take?  I just know that the heavy atmosphere was really starting to weigh on me.

After that... Well, do you remember that survey I made a while back?  It looks like my next project should probably be completing Four Years.  

I might simultaneously work on one of these two stories and Tales of REM, or maybe I’ll alternate between SR and FY for a while?  To be honest, though, I would really like to wrap up SR as soon as I can.

Either way, completion is the name of the game this year.  Please look forward to it!  Let me know if you have any ideas for future fics, or if you have a favorite from my list of potential future projects!

#writing advice #seven years of fanfiction #fanfic advice #fanfiction advice #faves

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Going Through Motions{2}

Title: Going Through Motions {2}

Steve Rogers X Reader OFC Korral “Korri” Evans

Warning: Plot, Cursing, Mild Sexually Suggestive Content

Word Count: 2K

Summary: You and Steve had a hot, passionate, and wild romance seven years ago when you worked with the Avengers. It was the best year of your life; you’d never felt the things you’d felt in all your life. Then out of nowhere, Steve just ended things—in a letter. A heartbreaking letter, then the world deemed him a criminal, and he disappeared. Now, you’ve moved on and have gotten engaged to rich man Marc Spector. Tony brings you back to work with the newly rebuilt Avengers that is still led by Captain America who is definitely done asking for permission and not looking for forgiveness. Or is he?

Note: So, for this fic, we are going to alter the MCU timeline a bit. This takes place after Civil War, but Infinity War has not happened yet. Steve is off the grid for seven years before he comes back. {I know that’s a long time, but let me rock please} Also, I’m going to be introing/adding in Moon Knight (Marc Spector) in just because I feel like it and I want to start exploring other Marvel characters and of course I will twist him to serve my purposes.

**Loosley Proofread/edited**

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Man is it good to be back,” Sam said as he dropped into the couch in one of the lounge areas at the Avengers complex. You smiled. “I’ll take your word for it.” You walked over to him and the others and passed around their credentials.

   It had been almost a month since their names were cleared, and good standings returned with the citizens of the world. Everyone was glad to have them back, and they weren’t shy to express it. Of course, with them expressing their joy of the return of Wanda, Vision, Sam, and Natasha there was a lot of confusion as to where Cap was. The public was notified that his name was also cleared, and he was free to return and would be welcomed. With that information they began to think he’d abandoned them for real and wouldn’t return. With each passing day that he didn’t return you were becoming more and more comfortable with the fact that he wouldn’t come back. The others didn’t bring him up; they simply said they hadn’t heard from him in the last few months, that he’d stopped communication.

   “I missed the food,” Wanda said. “I missed the network,” Vision added. You smiled and stood to the side and watched them all interact. It was clear they’d formed a close-knit family over the years. You couldn’t imagine what it was like to be on the run and living off the grid. It had to be hard, especially having to evade authorities and the countless operatives the government sent their way.

“You never used to be quiet, what’s wrong with you?” You looked to Natasha and smiled. “I’m fine, just—glad to have you all back. It’s been a long time.” Wanda and Natasha approached you and hugged you. You’d been very close to them years ago, and now they felt like strangers but strangers who would quickly become friends again. You saw Tony enter the room.

   “Very glad everyone is enjoying getting reacquainted. I see Korral has given you all your credentials back and I’m happy to say you all are officially no longer criminals. Ross got back to me with the official news; records are expunged. You are even off of the no-fly list. I mean I don’t know why you were on that anyway it’s not like any of you ever fly commercial.”

   “Why fly commercial when you can fly quinjet,” Sam piped up. You shook your head pleased to see his sense of humor was still the same.

  “I’m throwing a party!” Tony added. “Of course, you are,” Natasha dryly commented as she took a seat in the barstool next to you. “I think we have plenty to celebrate.” Everyone looked to each other; no one looked like they agreed. “Doesn’t feel like it without Cap,” Sam voiced up. Everyone was thinking it, they nodded in unison, and a silence fell over the room, a heavy silence.

  “Then I sure hope it feels like it now?” Everyone’s head snapped to the door where Steve stood dressed in his suit. Your stomach fell to the ground, and you stumbled back into the bar.

   “You sly dog, always know how to make an entrance,” Sam said, getting up and crossing to him before pulling him into a hug. “Hey Sam.” Soon everyone else followed and crossed to him to greet him. You stood where you were just staring at him. He looked a hell of a lot different. When you last saw him he was clean-shaven with neatly groomed blond hair, now that was not the case. His face was covered in a groomed goatee that was perfectly filled in. His hair was also much longer, so much longer that your fingers wanted to entangle themselves in it. As your eyes traveled downward, taking him in, your mouth went dry once you realized how much bigger he was. Damn, being on the lam was good for the body, you thought.

   Your body began to tingle; it was a tingle that started in your belly and branched out to every part of you—every part. By the time your eyes finally finished their feast you realized the silence in the room had returned. Wanda and Nat were looking at you, but the others were looking between Tony and Steve. Neither of them spoke, but you knew there was a lot to say. “Cap,” Tony began. Steve nodded. “Tony.” Again, silence ensued. You didn’t know if there would be yet another fight or if both men had enough time to reflect and grow. Tony held out his hand to Steve, an action that shocked you and those around you. Steve looked to his hand and quickly took it, shaking it. The two closed the gap between them and embraced. You couldn’t help but feel a small betrayal. In all these years you knew that Tony was pissed at Steve for his actions and you felt some weird solidarity with him. Now it looked like the hatchet between them was buried.

 All eyes turned to you, and you felt like you were a contestant on some gameshow you didn’t want to be on. They all knew you and Steve were together seven years ago. Your relationship was the topic of discussion many times, to Steve’s annoyance. Wanda and Nat knew how you’d felt about him; they knew very well. His eyes bore into you—the same eyes you’d stared into countless times as he brought your body to indescribably pleasure. You’d played this moment in your head time and time again. You’d wondered what it would be like the first time you saw him. You wondered what you’d say, how you’d act, what he’d say, how he’d act. Standing across from him your entire relationship played out before you at warp speed: the intense beginning, passionate, wild and hot middle and even the soul crushing ending. At the thought of the end you broke eye contact.

   “Maybe we should--,” Natasha began. You shook your head coming back to your senses, and the present and waved it off. “No need for that.” You walked toward the group of them taking the route that had you walking behind the couches; it was the long way. You could feel Steve’s eyes on you. “Welcome home Captain.” You stopped several feet from him with a smile plastered on your face. “Thank you Korri.” At the mention of his nickname for you, a blazing heat ran down your spine to curl in your belly, a heat that jump-started your memory of every time he’d whispered the name in your ear or grunted it out in your bed as he came undone on top of you. It tripped you up. You cleared your throat. “It’s uh—it’s actually just—Korral works fine.” Steve nodded once then lowered his eyes from yours to skim your body. That was a bold move you thought to yourself, a move Steve from seven years ago would not have done. He would have kept his professionalism in front of everyone.

   “Well, I’ll get started on your credentials.” You abruptly turned and walked out of the room doing your best to keep your head up and back straight even though your legs were complete jelly.

  Three hours later you were lying on the carpet of your office staring up at the night sky lost in thought of nothing in particular. That was not the case two hours ago. Two hours ago, you were slightly a mess, so much of a mess, you’d drank the bottle of cognac you’d had in your desk for years. You didn’t just have a glass or two, you had the entire bottle and relived your relationship with Steve. You went over everything, first meet, first conversation, first touch that was more than a touch, first date, first kiss, first time you made love which was the same night of your first date, first I love you, first kiss in front of the team; it all swam in your head, and though you were over it all, it still impacted you.

“Are you okay?” Opening your eyes, you saw Wanda and Natasha standing over you. “Oh yeah, I’m good.” It was a lie, and they knew it and sank to the floor to lie on either side of you. They didn’t speak; instead they waited for you to speak. You didn’t know what to say; it had been seven years since you’d had a heart to heart or divulged your secrets. It dawned on you then that since they’d disappeared you hadn’t talked to another woman about things. You’d buried it all.

  “Safe to say Cap’s been hitting the gym,” Wanda breached. The three of you laughed together for the next few minutes. Before long, your laughter turned to sobs. You sprang up and covered your face, unsure what had come over you. Both Natasha and Wanda put their arm around you. “I’m sorry I don’t know what this is.” Wiping the tears away you sniffled and tried to get a grip. “You don’t have to apologize.” Wanda rubbed your arm. “Not to us, never to us,” she finished. You breathed out and nodded. “Do you want to talk about it?” you thought about it for a while but decided it didn’t serve a purpose. “No, there’s no point. I actually have to get home. it is late, and I should have been there hours ago.”

   You walked over to your desk on shaky legs and gathered your things. You had to sober up before you got home. Wanda and Nat helped you outside where a car was waiting. You didn’t bother protesting, you slid in the back and sunk into the seat getting comfortable for the hour and a half ride back to the city and Marc.

When you got home, you expected him to be there to meet you at the door, but when you walked inside you were greeted with silence. You rushed to your bedroom hoping to make it to the bathroom to jump in the shower to wash away the tears. When you got into the bedroom he wasn’t there either, you stripped and jumped in the shower where you remained for the next hour. The shower was your thinking spot; you made all your decisions over a shower. It was in the shower you decided to test the waters with Steve, it was also there you decided to go on that date with him, and it was there you became one with the decision you loved him.

   When you got out and walked in the bedroom, you were so lost in your own thoughts that you didn’t realize you weren’t alone. When you felt arms around you, you nearly jumped out your skin before you used one of your defensive moves twisting the arm over your head to come up behind them to hold them in a chokehold. It wasn’t until you’d done it you realized it was Marc. “Oh my god Marc I’m so sorry.” He laughed out loud then turned to you. “Wow, I forgot who you were for a minute,” he said with an amused smile on his face. You’d never been so absentminded not to realize he was there.

   “I’m sorry.” He pulled you to his body and lifted you in his arms before he placed a juicy kiss on your lips. “You’re lucky you’re so beautiful even when you’re putting me in a chokehold.” You smiled and allowed him to kiss you again. “I don’t know where my head was.” Marc placed you on the bed and hovered over you. “Long day?” You have no idea, you thought. “Kind of, but I’m here now.” Marc kissed your forehead and then your lips again. “I can take your mind off it if you’d like.” You smiled, knowing just where he was going. Marc’s idea of a good stress release was a roll in the sheets. Usually, you’d be down to work up a sweat with him, but tonight it felt different, and you didn’t know why. As he trailed kisses down your body you tried to get in the mood. When his head disappeared between your legs you closed your eyes and tried to focus on what he was doing to you and the way he was making you feel. It took great effort to focus on nothing and no one else, but somehow you accomplished it, and Marc was none the wiser.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!   ❤️ ❤️

TagList:

@quitepointless @yourwonderbelle @caramara3 @kaetastic @toniilaney @wildmindedbeauty32 @cltex84  @bellaamor88 @periodtcevans @peach-acid @queennanayaa

#going through motions fic #Steve Rogers #Steve Rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x black reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #angst fanfic