#Nosy is unfazed by your skills!

[kiwiplaetzchen]

"Oh no, Nosy, catch it!"

Elland and the heart and soul of the Slytherin Menagerie are somewhere in the attic at Will's Manor over the holidays, both visiting, when in his curiosity Elland opens up a big chest in the corner of the small cramped chamber.

A golden snitch bursts out and jets all over the place, knocking over anything light that's not tied down, passing through the stout old book shelves, ricocheting off the walls and sending the decades-old dust into motion. The snitch looks as disoriented as Elland and Nosy are startled, although for a different reason: this is not a Quidditch pitch and it has nowhere to go.

"Accio snitch! Accio!"

Elland scrambles, trying to get to it, but there's not enough space to maneuver and the poor lighting of the attic makes it hard for him to keep his eyes on the snitch.

"Blast, how does Will do it! Nosy, behind you!"

The Niffler was tightly clinging to Elland's leg, his little paws gripping as he schemed. He had intended to play a prank on the lad with the surprisingly talented belly-rubbing hands, but alas, that plan backfired, and now he found himself in a rather boring, dusty attic. No comparison at all to the rest of the place downstairs, which was full of shiny things and snacks!

With a dramatic sigh, Nosy slowly slipped down Elland's leg, his grip loosening until he lay flat on the dusty floor, utterly slain by boredom. The little menace was not impressed. His eyes darted around the cramped space, trying to locate the exit. He’d get his revenge on the pretty lad later, no doubt.

Just then, something snapped Nosy out of his misery. A loud pop echoed through the room as Elland foolishly opened an old chest. Before either of them could react, a golden snitch burst out, streaking through the air like a firecracker. The commotion startled both wizard and Niffler, sending dust and clutter flying everywhere.

"Accio snitch! Accio!" Elland shouted while the snitch zigzagged wildly around the room, but it darted through the cramped space far too quickly. His warning, however, came just a second too late.

The golden snitch slipped right between Nosy’s legs, catching him off guard and knocking him off balance. Nosy staggered backward, landing on his fluffy bottom with an indignant squeak. The little Niffler huffed through his nostrils, narrowing his eyes. A challenge? Nosy’s fur bristled with determination. How dare that shiny trinket play the Teal King like that!

With newfound purpose, Nosy sprang to his feet and launched himself after the flying golden ball. While the wizard waggled around his magic stick in desperation, Nosy paused for a second to give him a quick sideways glance that oozed pure judgement. Pathetic, the Niffler thought, shaking his head. If it had been Sebastian or the pretty Prefect, this would’ve been over in seconds.

Nosy focused his attention back on the snitch, still sending dust clouds everywhere. He leapt from bookshelves to old chests, knocking over random knick-knacks as the golden snitch whizzed about the attic. His little paws worked with lightning precision as he climbed and jumped, his eyes never leaving the prize. The golden ball was fast, but Nosy was determined.

Suddenly, the snitch stopped, hovering right in front of Elland's face. This was Nosy’s moment. With a graceful long jump that could only be described as epic, Nosy launched himself through the air, his tiny body gliding with the elegance of a champion. In his head, he could hear the cheers of an adoring crowd. Nosy! Nosy! Nosy!

But the snitch had other plans.

With one quick flick, it zipped away just as Nosy reached his target. Instead of the snitch, Nosy landed squarely on Elland's face with a soft thud. There was a brief moment of silence before Nosy chirped, clearly unfazed by his less-than-perfect landing. After all, the Teal King never loses - he just takes detours.

[clarissalance]

Who has the upper hand?

Pairing: Kaeya x G/N!Reader, mention of Varka and Diluc.

Warning: Slight swearing, Kaeya is a lil shit, reader being stubborn and scheming, immense tension

Summary: You’re so terrible at swordsmanship that you can’t withstand 2 strikes from Kaeya or, are you? 

Word count: 3k5

Disclaimer: What is written in here is based on my imagination, nothing from this fic should be taken seriously. Most of the fact I put in this fic does not follow the lore of the game so it should only be taken as a grain of salt. For example: section 8 in Knight of Favonius codebook.

A/N: I struggle so much when I wrote this piece. This was suppose to be angstier but I tone down a little bit (because Kaeya was very OOC in my draft, I think he’s still a bit OOC in this fic but I tried my best ;-;, pls don’t bite me.) 

How did author write a 50k+ oneshot? I can’t write something more than 5k properly ;-; Anyhow, please enjoy this fic. I’m going to have a good rest for 2 weeks before release a comeback. Please shower Kaeya and our new MC with a lot of loves!!!! 

As a strategist of the knight of Favonius, you don't usually have enough time to finish the towers of reports, the never-ending meetings and dealing with cheap tricks Fatui diplomats. Often, you have to skip your daily sword training session, which results in a rather miserable situation. The whole practice ground is staring holes at your defeated posture. You are sitting on the hard soil ground, and the Calvary captain is towering you, his sharp blade just a few inches away from your throat. 

It is not a strange scene for any knights to lose a spar against the Calvary captain, he should be one with the best swordsmanship after Grand Master, and maybe Acting-Grand Master, too. However, as knight, they can usually withstand him at least more than 2 blows. 

Whispers and talks start to circulate around as soon as you stepped your foot in the training ground. It’s very uncommon to see people from that department wandering around this area. The strategy department is famous inside the Knight of Favonius to be the weakling-cunning-mouthy-jerks, who always find excuses after excuses to skip the monthly knight evaluation. 

So, who gives them the right to be exempt from the test? Of course, it’s from the ultimate high chief of strategy department. Rumours say before the strategy chief works for the Favonius knight, the man was once a legendary attorney. That person can flip words from black to white, turns the defendant from guilty to innocent.  With a profound convincing skillset coming from the chief, persuading the Grand Master Varka is easy as a piece of cake. The whole department of 10 people is easily off-hook for 3 years, never participate in the monthly evaluation before the man suddenly dropped the bomb 2 days ago.  

“ I’m tired from coming with excuses to cover for your lazy asses.” The man waved his hand, his eyes staring outside the window. His nails scratching the messy shaved chin.“ Varka seems to get used to navigating my thoughts-”

“Maybe time is wearing away your skill-” At the corner, someone accidentally blurted out, and the whole table gave him a sharp look. Did he have a death wish or something? If so, everyone here can happily dig him a hole, free charge for the coffin.

The chief cleared his voice again, blue eyes melancholy drifted to the table. “So, you guys have tried your best on this monthly evaluation. I hope to see you all again next month.” 

The meeting was dismissed afterwards, and everything spiralled into chaos. The whole department hasn’t touched anything aside from the parchment papers and the quills in the last 3 years. How are they going to master the swordman-ship in 2 weeks? 

But, the worst thing is,

Your well-respected, talented, and tactful chief has run away. 

The next morning, you received the news that a foxy old man is on a business trip to Fontaine with the Grand Master. The expedition is 2 weeks long.

You should have known what he meant when the deceitful man ambiguously ended his sentence like that. Nothing goes well when the chief said:  ‘Farewell, my comrades’. 

 For the last 2 days, you have been starting to familiarize yourself again with how to hold a sword and how to swing the sword. 

As you trail along with the long-forgotten memories, trying to look through the familiar feeling when swinging the sword, you hear footsteps coming in your direction. It is familiar, with the way the person is walking, the beat, the sudden burst of noise in the air, you can only conclude it’s the Calvary Captain. The practice ground seems livelier as soon as the man steps inside, people rushing to his side to give their greetings. Maybe today is one of his practice days.

 “ Never thought I would see you here.” The young man calls out, successfully jostle you up from your thoughts. You give him a complex look and turn away, focusing on the tattered dummies. Your wrist is screaming in protest, legs wobbling. You remember those golden days when you were young when you were flexible, and your bones didn't crack as much. Oh, where the golden days have gone? 

“What do I own the honour of seeing you here, captain?” You fold your arm defensively, voice monotonously. Kaeya despites the most when you start talking in an emotionless tone. Oh, how you love riling him up in the middle of the practice ground! 

“ I come here for my weekly practice, but-” He shrugs, eyes glinting with mischief. “ look like the rumour about the abolishment of special permission for the strategy department is true.” 

So he has heard the rumours. You roll your eyes, face blanks. You know Kaeya has his own way to obtain his information, but you never thought it’d be this fast. Words don’t easily leak from the strategy department. 

“What do you need? Make it short, so I can practice for the upcoming evaluation.” Tired of his long introduction, you ask him directly. If you are going to ignore him any longer, the man will continue poking you. 

Starting an argument only wastes your time, and asserting dominance in the middle of the training ground won’t boost your ego. You’re a strategist, your weapons are detailed plans and sharp word, not sword and bow. Showing off your strength in front of those ruthless knights don't improve your relationship with them. 

“ Straight the point eh?” You give him an impatiently look, tempting to ignore him again before he flashes you a smug grin. “How bout sparing with me?”  

The whole training ground falls in silence, and you direct at the captain a confusing look. Is he serious? No one in the knight except the Grand Master can go against him, not to mention someone who hasn’t touched a sword for three years. 

“I can help you with your training, and you can help with mine” Kaeya speaks with utmost confidence that you almost nod and agree. That man is really deceitful, he knows how well your skill has gone dull, yet he still wants to practice with you? What is this man plotting?  

“ Do you realize how absurd your offer is? ” You give him a complicated gaze, voice unwavering. Everyone takes in a deep breath, tension crackling. It's not everyday scenery you often encounter. A heated argument between the mischievous cavalry captain and the tactful strategist. Nosy people gather around the pair, internally hoping for the war the breaks out. 

“ You know well that I can’t properly block your first strike.” Light-hearted, you joke, but there is no hint of amusement in your voice. Sharpe eyes glaring at the blue figure, you notice the man remains unfazed. 

" Shouldn't you choose a more competent opponent?" 

The sound whispers and talking about the reasons why Kaeya picked such an easy opponent start to circulate, and you can’t help to curl your lips up. Within a  few seconds, you have effortlessly turned the gossiping direction toward your desired path. Flashing Kaeya a victorious grin, you tap your foot impatiently, waiting for his reaction.

You should have worked at PR damage control or marketing instead! The diplomat would have been fine too! At least, you wouldn’t need to practice swordman-ship.

As you mulling on your terrible choice of career, a chill runs down your spine. Tilting up, Kaeya is beaming sweetly at you, the frost slowly creeping up and nipping your shoes. Look like you just pressed the wrong button. 

The man narrows his eyes, and you gulp nervously, avoiding his calculating gaze. Kaeya chuckles, his voice laced with worry, wavering and hurtful. 

“I just want to help you improve as fast as possible. The test is coming in two weeks isn't it?” 

The whole table has turned, and people start to say how considerate and thoughtful the cavalry captain is. The crowd starts to criticize you and tell you to be more grateful and stop suspicious of his unconditional help. Oh, you wish he wasting it on you, many knights in this training ground would love getting advice and improvements from him. 

Applause for our dear Calvary captain, smoothly seeking empathy from the crowd and turning the favour back to him. No wonder how fast he climbed up the rank. 

Bantering and arguing with a person like him is meaningless, so you accept his offer and drag your sword toward his direction. Let finish this within 2 strikes. 

Moving to the centre of the field, both of you face each other, his eyes scanning you sceptically. What is this man plotting again? Bowing, you finally give him a warning look before standing at your ready position. Kaeya holds his sword, analyzing your starting posture. 

As soon as the whistle blows, you charge at the man, opening the spar with a direct hit. Kaeya quickly raises his word up to block the first blow, the sound of steel clashing loudly. He then forcefully diverts the sword to the left, a classic way to counter the strike. 

Knowing your limited strength against him, you take a step back and swiftly angle the blade downward, aiming for a weak spot at his waist. This move would create a noticeable weakness on your right, and only the idiot doesn't use this as his advantage to disarm you. 

You’re right, he uses the loophole you planned, successfully disarm you within 2 strikes. The sword slips from your hand clanging loudly behind as your foot slips and fall on the ground. 

His sharp blade is just a few inches away from your neck. The calvary captain wears a solemn look, his cerulean eyes imbued with irritation. Seems like he figures out you purposefully planed to end the match in 2 strikes. 

Quickly raising your hand in defeat, you shoot him a taunting grin. The referee declares Kaeya is the winner, and people start to clap and cheer loudly, but overall no one is surprised. As the match end, audiences start to disperse, return back to their tasks. 

Kaeya put his sword away and offers you his hand. You stare idly at the gloved hand a moment before putting yours on. The man effortlessly pulls you up, your body flush against his. With Kaeya so close to you, your first reaction is to push the man away, but his firm grip says otherwise. He inches closer, dark blue locks brush your cheek, tall figure towering you intimidating. 

“Why end it so early?” He leans down and whispers, your body tenses up visibly. “Surely, you could handle more than 2 strikes of mine.” The young man in blue hums, his voice sultry. 

“ What are you saying? I haven’t touched the sword more than 3 years.” You remind him, hands pushing his chest away, trying to create some distance. The man doesn’t budge an inch. 

“Your strikes doesn’t say so. The first strike was not bad.” Noticing your effort to push him away, Kaeya stands straight, heels dig into the ground. His lips curl up at the helplessness flashing in your eyes. He loves seeing you struggle, seeing how anxiety and desperation rising in your sparkling orbs. “I think you could at least have a decent fight with me.”  

“ Quit spouting non-sense Kaeya, let me go. We are in public.” You let out an annoyed hiss, punching his toned chest. He still wears the uniform improperly like that, the exposed tan chest can be under many layers. Sometimes you don't even know the reason why doesn't he just button the shirt up properly. Finger grazing at the bared skin on his chest, you turn your head away, cheeks heat up. 

The man loves seeing you squirming in his trap, and you’re not going to let him see that. Anything, but satisfying his masochist hobby. 

“You don’t like skin-ship?” The man fakes a gasp, his orb sparkles with mirth. “But you were being touchy with your friend. Why can't we be a bit touchy? ”  His tone suggestively, the tall man snickers at your blushing mess. Out of everything, why would he mention that? You give him stinky eyes, brows furrow deeply.  

“I’m not touchy with you.” You deny dreadfully. Archon, how long have you wasted your time here with this slithering serpent? 

Kaeya arms wrap tightly around you, your body moulds perfectly into his embrace. You hate how perfectly you fit into his hug like this, but you can’t deny how warm he is, despite the fact he wields cryo. 

“ When will you let me go?” Your voice starts to grow weak, dragging slightly in discomfort.  Kaeya curiously looks down, noticing your pouting. Sensing his gaze, you turn your head away but his fingers have quickly grabbed your cheek, forcing you to look at his deep blue eye.  

“Give me a kiss, then I'd let you go.” His voice serious, but what he just said is not. You look at the cryo wielder horrendously, mouth gaping. His face is composed and relax, like what he just ask is like asking about the weather, asking about your health, not for a kiss. Is he being serious? What in the world did he just ask? A kiss? Excuse me, a what? 

“You...you are not being serious.” You wriggle your way out, escaping from his fingers, but his embrace tightens, caging you inside. Damn it, Kaeya. He’s messing with you. 

When you flash him a furious look, the man shrugs nonchalantly, his cerulean lock fluttering gently in the wind. Suddenly, you have an urge to wipe off that calm demeanour. He can’t be serious. Why does he have to go all the way to annoy the shit out of you? 

The smug grin hanging on his face, the mischief in his blue eyes, the arching brows, everything about him screams a flirt, yet you feel so mesmerized. Blinking a few times, you have to constantly remind yourself this man is not trustworthy. From the attitude to the way he looks at you, to the way he acts around you. Nothing from his action is truthful. Like Diluc’s warning, you can only believe half of his word and action. 

“ Of course I’m being serious.” His voice solemn, but you can see the amusement in his eyes. If he doesn’t like you, why would he spend so much effort bothering you this much? What reaction is he expecting from you?  

“ I really like you, Y/N” Kaeya confesses cheerfully, and you can faintly hear a few gasps around. Not this again...

Archon, you’re going to die early at this rate. You just want to practice for the upcoming evaluation, not becoming a hot topic for all Mondstadt citizen to gossip about. 

And this man too, how can he easily slip out those words when you just heard him flirting with another woman the other day?  You already told him numerous times that you’re not interested in dating him, or anyone right now! 

Hung your head down in exhaustion, you tap his shoulder, mumbling quietly. “ Fine, fine.” You finally open your mouth, too exhausted and bothered by his stubbornness. He only wants a kiss, and you won’t hurt giving him one. Just a kiss then you can get back to your practice.  

“Just don’t confess your love to me in a crowd like this again.” Before closing the deal, you weakly add a bargain, nudging him.  

The calvary captain looks surprised, his eye widens little, not expecting you to agree. Normally, it takes another argument or two before you comply with his request. Kaeya timidly raises his gloved hand to your face, gently caresses your cheek. This time, you lean into his touch, nuzzling your face into his palm, eyes glimmering softly. Despite a cryo wielder, his hand is surprisingly warm. 

The man in blue curiously peeks at you, he feels like a feather tickling the itchy spot. Are you plotting an escape route? Since when did you become so obedient? He has never seen the soft fur under the spiky façade you set up to face with the world, but strangely, he likes this version of you more. 

Noticing his relaxed stance, you carefully gently wrap your fingers around his wrist while keeping eye contact with him. Kaeya eye widens, startles at your sudden touching. Trying your best to not break the unspoken connection, you bring his hand away from your cheek. In those cerulean eyes, you see a hint of disappointment, but it quickly dissolves. Slowly, you draw closer toward the hand hanging in the air, lips fluttering on the smooth skin on his wrist. 

The calvary captain instinctively moves back, trying to escape from your sudden contact. Ironic, he is the one who innates the hug and demands a kiss from you. Tightening your grip, you press your wet lips on the exposed part of his wrist dedicatedly while maintaining eye contact with him, eyes drown with submission.

Kaeya stares at you in awe, maybe not expecting the passionate look in your eyes. His azure eye fills with mischief, now replaces with confusion and hesitation. You notice how his ears have dusted with pink despite the winds blowing in the practice ground. The man avoids your eyes, flustering. 

Whispers and gasps start to remind you of the crushing reality, so you let his hand down while grinning cheekily at the cryo wielder. Poking and breaking Kaeya meticulously façade is always something you want to try. The man is a living devil, so it’s extremely unusual to see him losing his composure. 

Sneakily, you untangle his other arm wrapping around your waist, plotting an escape route. 

However, Barbatos doesn’t let you slip away that easily. Quickly regaining his composure, Kaeya snakes his hand around your hip again, tightening his hold. Unlike the first time, the sneaky bastard lifts you up and has the audacity to throw your body on his shoulder, carry you like a sack. 

“ Yah! What are you doing?” You exclaim, fluster at his sudden antic. Kicking and punching on his shoulder, you try as many as you can, but somehow, Kaeya manages to dodge all of them.   

“ You said you will let me go when I give you a kiss!” The crowd uproars, stares and gossips poke pointedly at your back. You don’t want to hear those comments from those knights again. They're not going to let this live down, aren't they? Bury your face in the Kaeya's furry collar, you let out a frustrating sigh, punching his shoulder as hard as you can. 

“ You give me a kiss on my wrist. That doesn’t count.” Kaeya nonchalantly strides away from the practice ground, unfazed by your attempt to escape. This man is a beast, how can he not budge an inch with all of your kickings on his shoulder? 

“ You didn’t specify the place. A kiss is a kiss!” You emphasize, and you can feel his shoulder shaking. Is he laughing? “You didn’t keep your promise.” Fuels by the rising anger, you kick your leg aggressively, struggling to free yourself from the iron-clad grip. This time, his strong arm wraps around your calves like a chain.  

As soon as you raise your head up, the familiar pathway hits your memories. Shit, he is heading toward the headquarter, likely to his office. You can’t let anyone in there see you in this state. Punching his back profusely, you shot back. 

“Not fulfilling the contract is breaking the Knight of Favonius's code of cond-.” Before you can finish your sentence, the man smacks your calves loudly, successfully shutting your mouth. Speechless by his sudden punishment, you let out a disbelief breath.    

“ There are no such a section states about fulfilling contract inside the code of conduct, so stop making the rule up.” Kaeya smugly grins, and you can already picture his blue eyes glinting with mischief, the signature shit-eating grin on his handsome face.

" There is, it's in section eight-" Before you can finish your sentence, Kaeya cuts in, waving his hand dismissively. 

" Section eight is about interaction with your co-worker, there is none about keeping contracts." The calvary captain humming, trying to recalling the content of the book. Speechless by the detailed memories of his, you can only close your mouth, quietly waiting for him to drop you down. If you stay still on his shoulder, will he let you go? 

" You know, not everyone reads and memories the knight of Favonius handbook, you are just unlucky that I know the book by heart." Seeing you deflate weakly on his shoulder, Kaeya lets out a chuckle, patting your head comforting.       

Before heading inside the HQ, the man doesn't drop your down but leans in closely, his whisper tickling your ear. “But at least I had fun seeing you squirming in my grasp.” 

And then it hits you, the bastard purposely falls for of your antic. 

[seoafin]

Sooo i may or may not have become obsessed with the rip!verse (each of your posts make my day and white lighters what a delightful read, holy shit) and i have so many questions! (Pls ma'am... feed us... we need the high quality content you provide...)

1. What is reader's cursed technique? I remember toji saying she had potential upon (brutally) trying to kill her and her examining yuji to... idk, try to seal sukuna, but you've never explicitly said anyting and i am dying to know more (pls help)

2. We all know poor, poor Megumi suffers from the incessant pining between reader and gojo. But what about Yuji and Nobara? And the second years? Do they try to set them together, crossing out the ideas/plans they've already tried, becoming more and more desperate each time it inevitabely fails in the most improbable way? Or does gojo asks for their help?

3. And how could i not talk about the Shibuya Arc? (also known as "gege please for the love of god stop" arc) Where is reader? Did she manage to follow gojo abd watch the... incident unfold? Did she stay behind with Shoko? Did she go with the students? Did she join the kyoto school? How did she react upon learning that gojo was chillin' in his lil cube while the whole world was going to hell? (And did she see Getwo??? What was her reaction??? I have whole scene in mind and am now itching to write it down although i must sleep?? Why??)

(Yep, the rip!verse leaves rent free in my mind. Not that i complain though. It never ceases to amaze me no matter how many times i read it. Plus it inspires me for my own writing so *bows* thank you so much for creating such a bloody brilliant masterpiece! Have a lovely night/day!)

THIS ASK??? Hxhsbndnd i’m so glad you like the ripverse!!

prepare for an info dump + general information on rip!mc which I probably should have typed out/ elaborated on earlier LOL

1)

honestly i'm still working out the details but it's probably going to be something along the lines of the ability to suspend time for a person/object with certain conditions that must be met. but once they're met you can hold it for as long as you wish. It’s not exactly an offensive cursed technique, but deadly if utilized properly! it also comes in handy when trying to study curses!

rip!mc is a historian/researcher who classifies curses which is a fascination which was born after geto left. weirdly, it helps you feel closer to him. your research takes you around the country, and even abroad some times (which gojo despises), but you’re more than well equipped to defend yourself. you trained maki with the polearm!!

I also like the idea of them occasionally teaching as an adjunct professor at Tokyo University (grad student MC ftw), so they know what it’s like to be a teacher, although it’s not exactly the same! the semesters you do teach—you occasionally stay with gojo

the reason why toji said that is bc rip!mc caught toji's eye a split second before he stabbed gojo. since you’re very very sensitive to cursed energy and by default, other people, the pure absence of cursed energy made you instinctively turn. toji was referring to the fact that if you honed your skill a little more, you maybe would have even sensed him!

also the reason why rip!mc is more sensitive to cursed energy than gojo is because he probably automatically filters out the sheer number different cursed energies (since the sensory overload would be crazy while rip!mc never really learned to do that and as a result became more attuned to cursed energies in general)

Also more about the cursed seals! Rip!mc is exceptionally good at making seals because of how sensitive they are to cursed energy. In harmonious, you had to gauge sukuna’s overall (at the time) power in order feel out whether or not you could make a good enough seal (the higher ups requested it) to contain sukuna.

2)

Everyone is tired of gojo’s pining. And suspicious at how oddly ignorant you are. When gojo makes himself at home on your lap in the middle of a meeting for the umpteenth time, and you’re completely unfazed, everyone’s like?????

It kinda goes back to how rip!mc refuses relationships because she knows she’s going to die (hazards of the job), and she’s afraid of leaving a lover behind more than anything (childhood trauma. involves parents), and in her head, friends and lovers are two distinctly different things (they really aren’t). Getting over a friend's death is different from getting over a lover’s death (once again, not really, who’s going to tell her???)

And gojo, for as much as he lacks boundaries (ie; has none) tries to accommodate it the best he can although you’ve always been his. shoko always tells gojo that (like always when it comes to rip!mc) he’s jumping the gun, but he shoots her with finger guns and says that he has no idea what she’s talking about :)

Maybe the reason why you’re never home is because you doesn’t want to confront your feelings haha

When it comes to the nosy students. Nobara likes you but can’t fathom gojo in a relationship. Yuji automatically assumes you and gojo are dating. Maki thinks that you can do so much better than that idiot. Panda thinks it’s cute. Inumaki: Salmon. Yuta sees the way gojo “looks” at you but thinks he’s overthinking it, and doesn’t want to say anything.

Megumi, on the other hand, tells everyone to leave it since he’s a bit protective over rip!mc.

3

You’re not the only one!! I’ve gotten messages on ao3 asking about the shibuya arc LOL 😭

the reader was called back from Okinawa as backup and reached tokyo as soon as gojo entered the curtain. he texted her saying not to worry (haha). They entered with shoko and yaga to protect her and the patients. And when she hears that gojo’s been sealed, she’s completely bewildered. Gojo can take care of himself wherever he is, she’s more worried about the students than him tbh LOL (gojo is definitely going to whine about that later)

When megumi’s dropped off by yuji (ugh!!!) this is where it could go either way.

1) Shoko sees how worried you are about yuji, whose cursed energy you picked up before he ran away, and tells you to go. You find him but he runs away from you. If this happened I could see a getwo reunion (I’m hurt, did you already forget my face?) where getwo reaches out to touch your hair and gets stopped by surprise, surprise, original geto deep inside. Cue some more body vs soul philosophical talking points before you eventually meet up with the kyoto gang AND utahime!!!

2) Stay with shoko. Eventually get called to the Kyoto group.

Meanwhile inside the prison realm gojo is playing with a ring the size of your ring finger (how he got the measurement nobody knows)

[bottledemotion]

Our Dance Beneath the Moonlight (Diluc X Fatui reader)

- Gender neutral reader

- 1.9k+ words

- warning/s: a tiny bit suggestive but only stated/seen through words not action

- spoiler from one of the quest which is from the “Darknight Hero”

Their first meeting started with the click of their weapons together.

It was in the dead of the night where it all began. It was peaceful, not a single citizen can be seen on the usually busy street of Mondstadt, even the guards who was supposed to be on patrol in the night cannot be seen nor find on the street, all busy and occupied from the sudden slime attack on the docks, leaving the city unprotected for the night. No cicadas and frogs are singing together to fill up the silence of the night, nor the usual muffled loud, boisterous noises from each tavern. All are asleep and oblivious of the danger they're under on, too preoccupied with their own little world behind closed doors.

So it was peaceful and quiet, too quiet in fact.

Perfect for the people on the night to strike. 

Or so they thought, for they forget that there's a hero that roams around in the dead of night from Mondstadt, someone who others call them the "Darknight Hero".

Which is why there were no eyes to witness the fight between a Fatui member, face hidden to the hood from their black coat, and a certain hero of the night from Mondstadt.

The hero took a leap back after their weapons- claymore and sword -connected to one another, his untamed red locks tied up to a low ponytail followed his quite graceful movements, like he was very used to it. Once the distance between them widens, he prepared his stance. He lowered his body like a predator ready to pounce on its prey. His hold from his claymore tightened as he raised its weight above and placed it behind him, ready to swing it to their way at any given moment which he will do without hesitation.

He watched them. His narrowed red ruby eyes never left the figure in front of him. He watched the slight subtle movements they make, the breath they each take, the swing of their sword that managed to take the brute force of his claymore danced from their black-gloved fingertips and air with a nonchalant grace. From the way they smirk at his way, he can tell with full conviction that they're doing those on purpose, mocking him, teasing him.

He gritted his teeth.

His enemy's smirk widens.

And to that, both immediately move forward. Their distance lessened, and both parties met each other halfway. The click of their weapons clashed to the dead silence, creating a loud echo between them. Their silent steps from the tiled roof under them and the clash of their weapons together are in sync like they're dancing together, both reciprocating the raw passion to fight and dominate the other give back to every slash of their weapon that met the other.

One could say this is how rivals truly show their hate to the other. A fight in a form of a dance. Both started on different sides, making them wary to one another, making their distance between them widen, vast and bumpy like an ocean. Despite the distance, both are willing to cross the bumpy waves of the ocean to meet each other halfway with the clash of their weapons and eyes boring to the other, eyes full of loathe and hate they didn't bother to hide.

The full moon and stars above them watched the scene unfold, being the only witness of their dance. It's moonlight cast its light beneath them, making their weapon and half of their face facing the moon be lighten and clearly be seen at night.

As their distance lessened with the collision of their weapon once again, both finally saw the other's face clearly, or what they could see and identify to the other. 

Both are wearing a masquerade mask that covers the upper part of their face. One holds the symbol of a Fatui member proudly holds while the other bore a plain black one with golden patterns whirled and curled around forming different patterns on both sides of his mask. His ruby red eyes can still be seen under his mask, while the other has been covered from the dark transparent silk that every Fatui member holds, hiding their eyes from prying eyes. The hero's stare changes its course. From the mask they wore, went to their (S/c) cheeks, then to their nose and slowly descended to their soft looking lips that looks oh so tempting to caress if only it has not been formed into a smirk that shockingly and annoyingly reminds him of a certain captain from the Knights that he didn't want to remember at all.

His thoughts interrupted when the person in front of him whistled.

"My my, checking me out in the middle of the fight? Are you like this to every person you fought with?" They asked. Their voice is soft, a whisper but full of teasing in it. Making his nose scrunched up, eyebrows creased, mouth twisted into a frown.

Even the way they talk reminds him of the annoying bastard.

The hero leaps away from them again, making his enemy laugh. 

He gritted his teeth and prepared his stance again. "Time to end this." He sneered at them.

The enemy chuckled and readied their stance as well. "I'd like to see you try Darknight Hero~" they taunted.

His eyes immediately turned into a glare that's so cold yet hot at the same time. He can feel his elemental skill dance on the tip of his fingertips, brushing its way there until it wrapped itself to his weapon, covering it to flames. His eyes never left his target who remained unfazed to the deadly flames directed to their way. 

He didn't give them a chance to catch up nor think. One moment they're far away from each other, the next he's standing in front of them with his claymore full of flames swinging in their way.

He can feel the caress of their breath from the soft gasp escaped from their lips before colliding his weapon to them.

Or so he thought.

Because as soon as he slung his claymore, he immediately stopped, almost colliding it to the tiled roof which he now realized they're stepping on all this time. He immediately stood up straight to look for his enemy, which he saw, distance immediately widens between them in a blink of an eye, literally.

His enemy clicked their tongue. "As much as I'd like to be beaten up by you in other ways rather than that." Their words cut off from a sudden laugh came out from their mouth when they noticed the scrunched up look of the Darknight Hero it made from their comment. "I have to go now."

They turn their back on him, making their cloak do a dramatic wind effect from their movements.

They turn their face to their side to face him, but not properly. "My work here is done, so long, pretty boy. Let our faith cross path again~." 

And from that, they ran away from their dance like Cinderella who's wish starts to disappear now that it struck 12 am.

Like from Cinderella’s story, he chased after them but for different reasons, and none of it are good.

"Hey!" He shouted and reached his gloved hand on them. His gloved fingertips managed to caress the edges of their hood but didn't reach enough to pull it. Instead, the wind did the job for him as they jumped their way to another building, blowing the hood away to reveal their (H/l) (H/c) hair that dances with the wind from their movements.

His enemy didn't stop running though, nor tried to pull the hood back up. Instead, they kept running, fully intended to escape the scene.

The hero tried to catch up with them, but fatigue started to take its toll on his body after a busy day at work this morning and the lack of sleep on these past few days.

So with a huff, he gave up and watched the Fatui member slowly blurred in the distance until he can't see them anymore. A bitter feeling crawled up to his spine, making him shiver, and hand formed into a fist.

Is this what defeat taste like?

"Master Diluc!" 

The hero clicked his tongue and turn his attention to the person who called him, only to see three new figures approaching him, worry written on their faces.

"We took down all of the monsters. Are you okay though? What happened?" One of them asked, a blond haired traveler whose purpose is to find their other kin.

"Yeah! You're about to beat the monsters up when you immediately run away!" Another one asked, a nosy, high pitched fairy who always float and stick around to the traveler.

"Did you see another enemy approaching the city? Or is it because the Knights of Favonius immediately came from that area to aid us?" Their last companion asked, a cheeky bastard bard who always asks if he can get a taste of his dandelion wine from his tavern which he sometimes always refused.

Diluc huffed. "Both." He simply answered.

"Really?! Where's the body though?" The fairy asked as she turned left and right to look around the scene.

"They manage to escape." Diluc gritted out and crossed his arms to his chest.

"The enemy managed to escape? No wonder you look so worn out as usual. Did the enemy manage to take your brute force? Or is it because of fatigue finally catching up to you?" The bard teased. He can feel his smirk present to his face as he said those.

"Someone managed to take his brute force? No offense Tone-Deaf Bard but Paimon thinks no one will ever manage to take the brute force of his flames." The fairy- Paimon -said.

"Seriously, what happened?" The traveler asked

Diluc remove his stare to them and brings it back to the road that the Fatui member ran off from. He remembered the (S/c) skin, the soft-looking lips and (H/l) (H/c) hair of his enemy. Printing those from his mind so when they meet again, he won't hesitate to attack them no matter the circumstances and area they are on.

"It's just fatigue catching up to me." He replied yet didn't turn his way nor attention to them. The world around him got blurred and drowned, so he didn't see and hear the bard sigh from his reply and the traveler's grow of concern and worry for him that they started talking about something that became static from his ears.

All of his focus turned to the enemy he fought moments ago. The person who manage to hold its stand on the entire fight despite wielding a sword on a fight whose enemy they faced holds a claymore. The person who manage to dodge his elemental skill in a blink of his eyes.

He wonder how they manage to do that. Questions start to whirl around his mind but he brings those thoughts on the back of it when he makes up a goal, a mission, a promise.

To defeat them in a fight. To make them submit to their dance.

He can't call himself strong when he didn't bring down an enemy who's blade is thinner than his.

"Calm down Traveler! Paimon sure he'll get them next time!" He heard the small fairy said.

"Right Master Diluc?"

Diluc turned his attention back to them. His usual stoic expression plastered to his face, the only difference to it is the sudden glow from his eyes, fire full of passion and determination. Making the witnesses of its expressions change, all hold curiosity and questions at the sudden change of it.

"Yeah, I definitely will." 

So with that, he can't wait to see them again.

He can't wait to see their faith cross paths again with the collision of their weapons together beneath the moon and stars.

------------------------------------------------------------

A.N: I just wanna write two individuals having a sword fight under the moonlight while trying not to get love at first sword fight, which in Diluc's case, failing but he's not aware of it cause......it's him sooooooo-.

Sorry if some of the characters came out OOC, still trying to grasp their characterization ^ ^"

Thank you for reading!

[rhymesalot]

Wizardly

In distant lands where wizards wandered, a time of yore when magicians pondered; a challenge was made by an illusionist of note, shrouded in mystery and a long black coat, ~ The gifted were called to show their great skills. But the contest prohibited charlatans and shills. Prizes guaranteed and the winners get gold. So come, one and all, both young and old. ~ Signs were posted all over the town. Flyers distributed by a gal in a gown. Entertainments galore and food aplenty, there’s games for all, bet one win twenty. ~ The festival starts in two weeks’ time, dancers await with jesters and a mime. The town square was chosen for its large size. The old mayor agreed but thought it unwise. ~ The time finally came and the lines grew long. Musicians ushered with an enchanting song. The adults drank heartily and the kids guzzled juice. The sun was setting and the town felt loose. ~ Coins flowed freely and senses had a feast. Scraps could be tossed to the fiercest of beasts. Wrestlers tangled and the jugglers caught on. Clowns peddled emotion and one had a swan. ~ The main event planned for nine on the dot. Buy tickets early and reserve your spot. Amazement ensured by the magical guests. Great talents conjured for their enriching test. ~ The show started with a man in a hat. His rabbit disappeared but that was that. Next, a woman in a bright red cape, she aimed darts at her husband holding a grape. ~ She only missed once but that was too much. But now we know why he walks with a crutch. The rest of the show was much the same. Amateurs all whose tricks were all lame. ~ Last was the illusionist and the crowd all cheered. But in a big puff of smoke they soon disappeared. The crowd all clapped but thought there was more. Was the show over? No one was sure. ~ The crowd grew feisty and refunds requested. The contestants were angry and they too protested. The search was on for this illusionist of note. A rumor was spread they left with a tote. ~ Prizes not awarded and vendors unpaid, workers left hanging and the square’s rent unmade. The mayor too was missing, a plot was surmised. Was the mayor the illusionist just well disguised? ~ Did he steal the money and then disappear? Or was he a partner and a rank profiteer? A week soon passed and all hopes grew dim. Winter was coming and the feeling was grim. ~ Then on a Tuesday just after sunrise, the town folk arose to a big surprise. The mayor returned with the money filled tote, with him a cat with a long black coat. ~ The town folk wondered what had he done. Questions were asked but answers were none. The mayor was unfazed by their nosy demands. For those truly wizardly never show their hands.

~*~ SCK011721

[cubeswhump]

Will Not be a Victim for my character, Blondie.

The neglected Blondie. I need to get back to my Powers Verse too. And the immortal bitches. I have a Sweetie and Michelle story drafted though.

Warnings for mentions of violence, referenced torture, bit of ableism. Pretty tame compared to what I usually write.

The phone rang from her nightstand, and again, and again. Then it started pinging with texts: Terry-Ellen has spoken to me but my own daughter won’t answer her phone.

I’ll be arriving at your house at 6PM.

Blondiw growled and dialled the number. The phone rang only twice before the deep voice came on the other line: “Oh, so you’ve decided to stop ignoring me?”

“Fucking hell, Dad. I’m twenty-three,” Blondie reminded him. “Chill.’

"Language, Melinda,” he scolded lightly. “I don’t care of you’re eighty-three. You’re still my daughter and we just got you back. I need to be sure that you’re okay.”

"I'm fine, Dad."

"Are you really?"

Blondie pinched the bridge of her nose. Don't call him a nosy twat, don't call your dad a nosy twat. She breathed out. "You hired a fucking bodyguard for me. "That's humiliating enough, and now you're prying into my life like I'm a child."

"Language. Good lord, you take after your mother," he sighed. "Who are you embarrassed in front of? You haven't left your house in more than two weeks." His voice was so even and annoyingly calm. Blondie swallowed back the snarl crawling up her throat. "Is it really prying to be concerned about my daughter? I just want to know that you're okay. I haven't seen you since-"

"Okay, okay, I'll stop by tomorrow. No need to stop by." She knew her father would have some words if she saw the state her house was in. Tej wasn't hired to clean after the slob, and no one had patched up the hole Blondie punched in the living room.

"Are you sure? If I come over you can stay home and rest," he offered.

"You just got on my ass for staying in my house!"

"You know that is not what happened, Melinda."

"I'll be there at eleven in the morning, okay?"

"I'll expect you by twelve."

Blondie huffed and hung up as he chuckled.

***

Tej was prodding her. "Get up. We've gotta go soon."

Blondie lifted her head abd ahot rhe other wonan a glare. "There's no we. You're staying home."

"You know that's not how it works," she said, unfazed. "I'll make you coffee."

"Don't." Blondie pyr one foot on the floor and grabbed one crutch. The other must have fallen over at some point in the night, and Blondie whacked Tej with the crutch in her hand when the thin woman tried to help her retrieve the fallen one. "Scram, bitch."

"Very nice, " Tej said sarcastically, handing her the crutch anyway. She caught the crutch Blondie swung at her. "Have you ever considered treating the help like people?"

"Go on, call me a bitch. There's nothing in your contract that says you can't insult me, yeah?"

"I'll leave you to get dreased," Tej said dryly. "Your hair looks nice. Did you wash it?"

She shut the door behind her just in time for the television remote to crash into the wood.

Blondie had only worn bath robes and undergarments for the last few weeks and she hadn't gotten to modifying any pants to her new body. Skirts? No, fighting in a skirt wasn't a great idea - if she needed to fight. Fights were always possible.

Shorts. A pair of shorts, one sock, one combat boot. The left bood sat all alone and sad. She kicked it over. Hair in a bun.

"Your coffee, Blondie." Tej shoved the steaming mug right in her face while Blondie was trying to sneak out the front door.

"I told you not to make me coffee," Blondie grumbled.

"Coconut creamer and one Sweet-N-Low," Tej tempted her, voice sing-song.

"I'm getting coffee on the way to my dad's, shithead." And she was out tje door, slamming it behind her - or trying to. Tej caught it just before it closed and slipped out after her.

"Want me to drive? You can relax," Tej offered, reaching for the keyring in Blondie's hand. Blondie jerked it away.

"I'll relax when you're dead. It's my fucking car."

"Cool, cool."

Tej was in the passenger's seat before Blondie had even opened her door so she couldn't even lock her out. Tej smiled at her knowingly. Blondie gripped the steering wheel sp hard her fingers turned white.

Tej tried to make conversation throughout the drive and Blondie turned the volume up a few notches every time she opened her mouth. After a million years, she pulled up in front of the coffee shop.

"I'll get you an iced mocha cappuccino," Blondie said as she got out of the car. Tej was stepping out too.

"Nah, I wanna look at the menu," she replied. Blondie squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth, reciting the "calming phrases" from her counseling sessions as a teenager.

When was this place ever this busy? Blondie sighed as she joined the line, Tej at her side. "You know, you're paying for your own shit."

"That's fair," Tej shrugged. "Your daddy pays me weekly."

Blondie sneered at her.

The line inched forward. A woman and her child joined. Seriously, did the entire fucking town want coffee right now?

"Wow..." the woman said, her voice hushed. "What happened?"

Blondie didn't realize the woman was talking to her until she felt a tap on her shoulder.she turned around, finding the woman's wide eyes on her still-bandaged stump. The little girl stared too, reaching for Blondie's crutch. Blondie jerked it away from her sticky hand and scowled, but neither noticed.

"What happened?" the woman asled again. "Why don't you get a prosthetic leg?"

"I pesteres someone with intrusive questions and she pulled out a machete," Blondie snapped. The woman recoiled.

"Ma'am, you're being very insensitive, and you should teach your child not to touch anyone's mobility aids." Tej launched right into a lecture. "Please treat my friend as you would treat-"

Blondie's temper boiled over. She raised one crutch and bashed it into the woman's knee. Tej's hand clamped over her own mouth as the woman fell over with a screech, dragging her daughter down with her.

"Oops. My bad." Blondie turned her back on the pair.

"Did you see that?" the woman cried as she got back to her feet. The cashier looked over from the customer he was dealing with, frowning.

"I'll be out fast," Blondie promised the cashier. "No trouble."

They walked out with their coffees and gluten-filled breakfast, Blondie's coffee spouting steam that smelled of coconut... Something she could have gotten at home. Tej predictably got a mocha cappuccino.

"I mean," Tej finally said during their resumed drive, mouth full of bagel, "not that I blame you much, but public battery isn't a food luck."

Blondie turned the radio up higher.

The guard let them into the gated, cookie cutter community. Towering houses were identical, painted a cream not a shade lighter or darker than the house nextdoor. Perfect gardens, no blade of grass even a centimeter overgrown. One house had flowers a different shade of pink than the rest. Blondie might have struggled to differentiate the houses if Chase weren't waving frantically at the end of one driveway.

"Melinda, love, how are you?" The large man was coming at her with open arms as she stepped out of the car. She was too slow thinking of an excuse to get out of hugging her stepdad, and he squeezed her tight.

"Peachy," she told him.

He hugged Tej too before letting both women into the house. He was talking a mile a minute and Blondie let Tej handle the conversation.

"I see you brought beverages. No tea then?" he asked. Blondie shook her head. "Oliver's in his study."

"Tell him hi for me," Tej chirped, and Blondie decided she would not do that. She hurried away when the other two started discussing how much they lift at the gym.

115 pounds? Unimpressive, Tej.

She didn't bother knocking on the mahogany door, throwing it right open. "Yo."

Oliver swiveled around in his chair like a James Bond villain. He even looked the part with his coiffed grey hair and serious expression. "Good morning, Melinda. You were almost on time. Have a seat."

"Nice to see you too," Blondie said sarcastically, falling back ontp the plump sofa.

"Oh, no, you're covered in crumbs! Why didn't you brush yourself off outside?"

"Just vacuum later. I had a muffin."

Oliver sighed, turning back to his laptop. "Depending on your recovery time, we'll get you fitted for prosthesis." He flicked through images. Some were very realistic and even matching her skin color, others clunky and robotic, some abstract and hardly resembling a limb. "We should find a design that fits your activity level, preferably a more realistic one. No one has to know. At that point we'll get you to that physical therapist I've been talking to, and-"

"Whoa, hold on a minure. Don't I get a say?" Blondie snapped. "And who said I want a realiatic one? Maybe I don't want to pretend I'm fucking normal."

"Whatever you want, darling. But I'm not going to let you hold yourself back."

"You tell me to take it easy abd slow down and then you get on my ass for being behind the curve. The fuck is that?"

Oliver sighed. He turned back tp his daughter, choosing his next words carefully. "I know how much you enjoy your hobbies. I think it'll be better for your mental health if you get back into dance and martial arts soon."

Back into dance. She was already the largest girl in the studio, dwarfing the tiny instructor even when she was twelve. Skilled as she was, she never had a ballerina's body and her instructor's main complaints were her thundering footsteps and "unladylike gait". Well, at least pointe shoes wouldn't hurt a prosthetic leg.

"It's my body and my life," Blondie reminded him.

"And it's my money that pqid your medical bills," he shot back. She rolled her eyes. "Melinda, you know I just want what's best for you. I want to help you. I need to help you."

"Help yourself first," Blondie snarled. "How's your boytoy?"

"I've been married to Chase since you were eight. Stop calling him my boytoy," Oliver sighed. Any other time, Blondie might have laughed at how annoyed her dad got when she mocked his husband. "And fifteen years isn't such a significant age difference when you're out of your twenties."

"He's a gold-digger."

"He's well worth what he costs, and he loves you like his own daughter. Come on, stop changing the subject. You mean so much to me. You were the victim of such a-"

"I'm not a victim," she hissed, leaning forward in her seat. Her eyes narrowed. "If anyone's a victim, it's that bitch Camilla. You know, queen of the cabbage patch."

Oliver's eyebrows knit together. "Cabbage patch?"

"Because she's a vegetable," Blondie said, and her father sighed heavily.

"I'm not denying that she's a bad person, but you don't need to be discriminatory. Other, much nicer people live with brain damage."

"Dad, shut the fuck up and listen to me," Blondie demanded. "I fought my way out. I'm not a victim!"

"Yes, yes, you're a survivor," he said in a voice like he was placating a toddler.

"No, I'm Melinda fucking Van Doren."

He lifted his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Before anything, you're my daughter and I want what's best for you."

"I actually know what's best for me because I am me."

"I'm your father. I know you pretty damn well."

"Yeah, okay. I'll keep in tough." Blondie started to stand, but Oliver held a hand up.

"Stay for lunch. Samantha made two extra plates."

It still weirded her out that her father had a cook. Her mother missed having servants after the divorce, but Blondie tried her best to keep her home free of employees. And she got stuck with Tej, the most intrusive Van Doren employee.

Chase brought two plates of chicken parmesan to the damn study.

"Workaholic," he said and rolled his eyes, kissing Oliver on the cheek. Blondie rolled her eyes. "Well, I've been having a lovely chat with Miss Tej while you two have been bonding."

Bonding. Sure.

Blondie stabbed into her chicken. She imagined it was the Queen - no, Camilla - that she was stabbing over and over, making sure she never recovered. Because she wasn't the Queen's victim.

She was Melinda "Blondie" Van Doren. She was a fucking hero and people would know that soon.

[unforgetabelle]

Lords, Lies & Ladybirds :LadyNoir July

part: 1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20

21  22  23  24  25  26  27  28  29  30  31

ao3

Promise

The next days seem to pass in a blur. Adrien and the other players finished off the run of their latest show to high praise from the townsfolk, but he had trouble taking true pride in the performance. As days turned into a week, he wasn’t the only one to feel a creative slump. A part of their family had vanished, and it seemed Adrien wasn’t the only one who found that in a few short months, Marinette had made herself an inextricable part of the theater. Her costumes were the vibrancy that encapsulated them on stage, and her quiet support a backbone many had come to rely on. Even now, when the truth about their dear costumer was an open secret within the walls of the theater, not a day went by without someone wondering aloud when Bertie would be back. The questions were never directed at him. Whether it was because the knowledge of his relationship with Marinette had finally gotten around or the imposing shadow of his bodyguard, Adrien didn’t know. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, either.

Nino was the only one seemingly unfazed by the changes, but Adrien suspected his glowing countenance had less to do with the hole in their family and more to do with his recent tête-à-têtes with a certain fine Lady. In honesty, Nino’s calm probably came from him knowing more about Marinette’s current state of mind than he did with the amount of time he spent with her best friend. It seemed every afternoon, his friend was off to stroll the city by the Alya’s side, but Adrien cut him off anytime Nino offered to ask after Marinette on his behalf. Marinette had asked for time, and Adrien was determined to give her the space she needed.

Even if it was slowly driving him mad.

It was early Thursday morn, nearly a week since he spoke to her last, when someone finally remarked on his dourness. He was laying flat on the stage, enjoying the theater without the questioning eyes of his colleagues, when Plagg’s voice called out to him from the small table where here was eating a hasty breakfast. Then again, perhaps “remarked” was too kind a word...

“Would you stop sulking already?” His gruff voice shouted. “You’re melancholy is starting to make me lose my appetite.”

Tikki snorted as she passed behind him, not pausing as she flicked the back of her husband’s ear and went on tidying the backstage.

“I find that hard to believe,” she responded, with a pointed look at the spread Plagg was slowly devouring.

“Okay, fine, but c’mon, Tiks, even you have to admit the kid is being particularly annoying--”

“Plagg,” she warned.

“Over there, sighing like the world is ending and his life is over,” he grumbled, taking another bite of his bread with cheese.

“Oh, because you certainly were never melodramatic over a girl. Is that what you’re trying to say?” Adrien lifted his head and watched as Tikki put down her broom and fixed Plagg with a stare. Arms cross and lips pursed, her incredulity was unmistakable.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. He’s being ridiculous.”

“Really? So the love sonnets of questionable skill and borderline scandalous content I received during our first year of courtship were from a different suitor?  The carefully chosen flowers and piles of sweets from the bakery left on my windowsill each night from another one still?” Tikki looked away from her husband, whose face had turned a delicate shade of red, towards Adrien in exasperation. “Clearly I married the wrong man. My true love must still be out there wondering what he possibly did wrong.”

Plagg huffed in the corner and Tikki rolled her eyes before turning to blow a kiss towards the grumpy man.

“Fine, I was also a lovesick idiot at your age, Adrien,” Plagg admitted to Tikki’s chuckle. “So tell me: how bad did you mess up?”

Adrien simply gave him a look and Plagg nodded.

“And what are you going to do about it?”

“She said she needed...time,” Adrien grimaced at Plagg as the older man cringed in understanding.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

When they had both remained silent for a moment, Tikki cut in.

“How long has it been?”

“Nearly a week,” Adrien replied with a frown.

“And you haven’t contacted her at all? Sent a note? Nothing?”

Adrien sat up fully at the tone in Tikki’s voice and noticed with confusion a disbelieving look on her face.

“The girl asked for space, Tiks,” Plagg interjected as Adrien nodded in agreement. Tikki looked between the two of them and sighed.

“Men,” she muttered, turning to rumage for something in the trunk behind her. When she emerged, her arms were laden with a soft bundle wrapped in paper and tied with twine. “This is Nathaniel’s costume for next performance. My cousin finally sent it from her theater in the north, but it needs adjusting.”

Adrien blinked at her blankly and Tikki started to look annoyed.

“I was going to take it to Marinette,” she enunciated clearly, as if speaking to a child. “But I suddenly find myself burdened by so much work. If only there were someone who could run over there for me…”

“Some strapping young lad,” Plagg caught on and turned to look at Adrien as well. “Perhaps one with blonde hair.”

“Wha--” Adrien scrambled to his feet. “You can’t mean--”

“Thank you for offering, Adrien!” Tikki shoved the bundle into his hands and dragged him towards the door with a strength that did not match her petite frame.

“But she wanted time!” He called, finally forming a coherent sentence as his feet crossed the threshold.

“Not that much time,” Tikki muttered in reply. “Go. You can thank me later.”

Then, without another word, the door to the theater was shut in his face, and Adrien was left with no other option than to follow orders and pray Tikki was right.

~*~

Adrien had imagined walking up to Marinette’s front door too many times to count. He’d imagined what it would be like if they were openly courting. What it would be like to meet her family and to formally ask her father for her hand. In none of these scenarios was Adrien dressed so shabbily, bodyguard in tow, and carrying a dress. But then, in none of the scenarios was there deafening yells echoing out towards the street from the Dupain abode either.

Shoving the wrapped bundle into his guard’s hands, Adrien ignored his genteel upbringing and pushed open the front door without preamble. His rudeness, and in fact his entire entrance, went completely unnoticed by the melee within.

The house seemed to echo with voices. Adrien could hear quieter mutterings of distinctly female voices  bouncing towards the foyer from some room down the hall, but the loudest voices pulsated from the two men in the center of the foyer. A massive man stood with an angry glower, his low voice irritated but reasonable as a smaller, and evidently more furious, man hurled nearly incoherent insults at him. They spoke over each other, the taller man’s quiet tone no less forceful as he countered his opponents verbal attacks, but through the babble one thing became very clear.

Marinette had broken off her engagement.

Adrien stood shocked for a moment until a soft cough from next to him grabbed his attention. Turning, he came face to face with Luka. The man’s expression was outwardly indifferent, but Adrien could detect from experience the carefully concealed anger in his eyes each time the man who was obviously his father slighted Marinette or the Dupain family.

“Welcome to the war,” Luka greeted him with a cordial nod.

“What on earth--” Adrien began, eyes darting between Luka and the two feuding fathers at a loss for words. Luka smiled grimly and made quick work of recapitulating the events of the last few days for him.

“She told them...four days ago, I believe? And there hasn’t been a moment of peace since.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean her family wasn’t pleased, but while the Dupain women have descended to try and ‘talk some sense into her’, her father is trying to respect her wishes. My father,” Luka’s nose crinkled as he looked back at the man who, despite his wan frame, was no doubt related to the man next to him. “My father has not been as...receptive to the recent change in my relationship status.”

“Not that a broken engagement to Marinette isn’t a loss, but you are a man of stature and position. Surely you father would have no trouble finding you another match.”

“That would be true, had I ever shown any inclination towards marriage with any other...woman.”

Luka finished with a wink, and Adrien had no trouble catching his meaning.

“Without Marinette, I will dedicate myself to being a bachelor, at least in the eyes of society, and my father knows it. With no promise of a future heir…”

Luka trailed off, but Adrien nodded in understanding. He’d dealt with more than his fair share of the pressure that comes with continuing a family legacy.

“So, this has been all morning, but fear not,” Luka nudged his arm with his elbow. “My father will tire eventually, and she will officially be a free woman. Not for too long, though, I’m sure.”

“If that’s even what she still wants,” Adrien responded with a sigh and Luka gave him a deadpan look far to reminiscent of Tikki’s face that morning. “I really wish people would stop giving me that look.”

“She broke off her engagement for you. After you lied to her about who you were. Do you really still question what she wants?”

“She told you about that?” Adrien asked with a cringe and Luka just raised an eyebrow at him.

“She was a nervous wreck earlier this week. Alya and I cornered her into admission,” he replied with a shrug. “Marinette is very loved and has extremely nosy friends. Get used to it.”

He couldn’t help but smile at both Luka’s clear loyalty to Marinette and his subtle acceptance that Adrien would be around long enough to need to get used to anything when it came to her life.

“She said she needed time,” Adrien repeated for the third time that day, the excuse starting to sound weak even to his ears.

“Not that much time,”Luka responded easily. “I’m sure if she hadn’t been swarmed constantly by her female relatives for every second of the last few days, she would have told you so herself.”

“You really think so?”

Adrien looked over at Luka earnestly and the other man shook his head even as an incredulous smile came to his face.

“You really are hopeless, aren’t you?”

“Apparently so,” Adrien responded with a smile of his own, but it was short lived, the father’s conversation falling into dead silence before them. Luka and his attention immediately diverted to the two fuming men as Sir Couffaine pointed a finger at Mr. Dupain.

“Fine,” he seethed, jabbing his digit into the much larger man’s chest. “But if you think your little chit of a daughter will ever find a match like Luka, you are sorely mistaken. Good luck finding anyone else willing to take her off your hands.”

“Luckily, I don’t measure my self-worth by what men think of me,” the very woman in question announced, having broken from her relatives to enter the room from a side doorway.

“Marinette,” a shorter woman who was undoubtedly her mother cautioned, coming to stand behind her.

“No, maman. I am quite through with men who seem to think they have any right controlling the course of my life. Papa has tried to reason with Sir Couffaine, but the man seems to be either obstinate or dumb to his new reality.”

Luka snorted next to him but was quick to hide his grin behind his hand. Through the tension in the room, no one else paid the two young men by the door any mind.

Sir Couffaine turned to the young woman, face aggressively red from anger and took a step towards her, finger still pointed in accusation.

“If you were my daughter, I would--”

In an instant, his path was blocked. In tandem, he and Luka had taken a step forward, but there was no need. Before they even reacted, Thomas Dupain had the man’s arm in a vice grip, his expression no longer accommodating.

“She is not your daughter, Reginald,” Thomas’ voice was quiet, but the threat in his tone was clear. “And you will not even dare to breathe on her if you value your life.”

The moment his hand was released, Sir Couffaine backed away, discreetly rubbing his wrist as he spewed one last insult towards the Dupains.

“You are ruined. All of you!” He shouted, still backing towards the door. “The whole town will know of how your daughter slighted my son, and trust me, there will be no lack of rumors as to why. No one will ever want her hand.”

“I do,” Adrien spoke, taking a step forward before the man’s words even truly registered. As much as he hated to admit it, Couffaine was right. Luka was a charming, desirable suitor and above Marinette’s station. At the news that she broke off their engagement, gossip was sure to follow. To society, Marinette was only worth as much as the best match she could make.

And as much as it grated on him, he was considered quite a catch.

“I want her, that is,” Adrien repeated, his eyes finally finding Marinette’s as she spun and finally spotted him. “If she’ll have me, of course.”

“Adrien?” Her voice was breathless, and he noted with pleasure how the anger drained from her features as she regarded him.

“And just who the devil are you?” Reginald shouted, but Adrien didn’t spare him a glance nor waste a breath explaining himself.

“Father,” Luka announced for him, a barely concealed smile on his face as he laid a hand on Adrien’s shoulder. “May I present to you Sir Adrien Agreste, only son of Lord Agreste and Marinette’s new betrothed?”

Reginald sputtered at his introduction just as a tittering of whispers caught Adrien’s attention from the doorway. He spared a glance to see a grouping of four women, all with vaguely similar features to Marinette and all staring at him in wide-eyed awe, but quickly turned his gaze back to the woman that mattered most. She seemed happy to see him, but he still searched her eyes for some validation that he was doing the right thing. He needed to know that she still wanted him and that he wasn’t putting her in another impossible decision byt stepping forward.

“Now just wait a minute,” Mr. Dupain spoke up through the chatter, hand on Marinette’s shoulder to root her in place as he stared with calculating eyes at Adrien “No one is betrothed to anyone just yet.”

The room silenced as Thomas faced his daughter’s new suitor.

“I don’t care how many flowers you send or grand declarations you make. Hell! I don’t care if you’re the bloody Prince of England, son,” he said. “We’ve already been through one broken engagement in this house, and there will not be a second. There is one thing I need to know.”

“I understand, sir,” Adrien responded, waiting for the man’s question. To his surprise, Thomas turned to his daughter.

“Marinette,” Thomas asks uncertainty. “Do you want to be betrothed to this young man?”

“Yes. I do,” she answered immediately and Adrien felt his heart skip.

“Are you sure?” Adrien asks in barely a whisper. His voice betraying his worry, but in that moment, it was as if only Marinette were in the room. He didn’t care who else heard him.“I know you wanted time--”

“Yes, minou,” she turned to look at Adrien with a smile, leaving her father’s grasp and grabbing his hands. “I honestly am.”

And as soon as the words left her lips, her knew that she meant it. Without looking away, he untied the ribbon from his neck and held the warm garnet ring between his fingers. He brought her left hand to his lips in a kiss as he looked to her for confirmation. In her eyes, all he saw was the promise of their future, and as slid the ring onto her finger, he finally sealed a promise of his own.

[inkdrinkershadowsinger]

All Roads Lead Here Part 4

This will be a ten part fan fic. I don't own Niall or One Direction, yet. This is just for fun. Thanks for reading. If you want to read the whole thing in advance you can at authormitchel on ao3. Thanks.

    For once he woke up before she did. It rarely happened, the trip yesterday must have worn her out more than he thought. Now, Niall knew his cooking skills weren’t the greatest…..well, actually, they were shit, but he did his best. Shit as they were, that didn’t mean that he couldn’t make toast. He was bad, but he wasn’t that bad.

            The toast was in the toaster, and the water was on, ready to boil. Ana was still asleep and everything was going great until the phone rang.

            “What do you want Ollie?”

“Ouch,” said Ollie. “Is that any way for you to talk to your best friend?”

            Niall sighed, pulling the kettle off before it screamed so loud it woke the Queen up all the way back in London.

            “Come out with us tonight.”

“No,” Niall was stern.

            “Yes,” countered Ollie.

“Come on Horan, you have to come.”

            “Ollie, I’m really…I can’t, you know…”

Ollie cut in. “Come on Ni, don’t you want to introduce us to your new girl.”

            Niall ground his teeth. Ollie always was a nosy fucker.

“She’s just a friend.”

            “Good,” Ollie answered. “Cause she’s hot.”

Niall nearly dropped the tea cups he was holding. His grandmother would not have been happy, they were a gift. “No and no. You will stay far away from Alex.”

            “Oh, so you do like her.”

“You’re an idiot,” Niall said instead of giving Ollie a real answer. “How do you even know about her?”

            “OI, YOU ARSEHOLE!!!” Ollie yelled into the phone causing Niall to stumble with the toast in hand.

            “Ollie!” scolded Niall. He really didn’t have time for this.

“Sorry, mate, darn guy on a bike nearly ran me off the sidewalk, the cunt. My aunt Molly saw you as you drove into town. She was already to go to the paper and tell them that you were engaged before I stopped her. You should be thanking me, Horan. Look Ni, I’ve got to go, but we’ll be expecting you tonight at Geysers, okay?”

            Niall huffed in exasperation. “Fine, damn it.”

“You’ll come?”

            “I said fine,” huffed Niall. He didn’t like to be pushed into things.

“Okay,” Ollie said, clearly pleased with himself.

            “See you later Princess.”

“OLLIE!!,” Niall yells into the phone, but all he gets is a dial tone.

            “YOU BASTARD! Fucking unrea…..”

“Niall.”

            Niall had been hoping for a sleep sated Alex and a decent breakfast to present her with. Instead he had burnt toast, jelly on his forehead, and as far as Alex knew he had just called his mom a bastard.

            “That was Ollie,” Niall explained quickly as Allie walked over and scooped up a piece of toast.

            “And that is?” she asked.

Niall blushed. “Just a friend, a very annoying, horrible friend.”

            Alex pulls a chair out, and sits. She pulls her leg up, her black stretch pants not long enough to cover her toes though she tries once. Maybe he should turn down the air, people always complained that he kept it to cool. Niall sighed.

            He knew Ollie, and he also knew that if he didn’t come out after Ollie expressly mentioned it that Niall would pay. Ollie was an evil genius, and his revenge always left scorch marks.

            “They want us to go out tonight?”

“Your friends?” Alex perked up at that.

            “Yeah,” stuttered Niall. “I mean, if you want to, just for a drink or two, nothing big you know….” Niall was rambling. He felt like an idiot, and he’s pretty sure he still had jelly on his forehead. He rubs his hand across it self-consciously. Alex smiles at him, clearly amused.

            “Okay,” she agrees.

“Okay?”

            “Yeah, could be fun,” Alex agreed.

Niall took a bite out of his toast. “Okay then, I’ll call them and let them know we’ll be there.”

            It’ll be fine, Niall told himself. It was just drinks with a few people. People Niall actually liked, his friends.

            Yeah, everything would be okay.

  &&&

            Everything was not okay. Yeah, remember those people Niall likes, his good friends who he has actually been looking forward to seeing. Yeah, not anymore. Niall went to school with Tom and his wife Maggie, who Alex had instantly clicked with. Ollie was there with his current flavor. Niall thought her name was Sara, but honestly he couldn’t remember. That left Colby, a guy who worked at one of the arenas he and the guys had performed at a few times, he and Niall had gotten along instantly. Niall always called him up to get a drink whenever he knew he would be in town. The problem though, was with who Colby brought along. Declan.

            More specifically the way Declan couldn’t keep his mouth shut or his eyes off of Alex. Tall and built he was everything Niall wasn’t. He was even a real blonde, not that Niall ever thought Alex would go for such a tool. He was just concerned for her, as a friend. She was too smart to fall for stupid Declan and his stupid radioactively white smile and his stupid compliments. Niall had made sure to warn everyone not to mention what Ollie so delicately dubbed as the Italian situation. Alex was going through something right now, and she didn’t need to be reminded of it when she was trying to have a good time.

            Niall bristled as Declan leaned over to whisper something to Alex making her laugh. And he was about to flip. “So, Alex,” started Maggie. “What do you do for a living?”

            “I’m a travel nurse.”

“That’s amazing,” Sara said, pulling herself away from Ollie long enough to comment.

            Declan smirked. “I’d let you patch me up any day.” The fucker.

Niall spoke up. “She’s a nurse not a vet.”

            And okay, maybe that was a little dickish, but Declan was unfazed.

“Well, I have been called a jackass once or twice.” The group laughed, the tension Niall had created vanished in a flash. Niall huffed a breath and stood from the table.

            “I’m getting another drink,”

Niall was fucked. He had known it for a while, but Declan had settled it.

 Completely. Niall was in love with his best friend’s ex-girlfriend, and at the back of his mind, he knows he has been since the day he first met her. He rubs a hand over his face, and orders another pint. He’s a sip in when the beer he’s paid way too much for gets sloshed all over his shirt.

            “What the hell?” he curses the idiot who just bumped him. He fans out his shirt only looking up when the dick doesn’t immediately offer up an explanation. “Alex?”

            “What’d you do that for?” he asks when he realizes it’s her.

“You know why Niall, what’s your problem?”

            “My problem?” countered Niall. “What’s yours?” And help him, he falters when she looks so confused. That’s because she was only flirting with him in your imagination, his subconscious offers.

            Niall gets closer to her like he’s telling her some sort of secret, like she should be ashamed, but really he’s only ashamed that he can’t squelch his feelings for this girl.

            “Don’t you think you’re getting a little familiar over there?”

“What?” she asks confused. “With Declan?” she asks, recognition dawning. She huffs. “You’ve got to be kidding me….”

            “It’s been what, not even a week, but watch out everyone Alex is ready for a new…..”

And she slapped him. Hard.

            His nerves registered the pain, but that didn’t hurt as badly as watching her hand move back to her side, it was shaking. He was an idiot. And a jerk. But he still chased her as she left the bar.

            “Where are you going?” he yelled at her as he followed her down the street. His place was in the opposite direction, but she didn’t seem to care.

            “Far away from you,” she yelled. Good, Niall thought, at least she was talking to him. “I didn’t mean it,” Niall yelled at her.

            “You’ve never lied to me before Niall, don’t do it now,” she replied. Niall runs to catch up with her. Never a fan of heels, she was moving as fast as she could to get away from him, but Niall wasn’t letting her go.

            “I’M AN IDIOT!!!!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. People on the street turned to stare at him, and Alex stopped dead.

            “I’M A MASSIVE FUCKBOY! I’M A TOOL AND MY DEAR FRIEND ALEX IS A GODDESS WHOSE FRIENDSHIP I DON’T DESERVE!!!!!!!!!”

            Alex turned to face him, face stoic. People had gathered round them now, watching the scene unfold, a few eagerly reaching for their cell phones. Now, that wouldn’t do, Niall thought, and thankfully Alex seemed to have the same idea.

            She turned and grabbed his hand, pulling him away from the gathering crowd and into a small alleyway.

            “And you’re an idiot,” she supplied when she was sure it was just the two of them.

“Yes, one hundred and fifteen thousand percent, and I honestly didn’t mean what I said. It’s just I don’t trust that guy,” he said, not proud that he couldn’t say Declan’s name out loud.

            She was very interested in the wall by Niall’s head.

“Look at me, Alex. I promise you that I didn’t mean it,” Niall said again. She had to believe him. This was quickly becoming the place that Alex became herself again. She was laughing, and the periods of time where she was solemn and quiet were growing few and far between. Niall only wanted that to continue. He wanted things to be like they were before, and now, he had possibly fucked that all up just because he couldn’t keep his own jealousies or insecurities in check.

            “I’ll do whatever you want. I’m sorry for being a dick, and I’ll even go back in there and apologize to….Declan, if you want me too.”

            Alex shook her head, finally meeting his gaze.

She smiled.

            “That sounds like a perfect idea.”

“What?” Niall asked, not seriously thinking that she would take him up on that.

            “Yeah,” she said, and as Niall took his place on the bar’s stage he remembered just why Liam and Alex hardly ever fought. Alex Ballerini was an evil, evil woman.

  &&&

“I’m so, so, shocked,” Declan said as he took his place on the stool his friends had so graciously placed on the stage for him.

            The D.J was cueing up the song, and since Niall was a hometown boy, yes that meant that they had all of them. Now, which song was she going to choose? Spotting her over at the speakers, he watched as all his friends and the rest of the bar’s patrons gathered at the front of the stage all chanting, “Doran!!! Doran!!!” Declan and Horan, apparently, her revenge meant that Niall was getting engaged tonight.

            “Not quite,” she had told them when they got back to the bar. “but you will cause quite the sensation on the internet.”         

            “Phones to the ready….” She called over the bar’s loud speakers, and Declan, the fucker, who Niall still did not like looked up at Niall and winked at him as “Nobody Compares” starts playing over the speakers.

                          Alex was still laughing as they walked through the front door, several drinks in and a serenade already making its rounds on the internet, Niall was beat and humiliated, but altogether happy that whatever bridge could have sprang up between them had been covered before it got too late.

            It was two weeks of fun and relaxing and hanging out with Niall’s friends, yes, even Declan and with everyday Alex was getting better. And Niall was falling harder. It was getting harder for him to ignore the feeling that he got when he saw her every morning fresh out of bed and making them breakfast, or to pretend that he wasn’t looking at her every second or counting them down until he could look at her again.

            It was downright domestic, they would go to the store together and Niall would take her to all the places that he went as a kid, all his “hangouts” as she called them. They would hang out with his friends, and they would talk, and on nights when she couldn’t do anything but cry Niall would hold her until she felt like talking or until they fell asleep.

            They were friends, and for the first time Niall actually felt like he had earned that title.

“No way, I can’t believe he did that,” said Alex.

            “I’m telling you, Louis is a flipping machine,” said Niall.

Late one night, after a few rounds with the guys, Niall was telling her some stories about their tour exploits, carefully leaving out any that directly mentioned Liam. He didn’t know if she wanted him to do that or not, but he tried not to think too much about it.

            “There is no way,” she said, situating herself again on the couch, this time on her knees as she listened to his story. “That Louis Flipping Tomlinson jumped from three stories soccer ball in hand, shot it in a hoop then landed in the pool without breaking his neck. I know Louis, and I know for a fact that he has shit luck, and that if that story were true you would be one sick fucker for telling that story cause he’d be dead.”   

            “I swear,” said Niall, laughing through his tears. They had been up for hours after they got back from the bar, she hadn’t bothered to change out of her dress, and Niall still hadn’t kicked his shoes off, but they had been bull shitting for hours.

            “Wait until I tell you the bra story….”

“Tomlinson and a bra?” she asked, hiding her red face behind her hands. Niall didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the stories, but he knew that he had rarely seen her so lovely as when she had been laughing like this.  

            She grabbed Niall’s hand and his heart stopped. She turned his wrist and looked at his watch.

            “It’s late, Ni, I can’t believe you’ve been this irresponsible. A girl needs her sleep to know.”

            She let his hand go, and ran a hand through her hair.

“We need to go to bed.”        

            Niall swallowed his tongue.

“Bed? Right,” he said, remembering how to speak. “I’ll go with you, gladly, help you unzip, hand you a towel when you get out of the shower.”

            “Cheeky,” she said and moved in to pinch his cheek. Wow, she was drunker than he thought, and with that comment, Niall was too.

            He grabbed her hand when she went to pull back, his eyes studying the lines in her wrist, the blue lines in her skin; the smell of her perfume still vibrant. He could blame it on the alcohol in the morning if this went badly, but he had too.

            He lowered his head to her wrist and placed a small kiss where her arm met her hand. Niall didn’t hear the rush of breath that she took in at his action, his own heart was pounding too loudly for him to comprehend anything other than that.

            “Goodnight, Niall,” she said as his fingertips ghosted over her wrist releasing her. He listened as she walked up the stairs and opened the door to her bedroom door, but Niall never heard it shut.

[singingpeople]

8. Eric - Clash of the titans

I know it´s been a long time, sorry :( But it´s extremely hard to switch between stories & it throws me off the loop every time :D But I hope the little smut made up for it! 

 I would like to know why the hell this Eric gif appears under ´ innocent ´   We all know he is anything but... :D

@pathybo @tigpooh67 @jojuarez26 @jaiboomer11 @bookwarm85 @iammarylastar @beautifulramblingbrains @love17mwh @deepfrz @lets-play-truth-or-dare @carefultheyspit @diary2000

„Where have you been, dude?! I´ve searched for over an hour!“ Sighing, Eric sat down beside his outraged and pretty annoyed best friend, ordering himself a beer with a hand sign to the barkeeper. He desperately needed one to get his thoughts off the little stiff and everything that was even remotely about her.

The young leader had worked the whole day, doing paperwork before meeting Amy in the infirmary for her first ultrasound. It had been delayed to her tenth week because she was still too selfless to demand to get the nearest appointment which was okay with Eric that she let a few other´s choose before she did.

But choosing as the last one and having to wait for weeks was something he couldn't understand.

Eric wasn’t a patient man so he had been aggravated from the very beginning.

And when she started with her perfect little plan, that she had figured out under so much duress and explained how she would be able to tell her brother what they two of them had done, Eric had to suppress the exasperation he felt. He didn’t want to scold her but she didn’t have one clue as what to do.

Even though he now had to admit it was a little amusing that she was so clueless, it had annoyed him.

A smirk threatened to curl his lips up while he thought about her shocked expression but when Wayne mustered him with a strange look Eric carefully composed his face, showing the leader mask, his best friend knew too well.

 “I´ve been busy.” His reply was curt, not wanting to give Wayne the chance to sense that something was wrong. Seeing his child had rattled Eric to the core, for once showing his weak side as his erudite-like mind tried to figure out how to keep both, Amy and the little one save.

After all, he was a leader, always a target not just to factionless rebels but also to inner faction threats that wanted to bring him down, just because they didn't agree with his methods.

And now Amy would walk around with a huge target on her back, just like his unborn child calling for those fuckers to hurt them. How easy would it be to wound or to abduct them?

The perfect leverage, to make the young leader do everything they wanted. To make him their puppet that would strangle itself with the strings in the end.

Eric knew he had to let Max know they needed 24/7 surveillance and their best soldiers in standby since her dickhead of brother wouldn’t think of it, wouldn’t think of protecting his own sister.

He needed to know where she was at all times.

His little stiff.

 "Yeah, clearly," Wayne responded dryly, eying him up as if searching for clues. “And why did your secretary tell me you had an appointment with a gynecologist? I seriously hope you´re not hiding from me that you´re secretly a woman. That would be gross.”

 "Fuck you, Wayne." Eric gritted his teeth, annoyed that the damn nosy bitch couldn't keep her mouth shut and his best friend didn’t know when to draw the line. He fiddled with the cap of the bottle avoiding his gaze, harshly scolding him. “It´s none of your business.”

 “Come on!” Whining, Wayne slumped down on the table, scowling like a toddler. “I´m your best friend! I even followed you out of erudite so cut the crap and tell me what the hell is going on. You haven’t been yourself lately and I´m taking the chance of sounding like a sappy tree hugger but I´m worried.”

 Eric contemplated for a moment, deciding it would be best to tell his best friend of his predicament now before he found out otherwise but someone interrupted him, yelling his name.

“Eric!”

Before he could even turn around to face the person that called him a hand came out of nowhere, slapping the bottle from his hand. It flew against the wall, shattering into thousand pieces.

Whipping his head around, to rip the person who had dared to disrespect him in such a way Eric wasn’t prepared for the fist that met his jaw with so much force, it sent him to the floor.

Not hesitating for a second, Eric lessened the impact with a backwards roll standing back up immediately, hands in a defensive position ready to kill whoever attacked him.

 Raising his gaze, the young leader came face to face with an outrageous Four, all muscles tensed like a snake about to strike.

Eric knew instantly what had happened.

The little stiff must have come out sooner than he anticipated. He appreciated that she came out clean but a little heads up would have been great. At least then number boy wouldn’t have been able to catch him off guard for everyone to see.

 "What the hell, man?" Wayne shouted, looking ready to intervene, but Eric subtly shook his head stopping him. This was his fight. "Four, what are you doing?"

 But Four ignored him completely, as he and Eric sized each other up, the rest of the members and all the noise around them fading into distance.

Number boy tensed up, eyes blazing and as he opened his mouth the leader knew exactly what pitiful accusations he would throw at him.

"How dare you lay hand on my sister?!"

 The gasps and whispers that arose, leaving no doubt that the whole compound would hear of this before the day would be over, were oblivious to them both, eyes glued to only each other.

 "Lay hand on her?” Eric mocked, lips curling into a cruel smirk. ”I just gave her what she asked for, as long and as hard as she asked for. I didn't force her to anything. Let's rather say she was more than compliant."

 Images of pale thighs wrapped around his head flashed by in front of his eyes and he almost missed the second punch that was thrown at him. By reflex he narrowly avoided what would have been the biggest humiliation of his life and when Four´s hand flew by his face, he grabbed his wrist pulling him closer.

Planting two quick hits on his abdomen Eric pushed him away again, eyes narrowed as he flexed his aching jaw.  But Four wasn’t that easy to relent and he knew that.

 When he came again at the young leader, Eric tried to land another punch, this time aimed at Four´s head but he merely blocked it. Unfazed by the power it held he rammed his shoulder into the young leader’s guts, knocking the wind out of him.

From somewhere beside him he thought to hear his little stiff but his mind was too occupied to check if she really was there. She could watch him beating Four´s ass into next week, though.

 Eric hit the ground, for a moment to wind up to move as Four straddled him, knees caging his arms to his body, rendering him unable to do anything against Four´s fists that started flying into Eric´s unprotected face, his head slamming back against the concrete.

 He retaliated not even a second later, sending his knee into number boy´s back, using his pain induced stiffness to roll them over. Not bothering to brush away the blood that dripped from a cut above his eyebrow into his eyes, Eric started showering him with punches fueled by rage but Four did his best to block them, forearms protecting his face.

The young leader only got one good punch in, his opponents nose starting to gush blood immediately before Four placed his elbow in Eric´s guts. Pushing him off, he scrambled away to gather his wits and catch his breath.

 Eric did the same. Pushing himself up he wiped from under his eye, only managing to smear the blood all over his face. But he couldn’t ponder long about the fact that it most likely will leave a scar since number boy whose nose looked suspiciously crooked decided he didn't have enough yet.

Ducking away from under his next punch, Eric´s fist just only brushed Four´s ribs still with enough force to cause a bruise later but not leaving a lasting damage like he had hoped.

 They circled each other, striking over and over again as both tried to inflict as much pain as they possibly could, their blows too powerful as that anyone would have dared to intervene and risk being knocked out cold.

Or worse.

Their fight, so close in skill, speed and force went on for several painful minutes, leaving Eric´s whole body aching. It was the first real fight the both of them had since initiation. Back then the young leader had taunted and mocked him to such an extent that Four showed his real face.

Wasn´t a pretty one.

He had to spend almost a week in the infirmary and Eric wasn’t one to whine, but that had hurt.

 The young leader was pleased that he had no doubt improved his technique, his nemesis not being able to knock him out easily. Still, he knew it was a far shot to say he´d be winning anytime soon even though he would never admit it. He would rather die than losing to Four while the whole faction was watching.

It would mean he had failed as a leader and should take the next trip to the chasm.

 Both of them were to focused on beating each other, anticipating every possible move that they didn’t even hear their superior´s entrance, even less the words he spoke or the way everyone instantly quieted down. They only snapped out of it, when suddenly there were people detaining them, Wayne and Peter dragging a beaten Eric away while talking intently, Uriah, Will and Zeke doing the same with Four.

 But Eric didn’t listen to his best friend as he watched the little redhead stumble towards her brother, face tear-stained and hands wringing furiously.

With narrowed eyes, he observed how her asshole of brother that had been glaring at him the whole time now channeled his anger towards her, looking disgusted that she even thought about touching him now that she had been defiled with Eric´s touch.

 Placing his hand on Wayne´s chest without looking away from Amy, Eric slowly pushed him away and Wayne reluctantly let go, knowing there was nothing that would keep him here.

With slow steady steps the young leader walked forwards, his eyes trailed on the woman carrying his child, that was desperately begging her brother to understand.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he insulted her in the worst way possible.

 Eric only heard `Father was right´ and `whore´, enough to make the anger boil again hot in his chest as he registered what the bastard just said to his sister. Clenching his fists, Eric was so close to strangling him but before he could execute his very accurate plan of murder Amy stumbled back as if taking a blow, almost falling to the ground.

Eric caught her shaking form keeping her upright, the little stiff almost limp in his arms as she sobbed heartbreakingly into his chest.

Scooping her up, the young leader threw Four his most livid glare promising him a slow and excruciating death.

"I suggest you´ll leave right this instant if you don't want me to kill you in the most painful way possible. Since you are apparently ´no brother of hers´ there is nothing that will hold me back.” Looking down at the woman in his arms, he tightened his grip as he once again heard the strangled sobs leaving her throat. ”So get the fuck out of my sight!"

 His annoying friends started to pull him out of the pit, while his more than infuriating girlfriend had her hands placed on his chest to keep him in line. All of them were shitting their pants, wanting to get away from the glares Eric was throwing them. They did their best to get Four away from the young leader before he could draw his weapon shoot him.

Certainly a most satisfying solution.

It wasn’t as if anyone could say something against it. After all, Eric was the leader.

He was the embodiment of the system.

 Realizing that practically half of the faction was staring at him, his best friend included Eric threw all of them dirty looks, meeting Wayne´s raised eyebrow with a meaningful look that basically told him everything he needed to know before striding out of the pit with quick steps.

 Amy had her head buried in his chest not once looking up as the young leader carried her through the hallways. He assumed her state was mostly caused by her brother´s words that hurt her in the most painful way, deliberately targeting her insecurities to use them against her.

Nothing that Eric wouldn’t do, but he would never talk to his sister that he claimed to love in such a fashion.

Real dick move.

 Noticing that Amy grew quieter, only hiccupping occasionally Eric pressed his lips to her forehead, inhaling deeply.

Her sweet scent as always soothing his mind that lay in turmoil.

With his hand that was slung around her torso, Eric drew circles on the exposed skin of her stomach, where her t-shirt had ridden up a little.

Feeling the strange need to comfort her, Eric heard himself mutter words he never thought would ever leave his mouth.

"We are your family now"

After changing a sleeping Amy out of her uncomfortable looking clothes into one of his too tight shirts, Eric laid her down on his bed tugging her in before quietly leaving the room.

Not wanting to wake her up, being aware she cried herself to sleep Eric used the second bathroom in his flat.

In front of the mirror, he cleaned the cut on his forehead, before injecting himself with a dose of healing serum he had stashed in his medicine cabinet for exact these situations.

He hated going to the infirmary so it made sense to him to have a little stash at his disposal whenever he needed it.

 Stripping out of his clothes, Eric stepped into the shower the almost scolding water soothing the ache of his tense muscles and forming bruises. He seriously hoped that the serum would cause the very purple bruise on his jaw to disappear until tomorrow morning. He didn’t need a visible reminder that fueled his desire to skin Four alive more than he already wanted to.

Finished in the bathroom, Eric dressed in the only casual clothes he owned: sweatpants and a loose fitting shirt.

 Back in the kitchen, he grabbed himself another beer since he never came around to finish his first one. Taking a seat on a stool in front of the island, occasionally sipping his beer Eric got lost in his thoughts.

What his little stiff would do now that she had experienced the wrath of her brother, how he would handle his insubordination in initiation, Eric was sure to come or how the hell he should take care of a child.

The only positive thing about the situation was that Amy used to be a stiff so Eric was sure she´d be more than capable of handling the child herself when he was away doing leadership business.

Maybe the only advantage of associating with stiffs in the first place.

 Still, Eric couldn’t deny that he was worried about her, not just his child. He knew that she could take more than it seemed but her mind was still fragile, cracked by countless years of abuse and Eric vowed that if any of the stress caused by her brother harmed the baby, he would kill him with bare hands.

 Distracted by his thoughts, Eric neither noticed the time passing by nor the young woman who shyly came tapping out of his bedroom. Startled by a noise he lifted his head from where he had buried it in his hands, gaze trailing over the redhead that stood there, nervously wringing with the hemline of his shirt.

 Amy looked tired, her eyes red from crying as she avoided his questioning gaze. She answered his question if everything was alright that she just was thirsty and had a headache, no doubt from crying herself to sleep.

Flicking his eyes over her bare legs, Eric got up to pour her a glass of orange juice, something he knew she drank with every meal no matter what she was eating. Placing it on the counter, he came to a halt behind her fingers placed on her temples.

Eric knew it was an effective way to get rid of a headache since he had no idea what kind of headache pill he could give her without harming the baby.

Sighing in content at the relief he brought her Amy rested her head against his pecs, closing her eyes for a moment. Eric watched her head tilted, he was glad to get her to relax a little after this shitty day.

 After a minute he slowly stepped back, leaving Amy to down the whole glass in a few gulps. Looking up at him, she asked how he knew what she liked to drink. The question made Eric more than just mildly uncomfortable since he didn’t want her to know he´d basically been watching her since the day she appeared on the roof looking like an angel from heaven send down to earth for his personal punishment.

So he deflected.

 But seeing her face fall with disappointment, Eric had to roll his eyes at his own behavior as he, after all, confessed that she indeed had captured his attention long ago. And the worst thing was that he couldn't stop.

Soon he had told her that he memorized all her six fears, what they were and how impressed he had been by her performance.

And even though he had vowed to himself to never let anyone have that kind of leverage over him, the moment Eric saw her eyes lighting up with happiness he knew exposing his softer side had been worth it.

Still, he had enough serious conversations for one night and he started teasing her with his words as well as his not so subtle touches.

 To make her laugh he brought up her most embarrassing fear, making her quickly cover his mouth with her hands which were preventing him from reaching his goal. To kiss every single inch of her skin.

 Capturing her wrists in one of his big hands, Eric pinned her against the wall continuing to trail his moist lips over the sensitive skin of her neck while Amy seemingly endless ranted on about how Clowns were creepy only making Eric chuckle.

He didn’t really know what to say to her. Here he was, doing his best to seduce her, while his little stiff seemed hell-bent to explain some psychological shit to him. As if he hadn't heard enough of that from his father every time he saw him, which luckily hadn’t been much.

Eric knew he needed to up his game.

 Pretending to pay attention to her little rant, Eric´s hand stealthily trailed beneath her shirt, caressing the bare skin of her hip. Snickering to himself when he heard her breath hitch Eric decided to play innocent as he looked up, his lips ghosting over hers.

Right in that moment, he remembered the cruel words he spoke about her and something he had seldom felt before sharply twisted his guts.

Regret.

 And so he did something he never did.

He apologized.

 But his little one seemed not too bothered about it because before he knew what happened, her mouth was pressed against his in a searing kiss, her tongue sneaking through his lips clashing with his.

"Shut the fuck up and kiss me."

 Startled by her demand Eric froze for a second before a sly smirk curled up his lips. Grabbing the hem of the shirt, he pulled it over her head, diving right back into their kiss.

“My pleasure.”

With that he picked her up, hands gripping her bare thighs as he carried a squealing Amy into his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them before ridding himself of his clothes in one motion.

 Instead of throwing her onto the bed like he had done the first time he had her in here, Eric sat down so that his little stiff straddled him, hands trailing over her side making her squirm. But it was effective. Now her bare chest was pressed against his, as their tongues intertwined battling for dominance, her hips rocking against his bulge.

Amy was the first to pull back, biting her lip she seemed to contemplate something. Letting herself sliding from his lap she slapped Eric´s hands away that grabbed for her, making him furrow his brow.

“What are you doing?”

 But she only shushed him, now kneeling in front of him looking up with big eyes as her hand tentatively came to a stop at his boxers, fingers just dipping inside caressing the happy trail that lead down south.

Getting an idea where this was going, Eric incredulously raised his hips letting the little vixen proceed in pulling down his underwear not believing his luck or that this was really happening.

Facing his manhood at eye level Amy bit her lip, scrutinizing it closely from every angle possible before she hesitantly touched it with one finger, trailing it up and down.

Eric groaned at the slight friction, grabbing her hand in his bigger one to wrap it around his member fully, showing her exactly how to stroke. But Amy pulled her hand back, tsking at him, forbidding him to touch.

Exhaling deeply, Eric let himself fall down on his bed thighs spread widely, hands crossed behind his head just enjoying her hesitant touches that grew more confident with each second.

 Amy had established a satisfying pace, both hands wrapped around his shaft when suddenly something hot and wet touched the head of his member, making his head snap up in surprise.

Looking down Eric was faced with the most erotic sight he had ever had the pleasure to witness.

There she sat, his little redhead, hair framing her angelic face eyes innocently watching him while her pouty lips were wrapped around the top of his member.

When she moved her tongue he instinctively clenched his hips to prevent himself from cumming right there and then. Grunting he flogged down again, one hand tangling in Amy´s hair while he fisted the blanket above his head with his other.

She slowly started to bob her head, careful to not touch his sensitive skin with her teeth, taking him deeper each time she swirled her tongue around until Eric knew he couldn't hold back any longer. With the hand in her hair, he pulled her back, almost laughing when she started pouting at him.

“Don´t worry princess. You´ll soon get what you want.”

 With that he pulled her up by her hips, ripping her underwear off when she came to stand in front of him. Amy gasped in response to Eric´s hands on her butt, roughly massaging her cheeks while he pulled her closer forcing her to straddle him again.

Hovering directly over him, Eric smirked now that he had her exactly where he wanted her.

 Gripping himself with one hand, he positioned his length directly under her entrance hissing in pleasure when he felt her velvety hotness engulf him. Amy slowly sank down but stopped after a few inches, breathing ragged she tried to get her bearings.

But Eric wasn’t known for his patience.

 Gripping the hair at her nape, he pulled her head back with enough force to make her obey him, but still careful not to hurt her, exposing her neck that would soon be full of love marks while simultaneously pushing her hips down, forcing her to take all of him at once.

Amy shrieked at the sudden fullness, back arching, not knowing if she wanted to escape being impaled or to get more of the delicious friction. But when Eric who was gently biting along her neck leaving his marks of ownership on her flawless skin, slowly lifted her up again just to pull her back down she slowly started gyrating her hips in response.

Fueled by her gentle movement Eric quickened his pace, lifting her up before pulling her back down over and over again.

 Establishing a rhythm, Amy rocked her hips meeting him thrust for thrust moaning loudly every time he hit an especially sensitive spot deep inside her, she kissed him passionately. Eric was still gripping her hair, soon forcing her to arch her back making her even tighter for him than she already was.

Moving against each other, in sync with each other, it didn't take long for Amy to arrive at the brink of something big, Eric right behind her as he rocked them into bliss, bodies rubbing against each other.

With one last upwards thrust Amy shattered, a high pitched moan leaving her open mouth as she convulsed around his hard shaft, triggering Eric´s release. Pulling her head back even further, he bit down heightening the sensations that rocked her to the core as he spilled himself into her with a grunt and a few more uncoordinated thrusts, riding out his own orgasm.

 Trying to catch his breath Eric slumped back into the mattress, his little stiff collapsing completely spent in a boneless heap on top of him. Closing his eyes, it didn’t take long for the image of the little redhead kneeling in front of him to flash vividly behind his eyes and despite the great climax he just experienced, Eric felt himself growing hard again.

As did Amy.

 With wide eyes she looked up at him, almost scared of his answer, she squeaked. “Again?”

 “Again.” Smirking dirty, Eric grabbed her, gently situating her in the middle of his bed. Crawling on top of her, he positioned himself again, watching her beautiful face closely.

Thrusting inside her a second time, the last conscious thought he had was that she indeed had been an angel send from heaven to make him pay for every sin he had ever committed.