#Death's Child (Reaper!AU)

[yayan-dmenace]

Reaper being sassy to his children or child

I luv how geno is just so done with them xD

[the-red-thread-that-strangles]

Here's some semi-structured thoughts on the grim reaper!Akai AU that lives rent-free in my head. Fair warning, this is basically all just about the death in Rei's life.

Rei is four when he encounters Death for the first time.

Doesn't quite understand yet that when the paramedics throw a blanket over his mother's limp form and take her away, it's the last time he'll ever see her.

He just sits at the kitchen table and waits, patiently, as she told him to, with dread and the feeling that something's wrong in his stomach. He's a big boy. Can't go around crying all the time, anymore.

One of the medics pats his head, tells him he's being very brave. Rei preens a little.

Then they're gone.

.

Death is an occassional visitor at the Miyano's clinic.

His foster parents have explained to him how mother's in a better place, now, and he believes them. After all, the other kids incessantly ridicule him for all the things he is and isn't - any place would be better than this. He's only a little upset she didn't take him with her.

Instead, he's forced to struggle and fight and fend for himself, and that's how he first lands himself a visit to the clinic.

Little Akemi drags him there, when things go a little too badly, when he's in over his head against several boys older than himself.

It's a kind soul that patches him up, and not just him. He doesn't have anywhere else to go, so Rei stays in the waiting room, watching and waiting while Elena soothes the pain of the injured, the sick, and the dying. Observes how, despite everything, they leave a little better off than they entered.

Sometimes someone is brought in, and leaves with the paramedics. The medic that patted his head, black hair inconveniently fanning out untied over his back, is usually with them. Throughout the summer, they meet every once in a while. Rei makes sure to wave at him every time. At first, the man seems surprised, but eventually he smiles back, tentatively.

The people that leave with him, Rei never sees again.

.

Rei is nine when he has a brush with Death himself, for the first time.

It's honestly a surprise it's taken that long, considering his recklessness and tendency to get into arguments, but meeting Morofushi Hiromitsu has dampened his fighting spirit a little. There's other ways to spend his time, now, more peaceful ones. Fishing, for example.

It's inoccuous enough. He's waiting for Hiro, tiptoeing on the edge of the pier as he's done countless times before, against his best friend's best judgement. Rei has a great sense of balance, though, so he's fine. Until one day the wood is still slick with rain and algae. He slips, hits his head on the planks, and goes under.

Rei fights against the freezing cold seeping through too-thin clothes, digging its claws into his flesh and bone, but it's a short-lived struggle. Even if he could figure out which way is up through his syrup-y mind, his vision is rapidly darkening, and his limbs lock up with spasms.

He wonders, as he is drowning, whether he will get to see that better place now, and surrenders himself to the gentle embrace of Death. The freezing eases into a cool, steady presence around him, infinitely patient and all-encompassing, and oh, this is what rest is supposed to feel like, isn't it.

Rei closes his eyes.

He wakes up in the ambulance, a wet and shivering Hiro by his side, covered by a thermal blanket.

The usual medic is nowhere to be seen.

.

Rei is twelve, delirious with fever, when he sees him again.

He's never been afraid to die. There's things he wants to - needs to - do, and he will do them, or die trying. It's a risk he's willing to take, every single time, because the rewards are worth it.

Just because he's not afraid of Death, however, doesn't mean he doesn't cling to life - especially when it's a pathetic sickness that has him in its grasp. He won't be taken out, like this.

So his mind and body resist, and the distinction between minutes, hours, days, has lost all meaning in the painful haze that burns him alive. His sleep is fitful, where it exists as at all.

His foster parents must have called a doctor, because Rei wakes up to a soothing, cool hand on his forehead, taking his temperature.

"Good evening, Furuya Rei."

Ah. The man must have gotten a promotion, because looking down at him is the same pale medic with strands of inky black hair falling over his shoulder. Now that he's thinking about it, Rei has never seen his eyes, before, always hidden by a cap. They're a lovely shade of jade, the man ethereally beautiful.

Or maybe he's just a fever dream.

"Hello. Who are you?"

Speaking is easier than it should be, considering he's coughed his throat raw.

The man offers him the glass of water standing on his bedside table, steadying him while Rei gulps the liquid down greedily. The cold spreads inside him, familiar and comforting.

"A friend. Feel free to call me whatever you like."

Hm. That's not helpful at all. Rei will have to think about that. But thinking is rather difficult, at the moment. Later, then.

"How are you feeling?"

Terrible, he wants to say, should say, but that isn't quite the truth, is it?

"Better." The cold is seeping into his body, chilling him to the bone, opposing the fever.

The man smiles, small and private. "I'm glad." He wipes away some of the water Rei spilled in his haste.

"Would you like to come with me? I should be able to treat you better, in my domain. Could take away all your pain."

The man's hand rests on Rei's chest, numbingly cool, a gentle pressure over his heart. Cold comfort.

Rei thinks of how the people that leave with this man never come back. Thinks of Hiro, screaming and shouting until his throat was hoarse when he thought Rei had drowned.

He shakes his head.

"I'm sorry, I can't leave with you."

The man's smile dims, sorrow creeping in.

"I see."

It hurts, to see him downcast like this, but it hurts more, when the man takes his hand away, and the fever rushes back into Rei.

"Will I see you again?", he manages to rasp as the pain returns to his throat.

That, at least, seems to amuse the man.

"Most certainly."

.

When he's fifteen, Rei meets Morofushi Taka'aki for the first time.

Hiro's brother has been working for the police for a while now, and his insight into the work is what sets Rei on the path to becoming an officer himself.

That, and the fact that despite digging through several databases, Taka'aki has been unable to locate Elena. Rei's been digging through social media himself, and, just to be sure, looking for obituaries or graves.

There's nothing.

He'll need better resources. She can't have just disappeared, but there's only so many records of unidentified corpses a teenager can get access to. It's stupid, really - adults can try and hide the demise of humanity all they want, but that doesn't stop it from existing.

One day, Death catches up with everyone.

.

By the time he's twenty, Rei knows he wants to spend his life investigating Death.

Of course, he's seen the statistics; the rate of violent crime has supposedly been stable, if not receding, for years now. But as Rei's grown older, he's seen Death from the corner of his eyes every once in a while, waiting patiently, before a scream split the night, and a body was discovered.

Rei's left to wonder if he sees Death because he's actively looking, or whether it finds him, follows him around. They haven't talked, if it even happened at all, since that first time, and ever since Hiro gave him an odd look when Rei started to talk to him about the green-eyed spectre of Death, he's learned to keep his mouth shut. Maybe it really was just a feverish hallucination.

Still, every once in a while Rei gets the feeling of being watched, a glimmer of jade looming for a moment, before disappearing into the darkness.

.

Rei's academy days can be best described as a continuous flirtation with Death.

Somehow, the friends he's managed to make are just as reckless and driven as himself, which results in them enabling each other to perform stunts that would be deadly, if not for their teamwork.

It's a dizzying high to see what they can accomplish, unafraid of failure, with their talents combined, one close shave after the other, but ultimately victorious.

All the while, Rei feels the spectre of Death looming, but he just grins at it with reckless joy.

Of course, those bright days can't last forever.

.

Rei's first kill is in self-defense. It won't be his last.

He's called the emergency services, hoping he could subdue his clearly drugged-up victim, but when all is said and done, there's nothing left for the medics but to jot down time and cause of death, and take the body.

A member of the trauma team drops a blanket over him, hands him a cup of coffee..It warms him a little, though Rei's hands continue to shake.

Death sits down by his side, on the floor.

Rei is unsurprised to find green eyes watching him, but he's too tired to play pretend.

"What do you want?"

"You were the one who called. I'm just here to collect what is due."

"Then why are you here, while the body is carried off by your colleagues?"

"He's dead, he can wait a few minutes. Time very quickly looses its meaning. Besides, I was curious."

"Excuse me?"

"You've taken a life. I was wondering how it would affect you."

"I'm not your guinea pig. Go bother someone else."

Rei really would like to have an opportunity to rest and recover from the incident that just occured. Instead of talking to this weirdo.

"I can't."

"And why is that?"

"Most people avoid me. Many people are afraid of me and run when they realize who I am. Those that seek me out... well, it's usually a rather short conversation, if they can see me at all."

"I see. Well. I won't run, but I would still like to be left alone, now."

"Alright. See you soon."

Rei really hopes he won't, but presumably Death knows better.

.

When Rei goes undercover, Death walks beside him.

The guy really needs a name, because he's clearly not just the abstract concept of death, but an actual, well, almost-person. With his own characteristics, interests, and weird hobbies - mostly people-watching.

Rei's sure that if it didn't make him feel sick, there's a lot he could learn from Death. As it is, though, none of his skills are of the sort Rei would like to improve on, if he can help it.

.

His familiarity with Death is what steadies his hand when he does have to kill for his work. It doesn't happen frequently, thankfully, but still more often than he'd like. He tries to make it quick and painless, and Death will be waiting by his side when it's over, his cool presence seeping into Rei, helping to carve from ice the mask that is Bourbon.

Sometimes, when it's really bad, Death will provide support - steady his back, help him aim. It's strange to get pointers from Death, but he certainly has the knowledge to share. When Death takes over, it's fast, though usually messy.

Eventually, that's how Rei settles on a name for him - Akai, for the blood that stains them both.

.

Akai's decent company, once you get past the inhuman curiosity.

He's non-judgemental in a way even Hiro can't be, just observes and asks questions - usually it boils down to how certain things taste and smell and feel like. What sort of feelings Rei's experiencing.

It's probing in a way that should be deeply unpleasant, unfiltered, digging into the deepest, most private parts of his psyche. Because damnit, sometimes it feels good to abuse his position and deal with some of the scum of society. To know corrupt politicians won't ruin his country anymore, to coerce someone into paying the child support they owe their mistress, the list goes on.

It turns out that Death is a good listener, and so Rei gives him much more of himself than he could, to a human.

.

It's cold comfort to know, too, that if things go very bad, there's always an exit strategy. Death is always waiting for him, after all.

.

Rei hears of Hagiwara's death only belatedly, and somehow, that hurts even more.

He tries to drink himself into a oblivion, and he's probably getting there, because several hours in Akai shows up at his doorstep.

Death's embrace is still as comforting as it was as a child.

.

It's unclear to Rei whether Akai is ever really there. He seems to be able to blend in with crowds, and sometimes, he'll see Akai's silhouette reflected in the eyes of the dying, but Scotch never seems to notice when Akai is around, even when he's just performed a kill.

Rei knows he's garnered a reputation as some sort of madman who keeps talking to himself, and although it's incorrect, he doesn't bother correcting them. They wouldn't believe him if he told them the truth, so what's the point?

Besides, a reputation for insanity is as much a shield as anything, in this environment.

.

Akai isn't always around. In fact, he's often busy, or so he claims. But without fail, he'll be there when Rei meets Gin.

For a being that's supposedly the great equalizer, impartial like no other, Akai seems to really, really hate Gin. If Rei is feeling uncharitable, he supposes it's because Gin's trigger-happy nature means more work for Akai. If he was being kind, he'd suppose Akai might be a good judge of character.

And if the people that deem him insane are right, well. Rei hates Gin, so it makes sense a figment of imagination would share the sentiment.

And maybe, just maybe, Rei's just a bad influence. Because some days it almost feels like Akai is getting more human.

.

Either way, through Akai's barbs - he's trying to get Rei to take action against Gin - Rei learns a few key things.

One, Akai can only speak to those that are either affiliated with death, or close to it. He won't say which one applies to Rei, but maybe Hiro is onto something when he tells him to eat and sleep more.

Two, there's more deaths than just Akai. This is unsurprising, considering Akai isn't busy literally every second of every day.

Three, despite the term Grim Reaper being tossed around for his kind sometimes, there is little actual reaping involved. Akai can't actually influence the mortal world aside from some small ways, much less kill someone. The best he can do, apparently, is talk, though this is sometimes enough to push someone over the edge. But his job is mostly just to escort souls to what comes after - he declines comment on what that would be.

.

One of the few times he's pretty certain he's not the only one noticing Akai, he's gently holding a defiant young mother, staring Gin down while he shoots first her child, then the woman herself. It's just business, to Gin - payment for attempted betrayal of the organisation by the child's father.

She seems, in her final moments, comforted by Death's presence.

If this is what it takes for others to see Akai, Rei doesn't want a repeat performance.

.

"Give him back!"

"You know I can't do that, Furuya-kun."

Death is taking the place of a crematory operator, today. The one currently in the process of handling his best friend's body - or rather, what remains of it after Rei scraped him off the pavement.

He should have called someone else to clean the scene up. The smells and thoughts and feelings will never leave his mind. But this is the last thing he can do for Hiro, the last kindness he can perform. Making sure his body won't be further desecrated, his ashes will find their way home. Fuck. He won't be able to reach out to Hiro's brother any time soon.

"What did you tell him, Akai? Why did you make him jump?"

Akai's calm as he's operating the device, often comforting, is now increasingly aggravating to Rei.

"Nothing. It was his own choice."

"I don't believe you."

It has to be a lie. Hiro wouldn't have left him behind. He had to have been in a vulnerable space, easily influenced and drawn over. Rei knows the siren's call, has resisted the sweet release of death several times over by now.

This is all Akai's fault.

Without him, Hiro would've sought Rei out, and they would've found a solution, together.

Akai reaches out a hand, expression pained - that can't be true, Death doesn't have emotions, it's just a law of the universe - touches Rei's shoulder - frost burn cold spreads from the point of contact, numbing, freezing his heart, trying to lock him in place. He won't be taken, like this.

Rei flinches, takes several steps back.

"Don't you dare touch me ever again."

Akai takes one last, long look at him, and then he's gone.

.

Rei goes over the deep end with burning determination.

Clings to his job harder than ever. He owes it to Hiro and Elena to see it through, to see the organisation that took them from him crash and burn.

Some might say he lives dangerously, takes too many risks, but Rei can't bring himself to care. Even as he kills, watches torture and murder and death, Akai stays out of sight, so he's not too worried about himself. There's worse things than death, sure, but as long as he lives he'll be a thorn in the organisation's side.

His reputation is deserved now; even as he hates him, Rei finds himself missing Akai, too used to sharing his thoughts with him. He ends up talking to empty air.

He barely sleeps and eats, anymore, and it's probably only through Akai's blessed absence that he stays alive.

Or maybe it's a curse.

.

Somehow, Rei survives three years, like this.

It doesn't feel like living, it feels like barely hanging on, deadly mistakes waiting in every direction. It's a matter of time until he makes a misstep that gets him killed, but so far, he has evaded his fate.

It's hard to think straight, anymore, his thoughts and feelings devouring themselves in an effort to keep him alive.

.

Date is hit by a drunk driver and killed, and oh, that was the last straw.

Rei determines his aim to be good and true, decides to go out with a bang. He sits at the kitchen table, pistol in hand, and starts drinking, waiting for Death.

Between one slow blink and the next, Akai appears in the doorway, observing him neutrally. No hint of amusement, no glimmer of interest in his eye.

"Good evening, Furuya Rei."

Asshole. As if their shared history means nothing.

"Akai. Good. You've taken all that ever really mattered, might as well collect me, too, while you're at it. Complete the set."

Rei's face is stuck in an demented grin, hysteria taking over. He feels like crying, but all he manages is to watch and wait and drink. Maybe doesn't want to die after all. But he can't live like this anymore, either.

"Even if I wanted to, I can't." A wry smile on Akai's lips. "You told me not to touch you."

"I take it back." Rei opens his arms as much as he can move them still, an invitation. "Come. Take me."

Akai approaches, looking him up and down, the blood and sweat and misery. Squats down in front of Rei.

Smiles up at him, with that same sweet sorrow of years prior, when Rei had denied to come with him.

He knows what it means before Akai even speaks.

"No."

"What do you mean, no? - I'm dying, you can't just leave me here!"

Not you, too.

"You're not dead yet, and you won't die today. What happens to souls that die like this... I won't let it happen to you."

"You don't get to make that choice for me. You're a law of the universe. You can't escape your nature."

"True. But here's the thing, Rei: I can afford to be patient. Death catches up with everyone, in the end."

"Fuck you, then."

The distance is short enough that even with alcohol poisoning, he manages to aim at Akai's chest, and fires. It doesn't matter if he's real or not. If he's not going to make himself useful, Rei will shoot him. Maybe with enough intent, he can get rid of Akai, and then he can shoot himself and some other Death will come collect his soul.

Akai seems unperturbed by the fact that he's bleeding. Did he know he could? The image is more disturbing than Rei thought.

And still, Death is smiling at him.

"Please, hold on a little while longer. I promise you, things will get better."

Rei wants to believe him. He was right so often before, but what if he's wrong, now?

He'll give him a year. If Akai is wrong, Rei will just go through with his plans, then.

He's so tired.

When he falls forward, Akai catches him.

Rei rests, suspended in blessed oblivion.

.

He lives to see another day, for better or worse.

The kindly old lady next door called emergency services on him when she heard the shot.

Akai's blood still stains his floor.

.

Six months into borrowed time, he meets a woman just as haunted by the spectre of Death as himself.

[dire-kumori]

Time Travel AU where Michael goes back in time physically instead of just mentally, back before the loss of either of his siblings, and comes across his childhood self. He takes one look at this stupid, cruel, selfish little brat. The same one who let his sister die because he’d rather goof off that watch her. Who murdered his brother in cold blood. Whose terrible behavior put strain on William’s marriage. All of which contributed to William’s deteriorating mental state which ultimately stopped him from getting help with his homicidal urges (or so Mike believes). He takes one look at this kid (who is currently staring up at this moldy stranger thinking ‘why does this dude smell like roadkill’) and immediately wraps his hands around the brat’s throat. Mike strangles his past self to death right there in broad daylight.

Mike’s body is found abandoned at the side of the road. Neither hide nor hair is ever found of the murderer, almost as if he’d vanished into thin air.

[demonangelgirl134]

redraw of a screenshot from the grim adventures of Billy and Mandy with adult Nergal Jr. and Sombra Reaper, My Grim x Death the wolf fanchild.

Sombra looks like Death & has his whistle but has Grim's personality and accent. (she also has Death's fighting skills but doesn't use them on Grim's side).

she even has a life similar to both of her dads. She lost a bet to Billy and Mandy's twin son and daughter, Gwen & Chace, and is in forever servitude to them, while also, she first came to them to take the life of a CAT. (Billy's cat, milkshakes, to be exact)

(and her right eye is just an empty eye socket, being heterochromia from one of her dads being a skeleton)

Here's the original image

[kazooiesart]

oops sorry I made another really ridiculous au

[anotherrosesthatfell]

On scale 1-10, how terrible Reaper curse is?

10

[sleepy-writes-stuff]

SHORT DP X MCU WRITING PROMPT #2

(Possible side story/chapter to the MCU portion of the reaper of heroes au? How about a little bit of fluff for once?)

(#) = Notes at the end of post

✦

After the events of this and this, I'd like to think Danny does Death a favor in apology for having to step in on her dimension's matters, regardless of her giving him full permission to handle things.

So what if he found an easier way for Death and Wade Wilson, AKA Deadpool, to meet with each other that doesn't involve Wade having to take a painful, semi-permanent nap? Like, he uses his will over the Infinite Realms to make a small comfy pocket of reality, like full-on apartment looking space, that both of them can easily access whenever they want. He does this partially as a favor to Death and partially because he's seen/kept Wade's soul in the Infinite Realms so many times between deaths (to give the poor man's spirit a little more time to just rest damn it) he feels like Wade deserves a private spot of happiness in his (unending) life.(1)

Also, official face to face meeting between Danny and Wade so he can tell the guy the good news, not just face to soul meeting? That'd be interesting. I just think it would be sweet.

✦

Okay, I think I'm gonna go make that master post now. This is getting ridiculous. 😅

Notes:

(1) Yes, he's seen Wade's soul multiple times before so Wade is easily recognizable at this point. Danny just never realized that his soul was from another dimension, was immortal, and that it was the soul of one of his Death sibling's lover. It was a big surprise when he learned/figured it out tho. Also, I think Wade would be under Danny's jurisdiction, regardless of alive/dead status. Danny is also the Lord of the undying for a reason.

_

@jotaroslooseeyebrowhair

Whatcha think of this? Doesn't have as many badass vibes, but I think it would be interesting to see. Danny is like, the ultimate wingman here.

[theprofessionalpromptmaker]

Honoring the Nation’s First Responders Day & Plush Animal Lover’s Day

Person A is a first responder who is a part-time reaper for extra income on the side, but always carries some plushies on them to offer comfort to children they know are going to die due to their reaper clearance. Person B is their coworker whose concerned that the plushies are killing the children because every child Person A gives a plushie to dies.

[ask-the-three-reapers-au]

Sombra Reaper

The Daughter of the Grim Reaper

[monellian]

Loss.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I Never Missed You 1/3 (Bodyguard!Ghost x F!Reader)

Word count: 3.5 k

Tags/warnings: 18+ only. Romance, eventual smut, fluff, light angst, banter, pining, flirting, minor injuries, major character death, HFN ending. Lady/Knight dynamic. Unequal pairing trope. Bodyguard AU. Reader is a rich bitch (how else could she afford a PPO?)

Summary: 1/3 You hire a bodyguard to protect you and hunt down the one who's been sent to take your life. This man was your lawyer's first recommendation, and you never even looked through his file because you had better things to do. But it soon turns out that this man – this Simon Riley – is very talented... Talented in driving you crazy.

A/N: A three part fic based on this request. The first chapter features banter and pining. If you're here for smut, stay tuned. There is an entire chapter of it coming right up.

Your lawyer says it would be a good idea. He even dares to look at you from under his brow like you're a child who doesn't know what's good for her.

And you don't.

Because that's exactly how you feel like: a grown woman who's stunted to a kid, now being supervised by adults. 

The bodyguard they assigned you - the one you accepted because he was your lawyer's first choice - is exactly the broad, brooding type you have always imagined bodyguards to be like.

But he's not wearing sunglasses, and he's not wearing a suit. He says the point of a bodyguard is that they don't look like a bodyguard. 

The first thing you actually pay attention to is the milky-white eyelashes. Only days after you hear that this man rarely shows his face. You were given a file on him, but you never peeked inside it because you were pissed that such drastic measures had to be taken in the first place. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Now you pry it from the pile of papers you buried it into, open it, and the first - and only - photo you see is a perfect portrayal of what Death looks like. 

He's the Reaper himself when adorned with that human skull. Keen but emotionless eyes stare from the pits of the sockets to somewhere in the distance, but that look is a stare into the past. The photo raises thousands of questions, and not only the need to know why this man prefers to wear human bones when he's shooting people.

Because apparently, that’s what he used to do before he became a bodyguard. He's buff, that you already know. But in that picture, he looks even more packed, with what you suppose is a bullet vest beneath that blouse. He’s holding an ugly-looking gun – not a pistol, but a rifle of some sort. The gear on him no doubt weighs something close to 60 pounds. His sleeves are rolled up and expose the crisscross veins on his forearms along with war-ugly, crude tattoos, and you swallow. 

Were you really looking at a picture of a barbaric soldier like it was some peculiar soft porn now?

You flip the file closed and toss it on the table, rather disgusted with yourself.

The next time you see him, you look into those brown eyes a moment longer. That stoic stare is the only thing you recognize as that of the man in the picture. That, along with his size, although photos really can't convey how this brooding grunt makes you feel: small and insignificant. Nor do they illustrate how the man looks like he’s the most graceful bull in a china shop when moving inside your house.

You suppose he grew up poor, the way he looks at your furniture, your half-a-mile bookshelf, and the latest art piece you got last month in your living room. He's judging you. 

You're posh. And clueless. And a child.

And this brute lives with you, for now. He's placed downstairs until the target is neutralized. And he's not just a bodyguard: he's hunting the hunter while you're the bait.

It should give you a thrill; your friend giggles when you two gossip about him over a lunch while he's standing only a few feet away. But this situation does not give you a thrill. It just makes you pissed.

And it's not just the situation, it's this... Simon Riley who makes you pissed.

Couldn't they teach manners, some conversation skills at the bodyguard school or wherever the hell this pale, emotionless Hulk came from?

You recheck his file and snoop some more details about his past. He didn't go to bodyguard school (of course he didn't); he used to work for some PMC. The brute's a cold-blooded, cold-hearted mercenary. To put it more eloquently, he's an elite soldier of some tactical unit. But all of that is classified, as is almost every other detail about him. The only thing you are left with is that he's British through and through, but you can already tell that by his accent - the thick Mancunian that makes your stomach and heart flip.

It's gruff – of course it's gruff – and sometimes chafes your ears like they were being grated with the softest grater. You find yourself thinking about him while you're in the shower, when your fingers start to drift and wander.

And for the love of god, you are not thinking about that accent and those eyes while you're masturbating. You're not going to mourn the fact that he never rolls his sleeves when he's with you. When he's at work.

"I saw your file," you start to chitchat over breakfast one day.

"I reckon."

He won't even touch the coffee you poured him but proceeds to drink almost all the tea. The delicate china looks miniature in his hands as he pours the Earl Grey into his cup. The cups are dainty, too – this savage would prefer a large, black mug, perhaps, from which to gulp his tea.

"So. What made you become a soldier?"

"Joined the SAS when I was 17."

And another thing he won't do is look at you when you speak. No manners at all in this man, only rough, sharp edges. He sits as far from you as he can, at the other end of the table, as if you were in a meeting. Or a war council.

"That's not what I asked."

"I know."

You roll your eyes. Conversation skills, god. Just give this man at least some charm…

"I'm going to do some shopping," you declare. "You can stay here."

Finally, he raises his stare. It's full of tired distaste.

"Nah. That's not how this works."

You rise from the table, gracefully and with a neutral face, indicating that you are an adult and won't be needing a babysitter at a store.

"Lady." 

The command is dark and stops you before you have taken one step from the table. It's a slur, almost.

He rises from the table too, and you almost feel sorry, noticing he hasn't yet finished his toast.

"You hired me. And I'm gonna do my job."

He looks big and broad, like a beautiful storm, with that piercing stare and the most alluring lashes you have ever seen on a man. Your voice turns into a meek, pitched attempt to reason with a giant.

"...I'm just going shopping."

His head tilts with a mock: you're only a child in his eyes. 

"Then let's go shopping."

…......…......

Sitting next to this giant in a taxi must be a hilarious-looking scene. A charming, vibrant lady and a sullen, intimidating Theseus – what a pair.

You've also never been this close to him. The man always sits with a wide spread. One heavy thigh almost touches your knees, which you have turned towards him for some unfathomable reason. You were taught to sit with knees closely set together, and that’s what you’re trying to do now: make yourself as small and feminine as possible. It only accentuates this man's size compared to yours. There's a pile of shopping bags between you two, and your gaze is directed outside the window, but you can feel his presence like there's a thrumming monolith beside you.

And he's always dressed in black. You kind of enjoyed how you two looked at the store: you in your heels and a pearl white suit, he in black, tactical ripstop and boots. You wouldn't define the man well-dressed… but he is sharply dressed in his own field, that's for sure. Even a commoner like you could see that.

He had complained about your clothes. White draws too much attention and makes for a bigger target. You had brushed him off with a scoff. You’re not going to change the way you dress because of this.

"You're from Manchester, right?"

You're only trying to make the journey home more enjoyable, but feel like you're snooping again, this time from the man himself. The less you know about Simon Riley, the more you want to learn who he is. It is only natural to get a little curious when his file barely had two paragraphs and a photo. You suppose even that single picture was taken and given forward with reluctance. 

And the only thing you learn is that small talk is a completely foreign concept to this man.

"You're quite the Sherlock," he mutters with that fat accent that gave him away the minute you two shook hands. You Sherlock about some more, look at the left hand that rests on his thigh.

There's no ring. Not even a tan line. He must be lonely: no relationship could stand working hours like these.

"Do you still live there?"

"...No."

"Do you miss the place?"

"No."

The short answers are guttural and spoken from the back of his throat. You don't know if he's doing it on purpose, or if this Simon is like this with everyone. He's not annoyed, though, not the way you're beginning to be.

"Aren't you a chatty one…" you mumble while watching cloudy London pass by. You figured he might hear it, and perhaps that was your purpose, even if your voice was barely a whisper.

"I'm not here to talk. Ma'am."

…......…......

You are told to stay away from the windows. The dinner table is moved so no one can aim at your head through a glass. And even then, most curtains must be closed at all times. 

He goes through doors first, and advises against going out at all. You get a list of things you should take into consideration if you do go out.

And you’re not going to give in to fear.

You simply take different routes to your friends and family, have lunches at different restaurants than usual. He says you should get an armored car, but you don’t have a license. Of course your brooding bodyguard could drive, but what will you do with some armored tank after you're finally through this thing?

What's far more interesting is that it turns out this Simon Riley is a smoker.

Disgusting, you think at first, then think about him all sweaty and grimy after some gunfight, reaching for a cig, curling those thick fingers around a pure-white coffin nail. No, wait – he had gloves in that picture; he wouldn't bother to take them off before he smoked, he would just lean on his gun and on some crumbling wall and sigh from the joy of being alive, of being bloodied and dirty and victorious before taking a long drag from his cigarette.

Ugh.

Reluctantly you agree that perhaps there is an odd charm to this man after all. Either that, or then you are in need of some serious therapy.

Breakfasts are torturingly quiet with Simon, and you can hear the slow roll of eyes every time you make plans to go to a party or an art gallery.

Once, a zipper gets stuck and you have to ask him for help. It’s mortifying, and he doesn’t say a word, only mocks you with his eyes as you turn around for him to place a warm hand on your hip and another on your back to pull up the zipper you had fought to reach and drag up by yourself for at least 10 minutes.

A week passes, and he’s buried in work, not only because he’s guarding your body 24/7, but because he’s trying to locate the hitman. The fact that Simon Riley is technically speaking a hitman too - to think that you have hired a killer - is something you don’t have the mental strength to delve into right now.

"Found the one who's hunting you."

Another file is dropped before you at the end of the week. The man marches into your office like there's no door there at all. Doesn't even bother to knock. 

This isn't what you meant when you politely told him to make himself home…

You roll the glass of water on your temple and sigh. The file reveals another photo, this time of a man who looks like an executioner.

"Goes by the name König," he says and clasps his hands over his crotch while taking a wide stance in front of your desk. "Austrian war criminal. Skilled with knives… Likes to torture people first."

Nice. More brutes.

"Why are you telling me this?" 

You're tired, there's a headache approaching, and you really don't care to go over some details about a professional lunatic killer right now. But Simon Riley - codenamed Ghost, you’ve lately learned - looks down at you like a storm cloud over a carefree meadow.

"Because you clearly don't understand the danger you're in." 

He adds "Ma'am" as a footnote. Purposely forgotten...

And you wish he would forget that silly, overly courteous term.

"Well–" you sigh your frustration in the air between you two, then realize that perhaps you're being treated like a child because you behave like one. "What are you going to do about this man...?"

"Gonna kill him," he simply shrugs, the eternal, distant look in those eyes gaining a smug tone to them. 

He enjoys this. Enjoys killing, but what's even worse, enjoys seeing how his ruthlessness makes you shift uncomfortably in your chair. Or perhaps he just likes shocking you with that file with an image of a lyncher in it. You know perfectly well that you're in trouble and under threat. That's what you've tried to forget, but no one lets you forget.

Simon takes a deep breath before placing his humble petition before you.

"Ma’am. I'm gonna need your help."

And nothing in this man is humble. Even though he rarely speaks and never shows his talents, not to talk of showing off, he reeks of pride and testosterone.

You set the glass on the table and straighten the file to align with the leather pad on your desk. Your fingers are not trembling. Yet.

"What do you mean?" 

He gives a hoarse laugh. The sound drills straight to your core and starts to bloom there. You realize you have never seen him smile before. And he's not smiling now: the short laugh is just a dark chuckle that mainly stays inside his chest; it only makes those stocky shoulders rise and fall.

"Not like that," he looks down at you with a tad of mercy. "You're gonna serve as bait."

"Isn't… that what I've been the whole time?"

"Yeah. But this time, we're gonna lure him in."

The way he talks makes your thighs rub together without your consent. You wonder what it would feel like if you were trapped between that solid chest and a wall, what it would be like if those hands woke you up with a calloused caress of a thigh.

You don't quite understand the difference between bait and a lure but find yourself willing to do whatever you can to help him. Help Simon…

"Sure... I'll help you," you say as if this man wasn't on your payroll.

"That's the least you could do."

That barely hidden bite in his dry retort doesn't escape you. This man's audacity buries whatever odd want you have started to feel for him and replaces it with searing, womanly fury. 

He could be a little more sensitive.

You're the one who has a target on their back. You're the one who fears going to sleep at night and feels lucky they're alive come dawn. If he wasn't so crude and uncaring, you would've asked him to sleep in the same room with you from the start. But he has to be a brute, has to follow and mock you with those ink blot eyes at every turn.

You rise from the chair when he turns and walks toward the door. It's almost a snappy jump, an attempt to reclaim your power. You're sore and thoroughly peeved.

"I never wanted this," you tell him with an annoying timbre in your tone. He stops right before the door but doesn't turn.

"Neither did I."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Could be somewhere warmer with no damsels giving me their cheek."

The BDU blouse you saw in that picture was yellow, burnt yellow. Desert wear… He wants to be in a hot desert with a cold gun in his hand. Dropped straight from some plane, working alone, in a place where damsels aren't giving him their cheek. Where there are no damsels at all. 

You're relatively sure there is no Mrs. Riley. No woman could stand this man.

"Then go somewhere warmer," you snap, almost stomp your heel on the soft carpet. This man is simply intolerable. The way he never reacts to anything makes you want to throw things at him. 

He must be trained to be so calm, but you're not. You're used to making men a little stupid and flustered. You're used to men eating out of your hand. He's not behaving at all like he's supposed to. Simon Riley is just a mountain without emotion.

He turns with that eternal, downgrading look in his eyes. There's a flash of amusement there, too.

Soddy bastard…

"Nah. Not until I've done my job."

His voice is warm now; the gruff and gravel make way to a smoothness that goes directly to your knees. Your lips part, and his eyes fall on your mouth just before he lifts his chin a hair of an inch.

"Your job…" you breathe, too furious to even rage or shout. 

Your fucking job.

Why did you even want this job if it's so–

"Yeah. My job. Some people got one."

You have to take support from the table with your fingertips. 

"Excuse me?"

There's the tiniest curve at the corner of his mouth before he takes his leave.

"Good night, ma'am."

…......…......

The next day, you start the breakfast by apologizing. 

You barely slept that night, first because of this man's utter nerve, then because your wrath eventually cooled down into a bleeding consciousness of how you must look in his eyes. 

He has accepted this job, something different from what he usually does, for reasons unknown to you. He might not be on some faraway battlefield where bullets fly past, but this is no less risky. The picture he showed you, the file on König, haunted your restless sleep last night – when you finally did get some sleep. 

You have been running around like everything’s normal when it’s not. The man’s just trying to do his job. 

And you're the one who hired him. Not your lawyer.

"I want to make peace," you coo while spreading some jam on toast. You expect Simon to finally melt a little. You might even get a smile. You secretly hope your reward is that this brute turns into a tamed lap dog you can feed some treats every now and then. 

The situation is thrilling: the beefiest man you have ever seen is going to kill someone for you. Even if he's being paid to do so, he is prepared to die for you. There's something incredibly sexy about that.

But there is silence at the other end of the table. Only the crunchy sounds of toast getting sugar on top can be heard.

"That so?" 

He doesn't sound like he's melting. He doesn't sound at all domesticated. He only sounds more and more amused.

"Yes. I'm happy that you're here," you put the toast down and turn to look at him with angel eyes.

He laughs. When he stops, he looks you up and down, then laughs some more, a silent, shoulder-shaking chuckle.

"I'm… I'm serious," you hurry to add. "I mean it. I haven't been treating you the way I should–"

"That's for sure."

You see more warmth in those eyes. But it's not because of your humble apology.

His eyes are trekking down the neckline of your blouse, and to your horror, you notice – feel – how one of the top buttons has opened, revealing much more than just some skin. You're pretty sure he gets an ample view of the fuchsia bra you're wearing underneath.

If you reach for that button now, you underline that he's not supposed to look, even if it's your mistake that you're so obscenely exposed. If you close it now, you tell him he's not allowed to look. And that's not entirely true.

"Will you forgive me?"

You feel like you're offering peace, or at least a truce, with more than just that peepy question. Because your breasts swell inside that blouse. They rise and fall with your breaths, your nipples grow hard from that look that stays down a bit longer before drifting back up. 

"There's nothing to forgive," he says, voice dropping a note or two. 

"Good," you swallow. The following sentence comes out so weakly that it's almost a whisper. "After all, I hired you."

"Ain't that the truth."

The dim glint in those eyes still holds you as a prisoner, and his tea is growing cold.

"Are we going shopping today?"

"No," you utter, dreading the next inevitable question.

"What then?"

"I… I have a yoga class."

"Of course you do."

…......…......

Taglist: @cumikering

[seneon]

EYES DON'T LIE ──── prince! touya × fem warrior! reader.

about. the crown prince can't tear his gaze away from the warrior girl. set in edo period, rural japan! au. written from age to age. a bittersweet romance. touya is written as touya ( before dabi existed ) includes his stimming in some parts, minor mentions alcohol and blood, death. wc of 5300+

notes. silly tsundere prince who has a thing for his strong independent warrior UEGJ I'M IN LOVE. if you didn't know i love rural japan stuff. perhaps courtesan!reader next??

𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓, there was a birthday celebration held for the crown prince tōya of the todoroki royal family. his turquoise gaze briefly rushed past the crowd in boredom, looking forward to the end of the day already. even as a young prince, he never found anything in the royal events intriguing.

his birthday was no different. as a child of eight years, he already felt like he knew the darkest secrets of the world, the ones that were locked away to the underworld for the reapers of hell to deal with.

prince tōya sat with his family, seated between his sister and brother, both younger than him. as his eyes roamed around, they came to a halt the moment they landed on eyes that sternly looked around. tōya ceased his chewing for a second, staring at the owner whom those stern gaze belonged to.

“fuyumi, natsu, can little girls become warriors?” the curious prince asked, tilting his head to the side, his gaze never leaving the little figure that stood by taller ones.

fuyumi followed her elder brother's gaze. she has just spoken to the girl that stood beside honourable warriors and soldiers. the princess could feel a smile surfacing at the sight of little eight year old you, mimicking your father and his comrades to serve as guards of the party.

“that is y/n! kuromiya y/n, she's the daughter of the general.”

“daughter of the general?” tōya repeated, his tone twisting into curiousity. he resumed his chewing before swallowing. “i didn't know general kuromiya had a daughter…”

the younger prince popped a bite of a monkfish, chewing it to taste the flavour before beaming with satisfaction. the fish was fresh and amazing. firm texture, a refined sweetness with a clean aftertaste.

“she follows her father around a lot, brother. you might get to see her more often.”

just as the crown prince pondered on his brother's words, you looked around, eyes and senses all together alert for any danger that might strike. then, your gaze traveled to the young crown prince, freezing upon his gaze which was locked on yours.

in your eight year old mind, it is rude to stare at people of nobility and royalty. so you quickly looked down at your feet, afraid that perhaps the crown prince might tell of your discourtesy to the king and queen. if that is the case, your eyes will certainly be gouged out the fingers of an executioner.

you shivered at that thought, feeling your father's arms resting on your shoulders as you looked up at the huge man.

“anxious, little warrior?” asked your father as he bent down to your eye level.

you shook your head, fingers grazing at the corner of your eye sockets. “my eyes are going to be plucked out, father. i stared at the crown prince for too long..”

your words made the general raise a brow before he chuckled, a roaring laughter emitting from the back of his throat as you simply stood there in confusion. the man tells you that you shouldn't worry about staring at the prince for way too long, because he noticed that the young todoroki also has his gaze on you the moment he sat down to eat.

you calmed down a little. just a little, though.

𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐄𝐍, you excel in kyūjutsu, the art of archery. supposedly, you are a natural in the field of long-range attacks, never a loyal servant to the close-ranged such as a blade.

crown prince tōya did not like the fact that there is a soul who dared to take his place as the most supreme in a field. he would occasionally grumble, roll his turquoise eyes, and repeatedly tap his feet on the ground whenever you overtake his arrows in a much more professional way.

he silently cursed you for having a father that is idealistically superb in the field of archery, since your father specializes in serving the king as his eye during battle. tōya simply couldn't stand the fact that a mere girl is better at something he should be good at.

so one day, the young prince approached you as you were firing your shots in the archery academy. you never falter even as he stood behind you, his gaze burning into your back as you ever so calmly shoot arrows repeatedly. one by one, each arrow that overlapped the other, completely tearing the previous one out.

“you're not very girly are you? shooting arrows like how a soldier is supposed to do that,” the prince said, eventually breaking your momentum with his childish and immature words. your arrow did not overlap the previous one. instead, it went a bit over the bullseye, eyes immediately shooting glares at the prince who watched you with furrowed eyebrows.

“that is rude, don't you think, your highness?” you lowered your bow, face twisting into a frown.

tōya shrugged. “nope. i mean, you're the only girl in the archery academy! yet the only one who's genuinely good at shooting a bunch of… stupid arrows...”

his words are uttered with frustration, let loose like a curse through gritted teeth. you noticed that his cheeks are a bit flushed, as if they have been covered in blush that was extracted from red ochre.

“your highness, i believe you caught a cold. your cheeks are red,” you pointed at the prince as he flushed even redder, his feet moving to stomp away.

“i-i’m not sick!”

𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍, the crown prince hunted his first live animal to present it to his parents as a trophy and a remembrance piece of his first hunt. of course, the todoroki family is proud, even little prince shōto who gave his brother the littlest of claps.

on the other hand, you stood by your father, watching the royal family's interaction. your eyes might be on the sweet family, but your mind wanders right to the cuts and bruises that tōya received when he hunted for the animal.

your fingers twitched slightly, resisting any urge to pull away the prince from his family just to force him into treating his wounds. the prince is smart. he hides his newly-received marks with layer upon layers of cloth, allowing it to seem like a gear when in reality, it stains his skin dirty.

but you knew. you were with the prince when you hunted with him, assisting your father.

“father, i know it's a crime. but do you mind stealing the prince away?”

so that same day at night, when the military army discusses their plans about the next battle, you're in the room of your friend-enemy, telling him to stop moving around and sit still as you tend to his wounds.

poor tōya, his wounds left unattended for the whole day and only treated at night. you knew the crown prince is stubborn enough to not pay a visit to the family doctor just to get himself treated, so you'd rather get medical knowledge just to treat a stubborn prince.

he's such a hard wall to break too, always putting up a façade that he's so strong and independent wherein he really is just a child who seeks to be the best and to live up to the expectations of the country as its prince.

the colour turquoise is practically imprinted in the skin of your fingers and hands now, having the prince to stare at you working your hands so skillfully to patch him up without trying to tickle a burn or torn skin.

with such silence, the boy moved his gaze upwards, now staring at your face which was so focused on patching him up. tōya searches for a reason in your focused eyes, attempting to find a reason as to why you would stick around to help him with such stupidity.

tōya couldn't help but feel heat rising up to his cheeks, even if his lips are still and his gaze is still locked onto your face. he takes in your feature, your beautiful features that has him in an unbreakable trance.

he wonders just why in the world would you want to be a warrior that will eventually stain your precious face with splatters of the enemy's blood instead of the snowflakes that would paint your cheeks a rosy hue.

“your highness… prince tōya,” you called out, waving your hands in front of his face before he snapped out of his daydreaming, fluttering his eyes a little.

“you were staring, your highness.”

not again. he's been caught doing that so many times it is almost easy to catch him staring. specifically, his gaze is on you, always you. as tōya grows older, he gets smarter than the age he was before. he's quick to act now.

“i’m not. i’m looking at the candle behind you,” the crown prince lied as if he's telling the truth. it flows down his tongue so smoothly, like the waters in the lake that dances forward.

he will never admit the fact that he was just daydreaming and wondering about you into the unknown. no, never. the prince will never embarrass himself with a mere girl that is just a tad bit better than him in archery.

he moves his hands and arms, slightly wincing at the sore.

“you should rest, your highness. i shall take my leave now,” you bowed at the prince, standing up before leaving him alone, not even staying to listen to whatever regards he might have kept in stock for you when his mind travelled to the back of his mind.

crown prince tōya laid down, holding his hands up in the air as his mind once again replayed the images of you treating his wounds. it played in his mind over and over again as if the memories were an old stop motion film.

“what a bother,” he murmured under his breath before covering his turquoise eyes with the back of his hands, covering an initial blush that started building up along the heat of the candle before he blew it off to have his rest.

𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍, you are presented to the crown prince as his retainer upon joining the military ranks. however, the prince isn't delighted in the least at the idea of having a girl as his personal follower.

he tells the king, the general, and you— that he is capable of protecting himself and has no need for a retainer, let alone someone of the opposite gender. tōya isn't keen on bringing a girl to the battlefield where she has to protect him. it makes him feel absolutely pathetic.

despite despising the entire ordeal of you being his personal servant, his mind changed a little when you got on your knees to vow and promise your life to the prince.

“your highness, i ask that you use me. i am your eye, the one who will look after your back or your front in battles. i swore to lay my life down for you, crown prince tōya.”

tōya wanted to protest, to tell you in your face that you are not supposed to be the one doing that. he wants to tell you to stand up immediately and ask that you leave. but he knows all too well that in his weaknesses, there's strength.

you are his strength. you are the one that will cover for his one weakness and complete him. crown prince tōya does not want to protest anymore. he is too tired to let any word slip out from the tip of his tongue anyway. so he only lets out one simple sigh.

that one sigh that told the warmth of your heart that the prince is all the more appreciating your dedication to serve him until death.

he will be sure to use you well as his eye.

𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍, the eavesdropping ears of the young boy pondered upon the conversation between the general and the lieutenant general. they speak about the coming of age for the general's daughter.

her birthday is coming up very soon. and at the sixteenth birthday of a girl marks her age of legality. her youth and beauty is at its finest. to be dressed in silk, expensive makeup and be wedded to a man is the standard life of a woman.

“my wife and i will celebrate her birthday, do not fret,” said general kuromiya to his lieutenant. “we have not celebrated her birthday in a few years because of how busy the military gets. but, we've cleared some time for our girl's special day.”

tōya hears the lieutenant chuckle then speaking. “if your daughter isn't the crown prince’s retainer, are you going to arrange your daughter into marriage with a noble?”

upon hearing those words, tōya furrowed his eyebrows. it is as if those words were the sharpest of blades ever forged which had just impaled the skull of the todoroki.

his mind is a mixture of curiousity and anger. curiousity for the wanderer mind, and anger for the mind that remained. he could not pick one emotion to feel.

how could the lieutenant speak of such things to the general about his daughter?

and even so, the thought of you being arranged into a marriage with a noble tickles the back of his mind where his pent-up frustration and anger is kept in the dark. he might not be fond of the idea of you becoming his retainer a year ago, but he isn't exactly fond of the idea of you being a normal girl and being wedded to one of those wretched nobles.

if there's anything he did get from eavesdropping, that is that your sixteen birthday is in a week. and he spent a whole week thinking about it.

during missions, visiting a neighbouring village, meeting the citizens and villagers to offer services, hunting, training. whatever that was on the prince’s agenda. he could not get your birthday out of his mind.

when the general's small team along with you and the prince walked through a rather busy city, tōya finally set his mind on a specific subject for your birthday.

he watched in silence beside you as the both of you ventured into a shop that sold all clothing essentials. some of your gears are ruined from the previous hunt, and this is a great opportunity to purchase some items to fix your gears.

your eyes flickered at each corner of the store in search of your desired items. but occasionally, they come to a halt at a few jewelries that were on display. the beautiful blinking ones that beautiful women wear in their hair.

tōya sees you staring at pretty hairpins, and his gaze switches to your hair, wrapped in a topknot that he has never seen falling before. the prince doesn't even know if you even knew how to place a hairpin in your hair. well whatever, he now knows what he's going to give you for your birthday as a great and loving prince to his beloved retainer.

on the night of your birthday, a nicely wrapped rectangle box appeared on your windowsill as you were cleaning your arrows. crippling curiousity overflowed from you as you opened it, eyes widening in surprise at the content inside the box.

there it is, a hairpin which colour perfectly matches the hue of your eye. it was custom made, you can tell, since such a colour isn't so easy to be made into a hairpiece.

regardless of the surprise, you cannot fathom your imagination on who could've given you such a beautiful thing. you opened a supposedly jewelry box and looked at yourself in the tiny mirror before beginning to let your hair down, brush it, and tie it like the girls on the streets with pretty hair and pretty kimono. at last, you set the hairpin in your hair, fingers caressing the metal piece.

such a sight to behold . . . it made tōya’s heart flutter at the sight of you with your hair down, the hairpin beautiful set in your hair. he isn't going to fall for this absurdity though, considering how he just sneaked in the manor of the kuromiya family and swiftly placed your gift on your windowsill.

he clicked his tongue in annoyance. annoyance in himself for committing such a ridiculous thing and all for such a foolish reason.

all for his eyes to watch as the corner of your lips curved into a sickeningly warm smile which twisted at his lower abdomen and in return, granted him a moment to admire you with a lovesick gaze.

you looked extremely beautiful with the hairpin.

𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍, at one of the days where you are off duty from serving the prince, you attend a party with your father instead— as his daughter. the daughter and the heiress of the kuromiya family.

not seen as a military officer or a servant of justice, you are present as the daughter of the honoured general and a woman of the kuromiya house.

dressed in the finest silk of the kimono found in that age with a dolled up face and beautifully brushed hair.

tōya of the todoroki family isn't a prince at that moment. he is a normal guest at that party. this is not his party, he only arrived because he was invited by the general.

but gosh, from heaven and back and for the love of the twinkling stars in the universe, he could not tear his gaze off of you. he has never in his entire life seen you so proper, so ladylike and poised.

it was like a whole new different person to him. the only thing that remained the same is the hairpin that was sticking out from your little bun, the extra pieces dangling to and back.

his heart flutters at the sight of you covering your mouth in utmost manner as you smiled and laughed at the other guests. you've greeted the man you've served, that's for sure. but he isn't the only one you have to entertain for the night. and somehow, he doesn't mind being like that, treated like any other normal guests and not being pestered by other souls.

familiar turquoise eyes keep making their way to yours, never plucking them off of you as you conversed through the night. he couldn't help it, he couldn't look away from such beauty. it was too overwhelming for the prince to handle.

it twists at his cold heart that tonight— you wouldn't speak to him that much, or even walk by his side. his insides did a little pout at the realisation at that very simple fact that you have no time for him.

however, the moment his gaze lingered onto her, his feet moved on its own to approach you, intrusively grabbing your hands to hold onto them, never letting go before his gaze bores into the soul of a samurai.

“this is my wife.”

and tōya makes sure the samurai's mind has that information burnt into him, albeit his grasp on your hands were let loose almost immediately after the man who was harassing you left.

there was an uncomfortable silence before you said a soft “thank you,” something you'd never ever say to the prince, to the man you serve. the prince walks a bit ahead of you, his back facing you like how it is always supposed to be. “whatever…”

you assumed he's going to walk away and leave you alone to entertain the other guests, but you invited the crown prince to ditch this aggravatingly bone-crushing party. so now, you two are alone by the lake, far away from people. the moon takes favour in the both of you, illuminating an equal amount of beauty.

yet somehow for this special night, you managed to shine and glow more than the prince himself.

“you look beautiful.”

your cheeks flushed. “uh, thank you..”

and there was silence again. this time, a comfortable silence with a reasonable distance between you and the prince by the lake and the moon reflecting onto the surfaces of the lake.

one more gaze, and tōya sees you smiling up at the moon. his heart aches and clenches inside of him, doing whatever tricks it could— including a race that would not last a horse.

todoroki tōya's eyes never lie. once they determine something is beautiful, it stays beautiful for an eternity.

𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘, the scent of strong alcohol hit your nose the moment you entered the prince’s lounge room. drunken men are laid all over, obviously wasted. the prince drinks, coming to a halt the moment he notices you standing at the entrance of the room, watching his every move.

“hello, dear retainer..” he grumbled under his breath as you went over to him to pluck the cup out from his fingers, draping his arm over your shoulders and balancing him up on his feet.

“you are drunk, my prince.”

“ah ah archer, you know.. my guys don't have retainers who're good at archery..”

“is that so?”

the prince hummed in response as he held your shoulder and wobbled in his steps. “you’re the best one in the entire country, y/n.”

“it's an honour. but you mustn't speak. your words are oddly disturbing to me,” you said, receiving a chuckle from the drunken prince.

it is true, the prince never touched on the topic of your archery skills. he is still angry at the fact that you excel at archery better than he is. even if it has been an entire decade of indirect competition. you will always surpass him with efficiency.

“i hate the way you always steal my attention, you damned retainer.”

your eyebrows furrowed at his words, glancing at him momentarily before sliding the door to his room open.

“my apologies,” you said softly with a tiny smile, leading him to his haven where he slumbers. “i didn't mean to do that.”

with that, you set him down his bed, plucking whatever piece of him that felt uncomfortable as his turquoise eyes burned into your soul, watching your every move.

the prince is silent, gaze following the way your fingers would graze the collar of his kimono or untie his obi to loosen it. his stomach felt like it was twisting at your touch, butterflies swarming around like fools at the pit of it.

he snapped out of his trance the moment you were going to stand up as he quickly grabbed hold onto your wrist.

“do not leave me…” he uttered, words so slurred from the alcohol that he consumed, grip tightening when he felt you lightly tugging your wrist away. “i said, do not leave me.”

“your highne—” your senses tingled as your back hit the soft futon on the ground.

both hands at either side of your face, the prince looks down at you through his half lidded turquoise eyes. you searched for a reason behind this action in those ethereally dangerous eyes of his. and there was only a hint of a dark desire.

“you make me sick to the bones.”

you held your breath, the prince letting out a heavy sigh as you felt his fingers gently grazing your cheeks, moving along the lines of your jaw. his touch fueled you on the inside, you have to admit to yourself. cold fingers with such a tender touch. it makes you yearn for him to continue his actions.

“who knows you would look so… beautiful, under me?”

as if warmth hasn't made their debut to your cheeks, he words gifted your cheeks a field of red roses. you were about to part your lips before his sweet traces along your jawline ceased, his weight falling onto you.

and then there was it. nothing else. just a drunken prince who fell into slumber after leaving his retainer in a flushed mess. you cursed under your breath and moved him off of you, tucking him into bed before brushing his hair as white as snow away from his face.

“you are murdering my mind and heart, your highness… it's been like that for so many years too..”

𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐎𝐍𝐄, the prince puffed and panted at the cruel training given to him by his retainer upon orders of the king. you are to hone his skills to perfection in the fields of kenjutsu.

prince tōya does not know why he has to go through this rigorous training with someone who specialises with a bow and an arrow instead of a sword, but his tongue slips out curses of regret the moment he clashes his blade with yours after a whole decade.

he clearly underestimated you, never imagining the fact that your swordsmanship skills have been polished way over perfection until it appeared to the prince that you are ultimately the perfect warrior. and it itched his brains along with the tugging at his heart.

the both of you were well aware of an upcoming war that will possibly bring nations to an end. neither your father nor tōya's father has the time to spend on their respective children to train them, so it was only ideal that they trained each other.

“your highness .. we must continue to swing our blades…” you tell the prince, gripping the sword hilt with both hands.

“oh come on, you should shoot arrows, not play with swords in the first place,” tōya rolled his eyes and dropped his sword to the ground, taking a seat. “can't continue anymore.”

once again, your stamina outranks the royal prince. what a shame, you stood longer than he did before you followed him and seated yourself on the ground, falling backwards to hit the ground.

“i’m still not fit for swords, it seems…” you murmured as the prince is now seated beside your lying form, glancing down at you. “then stick to being the archer, my backbone. let me charge ahead. you will follow me behind.”

you looked at his eyes before switching to the clear blue sky. his eyes matched the colour of the sky perfectly, it made you tugged a smile at the corner of the lip along with his words that sunk into your mind.

“i will always follow you behind, prince tōya.”

the prince rolled his eyes and rested his chin on his palm, a tiny blush coating his cheeks rose. “you better not stray too far..”

“i won't. i’ll be right behind you,” you chuckled as the voice of the royal princess fuyumi called out, inviting you and the crown prince to have some tea with her.

the prince stands up to brush his hakama. then as you sat up. before you could push yourself off the ground, he held his hands out. you looked at his hands for a quick moment before accepting it and he pulled you up gently.

“imagine if this is the last time we'll ever leisurely spend time with each other… you know... before the war and stuff.”

“that is not a very nice thing to say,” you frowned at tōya's words as he chuckled. “i’m just kidding… it will not be. trust me.”

𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐎𝐍𝐄, heaven forbid the prince to keep his words and promises to you.

oh dear, how could this happen? why is there an arrow stabbed right through your shoulders? why are you still clenching the reins when blood drips down your shoulders and stains your clothes wine red? why are you still marching forward to follow the prince right behind as you have told him you would?

the prince’s army came to a halt when he stopped his horse and went to catch your falling body into his arms, your blood seeping into the fabric of his clothes almost immediately.

you hear the prince call out to you over and over like it was a chant, a desperate chant that does not go through your ear. your mind is too hazy to even be focusing on the view in front of you.

you shut your eyes to relieve some of that blur and when you do, it's the prince's turquoise eyes that cover your field of vision. it has always been his eyes that pulls you back to reality, it pulls you from straying away too far. his eyes are that one thing that you always seek from the very start.

“shit, y/n, no no no no no….”

you hear him say, oddly clear that your mind isn't as hazy as it was before, thanking his eyes that pierced through your haziness to make way so you could see his face.

“why would you do that!?”

you knew he was referring to the moment where at the most unexpected moment, an arrow shoots the prince's way and you went to his side to serve as his shield.

you did it because you want to protect him. you did it because you have made a promise to be his eye. you did it because you didn't want him to be hurt.

you did it because you love and care for him.

“how dare you get hurt, y/n!”

it makes you sink your teeth into your bottom lip to hold an amount of pain, both on the outside and on the inside. you must not falter, you mustn't show weakness in front of the prince as his retainer and most loyal servant.

“i apologise, my prince,” you forced yourself to sit up, coughing up a smile that breaks tōya's heart.

“we have to get the arrow out now, quickly, and efficiently,” the prince calmly said in a stern voice, unsure of how to really react to this. the inside of his mind a whole raging calamity.

from this point onwards, the sleeves of his hakama is now completely stained from holding you in his arms. it drips down his arms like blood-soaked honey. his fingers are constantly moving around to squeeze your arm, his usual habit of stressful stimming clearly portrayed as his mind wanders everywhere in visible conflict.

“your highness, you can't! none of us are authorised medics! and she will bleed more if you take the arrow out!” one of tōya's soldiers exclaimed as you held the prince's hands to calm his stimming down.

“please, prince tōya. it's futile, the war is still ongoing. you must go back out there to fight.”

“without my archer? without my retainer? without my backbone!? how am i even supposed to stand without you!?” he cries out as you shut your eyes to contain the tears that are beginning to gather at the corner of your eyes.

“someone please. please just get it out of her...”

“i’ll be fine. please... your presence is needed out there,” you whispered.

“i don't want to go out there without you. not when there's still so much for us to do.”

you felt his fingers resting on your dirtied cheeks, caressing your face with such shakiness that your cheek is now dripping with the tears of the prince. one drop at a time, he wipes his tears on your cheeks with his thumb, this sickeningly despairing smile portrayed on his face.

it makes you want to clench your heart in nothing but for the sake of easing your pain. even if it hurts and pulls at your soul, you held his hands and leaned into his touch, holding his fingers tightly.

“i’m sorry.”

there's not even a moment where his eyes leave you, darting all around while trying to find a way to put you out of your pain. it twists and turns on the inside, fueling his debuting rage.

tōya rests his forehead against yours, his snow white hair falling onto your face as he gazes into your eyes, trying to find a way to find solace in your own gaze.

“i don't want to leave you alone.”

“but tōya," you dropped the formality. "my eyes feel heavy. i’m going to rest for a bit.”

turquoise eyes widened at your words before his hands held you tighter and embraced you into a hug so warm that you smiled your way out of his life.

TAGS ★ @saewako @hyoismbbg @bbluefllame @sweetheartsaku @raeson @little-red-insomniac @jujuonthatbeat444 @booksooks @merakijellyfish @redgie-69 @randomrosie01 @ephmeraloblivion @brbwritingfanfic @irenexj @falsesu @heyimseli @miscellaneous-silly-goose @3xiles @qxuanii

© SENEON 2024 ♱ do not repost, alter, or translate.

[sapphoherselz]

howdy!! two literal people have asked for some andreil rec so here they are!! my most favest fics EVER in the first 60 ao3 pages (I'll keep updating tho as I read!)

Not yours to bleed:

The Pros were never in the cards. Not for an ex-medicated alleged psychotic with a dysfunctional family and an Exy career he’d rather not have. But even if it wasn't his first choice, no matter what happens, it can’t possibly be worse than that one fucked up sophomore year when he stood toe to toe with the Yakuza-and won.

At least, that’s what Andrew thinks until a familiar face shows up.

Another Raven!Neil AU. Or, the one where the boys don’t meet until the Pros.

 

**Updates every other Wednesday, whatever hell may come.**

The Sun Still Rises:

Somewhere on the road, Mary Hatford gets pregnant with her second child. When she passes, she leaves behind not only Neil, but his toddler brother. Survival is difficult without also raising a kid. Worn out and desperate, Neil still somehow ends up at Palmetto, only this time, he brings his four-year-old brother with him.

TALE OF A MARTYR IN XII PARTS:

Neil closes his eyes and counts the things that he knows:

One: Death has a name.

Two: He has met Death before. Several times, in fact.

Three: Someone is trying to kill him. Permanently. But it's only kind of working.

Or, the one in which Andrew is the Grim Reaper, Neil is very, very good at dying, over and over and over again. They teach each other a few things over the centuries.

Hearthlines:

The Fae king and queens have gone away, closing the knowes behind them and abandoning their offspring to the mortal world. As the Fae have spread far and wide, their bloodlines thinning if not vanishing forever as they flee from mortal persecution... two Fae have found a way to reopen the knowes - Kayleigh Day and Tetsuji Moriyama. The Fae regroup once more, the balance of power shifted amongst them, and 'changelings' appear now and then in the mortal population.

Andrew Doe is one of those changelings, a young child suffering in the foster system, shunned by his peers for some reason and hearing voices in his head.

Alex - the latest name gifted to him by a charm - is on the run along with his mother from his father, using their talents as shadow walkers to slide between worlds and stay one step ahead of the powerful Fae. Except even that is not enough anymore. Except that's not Alex's only talent.

*******

An urban fantasy where I throw Fae, necromancy and magic at TFC characters, pretty much!

Scared to Live (But I'm Scared to Die):

Neil Josten goes to the Nest for Andrew, but he stays for a lot more.

~

"I'm sorry Coach," he muttered.

"For what kid?" Wymack shifted. "You've got to give me something to work with here."

Wymack watched the thin traces of sorrow as paper exchanged hands and he was looking down at a contract with the Edgar Allan Raven's.

"I signed them Coach, I'm sorry."

~

The one where Neil doesn't come back from Winter Break.

Amor Vincit Omnia:

“I said it already,” the man said, “Your cluster.”

“But what does that mean?” Neil asked.

“It means that you are no longer just you,” the man said tersely, “Congratulations.”

It didn’t feel like anything worth celebrating.

A Sense8 AU where the foxes all share one subconscious and kick a lot of ass

The Real Thing:

Andrew was more than willing to turn down the Ravens' offer to be their newest goalie, unwilling to play five more years of Exy - let alone for someone with a too-sharp smile and a manic gleam in their eyes.

That was, until he realized that a member of their Perfect Court was his soulmate. (That was, until Riko Moriyama realized that Nathaniel Wesninski, the Ravens' #3 in waiting, was Andrew's soulmate.)

Andrew always knew that Fate loved tormenting him, he didn't need a reminder yet again via a too-attractive soulmate who appeared to loathe him. Yet things aren't always what they seem, especially in the Nest.

mad girl says she's wolf-proof:

Keeping her grip light on Nina’s throat, Andrea drops her gaze to her plump lips. She smiles—coldly, slowly. Fangs on fangs. Salt tombstones. It is not a nice smile, none of Andrea’s smiles are, but Nina’s eyes are stuck in it regardless. “And I will answer, all the better to eat you with.”

 

(Andrea Dobson vs girlhood and lycanthropy.)

lessons in caretaking:

Neil was acting shifty, and Andrew knew why; that motherfucker was leaving. Despite the promise between them, Neil was prepping to run. Andrew wasn't upset about that, not at all. After all, if notorious Neil "No-Swing" Josten needed to leave after Andrew admitted his desires regarding his proximity to Neil's shorts, who was Andrew to stop him. But that doesn't explain why Neil was stealing socks, or why he wanted Andrew's clothes.

Whatever. That was probably unrelated.

Sauntering Vaguely Downwards:

They’ve known each other since the Beginning. Not the Beginning Beginning—they didn’t meet until after the War in Heaven, where they kept to their own sides, or until after the subsequent Fall. It wasn’t even until after the Exodus from Eden, but only by a couple minutes. They’ve witnessed the rise and fall of empires, sampled all the cuisines the world has to offer, and weathered several very silly fashion trends.

Andrew doesn’t think they’re friends, exactly, but it is natural to become accustomed to the presence of the only other being who has been around more or less consistently for six millennia. It wasn’t anything more meaningful than that.

A Good Omens AU where Andrew is a grumpy angel, Neil is a sharp-tongued serpent, and it takes them literally six thousand years to figure out they belong together.

[demonangelgirl134]

Grim and Sombra

Sombra was 6 years old when this picture was taken. Grim loves his daughter with all his heart and is a very good dad. (Mom)

[doodlesphxre]

REAPER HCS AND MY CHARACTER SHEAT

Design1

redesign!!

♰ Prefers being called Reaper, not Death

♰ Intersex, genderfluid, bi, demiro/ce (any pronous but is moslty user to he)

♰ His mental health is getting better <33

♰ Can have tree sets of wings

♰ Uses big, big words

♰ Has an echo in his voice when he speaks

♰ He is quite a cheerful skeleton now... There was a period when his character was dominated by pessimism and analytical thinking, but after meeting Tori and then Geno, it changed completely

♰ Now, he sometimes makes fun of other Gods, and how funny they act, gossips about them a bit too

♰ From the Gods he's probably the least liked because of how different his views are from theirs

♰ He is addicted to caffeine in any form due to his exhausting job

♰ For a longest time he complained and disliked mortals...he thought they were downright funny because of the way they chased life. He only appreciated them when he met Toriel and his job became a little easier by skirting the rules and saving mortals without others knowledge. Then he saw how curious they were and how funny they behaved.

♰ He is the type of character who does not know their traditions, behaviors, etc. He just had to learn what hugs and kisses are, why people eat, etc

♰ He's literally emo. He's the type of character who has emo music on his headphones 24/7.Well, he's just addicted to emo, rock, grunge, even metal music (etc). But he likes to listen to music that is kinda softer like Artic Monkeys at times

♰ When he cries or is accompanied by strong negative emotions, the space near him is filled with a strange aura... it causes people nearby to feel sadness and despair

♰ When a person really desperately wants to die, he is able to hear their pleases in his head

♰ His Gaster Blasters are more like pets for him (besides, they defend the gates of the Underworld (like Cerberus)

♰ Since he learned what sleep is, he often uses it as a weapon against Gaster's complaints about him leaving his job without a reason

♰ He often hums old and scary lullabies when he works

♰ Suprisingly, he's a quite sensitive person sometimes

♰ Big fucking boomer sjdb

♰ Brotherly relationship with Ink (Ink's like an lil bro to him :3)

♰ Sees Frisk from his AU as his lil sibling/child

♰ Can change shapes (I think it's canon) and his fav shapes are: crow, raven and a black cat

♰ likes shiny things (cuz yk... Crows likes them sjdbfb)

♰ So (wet) cat coded tbh. .. But much more bird coded

I think thats... All for now??

I hope you like them >:DD

[mochiprincesz]

Soul Eater Au: Main Cast’s children

Like i mentioned in my first post, the original cast have children

Tenshi Evans

Soul and Maka’s child

I wanted her to inherit Spirit’s red hair and blue eyes, plus i thought it could make for a funny scenerio, like can you imgine how Soul felt after seeing her 💀

Tenshi is a meister/Weapon, i feel like this could potentially have a good plot for a story.

As you can see she has a similar clothing style as Soul when he was younger. I can see Soul giving his old headband to her.

She is a papa’s girl, i feel like she would be more open to Soul than Maka because of his laid back demeanor.

She is 14 years old

She tends to be laid back, but you’ll likely see her goofing around with Death★Star(kid and Black★Star’s kid)

next up is

Death★Star

Kid and Black★Star’s child

He was created from fragments of both Kid and Black★Star’s souls. (I will go more in depth with this idea later on, i’m still working on characters and ideas)

He is a weapon meister, he has two weapons partners.

Like Black★Star, Death★Star likes to reach his full potential. It’s that same reason he chose to have two weapon partners, he wanted to prove himself that he is capable of doing better than Kid. I guess you can say he holds alot of responsibilities as a meister and as a grim reaper.

He tends to be a balance of both playful and serious, when it comes to his best friend Tenshi, he is very playful but in fighting situations he is serious.

He is 13 years old.

These are the only two i have done, i still gotta work on my other ocs.

Anyway Here are Death★Star’s twin weapons

Hikari and Denki Kaminari

I named them Hikari and Denki because they represent electricity/light/lightning.

They are weapons, they transform into various types of katanas that produce electricity from their wavelengths.

Hikari Kaminari (Girl twin)

She is someone who isn’t afraid of saying what they have in mind, either being mean or nice. Sometimes she means well but what she says could be taken as passive aggressive. She can be described as feisty.

She is the mature one out of Denki and Death★Star.

Hikari likes fashion so she sometimes is seen wearing the most extra stuff, her favorite style of clothing is Gothic and chic.

Denki Kaminari (Boy twin)

(Yes ik there’s a mha character whose name is Denki Kaminari)

Denki is very immature, super loud sometimes and very energetic and impulsive.

His personality sometimes can clash with Death★Star’s personality in certain situations, which leads to him getting scolded by Death★Star.

He knows when to be serious and when its time to obnoxious lol

Death★Star and the twins get along well, they live in the same mansion that Kid use to live in.

that’s all for now, if you have any questions please be kind about it and ask away i will do my best to answer, i do english and spanish :)

Art by me @mochiprincesz | Please do NOT repost this to any other social media platforms