#gathering of cloudy days au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

raplinesmoon · 7 months

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Après Moi, Le Deluge (JHS x F!Reader)

pairing: Hoseok x afab!reader genres/au/rating: angst, smut, some fluff, mafia au, sort of arranged marriage au, exes au, 18+ summary: It was one night. One night where Hoseok sought refuge from the storm outside, from the life he led, from the past that haunted him. And where else does fate lead him but back into your arms?

word count: 8.2k

warnings: the mafia, mentions minor character death, cursing, smoking, alcohol use, use of weapons, strained relationships with parents, mental health issues, mentions threats against people Hoseok cares about, brief, non-graphic depiction of blood and injuries, breakups, makeups, a cameo by one Xu Minghao, Hoseok and OC are both very closed off and bad at communicating, Hoseok is lowkey an asshole for most of this, happy-ish ending, smut warnings: making out, fingering (fem receiving), nipple play, unprotected sex, marking, teeny bit of cockwarming

a/n: Hello it is me, profusely apologising because there is no reason this should have taken this long to write, other than I had the worst case of writer's block ever, but I missed Hoseok and I needed to see this through. This fic is set in the same universe as Doom Boy, my Namjoon mafia fic! You don't necessarily have to read Doom Boy to read this, but it may help some of the moments mentioned here make sense! The title is a reference to a famous saying by King Louis XV of France, or if you're me, season 1 episode 11 of The Originals. I hope you all enjoy <3

listen to the playlist here!

The rain slams down on the pavement, rendering the soles of Hoseok’s shoes even more sodden than they’d previously been. A cold, sticky feeling settles across his spine, and he heaves for breath, wishing he could just stop and take a break. But he can’t. He has to keep moving. Resisting the urge to shiver and warm himself up, he rounds the corner.

The day had started off normal enough. Hoseok had been assigned patrol duty for the day by Namjoon, a task he was more than familiar with. After the collapse of the Kim empire and his father’s death, Namjoon had returned to clean up the family business. And he was doing a damn good job at it, training the younger ones like Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook in how to run a business.

But there was more to this than a business, and Namjoon knew that well enough. Someone had to be around to air out the dirty laundry, to clean up the streets. And who better for the job than Hoseok?

He was used to it anyway, more comfortable around knives and guns than he’d ever been around people who weren’t Namjoon, Yoongi, or Seokjin. It was partly the reason he’d been sent out tonight, to monitor the slimy activities that took place under the cover of night.

Yet sometimes, the downpour got the best of Hoseok. He hadn’t been expecting the Choi cronies to spot him, much less for them to be armed. Luckily they were as thick-skulled as Hoseok expected them to be, and he’d been able to craft a quick escape. For the time being.

But it wouldn’t last for long. Hoseok knew the men would be on his tail all night, and as much as he wanted to call for backup, he didn’t feel like bothering Namjoon, Yoongi, or their families, at this time of night. He wouldn’t have had a problem bothering Seokjin, but that fucker had run the moment he’d shot up Namjoon’s father.

Looking around, he falters. The buildings around him loom ominously, stretching much taller than he’s used to, the lights from the highest floors creating artificial stars against the cloudy backdrop of the sky. Hoseok gathers that he must be in the swanky part of town. He scoffs, knowing from personal experience the rich were no better than the mobs and gangs they pretended to look down upon, licking at their bootstraps whenever the necessity arose.

Still, he decides it’s better to take cover. He spots the sleeping security guard from outside one of the buildings, and slips in, shaking the raindrops from his hair. Making his way to the elevators at the end of the lobby, his mind ran with plans of how he’d clean up the mess with the Choi men in a way that Namjoon would approve of.

Which is why he misses the other person entering the elevator at the same time as him, instead collapsing against the railing and letting out a loud sigh, rubbing at his eyes.

“H-Hoseok?” the voice that calls out to him is quiet, barely above a whisper. But its familiarity sends a chill down Hoseok’s spine. It’s a voice he thought he’d never hear again.

His eyes open slowly, and he sees his shocked reflection mirrored in the ones directly across from him, eyes that he’d never been able to forget. The way they look at him now is the same way they’d been the last time he saw you, on a similarly cloudy day.

The eyes of his former fiancée.

The doors of the elevator screech shut, the sound doing nothing to drown out the pounding of your heart. The soft tiny plops of raindrops echo on the grey floor, falling from Hoseok’s hair as he freezes at the sound of your voice.

You suck in a breath, lungs desperately searching for air, unable to squeak out anything beyond his name. Brows furrowing, you check him for any signs of injury, relieved when you find nothing but his blank eyes blinking back at you. You didn’t have to ask him where he’d been tonight. Both of you already knew.

It infuriates you that even after everything, after all this time, he still manages to have this effect on you. You hate how you can’t take your eyes off the lean curve of his neck, or the tiny mole above his heart-shaped smile.

A chill runs down your spine, despite having never stepped foot out in the rain.

“Why are you…” your throat feels heavy, struggling to get the words out, to ask him why he ended up here of all places. Especially when you made it clear you never wanted to see him again after the last time.

“Choi’s men were tailing me, I had to get them off my back,” he barks, immediately regretting his harsh tone when he looks into your weary eyes, on the verge of tears.

“I’m sorry,” he adds on, more gently this time. “If I’d have known, I would never…”

Never what? Never managed to infiltrate the one place you thought you could be free of him, from the past the two of you shared?

Your shoulders slump against the panel, and you realize you’d never pressed the button to go up, too consumed by his presence. Finally managing to muster up the focus, you turn away, hearing the elevator creak to life.

“You’re always sorry. How can I be sure that this time, you mean it?”

Hoseok is annoyed. First of all, this damn elevator is taking nearly too long to go anywhere, and he longs for escape from this metallic box that’s imprisoning you both. Second of all, your words cut at him, sharper than any knife and hotter than any bullet any of Choi’s men could have sent his way tonight.

As far as he remembers, you’d been the one to end it. You’d been the one to walk away from your arrangement.

He doesn’t know why he grits his teeth, biting down to combat the throbbing pain in his temples. You were supposed to be gone, your goodbye delivered in the same way the designer bags and packages piled up at your doorstep - neat, polished, shallow, the ties that had brought you together unraveling before they’d even had a chance to be joined properly.

Unfinished business. That’s what you were. And Hoseok hated unfinished business. But somehow, he’d never managed to hate you. You’d never given him a fair chance.

. . .

Hoseok shrugged the wife beater over his head with a grunt, immediately turning around to see if he’d woken up his sleeping companion, but she remained unfazed, her soft snores echoing into the pillow.

He lets his eyes linger over her body appreciatively one last time before he slips on his leather jacket and is out the door. For a brief moment, his hand twitches, yearning to reach into his pocket and call Namjoon for old times’ sake, detailing every last detail of his lascivious romp. The thought is abandoned immediately, Hoseok’s mood souring at the thought of his former best friend. Namjoon had no trouble leaving all of them behind, so why should he even bother? Instead, he reaches into his other pocket, his frenzied emotions finally calming down when he pulls out the lighter. Ducking under an awning, he checks his surroundings for anything suspicious before affirming that the coast is clear, lighting up and taking a drag. The smoke drifts away on the nighttime breeze, and Hoseok follows, roaming the city streets.

It’s lonely at this hour, not another soul in sight, but Hoseok prefers it that way. Gone are the days when he and his friends would run through the city, stealing cars and honking horns at everyone for fun. Now, shit had hit the fan big time, and there was no room for fun anymore. With Namjoon gone, Hoseok, along with Seokjin and Yoongi, had been sucked into the tangled web of duties he’d left behind, each stepping up in their own way.

Holding a gun in his hands for the first time had been a sobering experience for Hoseok. It rattled him that if he pressed down on the trigger, so many things could change in a split second. He’d heard the higher-ups in the organization rave with glee about how much fun it was putting the city’s other families in line, Namjoon’s father at the head of them. And for a brief moment, Hoseok understood what it was that Namjoon had run away from. That didn’t mean he wasn’t still pissed off about it though.

His lips turn up in a smile when he takes in the graffiti on the building in front of him, thinking back to his younger, more rebellious self, before faltering. Someone else was there.

He wonders if you’re cold, the thin satin gown doing nothing to protect you from the chill, and he wants to laugh at the contrast between his well-worn leather jacket and the jewels dripping from your ears. They must cost a few thousands of dollars, money he’d never had in his pocket. His eyes scan around for someone, anyone – a boyfriend, or a husband maybe. But you’re alone.

Nobility has never been Hoseok’s forte - Namjoon and Seokjin had always been the womanizers, and poor Yoongi had been in love with the same woman for over ten years, but he clears his throat, prompting you to turn around, eyes widening at your company.

If he catches a glimpse of unshed tears in your eyes, he doesn’t say anything.

“Kids these days, huh? They’ll do anything to cause a little chaos,” he quips, a sinking feeling building up in his chest when you don’t respond.

“Ma’am,” he grapples with whether he should ask for your name, “do you need me to walk you home?”

“Did you read it?” your voice is quieter than he expects, yet he draws closer, wanting to hear more of it. Coming to stand beside you, he takes in the captivating features of your face, made all the more alluring by the shadows cast across them.

Following your gaze, he looks at the mural on the wall. A giant wave, Hosukai-style, crashing into a set of words. “After me, the flood,” your voice whispers, and Hoseok feels a rush of emotion at the way you say it, his mind circling back to everything that had happened in the past few years - the dark cloud that had settled over all their lives with Namjoon leaving, the city’s underbelly coming to life, crawling out of the woodwork.

“I have to go,” you interrupt him, heels clacking against the pavement, before Hoseok’s gaze turns sharply on you, the desperation in his eyes begging you not to go. Come sunrise, he’d be forced back into the same grim routine, but right now, it felt nice, standing here with you.

“Will you be okay getting home alone?” he asks, grappling for any chance to prolong the moment.

“My driver is around the corner,” you tell him. “Thank you for keeping me company, –”

“Hoseok,” he fills you in, his chest aching with the desire to ask for your own name, but you’re already gone.

. . .

Hoseok wakes up the next morning to the rattling of the blinds, the sunlight causing him to immediately shut his eyes and bite back a groan. There was only one person who’d have access to his apartment at this hour – and exploit it.

“Eomma?” he rasps, burrowing his head further into the sheets. “What are you doing here?”

“Did you forget Hoseok-ah? Hurry up and get dressed, everyone’s waiting! You have five minutes.”

Forget what? His mother’s fussing continues in the background as she leafs through his closet, no doubt trying to find him a suitable outfit amongst the many pairs of ripped denim and oversized shirts he prefers on a day-to-day basis. Hoseok wracks his brain, trying to remember what could have called for such an occasion, but comes up empty, his mother’s stern warning echoing in his ears.

As per usual, if it had anything to do with the organization, he’d do best not to ignore it.

Slipping on the stark white shirt and tie she’d chosen, the fabric itches against his skin, and he rakes his fingers through his hair, attempting to comb the mess into something somewhat presentable. He’s sure there was little to be done about the bags under his eyes, and the faint smell of tobacco emanating from him, and hoped that whoever these important guests were, they wouldn’t catch onto his late-night activities from the previous day.

Stumbling into the hallway, Hoseok hears the faint chatter of voices, his father’s bellowing laugh a stark contrast to his mother’s delicate titter, and is immediately confused. Conversations with the bosses of the organization weren’t usually so… enthusiastic.

When he rounds the corner to his living room, he stops in his tracks. Sitting next to his mother and father is another older couple he doesn’t recognize. They reek of wealth that his family could never even imagine, he notes, the polished Italian leather of the man’s shoes and the older woman’s massive diamond ring speaking for themselves. But he could honestly care less. Because to their left side, sitting on his favorite armchair, is you. The woman from in front of the mural. You’re clad in a simple sundress today, but you still manage to be nothing short of breathtaking against the backdrop of the sun’s rays.

“There you are, Hoseok!” his father beckons him over jovially, but Hoseok remains frozen. “This is Mr. and Mrs. ____, and their daughter ____.”

Hoseok’s turns his gaze to his father, watching him recoil at the sharpness present in his son’s expression, a thousand unspoken questions lingering on his lips as to why these people were here, what purpose they had in his home, his space.

“We’d like for the two of you to get to know each other,” your mother speaks up with a smile so wide, he’d assume it’d been plastered onto her face.

“Why?” he finally manages to whistle out in between grit teeth, looking only at you. But you don’t meet his eyes. Instead, your gaze is looking out his window, at the city beyond, the same loneliness from last night ever present in your eyes.

“Because,” his father continues uncertainly, fidgeting the glass of wine in his hands, “___ is going to be your wife.”

You can feel Hoseok’s eyes glaring into the back of your head as he follows you wordlessly down the hallway. Moments pass before you come to a stop outside your apartment, and you hear the faint stumble of Hoseok’s boots as he stops unexpectedly in his tracks. His warm breath fans against the back of your neck for a brief moment before he straightens with a grunt, and you resist the urge to shiver, despite having never stepped foot into the rain.

The lock clicks, and he follows you inside. You can hear him rustle behind you as he struggles to remove his coat and boots, but you look straight ahead, hoping the darkness can hide how your fingernails are digging into your palm.

“I won’t stay long,” his low voice breaks the silence. “Just until the storm passes.”

“Please,” you manage to muster up your most polite sounding voice. “Have a seat. I can get you something, maybe some water, o-or a cup of tea…”

You want to curse your voice for wobbling in his presence, hating the way he still affected you even after all this time apart. Your brain bades you to walk away instinctively, and so you pad into the kitchen, wanting to put distance in between you and Hoseok so he can’t hear the rapid fluttering of your heart. The noise pounds in your ears as you rattle around in the cupboards, cursing when you realized you’d forgotten to turn on the light. It seemed embarrassing to do it now, and so you reach aimlessly, looking for some coffee.

The pot bubbles, and in mere moments, you’re clutching two steaming mugs, finding your way back onto the living room. Hoseok has settled himself onto your couch, taking extra care not to rest his soaked shirt against the back of it, instead hunched over and dangling an unlit cigarette from his fingertips.

“Sorry, I didn’t know if you’d be okay with me…” he gestures to it, twirling it around in his fingers. “I know you don’t like the smell.”

You’re unsure whether to be touched that he remembers, or uneasy at the way he says it so monotonously, as if you’d still judge him for something so mundane when so much else had happened in between you.

“Here,” you set down the coffee in front of him, taking the seat directly opposite. “It’ll help take the edge off.”

The warm liquid burns your throat as you rush to take a sip, and you nearly sputter trying to keep it down. Over the rim of your cup, Hoseok remains frozen, his own mug steaming and untouched. His dark eyes bore into you, studying your face, and you feel your cheeks begin to burn.

If he notices the bags under your eyes, he says nothing. The same way he says nothing when he probably remarks at your simplistic clothes and lack of jewelry, a far cry from the expensive dresses and diamonds he’d been used to seeing you in.

“Were you about to go out?” Hoseok asks, and the question catches you off guard. “I’m sorry if I stopped you from going somewhere.”

“Or meeting someone.” The last part is a hushed whisper, mumbled underneath his breath, in the hopes that you wouldn’t catch him. But you had. You wish he’d stop apologizing. It makes you feel guilty when you shouldn’t be, like he’s trying and you’re shutting him out, when in reality it’d been the exact opposite.

All of a sudden, your phone buzzes to life, a text message lighting up the screen. You freeze when you see who it’s from, quickly snatching your phone and cursing in your head. Minghao was a friend of a friend, the two of you running into each other a number of times over the past couple of weeks, before he’d finally plucked up the courage to ask you for a coffee date.

You’d told him you’d think about it, and now here he was, lighting up your phone to ask you about your decision. Of course, how was he supposed to know that the reason you’d been holding off was the very man sitting in your living room, whom you’d almost married, and still couldn’t seem to let go?

Clutching your phone to your chest, you turn it to silent, setting it down beside you. Hoseok’s eyes are alight with curiosity, his lips turned up in a faint smirk, as though he’s remembering his statement from earlier.

You take another sip, willing the caffeine to give you some strength, to rein in the bare threads of this conversation back to your control.

“How are your parents?”

Hoseok is taken aback by the question. He hadn’t expected it from you. There had once been a time where you’d been bright eyed and eager, wanting to know everything about him, bombarding him with question after question every time you were together. And yet somehow, he’d never managed to give you the time of day, always giving brusque answers and half-hearted excuses that there were other things that needed his attention.

He knew it was just a poor attempt to fill the silence, but his heart lurches at the thought that there’s so much you don’t know anymore. Namjoon coming back, Seokjin running away, the life that Hoseok knew being turned inside out. What’s more unsettling is the fact that he yearns to tell you, despite knowing he’d lost the privilege to do so.

“They’re okay. Doing well,” he lies through his teeth. “We all are. How about yours?”

He thinks it’s an innocent question, but he watches your fingers blanch as you grip the mug so tight, he thinks it’ll break.

“I wouldn’t know,” you whisper out softly, and his heart stops. “I haven’t spoken to them since– you know.”

Hoseok feels dizzy at your confession. What do you mean you hadn’t spoken to them? Suddenly, it all begins to make sense in his head. The fact that he hadn’t expected to run into you tonight, because he hadn’t expected you to live alone, with your austere clothes and hair tossed up into a messy bun. It was so different from the woman he’d known, the dazzling one he’d written off as hollow in his mind, the one he was incapable of forming a real relationship with.

And here you were, living the exact opposite of the cozy life he’d painted for you in his head. He thought you’d be fine, that you’d move on, your family offering you up to the next prospect that came along. And you’d accept them, like you’d accepted Hoseok with all his flaws, not caring that he could barely give you what you deserved.

His thoughts flash back to the last conversation you had, tears streaming down your face as you sobbed.

I can’t live like this anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, and he watches annoyance flash across your face. He knows he’s done nothing but apologize this entire time, but it probably isn’t even worth a damn. No consolation would ever make up for losing someone that meant everything to you. He’d known that when Namjoon had run away.

“Hey,” you set the mug down, leaning over the table. For a brief second, he sees your hand reach out blindly in the darkness, almost as if it’s searching for his, but you withdraw just as quickly. “I’m okay. I really am.”

“I wish you’d stop pretending,” Hoseok blurts out, and he watches you jolt in surprise. “Why do you always have to pretend like everything’s okay, like nothing affects you? Is it the society training? Or do you really just not care about what happened at all?”

You chew the inside of your cheek, mulling over Hoseok’s words in your head.

“The same way you can pull the trigger on someone and be able to lie in your bed and fall asleep,” you seethe, a venom that Hoseok has never heard in your voice.

“I knew who you were Hoseok. I knew what kind of man I was marrying. You think it didn’t affect me? You think I wasn’t scared out of my wits because of what you did, what other people could do to you?”

You rise up, palms quivering as you open and close them, strolling over to the window. Hoseok watches your shoulders shake before they slump completely, and he knows that you’re crying.

He’s up before he can stop himself, feet ready to walk out the door. He’d fucked up the moment he’d stayed in the elevator with you, all the ugly feelings between you coming to a head, ones he’d struggled so hard to keep buried.

But his body betrays him, instead leading him right behind. He pauses until he’s just close enough that if he reaches out, he’d be able to grab your arm and turn you around to face him. But he waits instead.

“I did what I did because I realized I was chasing a ghost,” you huff out, resignation in your tone. “I wanted you to be someone you weren’t. I wanted you to care so badly. But you didn’t. I don’t want any part in whatever you’re caught up in, Hoseok. Whatever has a hold on you so badly that you couldn’t even look beyond your cynicism to give me a chance.”

“I just want to survive.”

Hoseok grips the bathroom sink, knuckles turning white. His cell phone clatters on the counter beside him and he has to keep from heaving. This whole thing was a mess – no one had counted on Namjoon coming back. Even less so on him refusing to take up his father’s mantle. And so the threats continued – the words from the anonymous phone call still ringing in his ear, your name echoing across the line.

While he didn’t know what he felt for you, or whether he could even marry you, Hoseok knew you were an innocent person. You didn’t deserve to be the victim of your parents’ greed, them using you to bury their secrets in the hands of even more powerful people. You deserved gardens full of flowers and meals together every night, not coming home to an empty bed. Or a fiancé who couldn’t spare a moment during the entire night to even dance with you.

He’s so lost in his brooding that he doesn’t hear the door the click behind him, the soft tapping of heels on the floor coming up behind him.

“Is something wrong?” you ask him gently, and he feels the bristle of your hand on his jacket.

So much was wrong. You couldn’t even begin to understand.

“It’s fine,” he clears his throat, straightening up to adjust his jacket. “I’ll need to leave soon. I can have the car stay behind for you.”

The farther away he got from you, the better. That way no one could hurt you – or him.

“I can go with you,” your voice echoes from beside him, “I was getting tired anyway.”

Hoseok turns to face you, watching you recoil at the red rimming his eyes, the bags underneath them becoming even more prominent in the dim lighting of the bathroom.

He doesn’t know what possesses him to reach for the single strand of hair that has managed to escape your polished bun, but he watches you suck in a breath, lips parting in surprise.

Before he knows it, your face is drawing in closer, and he can smell the rosé on your breath. Your lips barely ghost against his, and he has to fight every nerve ending not to grab your hand and run away from here, somewhere where he wasn’t Hoseok, and you weren’t ____, and you didn’t need protecting from everything around you – most of all him.

His paralysis slowly melts away and he’s pushing you away without realizing, the door to the bathroom suddenly materialising in front of him.

“Like I said,” he doesn’t bother turning around, knowing his heart would twist at whatever expression he found on your face. “I’ll have the car stay behind for you.”

Before you can wrestle with the weight of your confession to Hoseok, a hand is clamping over your mouth. Caught in a silent scream, you turn your eyes to see Hoseok lifting a finger to his lips, willing you to stay quiet. And that’s when you hear them. The voices.

Raucous laughter echoes through the hallway, tinged with malevolent glee. The air around you feels cold, a breeze at the base of your spine, and you instinctively curl into Hoseok.

“Come out, come out,” the disembodied voice cackles from the hallway. “Are you hiding from us, Jung? Found some poor rich girl to use as a body shield?”

Your hand seizes Hoseok’s wrist clamped against your mouth, nails digging into his arm, the fear taking over. Slowly, his wrist lowers, slipping to take your hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I won’t let anything happen to you. Do you trust me?”

He’s so quiet you almost can’t tell he’s said it at all. You nod reluctantly, eyes continuing to dart to the door.

“Go hide underneath the bed. Lock the door. I may or may not come back but please stay inside. Don’t come looking for me.”

His voice is clipped, the faint hint of nerves colouring his tone, but his eyes are filled with a resoluteness you know all too well. You’d spent the better part of over a year staring into them, hoping they’d look back. And now they finally were.

“Be safe.” Your voice comes out louder than you’d intended, but there’s no anger in Hoseok’s expression. All he does is nod, and then you turn, stumbling down the hallway to your room, never bothering to look back until you hear the door click behind you.

. . .

Hoseok’s heart pounds in his chest, a strange pain settling in his ribs – he never expected to be in this position again. His sense of duty had always been his biggest downfall – and while you were no longer his, he owed it to you to make sure he gave you exactly what you’d asked him for – the chance to survive, to come out on the other side of this. That’s why he had to settle this once and for all.

Choi’s cronies linger at the other end of the hallway, too dumb to notice Hoseok slipping out of your door, reaching for the revolver he’d kept hidden in his coat pocket. A chill settles in his bones as he runs his fingers over the metal.

The brief events of the night play over in his head – the rain pounding against the pavement, the ding of the elevator, the now-cold mug of coffee that sat on your coffee table. And then there was you – your eyes, the softness of your skin, the faint smell of gardenias that lingered on your skin.

And it hits Hoseok that while he was very much alive – he’d been in mourning. Mourning for the friendships he’d never be able to recover, for the youth that had been taken away from him. But most of all, Hoseok’s heart mourns for the relationship he’d never gotten to have with you. The glass walls he’d so carefully put up around himself shatter, making way for a torrential deluge.

After me, the flood.

He remembers the first night you’d met, how he’d been drawn to you without even trying, the portrait of the wave. He remembers the months that passed afterwards, where you drew closer to him and he drew back. He remembers the regret he’d buried deep in his heart for not kissing you back the night of the gala, not knowing he’d never get another chance.

But most of all, he remembers the somber expression on your face the day you’d ended things, pressing the engagement ring back into his hands, the very same ring that was still sitting in the first drawer of his nightstand.

Choi’s men finally perk up, noticing Hoseok’s solitary figure lingering at the end of the hallway, smirks twisting on their grotesque faces. A shot rings out, and Hoseok thinks of you now, hiding under your bed. And then he charges.

The alleyway was grim at this time of day, the sunlight barely able to reach beyond the towering skyscrapers, the clouds casting everything in grey. Rain fell softly from the sky. You clutch your coat tighter around you, unable to stop looking at the mural of the wave.

So much had changed since you’d first seen it. And yet it was still the same.

You know Hoseok from the thud of his boots against the pavement, coming up beside you. His head turns, an eyebrow raised in your direction, wondering why you’d asked to meet him here of all places.

You avoid his eyes, fingers clasping around the blue velvet in your pocket. His eyes widen with surprise when he sees the box, confusion marring his handsome face.

A knot forms in your chest when you watch the confusion turn into alarm as you press the box into his hand, the dazzling diamond no longer on your left finger.

“I don’t understand,” he grunts, breath visible in the cold air.

“We can’t do this anymore, Hoseok. I can’t do this. I can’t live like this.”

“Was it something that I did?” he questions you, desperation creeping into his voice.

You scoff, watching him flinch, pain on his face.

“No, it’s the opposite. It’s what you haven’t ever been able to do. It’s been an entire year, Hoseok. I’ve watched you answer every phone call that comes your way, disappear into the night to do god knows what, run whenever your friends call. And in that entire time, have you ever thought about us? About the future?”

You take a deep breath.

“I know that neither of us chose this, but Hoseok, we were engaged. Did that mean anything to you?”

He squares his shoulders, fists clenching at his sides, a tick in his jaw.

“You don’t understand. I-I’m not good for you, ___. I dont think I’ll ever be. There’s too much that’s happened, too much I’ve lost. But please don’t walk away like this.

“I thought it’d be enough,” you whisper, and Hoseok freezes. You didn’t know he’d heard you.

“I thought me loving you would be enough for the both of us. But it’s not. I need more. I need someone who I know will come home to me every night. But what I need even more than that, is for you to let me walk away so I can breathe again. So I can be myself.”

Your eyes are just as sad as the first time Hoseok saw them, and all of a sudden, you remark at how stagnant the two of you had been together.

“Hoseok please, I know I can’t ask you to do it if you love me, but if you’ve ever cared about me, even the tiniest bit, let me go.”

You watch him open the box, gazing at the ring. Moments pass by before he slips it into his own pocket, his eyes flitting to the wave as he gives you a small smile, the most genuine one you’d ever seen.

“Goodbye, ____.

Hoseok’s fist rattles against the door, before he slumps over, heaving for breath. The pain in his side licks at him like the flames of a fire. He hisses when he presses a hand to it, eyes widening when it comes away covered in blood. Those fuckers had managed to get him. Shit.

His eyes are about to close when the door springs open, the wide eyes of Kim Namjoon taking in his battered figure.

“Hobi, what the fuck?” Namjoon seethes, offering him an arm and pulling him inside. Slinging an arm around Hoseok’s shoulder, the two of them hobble to Namjoon’s kitchen, the burning in Hoseok chest causing him to let out a loud groan.

“Hyun is sleeping,” Namjoon chastises him, and Hoseok bites his tongue, remembering that this Namjoon was dealing with a pregnant wife and a toddler. “You gonna tell me what the hell happened, or do I have to force it out of you?”

“I made a mistake, Namjoon. I went somewhere I shouldn’t have tonight. I fucked up, but I-I didn’t mean to I swear…”

Hoseok feels himself shake as the words pour out, the ruined mission the furthest thing from his mind. He tells Namjoon everything – from being tailed to running into to you, to how he’d left, not knowing whether you were okay or not.

“That was a dick move,” Namjoon huffs.

“Excuse me?” Hoseok looks up at his best friend, who looks more pissed off than he’s ever seen him.

“I said what I said. That was a dick move, just leaving her like that.”

“I don’t need a lecture on running away from you, Namjoon-ah.”

Namjoon wipes away the blood on his side, and Hoseok bites his tongue at the sting of the alcohol, before slumping into the chair next to him.

“You’re an idiot, Jung Hoseok. You’ve been so afraid of letting yourself feel things for so long, and I know it’s because you think that everyone around you is going to leave, or that you’ll lose them. But I’m telling you right now, that’s the stupidest thing you could ever do.”

“You have to let yourself just be, Hobi. Just let go. Enjoy things - life, your friends, your family. Be open to the possibility of love. It’s the only thing that can keep the darkness away.”

Namjoon’s voice shrinks when he says the last line, and Hoseok knows his friend is far off in his own mind, battling the demons that plague him.

“I think I’m too far gone for that, Namjoon,” Hoseok tells him. “Maybe some of us weren’t meant for happiness. Maybe some of us needed to make sacrifices so others could live the lives they wanted to.”

“That’s a damn lie if I’ve ever heard one, Hoseok.” Namjoon striaghtens, rising up from the chair. “I know you’ve been angry at me for leaving, for keeping you all in the dark. I know how much it hurts to not be able to share your happiest moments with people you love. And I’m sorry for that. But you have a chance to change things.”

“Listen Hobi,” Namjoon crouches down to his level. “I want to be the best man at your wedding – I want to be there for you in all the ways you didn’t get to do for me. This is my way of making amends, but you need to fix whatever this is between you two.”

“What makes you think she’ll even take me back? I was awful to her… god, she didn’t deserve that Joon. She deserves so much better.”

“Do you love her?” Namjoon asks him, and Hoseok is shocked when he doesn’t even have to pause to think about it. He wants to start over, to be by your side, to have a chance to love you properly this time around.

“Second chances come when you least expect them, Hobi. Think about what would have happened if you hadn’t stepped out into the rain last night. And don’t let it happen again.”

The knock at the door startles you, your phone clattering to the floor. Swearing under your breath, you pick it up, perusing the message from Minghao once again. He was nothing if not persistent. And Hoseok was never coming back. You’d convinced yourself of that.

It’d been over a week since he’d left you that night - the promise to keep you safe burrowing its way into your heart. And then radio silence. You’d heard the gunshots in the hallway, but when you’d opened the door, no one was there, the only evidence of the showdown being the faint splatters of blood on the wall. When the police had questioned you, you’d left Hoseok’s name out of it – those words echoing in your mind, instilling a false sense of loyalty in you.

Why did you think things would be different this time around? It’d been foolish to assume that Hoseok thought anything more of you. But you couldn’t forget the look in his eyes, the gentle touches, the way he’d promise he would never let anything happen to you, and you fell for him all over again.

Throwing your phone aside, you grumble as you make your way to the door, making a mental note to respond to Minghao later, agreeing to the date.

Swinging it open, you freeze when you see who’s on the other end. Hoseok, looking worse for wear with bruises on his jaw and a nasty cut on his forehead, nervously twirling a tiny bouquet of flowers in his hand.

You’re dumbfounded - unable to speak as you take him in, his dark, inquisitive eyes gazing into your shocked ones.

“You better let me in, ____,” he says with a grin. “Or the neighbours are gonna think I did something really bad this time.”

Wordlessly, you open the door to allow him to enter, watching as he slips off his coat and shoes, an exact repeat of a week ago. You watch him, trying to open your mouth and say something, ask him anything, but nothing will come out.

“These are for you,” Hoseok nearly shoves the bouquet in your hands and you watch him rub at the back of his neck, his ears reddening.

“Are you okay Hoseok?” you finally manage to ask him, setting the flowers on your coffee table. Your concern wins out over your confusion once again, but the whole scene is odd – him, smiling in your apartment, the late afternoon sunlight casting half his angular face in a mysterious shadow.

“Just a little nick to my side,” he lifts his shirt up, your eyes widening at the bandages on his abdomen. “But actually, I’m not okay. I haven’t been okay since the day I let you walk away, and I can’t live with it anymore.”

You take a step back, unable to breathe. The space in between you seems to have lessened considerably, and you can make out every delicate detail of his face. Dizzy, you put some distance in between the two of you.

“Everything hurts, ___. It hurts because I look at you and I feel like I can’t breathe anymore, knowing how much pain I put you through. It hurts knowing that you’re so kind, so understanding of someone like me, when I don’t deserve it at all. And what hurts the most is knowing that I love you, and I’ve been lying to myself this entire time because I’m afraid you’ll leave just like everyone else, but I lost you anyway.”

Hoseok’s voice cracks on the last words, and you watch him sway, gripping onto your counter for support.

“I thought it was just me this entire time,” you finally manage to look him in the eyes, tears spilling out of your own. “I thought I was crazy, because ever since you walked out that door a week ago, all I’ve been doing is waiting for you to come back.”

“I’m here,” Hoseok closes the gap between you, arms wrapping around you. You breathe in the faint scent of tobacco on his leather jacket, mixed with the spice of his cologne. “And I’m not leaving. Not this time.”

You grip his lapels, before your arms come up to wrap around his neck, running your fingers through the soft hair at his nape.

“What if it’s not different this time around?” you whisper into his neck. “What if nothing changes?”

“What if it is?” his low voice rumbles into your hair. “Can you trust me, ___? One more time?”

You take his hand in yours, bringing it to your chest, his lips parting in awe at the fluttering of your heartbeat.

“Only you can do that to me,” you say softly, a smile gracing your lips.

Before you know it, Hoseok’s lips are crashing against yours, and you can feel him release a euphoric sigh, groaning into your mouth. It’s slow, tentative in the way he waits for your body to respond, never pushing more than you’re comfortable with. Eventually, even the small bit of distance in between you becomes too much to bear. You card your fingers into his hair, pulling slightly at the strands, warmth blossoming in your chest.

It feels too short when he pulls away all too soon, lips tinged with red and eyes dark with something that sends a shiver down your spine.

“I’ve wanted to do that ever since the night of the gala,” he rasps, warmth blooming in your chest at his confession. “You were—, I mean you still are, breathtaking.”

You can feel the rapid beat of his heart, his pulse point right there below your fingertips, and you reach for his hand, watching his entire body soften at your touch.

“Come with me,” you ask him, eyes turning down the hallway to your bedroom. “We have a lot of lost time to make up for.

Hoseok tries to ignore the rapid rushing of blood in his ears, his focus narrowing to your head resting on his shoulder, the two of you looking out at the city together for the last little while from your bed. It’s somewhere he never imagined he’d be, but he’d felt the ice around his heart melt the moment he’d finally kissed you for real, warmth filling his veins.

And despite relishing in your presence, it was spiking to a fever pitch. He’d tasted you, and now he couldn’t get enough. All it takes is a brief moment for you to look in his eyes, and he’s pulling you into him once again, mouth hard on yours, unable to resist the desire for more, more, more.

You whine into his mouth, hands fisting at the edge of his shirt, struggling to pull it over his head. He uses one hand to pin both arms behind you, reaching over with the other to hike your dress up to your stomach, finally peeling it off, and you lie back, eyes alight with desire as you take him in.

He kisses you again, his lean body hovering over yours, hands roaming everywhere – your arms, up your neck, and on your thighs. He inches higher and higher, fingers ghosting over your core.

“Hoseok please,” you whimper, digging your nails into his shoulder blades. “I can’t wait anymore.”

You part your thighs for him, and he wastes no time, pulling your soaked underwear to the side and dipping his fingers into your arousal. He presses another hard kiss to your lips, catching your moans in his mouth while he works you open, leaving you trembling underneath him.

You whine when his fingers leave you, clenching around nothing, coming up to cup your exposed breasts in both hands while he licks and sucks at your nipples.

“Fuck,” he groans against your chest. “How are you so perfect? How are you even mine?”

His voice breaks, and you mouth at his jaw, mirroring his actions until purple bruises begin to bloom in the spots where your lips previously were.

“I’m yours,” you nip at his bottom lip. “Whether you like it or not.”

“Believe me,” he smirks. “I like it. I like it a lot actually. Let me show you how much.”

With adept skill, he manages to remove your panties in seconds, throwing them to the wall. The clinking sound of his belt drives you mad, and your hands join his, the two of you awkwardly fumbling to remove it.

You feel your mouth go dry when his cock springs free, and he chuckles at the depraved look in your eyes.

“Some other time, love,” he whispers, voice lowering a few octaves. “Right now, I need to feel you.”

You gasp when he pushes in, and he pauses, wondering if it’s too much, but you nod, letting him know it’s okay. He thrusts shallowly, before pushing in all the way, watching you squirm underneath him while rutting your hips.

“Move, please,” you beg him, and he obliges, hiking one leg up over his shoulder to open you up for him, the wet sounds of your pussy accompanying the fluid snap of his hips. His knuckles grip the headboard, turning white while he pins you underneath him, unable to take his eyes off the way your tits bounce with every thrust. His hands grip at your ass, every jerk of his hips an excuse to hold you tighter, until he can see your skin redden underneath his fingers.

“Oh my god, Hoseok, I can’t–, it’s too much,” you groan, rocking against him in an attempt to quell the sparks underneath your skin, lighting you up like a livewire.

“Come for me,” he grunts, trapping your clit in between his fingers, rubbing tight circles until you snap, seeking his lips once again, your orgasm flooding your entire body like a wave. Hoseok speeds up his thrusts to join you, roaring when he feels himself explode, before slumping against you, chest heaving with the weight of his breaths.

Moments pass like this, him remaining inside you while he burrows into the crook of your neck, his warm breath fanning your damp skin. Eventually he pulls out of you with a soft whine, brushing away the sweat-soaked strands of hair at your temple, before rising.

You trap his wrist in your hand, panic settling in. He watches your expression change and immediately stiffens, cradling you against his chest.

“That expression you always talk about, the flood. I-, I looked it up. And I know the life I have isn’t ideal, and maybe things will only get harder, but I promise I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. I don’t want to live out the rest of my life not caring anymore.”

“Do you know what I was thinking of that night, looking at the wave?” you mumble in his ear, and he gazes at you inquisitively, watching the way your skin glows under the moonlight as you take a breath.

“My whole life, people have forced me into this box, this image, of someone they want me to be – the perfect daughter, the perfect wife. It’s been suffocating. All I wanted that night was a taste of freedom - that feeling of happiness you have on a beach, feeling the waves crash at your feet. And then I saw you.”

Hoseok leaves a kiss in your hair, his fingers intertwining with yours. Briefly, his heart drops at the absence of the ring he’d given you on your finger, but he knows when you’re ready, it’ll be waiting for you. He’ll be waiting for you. And the two of you will step into the flood, together.

a/n pt. 2: Okay long ending note here. First, please visualize this Hoseok with the undercut ;) Second, I don't normally say this but the writer's block really got me good with this one, so I apologize if it's not up to my usual standards (pls be kind tho). And third and last, this fic definitely would never exist if it weren't for the wonderful Guarded series by Ana (@xjoonchildx). I think about it more than is necessary and this is definitely my tribute to the impeccable Captain Jung.

As always, any comments or feedback are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi <3

taglist (pls let me know if you want to be removed): @jalexad @secfir @hobi-love @back2bluesidex @temptingempress

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notquitebunnie · 2 months

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Please welcome my baby, Remiel

Context: @2af-afterdark made a God!MC au, so I took that concept and made my God!MC revive the Seraph that Gabriel killed. He's an old, one time, OC for a collab, but he's perfect for this so I decided to bring him back

Remiel

Nation: Heaven

Epithet: The Eater of Devils

Idiosyncrasy: Forced Orgasm

Zodiac: Gemini

Height: 185cm

Weight: 77kg

Length: 27cm

Confidence point: Eyes

Favorite food: Hot pot with broth made from the bones of devils

Favorite accessory: His lyre

Favorite weather: Cloudy day sky and clear night sky

Habit: Flicking his wings

Hobby: Cooking

Ideal type: God himself

Ideal target: People who are reactive

Ideal body type: Soft and squishy bodies

More infos ⬇️

It's a long one

Likes: Feeding heavenly pets devil meat, eye-care, wing-care, Collecting devils' horns

Dislikes: Bright flashing lights, serious people, rain, Avisos(too bright even at night)

☆ •☆ • ☆ • ☆ • ☆ • ☆ •☆ • ☆

@2af-afterdark wanted to know

What is his favorite dessert?

• His favorite dessert is Peach Crumble

Is he a morning person or a night owl?

• He’s a night owl, he have 12 eyes so he’s very sensitive to light

What is his worst "bad habit"?

• His worst “bad habit” is hoarding devil corpses, he cooks some of them but the rest go bad before he can get to them

What is his love language (not exclusive to the main five if those don't fit)?

• His love language is Words of Affirmation, he loves being praised, bombard him with it and he’ll drown you with praises as well

What is the most mundane thing that brings him pleasure/joy?

• The most mundane thing that brings him joy is people/creature watching

Can I give the most gentle butterfly kisses to all of his eyes and hold his hand?

• Yes, yes you can, he would love it. Careful when you’re holding his hands though, he have an eye on each

☆ •☆ • ☆ • ☆ • ☆ • ☆ •☆ • ☆

• He have 12 eyes

• He can control each individually or as a group

• 4 on his face

• 2 on his shoulders

• 1 on his chest

• 2 on his hands

• 3 that line his back

• He usually have them closed cause it can be disorienting sometimes

• Only used when he lost track of his opponent

• He likes to tease people he knows, but if his teasing doesn’t work, he’ll try again with a different topic

• He teases Gabriel every time he receives attention from God

• Ex: “Gabriel~ guess what~? God praised my singing again~”

• He teases Michael every time Michael decapitate anyone

• Ex: “Don't waste their heads, Michael, would you mind gathering their heads for my dish?”

• He teases Raphael every time Raphael’s covered in blood

• Ex: “Awww, their blood would’ve made for some delicious broth…actually, Raphael, wanna come sit in this cauldron for a while?”

• He have one devil friend

• Her current whereabouts is unknown, ever since he got revived he has been trying to find her

• She used to be a resident of Gehenna, she left not long after his death

• Teased her about her love life

• Ex: “No luck with devils? How about I hook you up with an angel instead?”

• He treats anyone he doesn’t know coldly

• Ex: First meeting with God!MC he said “Who tf are you?” With a poker face (which then led to Gabby smacking Remiel across his head; Gabriel: "Disrespecting our (new) God? Not on my watch")

• He sang while playing the lyre for God often because he have a beautiful singing voice

• Have tried to cook every single body parts and organs of devils

• Have a notebook of how to and how not to cook certain parts

• He likes to gently nibble something or someone

#mentions of #whb gabriel #whb michael #whb raphael #my art #digital art #whb oc #whb #what in hell is bad #what in “hell” is bad?#whb mc #God!Mc Au

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herofics · 1 month

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Knight in Shining Armor

A/N: Hahaa, guess who’s going to use their whole day writing fanfiction instead of doing school stuff? Meeeeeeeee. Guess who’s also actually going to finish only one of the WIPs they’ve started? Meeee. Procrastination for the win babyyy. Geto it is, once again… non curse au I guess

It was one of those days again, not a good one, but not really a bad one either, just bland, just nothing. You had worked on your university assignments for hours last evening, and now all your motivation was gone. You felt like it was going to be another day of procrastination.

Maybe you should text Geto to see if you could go over to his place, at least that would give you something to do. The walk would help clear your head too.

“Can I come over?” you texted Geto.

“Right now?” came an answer.

“Yeah. Or is it not a good time?”

“It’s fine, I was just about to start making dinner. I’ll make enough for two :)”

“Thanks, I’ll be there soon” you messaged back.

You put on some proper clothes, instead of the stuff you wore when you were alone. Leaving the apartment in your pajama pants and a tank top didn’t really seem like a good idea. Even though Geto probably wouldn’t mind. You gathered your things, threw on a jacket and put on your shoes, before leaving for Geto’s place.

It was a nice walk, the day was cloudy, but the sun peeked out from behind the clouds every now and then. You were listening to music on your headphones while you walked, so you didn’t immediately notice the guy that was yelling at you from across the street. You finally saw him in your peripheral vision when he started to approach you. You tried to ignore him, since it never did any good to entertain these types of people. Geto’s place was around the corner, so you were just hoping he would leave you alone. When he grabbed your shoulder, you flinched and backed away, but even then you could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“What’s up sweet tits? Come on, have some fun with me” he suggested with a raspy voice.

“No-no thanks, I’m in a hurry” you said shakily, trying to walk away from him.

He grabbed you by your wrist, stopping you from leaving the situation: “I wasn’t really askin, bitch”

You tried to pull away, but he had a tight grip on you. You were looking around frantically, but there weren’t many people around and those who were, didn’t seem to care. Then you heard a smack sound, something crunching, and the grip on your wrist went away.

“You really shouldn’t grab people like that” you heard a familiar voice say from beside you to the guy that was now on the ground, holding his nose.

“Suguru?” you asked with a clear tremble in your voice.

“Are you okay? He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Geto asked, scanning you with his eyes, making sure you were okay.

“Just a little shook up, I’ll be fine. Thank you” you muttered.

“Let’s go” Geto said, taking your hand, still glaring at the man that had dared to put his hands on you.

You were almost at Geto’s apartment, when the realization hit you. How did he know you were in trouble and where you were?

“How did you know to come help me?” you inquired.

“I was coming out of the store when I noticed you. I was just getting some groceries, because I was missing some things to make the dinner and happened to be there at the right time” he shrugged.

“So you don’t have some weird supernatural ability to know when I’m in trouble, and to just materialize there?” you joked.

“Not that I know of, at least, I just have excellent timing” he smiled.

“And what good timing you have, I thought I was about to get hurt” you shuddered, thinking about what could’ve happened.

“People like that should really learn to keep their hands to themselves” Geto huffed.

“Couldn’t agree more” you groaned, rubbing your wrist where the guy had grabbed you.

Geto noticed you rubbing your wrist, and it just made his blood boil. He didn’t let it show, but he was really angry at the guy that had put his hands on you. He probably would have hit him until his knuckles bled if he had a little less self-control. He didn’t like people putting their hands on someone without an invitation, but with you, he was even angrier about it than he would normally be, you were his partner after all.

You were at Geto’s door when he asked: “Are you sure you’re okay, love?”

“Like I said, just a bit shook up, and it’s not like this hasn’t happened before”

“It sucks that you have to deal with people like that” Geto groaned as he opened the door to his apartment, clearly annoyed.

“Yeah, but there’s not really anything I can do about it. Some people are just idiots” you sighed.

“Don’t I know it” he said as the two of you entered his apartment.

“Thanks for saving my butt, Suguru. I appreciate it” you said while taking off your shoes.

“Of course, love. I’ll save your ass any time you need it” he smiled that gentle, close eyed smile of his.

“Thank you” you smiled, looking at him adoringly.

“You’re welcome” he smirked and leaned in to kiss you.

You closed the distance between you and kissed him. Every time you kissed, it made your heart flutter. He just had that effect on you. You were so thankful that he was there to save your ass. Your knight in shining armor.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #geto suguru #geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #jjk scenarios #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen comfort #jjk comfort #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fanfic #non curse au

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itsgrimeytime · 9 months

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Magnolia in May (Part Ten) || Rick Grimes (TWD) x Greene!f!reader Regency AU

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9...

Taglist: @loliakeoghan23 @belaballs @curlycarley

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration (in honor of Speak Now Taylor's Version): Enchanted by Taylor Swift.

Summary: Your town was small, not the smallest you knew, but anyone of high fortune was the gossip of the week. Predictably, Richard Grimes was a thing of whispers -rumors of a search for marriage among the grassy hills. You weren't one to buy into town gossip, but something about him... just seemed a little too intriguing.

TWS: infidelity, child abandonment, heartbreak, mentioned family dissolution, parentification (child becoming a parental figure) and betrayal.

[[A/N: Banter!!! And also, can you tell that I'm a child of divorce ??? Actually helped me write this so anyway- I'm not sure how I like this chapter but I think it's what it needs to be. Thanks for reading :))) ]]

The morning was a rather sunny one, the sort that made you wish your dresses were lighter in fabric. Your Headmistress had urged you to wear a hat to protect your eyes -so you'd done so. It was the same color as your dress and had the same sort of embellishments of lace and detailed ribbon, all coordinated.

Even within the carriage (that Mr. Grimes had requested you ride in 'I refuse to chance you having any more illness, Ms. Greene.') the air was rather heavy with humidity. Velvety sort of fabric underneath you -still felt quite offensive to sit on, and the detailing of the carriage seemed extensive. All wood carvings seemed to almost be the work of a hand -detailed beyond what you could truly comprehend.

If you weren't so antsy to see the man, you would've tried a little harder to digest some of the work.

You truly hadn't even noticed you'd stopped moving.

Mr. Dixon spoke, pulling open the door with practiced ease, "Ms. Greene, welcome to the Grimes Alexandrian Estate."

You shook your head, gathering your thoughts and taking his hand to step out onto the courtyard -it was in yet another light this time. The beautifully shining sun of the early morning set a sort of liveliness to the area -shrubs a beautiful green and the gentle trickle of fountains welcomed on your ears. It was how it was to be viewed, you supposed.

Not as gloomy as the rainy, cloudy turmoil, or as static as the night of the ball -a rather electric sort of energy of all those there, excitement and crowds of those who wished to dance the night away. It was only filled with a few faces this morning, trimming some of the hedges and tending to a few of the extra plants. You'd found something wonderful about seeing the estate so natural despite it being such a normal day -it continued to be breathtaking.

You were lost in the effect, standing there rather aimlessly, and you supposed that was why he'd snuck up on you.

"Ms. Greene."

You startled, just slightly, as you settled upon him. He was much how he was the night before -dirted sleeves and hair askew, you'd assumed he'd been working out here. Perhaps it was a hobby of his?

"Mr. Grimes," you echoed, a little breathless -as you were nearly any time you saw him, eyes trailing to the dirt upon his sleeves, "-busy, are you?"

"Right," he spoke -eyes trailing to his own sleeves, almost in embarrassment, "-you'll have to forgive my matter of dress, I was workin' on my garden-"

"Your garden?" You questioned, rather genuinely with a smile split across your face -near giddy that you spoke to him, "-And no need, it suits you well."

"You're much too kind, Ms. Greene," he hummed, a little bashful -you found it rather sweet, "-but yes, my garden. I find it relaxing after such work days, my Mother... She cared for it intently. I share such passions."

"If you wish to," you started -hesitantly, as it seemed such a personal endeavor, "-I shall be delighted to see it one day."

Mr. Grimes stalled for a moment before a rather fond look flickered over his face -one that ever so often raised the crimson to your cheeks, "'At would be lovely. Perhaps later? The evenin' light is terrific for such viewin'."

"Oh," you smiled, rather teasingly, "-I suppose I shall see."

"Are ya to be a harsh critic, then?"

"Only if you want me to be, Mr. Grimes," you replied, as he guided you up the stairs and to the door. Always linked by the arm, your head merely swam at such closeness, "- do you treat all such guests to such pleasantries? Leading them up the stairs at your expense?"

He grinned, a bit of laughter dancing upon his tongue -you'd nearly grinned brighter at the sound, "Certainly not."

"Oh really," you responded -tone exaggerated, "-so I'm a special case, am I?"

Mr. Grimes hummed -a sort of fondness in his voice that made his accent seem ever more prominent, "Rightly so."

"You-" you flustered, still gently attached at the side, "You are too good at such things."

"What things?" He asked -curiously, but there was something gleaming in his eye, something rather playful.

"Flattery," you answered -rather promptly, "-you speak it so fluidly."

"Only for you," he urged, turning his attention fully to you, "-you must kno', it's only for you."

"Mr. Grimes..."

"Shall we head in?" He hummed -eyes still on you rather fondly, "-We have much to speak of."

You hummed, squeezing your hand against his arm -comforting, "Okay."

It was still wonderful to see, despite you being here frequently. All the paintings of wondrous detail -you could nearly see each paint stroke, and part of you wondered just how long it would take to craft such a thing. You'd wished to have your own one day but the expense was far too wide for it to be realistic.

"The paintings," you started, low tone echoing in the empty entry, "-Do you commission them often?"

"No," he started -slow steps in tune with yours as he looked upon the paintings, "-I request 'em upon special occasion."

"Such as?"

Mr. Grimes paused for a moment, before guiding you to the opposite end of the hall -a painting as large as the family portrait you'd seen on a much less happy day. It detailed what you realized to be a very young Judith -wrapped in a blush sort of blanket, pinky red of her cheeks as she slept away. It reminded you of a young Beth, all wonderous blonde curls -you'd mostly seen the girl in photographs, but Judith looked nearly identical to so. She wasn't alone, instead was held tightly by what you recognized to be his son whom you had yet to meet. He looked starkly like his father, it made you wonder if he acted as such.

"When Judith was born," he confirmed, in a wistful sort of voice -he cared for his children, it was rather endearing. It always had been, even upon when you met him -Judith's behavior spoke volumes of the man.

"That's your son?" you asked.

"Carl," Mr. Grimes clarified, "-I'd wish for ya to meet if you weren't opposed."

"I'd be rather delighted to."

He merely smiled brighter at you, the kind that crinkled by his eyes -it always pleased you to see. And as you looked upon the family portrait where he seemed rather solemn, you found you much preferred the Mr. Grimes at your side. Happy, smiling-

He led you down a selection of hallways, each a touch more ravishing than the last -shining vases and detailed trim. It wasn't exactly a printed sort of wallpaper, just rather a vivid sort of color -not to distract from the paintings across the walls. A sort of elegant simplicity.

"Would you mind steppin' in my office to talk? Mr. Dixon shall remain at the door for proper etiquette."

"Wherever you wish," you spoke, softer than you intended but you found you were rather fond of him.

And as you entered the office, you stared at the rather extensive bookshelves and large window facing out into the backyard. It was framed beautifully so, all white wooden trim. You were drawn to the sight, beautiful pastures of flowing green grass. Right in the center sat his kids, enraptured in some sort of game -Carl intently swinging a few dolls around as if he was performing. Under the watchful eye of some staff, of course.

You smiled, trailing your fingers over the glass, "They seem to be enjoying themselves out there. Is it often they play together?"

Mr. Grimes followed you to the sight, a sort of hazy smile rattling across his face, "Very often, Carl has adapted well. I'm very proud of 'im, really."

"That is something quite special, I remember when I was young-" you laughed lightly -memories flashing behind your eyes, "-Maggie nearly trailed around me for years, I was told that I was rather frustrated."

"Really?"

"Oh yes," you relented, turning your attention to him, "-it's an ordeal losing a parent's attention in any capacity, Mr. Grimes. Even further when someone starts to follow you around and take your things-"

He laughed, a sort of bright twinkle, "When ya say it like 'at, I'd find I'd be upset myself."

"As you should."

Mr. Grimes laughed even louder, your heart squeezing in your chest at being the cause of such a noise. I shall wish to never be without it-

"I know-" he started -hollowing out from the laughter to something more serious, perhaps what he wished to tell you, "-I know it was difficult for 'im. When... When she was pregnant."

You hummed, turning all your attention to him -listening, "How so? Perhaps, I could help explain as... as an eldest myself."

He paused, eyed trailing along his children out the window, "The typical things, just- Just not bein' the only one, I suppose."

"It's difficult to come to terms with," you spoke -rather heavy with intent.

You loved your sisters, dearly, but you'd often realized that you became quite an adult rather quickly. It was less of their fault, though, and more evident of the situation. A sick mother and an overworked father, you slotted in to help where you could.

You imagined Carl in the situation you'd only known from rumors. Without a mother, a rather heartbroken father, and a younger sister to care for. It rang rather true to you.

"Lori-" he interrupted your thoughts, seeming to slowly speak through his thought process, "-Lori left after Judith was born. I... I knew what had happened by then, I knew what... what she intended-"

You moved without thinking, extending your hand to turn his face towards you -skin upon his own. It was improper, and you knew so, but something in you urged to comfort him -to aid him somehow-

"It doesn't mean you were ready for her to leave."

Mr. Grimes was silent then, blue eyes intently focused on you -perhaps surprised by such contact, but not... not unnerved, you could see. He merely stalled for a moment, you held your breath -nervous, truly. You hadn't been thinking-

Then, he leaned into your hand. Skin touching in a sort of delicate way as if it soothed him -as if you could do so. Something in your stomach flipped at the idea, a wondrous sort of buzz detailing under your skin -love, love, love rattling in your chest.

"I can't imagine what you went through," you spoke, thumb brushing lightly against his cheekbone, "-at all. But I... I'd like to listen. If you wish to tell."

He sighed, a rumble against your skin, as his blue, blue, blue eyes settled across your face -a touch cloudier than before, "I do. I... I want ya to know everythin', Ms. Greene, everythin'."

"Okay," you whispered -rather teary yourself.

With a shaky breath, he guided you to a seat -cushioned, against the wall next to the window. It was nearly as velvety as the carriage interior, but you couldn't find your focus on its texture. You stared rather intently at Mr. Grimes, eager to listen, to soothe-

"I suppose I'm jus' not sure where to start," he spoke, hand wiping away at his eyes -you wished to do it yourself, honestly but has to control the urges.

You responded, tone rather balanced, "Perhaps at the beginning? With... with Lori?"

He hummed -thinking on it maybe, before deciding, "I believe I should start earlier. My... My childhood."

"As long as you're certain," you remanded, tone unshaken, stable.

"I am, very," he responded without hesitancy, you were sure to search for it, "-Ms. Greene I always fully intended to tell you everythin' and let you decide. There's no hesitation on my part."

"This is..." you paused, "-Your childhood is a part of the explanation?"

"It is, rather-" he hummed, "-I wish to tell ya of an old friend of mine."

You'd assumed so, rumors swirling in your head but found you'd only wished to hear it from here. From him. It was one thing to know it from whispers and entirely another from the direct source -from someone so dear to you. And yet, you wanted him to know you'd heard it -in whatever capacity, "Mr. Walsh."

"We grew up together," he spoke -a sort of bittersweet note in his tone that made you wish to soothe, "-I remember we used to help out in the yard, workin'. My father never made it easy for me, probably why I like workin' outside so much these days."

You thought for a moment, merely watching him for a moment. Before linking your hand to his arm -as if he'd been walking with you, fingertips just above the crease of the elbow and roaming closer to his side. And perhaps it was improper, but you wished to support him.

"We planned to attend the same schools, live in the same city, it was all rather planned out. When I met Lori..." he responded -echoing a sort of hollow note, "-he seemed to believe I had left him behind."

Mr. Grimes echoed, a little watery, "I knew, I knew... he wished to have a family. Be married, have children... I suppose he thought I stole it from him."

"You must know that you didn't," you soothed, "-your life did not indicate his-"

"I do, I kno'," he exhaled, and something in his voice shook, "-I jus' tried so desperately to explain his actions. To explain... what happened."

"Mr. Grimes," you urged, "-if you're not comfortable, I request-"

"Before Lori left," he continued -a little aimlessly but heavier in tone, "-She became pregnant."

"I cannot imagine the turmoil of something so happy to something so-"

"Ms. Greene," his tone leveled, almost as if he was begging -holding your hands together before you, "-I must request what I say subsequent stays between the parties in this room."

"Of course," you spoke -confident, "-I'd never dream of speaking to something that wasn't mine to share."

"I wouldn't truly mind if it only affected me," he clarified, "-as someone with a fortune, you become to expect some things. But this-"

"Mr. Grimes," you tilted to match his eyes, "-I would never betray your trust so. If you wish it, I shall take it to the grave."

He paused, blue eyes bright smoothing over your face in a rather hazy sort of glance -as if he couldn't quite believe what you were saying, "Thank you, Ms. Greene. I-"

"No need," you hummed -soft and delicate, "-I suppose I'd be rather disingenuous if I were to say I love you and expect anything from you for it."

"Ms. Greene-"

"Later," you knew what he wished to speak of, it wasn't the proper time, "-there are more pressing matters that we must address first, okay?"

It bubbled up from his chest as if the words had been waiting -had he never spoken of this? A sort of eruption along his lips, you could almost feel the relief from the breath of the words. It hadn't meant that you had expected them, however.

"Judith... She's-" he moved through them slowly -as if it hurt, "-She's not mine."

#rick grimes #its griming time #stuff n' thangs #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n fanfiction #twd #twd rick #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes oneshot #magnolia in may

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tetsupeach · 2 years

Text

all must descend

prince bakugou x f!reader

summary - you never thought the first time you'd leave your tiny fishing village would be on the back of a princes horse.

cws - game of thrones au, same tone as the show. murder, violence, political intrigue, smut, magic, old gods, new gods, choking, true love, lore, allusions to torture, prophecy, reader has brown eyes. dom!bakugou. sub!reader.

chapter 1 - updates on fridays

please have an age in your bio and be 18+ before interacting with this fic. reblogs/comments appreciated, and encouraged.

With your fishing village burning behind you, you kneel with the rest of the women. When you look around, their eyes are downcast, ashamed. Some of them cry. You, do not. Your hair is loose around your shoulders, your jaw set hard as the smoke from your childhood home blows in your face. You don’t flinch, just stare out at the horizon and the rolling green hills of your homeland, the ocean lying past them, you wonder if that will be the last thing that you ever see.

You don’t recognize the raiders, the huge men who demolished your tiny militia, their armor gleaming in the grey light of a cloudy day. In a town of less than one hundred, your little band of men had been quickly disposed of. You try not to remember the sound your father made as he died, the way your mothers skirt fluttered in the wind as she ran for her life. You wonder if she had gotten away, and if she had, would she return?

You take another breath, watching the patterns of movement in front of you carefully. The soldiers seem almost nervous, one of them is struggling to put out the fire they’d started in your tiny chapel to Nahelenia. The stained glass window of the beautiful sea goddess that you’d all once been so proud of has melted into a puddle of green glinting glass on the dirty street. One of the soldiers shrieks as he steps in the molten liquid, hopping around as it burns the the sole of his shoe.

You hear a sharp sob from the girl next to you, and watch as big childish tears roll down her cheeks. You feel the urge to rebuke her, to calm her, somehow, it feels embarrassing, to show even more weakness to these men as you wait on your knees for near certain death. They’ve gathered about twenty young women, in the town square. There’s a cloud of dust as four knights, in varying levels of armor, and no helmets move around your burning village. They’re young men, you’re sure they’re some kind of nobility, but they’re no one you recognize. Their banner colors are unfamiliar, and you wrack your brain, knowing you were only a full days ride from where your country of Avenia ended, and Yuuei began.

“Oi,” One of the men, you recognize him as the leader, he’d pointed the directions for his men to ride in when you’d seen him through the window of your home as they thundered into town. He’s tall, broad and blonde, and his armor is the cleanest out of all of his men. His eyes are dark and narrow, his nose is delicate and haughty and his voice, his voice is deep and masculine. You’d shunned fear thus far, for shock, for sadness, but when you hear his low rasp again, your heart quickens, and your palms break into a sweat. You see him jerk his head towards the girl next to you, and one of the men, somehow even larger than the leader with bright red hair, reaches for her.

You clutch the small dagger you’ve got hidden in your palm, feeling it bite into your skin and watch carefully as the redhead lifts her to her feet. You only have a second. You know you only have a second, no time to think, or weigh options, or consider the cost. You reach down, grab a fistful of dirt from behind you and spring to your feet.

You throw the dirt in the huge man's eyes, he drops the younger girl, stumbling backwards, you dart around him, sliding on the dry ground, and leap up on top of him, pressing the blade of your knife to his throat.

“Run!” You cry desperately. She takes off, dodging huge hands and large men, the redhead moves to follow her but you press the knife to his neck, blood racing through your veins, roaring in your ears. Your feet are planted on the dirt road of your village, the only home youve ever known, with a blade pressed against the raider's jugular that you can feel him swallow.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” You hear, in that deep, terrifying growl. The blonde knight scowls as he takes in the situation, but no one moves. You peek around the redheads shoulder and make eye contact with the leader.

“L-let them go.” You say, your voice stronger than your conviction. “Let the rest of them go or I’ll kill him, I-I’ll do it.” You look into his eyes, and see the fear there. You press a little harder, blood beads around the blade you’d hidden. “Let them go.” You say again, standing on your tiptoes to reach him. There’s movement behind you and the soldiers in your peripheral vision sheath their swords.

“Get out of here.” The blonde snarls waving a thick arm at the remaining women, and you’re nearly overcome with euphoria as they scatter, see the dust their footprints kicks up, as they carry their children and disappear over the moors. You take a deep breath as the adrenaline fades from your body, wondering what kind of death you’ve doomed yourself to. You feel something cold and metal on the back of your neck.

“Drop it.” The blonde says from behind you. He’s so close to you that you can feel his breath on your skin.

“Not until I can’t see them.’ This time your voice comes out as a whisper, and the metal thing pressing against the back of your neck is withdrawn.

“You’re surrounded.” He snaps, as if you were being unreasonable, a nuisance. “Drop it now, or we’ll kill you and leave this village to burn as your pyre. We got what we came for.” You see the redhead's eyes flick to his leader when he says this, and you know he’s lying. Your teeth graze your lower lip, the quick burst of pain centers you. You inhale and withdraw your knife, whirling around, and leaping for the blonde, determined to kill as many of them as you can before they kill you. But before your blade can even graze his skin, the blonde catches your wrist and uses your own momentum to throw you chest first onto the dry earth. You cough, gasping for breath as you feel his boot on your back, the knife is wrenched from your hands.

“That’s one tough bitch,” Another man, with long, warmer blonde hair and a warm smile says, hopping off of the porch of a half burnt home. “We got the gold but shit,” He says, glancing around, “What happened to the women?” The pressure on your back grows and you rest the side of your face on the dirt, screwing your eyes shut, unwilling to witness your own end.

“She happened to them.” The leader snarls. You don’t speak, just stare blankly ahead, refusing to give them the satisfaction of your tears. “Not gonna say shit? Done talking now that you’ve fucked everything up for me?” He says, crouching down to get a better look at you. “The fuck do you get off pullin’ that kinda shit? Are you a noble?”

“I’m nothing.” You breathe, hoping your genuine insignificance will spare you. “I’m nothing.” You hear him scoff, and he takes his boot off of your back, swearing violently.

“The hell is Mitsuki gonna say?” One of the other men asks. “The gold is nice, but we were here to round up the possible heirs for the prophecy?”

“That’s my fuckin’ problem,” The leader snaps, “Isn’t it,” he takes your foot off your back, you can hear the metal of his armor clinking as he paces, and when the sound comes near you, you brace for pain. It doesn’t come. Instead you’re hoisted to your feet and shoved at the redhead, who keeps a tight grip on your upper arms. The men observe you, with varying degrees of interest as they load the harvest, the food and cloth and riches that had been carefully stored into the back of a horse-drawn wagon.

“Alright,” The redhead grunts, spinning you around to face him like you’re a ragdoll, “C’mere.” He ties your hands in front of you with a short length of rope. You avoid his gaze.

“She can walk behind my horse.” The blonde growls, and for the first time you see the redhead pause, looking concerned.

“Bakugou, can she?” He asks, glancing over at you nervously, but his leader just narrows his eyes,

“I’ll drag her fuckin’ corpse back to the city,” he roars, “It’s what my mother would do.”

“You are not your mother.” The redhead counters and the leader, Bakugou apparently, rakes his hands through his straw hair. You swallow some bile from your throat. Could you have been so unlucky, to have gotten on Prince Bakugou Katsuki of Yuuei’s bad side? You’d assumed this was some group of roguish nobles, not actual royalty. Yuuei was a neighboring nation, and the relationship had always been tense, peace talks failing for generations. The last time your countries met the negotiation tent had gone up in flames, and the famous Warrior Queen Mistuki had murdered your King Amathar’s eldest son in an impromptu duel.

“And I’m about to get a stern fuckin’ reminder of that,” He says, eyes narrow, lifting his clean blade from it’s sheath. “And you assholes,” He calls to the group of soldiers, “The fuck did I say?” There’s a pause as the redhead tightens the rope around your wrists. “I said don’t fucking kill anyone?” He roars, and the soldiers look sheepish. You study the ground, counting pebbles embedded in the road.

“No one’s going to say anything?” The redhead’s voice cuts through the silence. “You disobeyed a direct order from the Prince? And no one’s got shit to say?” Your surprise and fear at the confirmation that Bakugou was royalty must show on your face because the raven haired knight snorts when you look up.

“I told you you have to stop swearing so much Bakugou,” He snickers, “No one’s gonna believe you’re royalty.”

“Sero, I’ll stop swearin’ when one of these shitheads tells me what the fuck happened here?” Bakugou whirls around, looking at each of the men one by one, who mostly shrug or stare out at the sea.

“Got carried away.” One of them mumbles eventually and Bakugou kicks his legs out from under him, eyes blazing.

“People are dead.” He snarls. “What happened to leave no fucking trace?”

“Isn’t a bigger problem that the women escaped?” The soldier on the other side of him says quickly, “Since they’ll tell other villages that we’re coming?” Bakugou mashes his palms into his eyesockets.

“Of course that’s a fucking problem. One you’re all going to pay for.” He turns to you, and you bite down on your lip again, hoping to stave the fear off from your face, distracting yourself with the burst of self inflicted pain. Prince Bakugou stalks off in a huff, mounting his horse and tugging you along behind him by the rope at the end of your wrists. He ties it to the end of his saddle and the rest of his men get on their horses and start to leave your village.

You stumble forward, following him to the best of your ability, but the princes dappled grey mare is already at a trot, and your foot catches a hole in the dirt. You trip, falling hard, kicking up a cloud of dust. You brace yourself for the drag of the road against your body but it doesn’t come. You see that despite the other horses moving towards the exit of the town that the Prince has stopped, allowing you time to stand again. You swallow, and push yourself to your feet. He goes to start moving again before smacking himself in the forehead, cursing his own weakness.

“Kirishima,” He barks, “Hold.” He leaps off his horse and walks to you. “Normally,” He grunts, “I’d throw you in with the cargo, but you’re fuckin’ trouble.” He undoes the knot around your wrists quickly and for only a moment you're free, before his huge hands lift you by the waist onto the saddle of his horse, hiking up your long skirts so that you can ride straddling it like a man.

A second later, he joins you, sitting in front and grabbing your flailing hands as you attempt to steady yourself. He ties them together again, with the same rope, but this time, around his waist, forcing you to cling to him for stability, your chest pressed up against his back. “Let's go!” He yells, and the horses take off, pulling the wagons off towards the horizon.

“Hold on.” He says to you lowly, as if you have any choice, shamefully pressing your body and face up against his leather clothed back as his horse pulls to the front of the group, hooves kicking up a large cloud of dust in the heavy summer air. You’ve been riding for almost half an hour when he speaks, well out of earshot of the rest of his soldiers. “And the fuck am I gonna do with you, huh?”

“I don’t know.” You breathe, and the quality of your voice takes him by surprise. He’s expecting something harsh, or sad, or angry, but there's so much air in your tone. “Will you make it quick, if I ask you to?” He turns around to look at you quickly, keeping a tight grip on the reins.

“I’m not gonna kill you.” He says incredulous. “I wasn’t gonna kill any of the people in your stupid fucking town.” This doesn’t have the effect he’s hoping for, you don’t betray any emotion, he can feel you sigh against him.

“So you would rather we starve? Since you took all of the food we’d stored?” You say coldly, and his horse leaps over a small brook, forcing you to hold onto him tightly, pressing your face between his shoulder blades.

“Better you than us.” He says gruffly. He waits for you to respond, but you don’t, just holding onto him tightly, shivering even in the heat of summer. He tries again, reaching for words. “There are more important things than one fucking village, alright, we, we’re following orders, but this is bigger than just you.” You don’t respond, and his words leave a bitter taste on his own tongue.

As the sun begins to sink below the horizon you come to a huge stone wall, the largest thing you’ve ever seen. It’s made of a grey stone that glitters in the low light, and it’s as tall as the chapel in your village stacked over itself three times. drawbridge extends with a loud groan for them. The horses thunder over it, their hooves loud on the hollow wood.

You hide your face as best you can, trying not to think of your family, if they’d escaped, if they were alive, focusing only on your immediate surroundings. Bakugou can feel the contours of your face pressing against his back though his leather armor when a cheer erupts from the people at his return. You keep your eyes screwed shut, unsure of what kind of people would cheer for such bloodshed. He keeps one hand on the reins, but you feel his right hand close over yours, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb across your tight fists. You don’t open your eyes until you hear the crowd quiet, as you move into another part of the city.

You look around, you’re in a stable, other men getting off their horses and handing them to squires. You feel your wrists being freed, and the Prince roughly pulls you off the saddle and onto your feet. A few squires run over, taking the reins of his horse and leading it away. Two of the men stride over, chests puffed out. One of them reaches for you, running his wet pink tongue over his lower lip.

“Shall we attend to the prisoner, your grace?” Bakugou catches the lascivious spark in their eye, but his decision is made final when you cower a little, flattening your back against his chest.

“I’ve got her.” Bakugou says plainly. “I’m keeping this one.” The two men exchange a quick glance.

“We could see to her gettin’ cleaned up?” The other one says. You avoid his watery blue gaze, studying their dirty boots. He takes your arm and attempts to draw you away from the Prince, who yanks you back and snarls,

“Are you fuckin’ touchin’ what I’ve said is mine?” They blanch, and immediately both men are flapping their hands in apology, and backing away.

“No, no sire, of course not we would never-”

“Then fuck off.” The prince snaps, rolling his eyes as he turns to face the other knights, who are gathering behind him. The redhead, Kirishima, speaks first.

“That’s a good call.” He says quietly, glancing at the soldiers who are now rushing to put Bakugou’s horse away, and then he looks down at you. “So,” he shoots you a weary smile, rubbing the little scratch on his neck from your handiwork. “Do I get to know the name of the girl who held me at knifepoint?”

“No.” You don’t even look at him, eyes on your warped reflection in his breastplate. Unlike the Prince, the rest of the knights were in full metal armor. Kirishima’s eyes widen with incredulity.

“She’s fucking wild!” Kirishima turns to Prince Bakugou, “What the hell are you going to do with a woman who won’t even tell you her name?” Bakugou scowls, tying the rope around your waist and then pulling your arms behind you, looping the rope around them and holding the end of the rope tightly.

“We’ll have to wear her down.” Bakugou says in his low threatening rasp, speaking as if you can’t hear him. “You’re gonna take her on a little walk, through the dungeon, and she’s gonna behave after she’s seen that shit.” Kirishima shudders and nods.

“Yeah, actually, I bet she will.” He watches you struggle against the ropes butYou struggle against the ropes but Bakugou leads you forward, you step out of the stable and into the cobble stoned streets. It’s busy, people coming to and from the market, carrying sorry looking vegetables, some coughing in the dusty air. The prince causes quite a stir, people part for him and his knights, staring at you, obviously foreign in your tattered dress, obviously a prisoner.

“Heretic!” Someone yells, and you artfully dodge some rotten fruit.

“How fucking dare you!” Bakugou yells, whirling on the drunken man holding more rotting food, and the street quiets. He looks around, eyes dark and wild. You stare dead ahead, not speaking. He draws you closer to him, you feel his hand on your hip. “C’mon.” He says lowly, and pulls you deeper inside the city walls, moving more quickly. You step eventually, into a huge stone gate, the dirty residential landscape changing into a lush garden, a huge palace built into the side of a mountain in front of you. Most of the men have fallen away, it’s just Kirishima, the darker blonde, Sero and a knight you barely recognize with long lilac hair.

“Should we get our stories straight?” He says, and you notice the bags under his eyes match the violet hue of his locks, “Since we have her, and no one else?” Bakugou sighs, absentmindedly rubbing your hip in a way that sends your stomach somersaulting towards nausea.

“I’ll take care of it.” He rubs his eyes. “I’ll take the fall for the other women escapin’ but not for the deaths at the village. That’s bullshit,” he turns to the purple haired knight, “Shinsou I’m gonna lean on you and your network to figure out what the fuck happened there.” He nods.

“I’ll see what’s being said but,” you hold his gaze for a moment before he drops it, and goes back to looking at the Prince, “But you and I both know where the trail leads.” He looks ahead and you follow his eyes to the spire of a huge cathedral, made from a dark stone, with black wrought iron and bronze accents. It’s one of the largest buildings you’ve ever seen. You shrink a little in it’s shadow.

“We told them,” Kirishima pipes up, coming to walk next to the Prince, “Denki, Sero, you were there, we told them, no harm comes to the villagers.” You’re having trouble focusing your vision, dehydration creeping in, your stomach is aching and empty.

“I know,” The prince grumbles, as you come to a heavy iron gate, that opens to reveal lush gardens, green grass and well kept pathways. The sun hangs low in the sky, painting the courtyard with a golden light. The difference between life outside this gate and here is so jarring you blink a couple times, wondering if you’re finally going into shock. “S’not good though.” He presses his lips together and you stumble, bracing yourself to hit the ground hard. The prince moves with catlike agility, wrapping one muscular arm around your waist and righting you. He stands you back up, the hint of an apology in his face. “Speakin’ of uh,” he swallows, “You uh, how are you holdin’ up?” You balk, narrowing your eyes at him.

“My family may be dead.” You say quietly, interrupting their conversation. “If this performance is helping you sleep at night, I would ask that it be conducted outside of my presence.” All five of them stare at you, dumbfounded but you refuse to look at anyone but the princes. Bakugou’s jaw drops open.

“Performance?” He growls.

“You don’t have to pretend you’re sorry,” you shake your head, “I”m no spy or noble, there’s nothing to be gained from my favor. I have little doubt that when you want something from me you’ll take it, like you took our food and our gold.” Your words hang heavy in the summer air.

“And what the fuck do you think I want from you?” He says, voice so quiet his words are nearly swept away by the breeze. Your mouth gets even dryer now. “Besides for you to keep your fucking mouth shut while I’m talkin’?” He grabs your jaw so hard that your cheeks squish around his calloused hands. He tips your face up to his. “Maybe I shoulda introduced myself I’m Prince Bakugou Katsuki, your royal-’ “You’re not my royal anything,” you barely get the words out around his fingers. “You don’t rule in my country.” There are a couple of nervous chuckles from the nights as the princes eyes blaze.

“Prince Bakugou!” Someone rushes out of the big stone building across the courtyard before he can respond, “You must dress to see your parents.” He reluctantly releases your face and shoves you toward Kirishima who catches you and stands you up again.

“See if you can do something about her attitude before I have to explain her existence to my parents.” Bakugou hisses, before jogging towards the castle.

“We’ll getcha cleaned up!” Kirishima says cheerfully, “Come on.”

“You can’t be serious,” Denki says, as Kirishima pulls you along the pathway beside the castle. “You’re gonna take her into the mens baths?”

“She’s filthy!” Kirishima protests, “Bakugou stepped on her!”

“That was a touch dramatic,” The raven haired man, Sero, muses. “But I suppose it was necessary, given the resistance she’s been showing.” You lift your head and turn to the men, unwilling to let them slip out of this easily.

“What did you kill for?” You ask, voice barely audible, having not eaten or drank since that morning. “What is the reason your armor is bloodied?” Kirishima looks uncomfortable, walking a little faster.

“I can’t discuss the finer points of holy war with you.”

“Holy war?” You repeat, “Our countries are not at war we-”

“This is not about Avenia and Yuuei.” Shinsou says softly. “This is about Yuuei and Aed.” You reach into the back of your memory, to the one room schoolhouse you’d attended with five other children in your village.

“The sun god?”

“He’s a lot more than a sun god,” the honey blonde says, flipping some hair out of his face. “He’s the god who consecrated our royal lineage. Prince Bakugou’s great, great grandfather.”

“He doesn’t behave like a god.” You mutter and Kirishima chuckles but Shinsou looks troubled.

“Question,” he says, his voice utterly emotionless. “Up until this point you seemed rather determined to live through this ordeal, correct?” You open your mouth to respond but he cuts you off, rubbing his chin as he muses, “I’m wondering at what point you acquired your desire to become intimately acquainted with the hangmans noose?” You whirl on him.

“Maybe it was when I had to listen to you discuss the deaths of my family like they were a mere inconvenience for you?” You snap and he seems genuinely taken aback. There’s an awkward silence.

“Are you,” Shinsou says, crossing his arms and walking in front of you, “Are you determined to die, or do you want to live?” You take a deep breath, wondering if it’s worth it to hold onto hope that anyone you know truly escaped, whether even the women you freed would be hunted down like rats in a kitchen. “It’s a simple question.” He drawls, “I know you’re likely undereducated, but-”

“I want to live.” You lift your head to his. “And I can read. And write.”

“Just your name or-” You take a step forward and Kirishima yanks you back against his chest.

“I think Shinsou’s point,” Kirishima says, giving the man a stern look, “Is that if literally any other person heard you disparage Aed or the Prince you’d already be dead.” You turn, looking up at him, the first sign of genuine concern in your eyes. “And it wouldn't be a quick death, either." He pauses, and impulsively spins you around, inspecting you.

“You’re right,” Sero says, speaking the group of mens thoughts into being, “It’s weird that you’re not crying.”

“Like I’d grant you the satisfaction.” You say, but there’s no venom left in your voice, only exhaustion.” Shinsou rubs his eyes.

“I give her until sunrise.”

“I’m not going to let anyone hurt her!” Kirishima protests, “If that means I have to gag her, I will.”

“I don’t think I’ll live long past sunrise.” You argue, “And I'd like to be able to tell my parents why they’re dead when I join them so whatever you can tell me about the holy war and Aed would be appreciated.”

“You’re going to be fine.” He says and you scoff. “Fine. Fine.” He says. “There’s a rumor, that has become deeply substantiated, that King Amathar of Avenia sired a bastard daughter among the women in your part of the country while on vacation there at his summer castle.” They start walking again, towards a white building with dark brown accents, built right up against the side of the mountain. Behind it is the face of a huge cliff, made of unfinished glittering grey rock, speckled with light green.

“He’s got dark eyes, like you, dark ones.” Sero explains. “And they’re a rival nation, so we’ve been ordered to round up all the dark eyed women from those villages and bring them back here. We’ve got a tower full of em.”

“Bakugou doesn't want her in the tower.” Denki sneers. “He wants her tied to his head board. Maybe gagged, though.” You whirl on him, fear in your eyes.

“What?”

“Don’t scare the maiden!” Kirishima snaps, his warm voice almost unkind but Denki rolls his eyes. The purple haired knight massages his temples. “We just calmed her down.”

“We’ve been raiding for weeks,” Denki shrugs, “How many women rode on his horse?”

“None.” Sero pipes up helpfully. “But no one else freed the other captives and made themselves a threat either. So-”

“Prince Bakugou,” Kirishima says, through his teeth, “Was doing his due diligence as an heir to the throne of Yuuei.” he sighs and turns to you. “It was prophesied that the daughter of King Amathar would bring peace to our warring nations with her power. As the great grandaughter of Nahelenia.” You test the ropes around your wrists again, they hold fast. You remember the pool of melted stained glass, the smoking chapel.

“My father was a tailor.” You say quietly.

“You only think your father was a tailor,” Denki says with a smile and a teasing tone, “You don’t know what your mother was doing, maybe gallivanting around castles, meeting strange men-”

“My father bled out on the floor of my childhood home this morning.” You snap, tears almost welling in your eyes but you’re just too dehydrated to make them spill, your voice cracks under the weight of your emotion. “At the hands of your men.” You yank on the rope in Kirishima’s hands but he’s too fast, holding it tightly all you can do is snarl at the blonde, “So I’ll thank you to keep his memory out of your fucking mouth.” There’s an awkward silence, Denki stalks off without another word. You feel hands on your waist and Kirishima steers you away, forward towards the bathhouse.

“You have to be careful.” Shinsou says lowly, dismissing the other men with a wave of his hand. “About what you say, and how you say it, and particularly, who you say it to,” He looks behind him at the other knights, who look mostly entertained by your outburst, if not a little shocked. “They’re not trouble, alright, they’d die for Bakugou.” You swallow. “Not everyone feels that way at court. It’s dangerous.” He touches your arm softly. “And I’m so sorry about your father, if I’d seen them, I would have stopped it.”You feel Kirishima’s hand on your arm, Shinsou reaches out and brushes some dirt from your cheek. They wait, for the vulnerability they’re accustomed to, from the women they’ve shepherded back to do the paternity test on, wait for you to burst into tears, to cling to one of them, but you don’t move. You just stare angrily off into the distance. He speaks again, feeling a little awkward. “Do you need anything?”

“Water.” You say, and Shinsou nods, uncapping his skein and bringing it to your lips. It’s sweet, if a touch stale, cold and clean and you gulp it down so quickly that it dribbles down your chin. Kirishima wipes it away with his thumb.

“I’ll get you some clothes.” He says, ``Since Bakugou asked me to attend to you.” He looks a little sheepish. “I uh, We can’t be alone, really,” he gestures to the other knights, “With you, since uh, you know we need to make sure you don’t have children with anyone but the prince.” You gape at him, dumbfounded.

“I’m not a virgin.” You say, and he blanches.

“Really?”

“Really.” You say dryly, wondering if you’ve signed your death warrant.

“Have you bled since-”

“Yes.” you cut him off. “I’m a widow. He passed a year ago.” Kirishima looks relieved.

“I’m sorry to hear that. But uh, I can’t be alone with you either way, so two of us at least will watch you bathe, so that we can be sure you are, ah, untouched, at least while you're here.” He looks intensely uncomfortable, and you decide to let him stew in that feeling for a while.

They guide you through the doors of their quarters, tossing their armor and dirty clothes on animal skin couches. Shinsou leaves them, pulled away by some servant nervously rambling about tomorrows ceremony. You stand awkwardly, still bound in the corner. You study the rafters, avoiding their varying degrees of nakedness.

“Alright,” Kirishima grunts, and he knocks you off your feet, carrying you down a flight of stairs, followed by the other men. The basement of the building is a hot spring, the walls are white plaster, the floors are stone. It’s lit with torches, and there’s a small stone bank before it gives way to a pool of crystal water. There are bars of soap and jars of oil beside it, and the other two knights bypass you, jumping into what must be warm water by the look on their faces. Kirishima hesitates, turning to you.

“You’ll be provided new clothes.” He says. “But if you do not wish to bathe with them on, you have my word that no one will touch you.” You swallow.

“I’ll leave them on.” You mumble, and he nods, carefully loosing the rope around your waist and wrists, guiding you into the water slowly. It is warm. In your shoes, petticoat and full skirt, your movement is limited, but you can't help the deep sigh that escapes from your lips as you sink beneath the water, only to have Kirishima yank you out of it by the waist

“I can’t let you drown yourself!” He says, dark eyes full of worry. You shake your head at him indignantly.

“I can swim, I come from a fishing village!” You retort, and his face colors, and then he looks pensive in a way you can’t quite put your finger on.

“Oh.” He swallows, looking sheepish. “Just uh, okay, fine. Stick by me.” Denki and Sero strip completely, luxuriating in the water. Kirishima watches you clean yourself, fully clothed, your hair soaking, tendrils of it sticking to your face. You take the soap they left and wash your face and hair, the mud leaching from your clothes. You’re a little ashamed of how the water darkens around you, but you don’t let it show on your face, locking your jaw and holding your chin straight. After some time, you are led out of the water, standing in your sopping wet dress, long skirts dripping on the floor of the bath cavern. Kirishima runs up the stairs and leaves you alone with the two other men. The dark haired one, Sero, you remember, speaks.

“Sorry, again. About your family.” You don’t even spare him against a glance. “In all seriousness,” he says lifting himself out of the water, “Prince Bakugou is upset. That’s not how we conduct ourselves normally.”

“We are alone, correct?”

“We are.” He says, cocking his head in confusion. You sigh deeply, wrapping your arms around yourself for warmth in your drenched clothes.

“Then know that I don’t mean this combatively, genuinely, is it supposed to make me feel better,” you say, voice barely audible, “that their deaths meant nothing to you?” Neither man speaks again, and when Kirishima returns to eerie silence, he hands you some clothing.

“We’ll avert our eyes.” He says, and you scoff, but it seems like they do, even Denki seems at least to fear Bakugou enough not to look. The clothing is different than anything you’ve experienced, a pale pink gown, tight at the waist, long and flowing down to the floor. It pushes your cleavage up, framing it high on your chest. You are not, however, given new shoes and Kirishima winces when you look at him, confused.

“They don’t want you walking much.” You swallow. “Alright, but I’ll take you to where you’ll be staying and we’ll getcha comfy, hopefully this can be over soon.” You let him lead you up the steps, rope back tied around your waist, but your hands free. The two men dress quickly and follow.

“Can you hold onto my clothes?” You ask, and he looks at you, seeing the genuine sadness in your eyes.

“I will see them returned to you.” He says, very seriously. “And the paternity test is ah, a bit of a spectacle, but something tells me you’ll be alright.”

“Any luck so far?” You ask, and he shakes his head.

“Not a drop of royal blood among the women we’ve taken. But we hold onto them for now because if they ran free they could spread the word about the prophecy.” You exit what must be the knight's quarters and cross the courtyard under cover of darkness, the bugs singing in the wet grass.

He opens a heavy wooden door on the side of the palace and you descend several flights of stairs. It becomes cooler, and darker, but as you move through the stone hallways you realize with a shiver where you are.

“A dungeon cell?” You ask, incredulous, “For a tailor's daughter? I’m, I’m nothing, I’m nobody.” For the millionth time, Kirishima looks contrite, avoiding your gaze.

“You should ah, I should have said, but you’ll need to call us, uh because we’re Knights, you’ll need to call us Sir. I’m Sir Kirishima.” You roll your eyes and he takes the ring of keys off of his hip and opens a side door, yanking you inside quickly. You find yourself alone with the huge man, the last thing you see outside is Denki and Sero moving to guard the doors, in a dark closet, and you feel his fist close around your throat.

“If you’re a spy, tell me now, and I’ll spare you a traitor's death.” He says, an honest desperation in his tone.

“A spy?” You wheeze, clawing at his fist.

“A traitors death in Yuuei horrible,” he says, inspecting you carefully, like he doesn’t even feel you fighting him, “Sometimes women are boiled alive, or thrown to the masses, so if you’re a spy, I’ll spare you, it will come out. Tell me now,” You claw at his fist,

“I’m simply,” you choke out, “A tailor's daughter, please Kirishima,” your eyes water, and he tightens his grip before dropping it, letting you fall to your knees coughing.

“There are things at work,” he breathes, eyes darting towards the door, “And we could, we could use allies. I’ll let uh, I’ll let Bakugou talk to you, but I’d like your proof, right now, that you’re not from Avenia to spy on us, that you weren’t a plant in that village.”

“I can swim. That’s-That’s rare.” You say gasp, desperately peering into his eyes for a hint of mercy. “And,” you gulp air, you’re exhausted, “And you’ve got my families blood in the tread of your fucking boots, so if you think I’d goddamn help you you’re insane.” He looks a little relieved.

“I see.” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond to that, kicking open the door and dragging you into the hallway - right in front of a very confused looking guard. Denki and Sero had been flanking the door, listening intently it seems. Kirishima wastes no time conjuring an excuse, groping your ass through the cushion of your dress, hands lingering on your waist.

“Ahh,” the guard says, a sly smile on his lips, “Carry on.” You feel Kirishima’s lips on your ear.

“Think about it. You’re not going to have a lot of offers of allyship.” He says gruffly, before silently taking the lead on the rope and dragging you down the hallway. The cell is dark and cool, you swallow nervously at the lack of windows, a wet spot on the wall glistening in the flickering torchlight. He pulls you inside the heavy barred door and picks up a chain from the floor, loosing your wrists and then chaining them in front of you. He stops, taking a step back from you, looking at you one last time.

“Trust us.” He says quietly, “If you can stomach it. And maybe you’ll survive” And just like that he’s gone, leaving you alone in the bowels of a palace with only your thoughts and the soft snores of other prisoners down the hall for company. You curl up in a corner, close your eyes, head throbbing. You think about your father, the man who raised you, of the fear in his eyes when he’d dove for the man kicking your door down, the pain in his voice when he told you to run. You let out a single, dry sob, holding your face in your hands, and the sound echoes down the hallway, following Kirishima out of the dungeon, and into the cool night air.

please have an age in your bio and be 18+ before interacting with this fic. reblogs/comments appreciated, and encouraged.

#bakugou katsuki #mha smut #bnha smut #bakugou smut #bakugo smut #bakugou katsuki smut #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader smut #test tag tag

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elfqueen006 · 4 months

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Duchess' Choice - Villainess AU

Based off of @yukidragon's Villainess AU headcanons, that are absolutely brilliant! I love villainess manhwas with all my heart, and the Sunny Time Town AU being added to the mix is even better because the AU as a whole needs more attention!!

---

May-Rose is a perfect cut out for a villainess isekai protagonist in my opinion. She's curt, standoffs, and can have a bit of a sadistic streak if she's feeling nasty - it usually never goes too far beyond some teasing and hazing, though.

In my "perfect universe" of what I would call the Sunnyside AU, Ian has inherited the role of Sunny Day Jack from an older Jacktor rather than usurping it by the studio. In this universe, May-Rose is the Cloudy-Bell Sue actress' daughter, and seeing as this makes her "television royalty", she'd automatically be offered a role on the show, likely as a supporting character.

Instead though, she chooses to be in the background, working on designing the set, the toys, and some of the promotional material.

And she loves it! She feels like she's playing an important part in all of this.

And another thing, Ian and May are engaged in this universe. Everything seems to be going well for her!

That is until she caught Ian cheating with an old flame in the backseat of his car. Skylar, her name was. Ian got caught up with her in theater school. It was a big hurdle in their relationship but he'd sworn to May that he wouldn't get involved with her again... guess old habits die hard.

In a fit of rage, May had stormed off set and drove away. She died in a crash shortly...

Enter the villainess, Midnight Bluebelle. At first, she was a one-off antagonist from the original series. A mime lady who mocked people with puppets and took toys from children. The new Sunnytime Crew Show would've been written with more complex situations in mind, and if May were on board with acting, she would've been cast as such and been a villain for a major arc. However, she was scrapped from the show and put in the promotional book series aimed at young girls and tweens: Duchess' Choice !

The OMC in Duchess Choice is a generic female lead to stand in for the reader. She's from a dwindling house, but boosts her standing in high society after returning Prince Jacks' special pin that was given to him by his father who's away on diplomatic business.

Her sudden popularity then attracts attention within and outside the castle, including that of the cruel Duchess, Midnight Bluebelle, who taunts and sets up various schemes to sabotage OMC's standing with the prince, whom she aims to marry after discarding her fiance, Ian Duff, the knight deemed Sir Sweet Dreams.

Over the course of the three books OMC balances other possible suitors such as the Glad-Pire, Sous Chef Sweetly, and Sir Sweet Dreams. Inevitably, the endgame is Prince Jack. And after learning of her crimes, Belle is stripped of her title and is exiled from the capital.

When May awakens as Belle, she's in the middle of the ballroom floor, having fainted either due to shock or a sudden illness.

She's tended to by her only living relatives, cousins Cloudy Belle Sue and her resentful father, Sam Sours of the Marquisate.

She's taken to her estate and takes some time to gather her bearings, taking note of the point in time before the story.

She and Ian have only been recently engaged, set up via Gretchen Duff as a way to keep Ian in check, so the first standing of business is to properly divorce him. Just because she remembers the woman she was doesn't make her blameless in Sir Ian's torment. She divorces him and makes a formal apology to him, leaving him perplexed and worried.

With the title of Duchess gone, Belle has gone back to being a Marquess. Naturally, this raises some eyebrows that the coarse and condescending woman would cut off a man so devoted to her without a second thought.

Sam definitely has some things to say. In his eyes, she'd blown off the best chance at a happier life even after she practically abandoned Sue and him. But Belle has a plan in mind. She decides... to open up a toy store!

Before Ian had gotten his big break, Belle as May had been struggling to make ends meet for the both of them. Part-time, she worked as a cashier in a yogurt shop. But she'd made a majority of her funds making gothic stuffed animals on her own time and from commissions.

Despite this being in a medieval European-like setting, and around this Era stuffed toys wouldn't have been invented yet, they coincidentally are! Because when you have a society full of clowns, you naturally make more fun things to do.

And that's just what Belle intends to do this time around, have fun!

(And if she can... avoid the OMC!!)

#Villainess AU #sunnytimetown #sunny day jack #sdj au #sunny day jack oc #sunny day jack x mc #sunny day jack imagine #sunny day jack fanfiction #duchess choice #fantasy #reverse harem #otome #my fics

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miamochi-writes · 1 year

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Daycare Snacks Vash AU Part 9

A/n: Thanks for reading this series! I had so much fun writing this part! Please look forward to the next updates :)

After that night with Vash, your mind kept thinking about the beautiful blonde. When you went out for errands, you thought about him when you saw the donuts in the bakery area. When you checked out new games, you thought about him. Vash practically lived rent free in your mind. So much so that you stayed up a bit later at night when he sent you his usual Goodnight :) message to you. You would later come to regret it when you woke up slightly later than usual for work

“Hey Liz? It’s Y/n, I’m so sorry to do this to you but I’m running late!” you called your coworker.

“Hey y/n, everything okay? Where are you?” she asked.

“I kinda overslept, but I just got on the bus. I should be there in 15 minutes,” you explained.

“Sure, I’ll let the others know. Just come in slowly and help out with the crafts once you arrive,” Liz replied as you agreed before hanging up.

You cursed internally as you looked out the bus window. You then saw that outside was starting to look cloudy. The weather didn’t mention any rain today, but you hoped it would clear up since you were not prepared.

Once the bus arrived at your stop, you ran as fast as your legs could carry you to the daycare. You were already late to greet the kids, and they were probably getting ready for their morning lesson. You slowed down once you got to the front entrance, and opened the door slowly. You peaked in to see the kids were putting away the toys and about to start their arts and crafts.

“Hey Y/n is here!” Suki pointed out as you slightly waved at her. You closed the door as the other kids tried to get a good look at you.

“Sorry kids, I’ll join you in a bit soon. I just need to get ready,” you mentioned as you went to the employee lounge to put put away your belongings.

“Hey, everything okay? The kids were worried you wouldn’t show,” you heard a familiar voice ask as your heart started to race a bit.

“Hi Vash! Sorry for running late, didn’t really sleep well,” you explained as Vash looked a bit concern.

“Oh, is something bothering you? Do you need anything to drink or eat?” he asked. You appreciated the offer, but you couldn’t exactly tell him that he was the reason you were up so late at night.

“Thanks, I’m okay for now. But I’ll let you know if I need anything okay?” you said trying to ease his concern.

“Okay, I’ll hold you to that. Besides, I can’t handle the kids without my favorite partner,” Vash added as he gestured finger guns at you while pretending to sound like a cowboy at the last part. You couldn’t help but laugh at how silly he was.

“There’s that smile of yours,” Vash mentioned quietly as you regained your composure.

“Alright cowboy, come on. Those kids will start a riot if we don’t show up soon,” you replied gesturing him to follow you. Both of you made your way to the kids as they welcomed you. You made your way to the supplies and started prepping for their arts and crafts lesson. You then heard a noise in the distance coming from outside. You looked at the window and saw that the skies were much darker.

“Y/n? Vash? Is it going to rain today?” Zac asked.

“I’m not sure little buddy, but it does look like it outside,” Vash replied as you started setting down the materials at the table everyone gathered at.

“I hope it doesn’t, I want to play at the sandbox today,” Eri mentioned.

“We’ll see everyone, let’s just hope it doesn’t,” you mentioned.

You were only 20 minutes in before you all heard the sound of pitter patter. Everyone looked at the windows to see droplets of water covering the view.

“Look! It’s raining!” Mona pointed out as Eri groaned.

“So much for playing outside,” Marlo sighed.

“Hey don’t worry everyone, we can still have fun inside. We’ll just have to play outside another day,” Vash commented. You on the other hand cursed internally as you practically didn’t bring a rain coat, sweater, or umbrella for this weather.

“Okay everyone, continue coloring. We have another 25 minutes before we move on to our next thing planned okay?” you reminded them as the kids continued working. Over time, the rain was stagnant as the kids continued their morning activities and lessons. By the time it was lunch time, you figured the rain would let up soon. You were setting up the table for lunch until Vash came towards you.

“I’m going to help bring out the meals. Anything you want to drink?” he asked.

“Some lemonade if we still have any. Oh, and maybe some gummy bears for later?” you requested.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Vash said as he slightly nudged you while you thanked him. You and Liz agreed that it would be a good idea to watch some Sesame Street during lunch since some of the kids were still a bit anxious about the rain. You turned on the TV and found the channel for the kids show. Immediately, you could hear the kids get excited and point out their favorite characters. You then heard Liz and Vash come in with the lunches as the kids got excited to eat. Once they passed out their meals, you and Vash decided to grab your lunches and eat with the kids. Everyone was eating peacefully until you heard something grow louder. You checked outside once more and it was pouring. Now you really regretted waking up late as you went back to the kids. Before you could talk to Vash, you heard what might have been rumbling from outside. You froze in your tracks as you strained your ears for the sound.

‘Please don’t tell me there’s going to be thunder,’ you begged.

You didn’t hear the sound again and let out a small sigh of relief. You walked back to Vash, but before you could say anything-

*BOOM* *CRACK*

Everyone heard the noise as the lights flickered. Some of the kids were startled as you and Vash started to panic with the kids.

“Calm down everyone, we still have light,” Vash tried to reassure them. Then a flash of light appeared through the windows, with another low rumbling. The power went out as the kids started screaming.

“Oh no,” you panicked as you tried to get your eyes to adjust to the light.

“Y/n? Is that you?” Vash asked as you felt his hand brush on your arm.

“I’m right here Vash,” you answered as you reached for his shoulder and gave him a light squeeze.

“We gotta calm the kids,” you added as Vash agreed. Then Liz came out with a light candle in her hands.

“Okay, power is out. But luckily we have some extra candles. I’ll bring more out if everyone behaves,” Liz announced as she handed both you some candles. You could finally see the kids as they had fear, panic, and tears in some of their faces.

“Kids, we’re safe. I promise nothing will harm you if we’re here. Come on follow me to the play area. We’re going to do story time,” you mentioned. Vash started gathering the kids and calming them down while you did the same. You placed your candle on a nearby table so there was enough light to see the room. Liz came out with more candle and started placing them in different parts of the area where the kids wouldn’t reach them. Once you and Vash got the kids to settle down in the play room, you and Vash sat down on the bean bags next to the book shelf.

“Okay everyone, we’re actually going to do story time with this weather. Ginger, it’s your turn to pick the story,” you called out. The little girl looked at her selection as you flashed a light in her direction so she can choose.

“I pick this one since it has Pooh bear!” she said excitedly as pointed at the book. You grabbed the book and opened the first page .

“Okay, everyone get comfy,” you started as Vash got up ready to act out some scenes. You started reading in your storytelling voice as you adjusted your pitch to match the character’s voices to the best of your ability. Meanwhile, Vash would jump up and down for Tiger, pretend to eat honey like Pooh, and so forth. Thankfully, reading a story helped calm the kids despite the unprecedented weather. Thankfully, the thunder quieted down and all everyone could hear was the ongoing rain droplets. Once you finished the story, you could see the kids yawning or have their eyes slowly getting heavy.

“Alright everyone, let’s get ready for nap time,” you said in a soft voice as you put the book away. Vash was getting the yoga mats set up for everyone while you got the blankets and pillows ready. Each kid was getting comfortable, and by the time their heads landed on the pillows, they instantly drifted off.

“Good work,” you told Vash as you raised you hand motioning for a high five. Vash’s hand met yours slightly, but not loud enough to wake the kids.

“You too, I’m going to get their snacks ready along with your gummy bears. Let me know if you need anything,” Vash winked at you as he walked into the other room. You were about to sit down until you felt someone tug on your apron.

“Y/n?”

You turned to see that Suki was still awake.

“Suki, what’s the matter?” you whispered after kneeling down to meet her eye level.

“I can’t sleep. I’m still nervous about the thunder. Can you sing me to sleep?” she asked with her puppy face. You sighed as you couldn’t say no to her cute little face.

“Okay, just this one time,” you agreed as you walked her back to her napping corner. You sat down in front of her and cleared your throat.

“This is one of my favorite songs to sing whenever it rains like this,” you told her before you started humming the melody.

“1 a.m, eyes closed, I’m slowly falling

To the music and the atmosphere,

Now and then, I feel lights fading softly

All over me and I remember last year

When I was alone in my bed

With all these thoughts in my head

And living silently inside

It’s so late in the night

My mind is drifting away~”

You then hummed the melody as you saw Suki’s growing heavy and stretching her arms. You continued until her eyes closed and her breathing slowed down. You then got up looking around to make sure none of the staff was around. You would have died from embarrassment if anyone heard you. Few minutes later, Vash came out from the other room and took a seat next to you.

“Your gummies as promised,” he said as he handed you the bag of sweets in your hand.

“Thanks Vash,” you told him as you quietly started eating the little gummies.

“How’s everything so far?” he asked.

“Everyone is sleeping like a baby, thankfully,” you told him as you gave him a small smile. You noticed the candle light highlighted some of his features. His orange glasses tinted his blue eyes that you’ve come to grow fond of. His messy hair always seemed to fall in place, and you couldn’t help but appreciate his little beauty mark.

“Is something on my face?” Vash asked as he pointed his finger at himself while you turned pink realizing what you did.

“Oh it’s nothing, my eyes are still adjusting to the light is all,” you mentioned trying to think of a good save.

“Hopefully the power comes back once the kids wake up,” Vash added as he looked up.

“Yeah, I can’t really think of anything else to do for the next two hours inside with no power. Too bad we can’t play any music or movies with this outage. It’s perfect for this kind of weather,” you commented.

“Tell me about it. If I had brought my Bluetooth speakers we could have listened to some music,” he continued.

*Click!*

The power came back on as you and Vash covered your eyes from the brightness. You got up to turn the light switch off as the kids were still napping. Liz came out from the other room and approached you both.

“Good news! Power is back on! Let’s see if we can show the kids a movie and call it a day? I can make some popcorn before the kids wake up. Sound good?” Liz asked as you figured you might as well. After 30 minutes, you decided to wake the kids up and they were happy to find the power back on. You all decided to put on Curious George for the movie as it won the majority vote. Everyone was thrilled to eat some popcorn as the rain was starting to calm down. Eventually, it was time for the kids to be picked up. Parents came rushing in with raincoats and umbrellas as everyone tried to stay dry. Once the last kid was picked up, it was now time for you to figure out how you were going to get past the rain.

You had gathered all your belongings and put away your apron. You looked at the front door to see the downpour of rain. You practically waited all day, and couldn’t believe the rain hasn’t stopped yet. Vash then came up to you and looked at where you were staring.

“Hm, still hasn’t let down huh?” he asked as you sighed.

“Unfortunately, no. Just my luck,” you muttered the last part. You didn’t know what to do at this point since waiting wouldn’t help.

Before you could think of anything else, you felt something land on the top of your head. As soon as you saw the red color, you knew it had to be Vash’s sweater. You looked at him in confusion as he flashed you a smile.

“Are you ready to run?” he asked.

“RUN???” you questioned. Vash then grabbed your hand and you both ran through the drizzling rain. You yelped at the sudden movement while Vash was chanting, “Go! Go! Go!” Despite being startled, you couldn’t help but laugh at him as his cheering. You then saw his car as Vash grabbed his car keys with his free hand to unlock the doors. You immediately got in as you and Vash were practically wet from outside.

“Made it!” Vash cheered as he wiped his glasses with a cloth he kept in the glove compartment.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” you managed to say while still laughing.

“Come on, it was fun! Now we’re in here and out of the rain,” he pointed out as he smiled a toothy grin.

“Yeah, let’s just hope we don’t catch a cold. The last thing I want for either of us is to get sick,” you pointed out as you felt your clothes cling to your skin from the rain despite having the sweater for coverage.

“Okay, we can head to my place and dry off. It’s a lot closer to here,” he said as he put his arm behind your seat and put his car in reverse. Vash drove you to his apartment as you ran inside for cover. He went to the bathroom to grab some towels for you as you waited in the living room. Vash came out with two large towels for you as he headed back into his room to change. You started drying off your hair and face as much as possible before drying off the rest of yourself. You then heard Vash coming out from his room and walk towards you with clothes in his hand.

“I know it’s not much, but I have some extra clothes you can change into. I just don’t want you to stay soaked when you can dry off in these,” Vash insisted as he handed you his clothes.

“Oh Vash, thank you. I promise I’ll return these to you,” you said as he led you to the bathroom to change. Once you changed, you noticed you were wearing a loose gray long sleeves top and black sweat pants that you rolled up to your ankles since he was practically a tall person. You managed to dry your hair and folded your wet clothes. You came out to see Vash waiting for you on the couch. The minute he looked at you, he couldn’t look away as his cheeks were dusted with a pink blush.

“Do I look alright?” you asked.

“Yeah, no you look great! Glad those fit you. Those are the smallest sizes I own,” he answered as he went to go grab a bag to put your wet clothes in.

“I appreciate you doing this for me Vash,” you thanked him.

“Anytime, I don’t want to send you home soaking wet you know?” he replied handing you your bag.

“You’re very thoughtful,” you complimented him as you took the bag. You then felt your phone vibrate from your pocket. You grabbed it to see that Cora was asking where you are.

“Oh, I better get back home. I promised one of my friends we’d have a movie night,” you explained.

“No worries, we can always hang out another time. Maybe this weekend?” Vash offered.

“Just let me know a day and time and I’m down,” you answered as he smiled.

Vash drove you back to your apartment as the rain finally turned to drizzle. You gave him a quick hug before going inside and asked him to message you when he got home safely. Once you went inside, you didn’t notice Cora was already waiting for you. The minute she saw you in those clothes, you did not hear the end of it.

“Y/n, is that?” she asked.

“It’s not what it looks like! We were soaking in the rain!” you explained.

“Hey! You could have cancelled if you wanted to spend time with him. I would understand,” she argued as she smirked and nudged you playfully.

“Stop! You know I don’t break plans,” you reasoned as she grinned.

After putting your clothes in the laundry and spending time with Cora, you were laying on your bed. You still wore his clothes and couldn’t help but think of him after today. You then felt your phone go off and saw that Vash was calling you at night.

“Hello? Vash? What’s up?” you asked.

“Hey Y/n, nothing much. I made it back home earlier, but wanted to see if you’re still awake,” he replied.

“I mean I am if you can’t already tell,” you joked as he laughed.

“Right, well I thought of something that might help you sleep,” he continued. The fact that he remembered you telling him that made you blush. You were thankful that he couldn’t see you right now.

“Well I’m listening,” you told him, as you still thought how he was the cause of you staying up late.

“There’s a song I want you to listen to. It’s called Space Song by Beach House. It’s one of the songs that helps me go to sleep,” Vash said. You pulled up your laptop and searched the song on your spotify. You found it and started playing it. The melody felt soothing as it started to build up. It had beautiful and other wordly tones to it as you looked at the ceiling. Even the singer’s voice was so soothing that you were starting to feel your eyes get heavy.

“Vash, thank you for sharing that song with me. It’s really beautiful,” you told him as you smiled into the conversation.

“I’m glad you like it, I hope it helps you the way it helped me,” he answered.

“It is, I can feel myself getting tired. Oh before I forget, listen to Dreamy Night by Lilypichu. That’s one of my favorite songs that helps me sleep. It’s my way of saying thanks,” you said as you tried to suppress a yawn.

“Okay, I’ll do that. Thanks for that. Goodnight Y/n,” Vash said.

“Goodnight Vash, sweet dreams,” you said as you hung up and felt yourself get carried away by the song.

Once the call ended, Vash looked up the song you recommended. Once he saw the lyrics, he put away his phone and was laying on his bed. The blonde started to smile and hum a certain melody he heard earlier today. Vash thought about you and how you sang earlier. He could still feel his heart racing in that moment and awestruck by you. Vash closed his eyes and fell asleep looking forward to seeing you again.

@marydragneell

#vash x reader #vash x y/n #vash x you #vash #vash the stampede #vash au #trigun #trigun stampede #trigun fic #miamochi writes

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sapphic-woes · 2 years

Note

no thoughts just vampire sevika draining me of my blood while i’m sitting on her lap

Since this is the second time I've been suggested vampire Sevika imma go for it...with hcs cuz I'm very tired these days :)

🦇 Vampire Sevika 🦇

In this au, Silco is a vampire drug lord that sells blood pills in high demand. They could have like major side effects or be addictive like shimmer, who knows.

The thing that's important is that they're drugs specifically for vampires and you don't know that when you begin working there.

The reason why you, a human, was hired by Silco is becuase you're great at money laundering. So good he's willing to bring you onto the team...with his right hand tasked to protect you.

Sevika isn't happy. She's already busy af and yet she has to take care of you? You're already weak amongst humans. To vampires, you're a mouse walking into a lion's den.

To you, Sevika seems ready to snap you in half at any second, however instead of you she eventually does that to someone else. Some goons are oddly interested in you to the point where it's terrifying, and when one of them tries to do something, Sevika is quick to put them in their place.

One second you're cornered and trying to escape the hands of some goon–and the next, they're gone.

You can hardly process the fight. There's not much of one anyway. With speed slightly greater than a human's, Sevika beats your assailant to a pulp before slamming them into the wall, with Sevika's arm pressed into their neck.

She nearly kills them with how long she keeps her arm there, growling out a reminder that you're Silco's before letting them go. She looks back at you, and you swear....you swear her eyes are golden before she blinks, and suddenly the cloudy grays are back to glower down at you again.

After that she prowls. You don't know how to describe it with another word. She walks behind you like she's meant to hurt you. She's rough when she pulls you away from other curious vampires, hands always dancing over your throat as she stares them down. You know there's some meaning to it all, but for the life of you, you can't figure it out.

That is, until you see her drink the blood of some woman at the Last Drop.

You had been so tired. Usually, as Sevika's orders were, you scurried back home into your apartment, shut the doors with double locks and...sprayed the outline of the door with Sevika's cologne?

You still didn't understand that last part. She made you wear her cologne all the time. If you forgot, she wouldn't even greet you in the morning.

Rather, it would be a fistful of your blouse yanked toward her. She'd deeply inhale at your neck before letting out a tsk–and then, oddly enough, she'd pull out a bottle of her own and douse you in it.

Perhaps that was why when you walked into the Last Drop at the witching hour, only to witness a usually homely bar sullied with the stench of blood, the scent of her own cologne over it all made Sevika's eyes snap to you so quickly.

"Don't come out after midnight. People are out there that you don't ever see otherwise. They walk around looking to make sure people like you never get to see the light of day again."

For once, you understood what she'd meant.

They'd reached for you, people with glowing eyes and sharp fangs, and you nearly screamed. However, before you could even let out a sound Sevika gathered you in her arms.

"The fuck are you dogs doing? Can't you tell she's mine?" Sevika's voice was a frightening snarl. She lifted you up with ease, carrying you bridal style in her arms. Her hand shifted on the back of your head, guiding your face until it nestled into her chest.

"She's here for me." The vampires in the bar laughed, and one spoke up.

"I knew you were too obsessed with her to think it was just a job." Another agreed.

"The way you've been looking at her these past days, I was worried you'd lose it and suck the poor thing dry. Almost told Silco his new ace human was gonna end up an empty blood bag soon." That earned laughter from the entire bar, and Sevika scoffed, arms tightening around you as she walked toward the door.

"Funny. If you weren't already drunk off your asses I'd beat the shit outta all of you right now–" Though you couldn't see anything, suddenly you heard footsteps and felt Sevika come to an abrupt stop, hearing a voice right in front of you both.

"Hey, she just got here! Stay, live a little. No one's gonna try and touch a human you've claimed anyway." The way they talked, as if they weren't humans themselves, made you shudder.

But they aren't. They never were. The thought had you heart hammering away, and the thick arms around you pressed you closer.

"Clearly, she's not used to the night life yet. Sweet girl missed me so bad she dared to venture out..." You squeaked when fangs nipped at your ears, Sevika's breath like ice against your skin. "and at this rate, her heart might give out. Humans can do that you know. Die of fright. So unless you want to explain to Silco why you let that happen..."

"O-okay! Fine! Fucking hell you're still as possesive as ever, I know you just don't want to have anyone else to try her blood." Sevika snorted, and you felt the body you clung to move as she strode out the door.

"Of course I don't. Why would I ever share what's mine?"

She was pissed, to say the least.

Sevika would have thrown you onto the bed if she thought she wouldn't accidentally kill you. (She thinks humans are quite brittle.)

Instead she merely dropped you onto it, watching you scramble back with dark amusement.

She doesn't say much, just lights her cigar. She watches you as she takes a drag a few times, eyebrows furrowed. It's uncanny silence for what feels like eternity until she speaks.

"Now, everyone knows that you know, and the only way everyone's gonna leave you alone is if they think you belong to me. Do you understand?" You quickly nodded, shrinking back when Sevika came forward. She towers over you and looks you head to toe. The tantalizing gaze makes you tremble, and that makes her lips curl around her cigar. Another drag, another puff of smoke. The heavy scent of jasmine spice lingers.

She bites you before you can even blink.

There's no ceremony. Not slow easing into it. One second Sevika is standing, and the next her teeth are buried into your throat, and her hands are holding your arms down to keep you from squirming, and she's taking deep, draining gulps that feel like fire at your throat. You can't breathe, you can't think, you just want to cry and moan and scream at the same time. The pain is as ruthless as it is sweet, and it consumes you.

Sevika pulls away after having more than enough of her fill, well aware you'll be faint for days. She thinks it worth it with the sight of your teary eyes and bloody neck, the clear outline of her bite visible for any vampire to see. She's frazzled herself, eyes gleaming gold as she huffs down at you.

"You don't taste too bad...for an accountant."

#sevika x reader #sevika x you #arcane sevika #sevika headcanon #arcane x reader #arcane headcanon #vampire au #happy halloween #thank u for the ask♥️#bibi answers

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gierosajie-art · 7 months

Text

Whumptober Prompt List | No. 3: “Like crying out in empty rooms; with no-one there except the moon.” | “Make it stop.”

[Gathering of Cloudy Days AU]

Again, he dies dreams.

He doesn't know how many many many times long he has been here in this empty place. Please let this be the last time.

Floating amidst the space between time, between existence, he lies there, letting go of the unending stream. It would be for the best. Tired from a constant repeating dance under a cacophony of possible sounds, the peace is nice, welcomed even.

Of course, all things will not end. Not you, not me. Please just let it end for the love of everything you've remade and destroyed you absolute-

She shatters the world again and pulls him out from the sea.

#whumptober2023 #no.3 #'make it stop'#genshin impact #fanart #character death #gathering of cloudy days au #genshin impact au #the art drawer

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raplinesmoon · 10 months

Text

Après Moi, Le Deluge (JHS x F!Reader) - Teaser

pairing: Hoseok x reader genres/au/rating: angst, smut, some fluff, mafia au, sort of arranged marriage au, exes au, 18+ summary: It was one night. One night where Hoseok sought refuge from the storm outside, from the life he led, from the past that haunted him. And where else does fate lead him but back into your arms?

warnings (to be updated with full fic): the mafia, mentions minor character death, mentions of weapons, cursing

word count: 592 for the teaser

a/n: what happens when you miss Hoseok? This. This is what happens. This fic is set in the same universe as Doom Boy, my Namjoon mafia fic! You don't necessarily have to read Doom Boy to read this, but it may help some of the moments mentioned here make sense! The title is a reference to a famous saying by King Louis XV of France, or if you're me, season 1 episode 11 of The Originals. I can't wait to finish the full fic (hopefully sometime soon)!

But there was more to this than a business, and Namjoon knew that well enough. Someone had to be around to air out the dirty laundry, to clean up the streets. And who better for the job than Hoseok?

He was used to it anyway, more comfortable around knives and guns than he’d ever been around people that weren’t Namjoon, Yoongi, or Seokjin. It was partly the reason he’d been sent out tonight, to monitor the slimy activities that took place under the cover of night.

But it wouldn’t last for long. Hoseok knew the men would be on his tail all night, and as much as he wanted to call for backup, he didn’t feel like bothering Namjoon or Yoongi, or either of their families, at this time of night. He wouldn’t have had a problem bothering Seokjin, but that fucker had run the moment he’d shot up Namjoon’s father.

Still, he decides it’s better to take cover. He spots the sleeping security guard from outside one of the buildings, and slips in, shaking the raindrops from his hair. Making his way to the elevators at the end of the lobby, his mind runs with plans of how he’d clean up the mess with the Choi men in a way that Namjoon would approve of.

Which is why he misses the other person entering the elevator at the same time as him, instead collapsing against the railing and letting out a loud sigh, rubbing at his eyes.

“H-Hoseok?” the voice that calls out to him is quiet, barely above a whisper. But its familiarity sends a chill down Hoseok’s spine. It’s a voice he thought he’d never hear again.

His eyes open slowly, and he sees his shocked reflection mirrored in the ones directly across of him, eyes that he’d never been able to forget. The way they look at him now is the same way they’d been the last time he saw you, on a similarly cloudy day.

The eyes of his former fiancée.

a/n pt. 2: Please visualize this Hoseok with the undercut ;) As always, any comments or feedback are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi <3

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aristocratic-otter · 1 year

Text

It's been a productive day, so I definitely have stuff to share! Thank yous and tags under the cut. On to the snips!

From: Westward Son:

Last night, leaving seemed the only possible solution. But the farther I get from the wagons…from my friends…from Baz, the more doubts begin to crowd my mind. And these doubts speak in the voices of the people I love.

Penny: Simon, why didn’t you check in with us before you did something drastic?

Shepard: Simon, you know we all care about you. Don’t you think it would hurt us to lose you?

Baz: Snow, how could you leave me?

From: my COBB, Threads of Fate:

I lay there, fighting to push back the nausea for a minute or so. It’s only once my ears stop ringing and my muscles stop twitching that I’m able to notice my surroundings again. Penny’s just now sitting up and shaking her head next to me. The surface under me is soft and gritty, and when I lift a handful of the sediment to my face, it’s clearly sand. I look out towards the west and see the endless blue just as Penny says: “Merlin’s balls, Simon, you took us to the ocean!”

From: Saving Simon Snow:

“Not only is my father quite unhappy with my queerness, he’s probably furious that he has to give up punishing you in order to save me.”

I think about that. It makes sense. I’m sorry that Baz’s relationship with his father was harmed by his bond to me, but I can’t exactly be sorry that the old homophobe was forced to accept Baz’s situation.

“That and he probably doesn’t want to have to think about us having gay sex in his house,” I say wryly.

That startles a laugh out of Baz.

From: To Heal a Broken Mind:

I’m kissing Simon Snow. And he’s kissing me back. How did I get so lucky? His mouth is hot against mine. He’s breathing raggedly, in those brief moments between kisses. I think if he didn’t actually have to breathe in order to live, he’d never let me go. Even as it is, he holds my face close each time he pulls away and gasps his hot breath over my lips.

and from Raising Dragons:

The egg shell breaks into two halves, and, flailing between the two, a tiny pinkish red infant lets out its first thready wail.

Tears are running down my face. I gather the baby into my arms and whisper, “hello, my darling. I’m your papa and I’m so happy to meet you.”

The child slowly quiets and stops squirming in my arms. I examine it once it’s lying still enough for me to do so. Cloudy pale blue eyes gaze mistily up at me from a reddish, wrinkled face.

I'm just going to tease the fact that Fristi and I were talking tonight (or I guess yesterday) (Shush, I'm pretending it's still Sunday) about a potential sequel to Raising dragons; a series of vignettes about the Snow-Pitch offspring at Watford.

Thank you to the lovely and talented @artsyunderstudy, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @j-nipper-95, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @facewithoutheart, @chen-chen-chen-again-chen and @whatevertheweather for tagging me this week.

And tagging, for next week (or just waving hello) to all of the above plus: @frjsti, @yellobb-old, @bazzybelle, @bookish-bogwitch, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @dragoneggos, @fatalfangirl, @hushed-chorus, @ic3-que3n, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @ileadacharmedlife, @ionlydrinkhotwater, @johnwgrey, @jbrrring, @jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists, @krisrix, @larkral, @letraspal, @moments-au-crayon22, @moodandmist, @nightimedreamersghost, @nausikaaa, @onepintobean, @prettylightsbigcity, @raenestee, @theearlgreymage, @tea-brigade, @twinkle-twinkle-up-above, @upuntil6am, @urban-sith, @whogaveyoupermission, @yeonjunenby

#cotta 2021 #cobb 2023 #Dragon babies #Canon divergence #forced marriage #House AU #six sentence sunday #co/ws/awtwb

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threadsun · 8 months

Note

Royalty AU? Be still my beating heart! I wont step on ur toes at all, but it sounds like so much fun! my brain's buzzing with ideas and it's totally okay if they're not canon/you have other ideas in mind! :3c

I mean having royals from all across the continent court you individually is one thing, but having to have a harem? Having them all gathered in one place at the same time, is probably no small event,

so maybe the MC's Kingdom plans a festival for all the visiting dignitaries, knights, noble entourages, diplomats, merchants and pretty anyone who could afford the trip really.

When the common folk arent taking delight in the various stalls selling food and wares from places they've never visited, they're gossiping about every Nobleman whose entourage is announced.

Jack is a well-known and well liked prince from a wealthy and sparkling kingdom to the south. when he steps out of his carriage and greets everyone with a bright smile and a friendly wave, it's easy to see why!

of course no one knows why such a rich and prosperous nation filled with kind and generous people with such a small standing army has never been plundered...or invaded...

Nor how he was able to expand his Kingdom so quickly with no issue. But any drunken regular in a tavern who whispers about how ruthless and manipulative he is behind closed doors, or utters a peep about his secret network of spies and assassins ends up going missing the next day.

It's confusing at first, but there's always a "friend of a friend" who is happy to clear the air and tell those curious that they decided to...relocate indefinitely. Ah well, people don't go to a tavern to worry, they come to forget their troubles, and once their seat is filled with a charming bard from Cloudy Town Kingdom, they forget who the old drunk was in the first place.

Though it's quite odd that with his personality, wealth, and reputation that Jack hasn't already married yet. If anything, he's rejected several offers. But he agreed to the harem arrangement rather quickly. No one really knows his motives, but with a smile like that how could they be bad? Rumors always target those who are kind and powerful, it Has to be jealousy.

Ian would probably be a noble from a neighboring province. They don't have much to write home about, resource wise, they share similar climates tho perhaps Ian's homeland is closer to the sea, so they have a pretty decent seafaring industry there. Oil, salt, fish, sailors, ships.

It wouldn't be a bad investment to have an arranged marriage, so ever since he was little, he's traveled back and forth between the two kingdoms. MC and Ian practically grew up together, and neither of their parents would've protested an arranged marriage. When Ian misheard the news he was elated! he could move to MC's Kingdom since theirs was a little more prosperous than his, (leave his witch of a mother), and they could be happy together forever.

But that was before MC's Kingdom caught the eye of some Nobles from wealthier provinces that had more to offer. Maybe Jeans Kingdom sat between the Sea and the mountains. Along with all of the resources he could match with Ian's, he could also hold a firm grasp on wood and jewels from the vast forests and mining regions. It's a better arrangement, and Ian grows desperate.

He quickly moves to arrange a marriage with another small province that's slightly more powerful, that, with their pooled resources would be a slightly better arrangement. MC is heartbroken that their childhood friend who claimed to love them, eagerly left to marry someone else just for their resources.

They didn't realize Ian never meant to hurt them. Nor that the Noble's sudden death was anything but an accident. It is greatly fortunate that Ian is a newly widowed bachelor with a larger province to his name. And once he agrees to this harem arrangement MC will have to forgive him, eventually right? They've known each other for so long, he can't live without them! He won't...live..without them. And he'll do whatever it takes to get them back, even if he has to remove the competition.

I realize this is getting super long lol but here's a sample of my thoughts ig~

I was also gonna make Shaun a noble from a neighboring kingdom to the North, that was colder and had more Transylvanian vibes? yknow for the vampire aesthetic, and he met MC when Ian and them were a little older, but nonetheless was friends with them for years and wants to join the harem to both protect them from sleazy manipulators. I wanted to transfer Shaun's horror expertise as a way to handle Jack in the game, (despite in the new trailer it being shown that he doesn't know what Jack is nor it being certain he CAN beat Jack) to Knowledge he can use to protect himself and MC against any plans Jack has in store, so I settled with like, Jack once sent a proxy army to try to invade his land once upon a time, but Shaun's knowledge of his home terrain, as well as strategy gained from knowledge shared after Nick's kingdom got invaded by a "mysterious army with no Kingdom ties"... presents a decent challenge for this "mysterious mastermind" that sets Shaun on edge.

and because Shaun genuinely enjoys being with MC without knowing just how dangerous these other harem members are, though he suspects it's definitely one of them, and that they're planning on taking MC's kingdom out from under them. Though...maybe Shaun isnt thinking big enough in that respect. Not that he'd know-

Rory would be the MC's Kingdom's cook, that "just so happened" to emigrate from cloudy town to be a royal chef. He traveled the world learning a variety of cuisine, and MC's staff often wonders why he wouldn't bring all his technical knowledge back home to cloudy town where he's sure to be appreciated. But he dismisses the ideas outright. He says he's found a second home here, he has soo much to learn from their local cuisine and it just felt right. They don't need to know that Cloudy Town demands perfection from its citizens, that only the highest grade artisans are born and trained there, and because of this, any dish in MCs kingdom or...anything really, pales in comparison. But he was stationed there for a reason. It is not his place to question things, though this new harem arrangement does raise curiosity in him.

but my brain also ran out of juice for Nick and Jeans backstory/motivation and I didnt wanna ramble if this isn't the direction you guys wanted to take

(> u < ) but yes! 10 brain zoomies out of 10 for this idea u guys had, thank u for sharing it! 💕

🖤 anon

Ngl there's no set canon yet cause I'm still trying to figure it out. Once I've got a solid tag for it, I'll probably solidify the lore for both this AU and the pirate one >:3c but in the meantime I'm always welcoming suggestions!

#sunshine #asks #18+ only #🖤 anon

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 8 months

Text

This Dark Thing That Sleeps In Me - a Magnus Archives AU, Chapter Eleven

This is a DARK AU; it is not a kid-fic, though Jon is young. Bittersweet ending ahead.

Spoilers for the whole show, though this is very much an alternate universe.

There was no good choice to make. There was only the right one.

AO3

Incredible fanart by @iiiumihottie!

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He woke, and knew today had to be the day for one simple reason. He couldn’t put this off. If he waited, if he came to love these people more than he already had, he wouldn’t be able to go through with it. Sacrificing good people to save the rest was not… something he wanted to do. Yet it was something he had to do, wasn’t it? He did. This went beyond mere choice.

He was certain Annabelle had been right. No one else could do what he needed to do; and if only two out of three were being reborn right now, there was a strong chance he couldn’t come back and fix it later.

The genius of making Martin immortal now came clear. Even if Jon had, for some reason, chosen to wait until Tim and Sasha naturally died, letting them live what life they had, it wouldn’t happen with Martin. There was no way to do this without sacrificing Martin. Jonah, somehow, had planned for Jon to come. “He’s horrible,” Jon whispered.

Annabelle Two emphatically nodded.

Speaking of, Martin knocked on the door.

Jon was still sleep-mussed. “Come in.”

Martin peeked. “Hey.” And he did not laugh at the overlarge nightgown Jon wore, and Jon was grateful for that. “The funeral is today. It got moved up. We’re going to have to go.”

“Of course.” Jon rose, feeling a million years old, and looked at him. Really looked.

Martin looked young. He looked fine. But he wasn’t, was he? How many friends had he already said goodbye to? And all so Jonah would have this chain, wrapped around Jon’s heart.

It hurt. All of this hurt.

Deep down, his quiet, past self raged.

It was back up to the outfit place, and this time, all black. Everyone was wearing black; there were plenty of people there, finding things, some just grabbing any old clothes off a rack, others choosing carefully. Martin said nothing. He was already in black; he waited while Jon browsed, waited with a distant look.

People talked about sacrificing to the pyre , whatever that meant.

Mike showed up, followed by Tim and Sasha, and all four of them hugged. Jon didn’t interrupt. This was a precious thing, a beautiful thing. All three of them fussed over Martin, adjusting his jacket, standing very close. Letting Martin adjust their clothes, too.

They’d all die. They were all going to die.

Jon was not okay.

Eventually, a bell rang, deep, like a gong, and they all filed out. Jon obediently trotted with them. They were going to the top of the tower, the very, very top, and it meant so many stairs.

The weather was cold today, and rainy. Cloudy. No one seemed to care; the entirety of the tower’s occupants seemed to be here, all together, and he was amazed at how big it was. From the ground, the tower-top had seemed like a needle. Actually up here, it was huge, and oval-shaped. There was enough space for everyone atop this place.

“Be careful,” Martin said to him.

On a whim, Jon hugged him.

Martin froze. “Hey… it’s okay, kid,” he said.

It was not okay. “I’m sorry you lost your friend. Annabelle Two is sorry, too.”

The spider under his ear moved, gesturing or something.

Martin stared. Went dead pale. “Annabelle?” he whispered.

“Annabelle Two,” Jon corrected.

“Whoa, hey!” said Mike, and caught Martin as he staggered backward, nearly falling over. “Tim! Seat.”

Tim rushed over with a chair, and Sasha joined them. Martin stared at Jon. No—at Jon’s ear. Then he turned and pressed his face to Sasha, holding her tight, and crying again. Maybe he thought Annabelle had been reborn as a spider. Maybe he just missed her. Jon didn't know.

They gathered around him. No one was watching. It was a perfect moment. He could slip downstairs. He could—

Not yet, came his past self. Be seen, first. Jon wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, so he just wandered slowly across the roof, being seen.

People startled. Some of them peered, very close and confused, but he just nodded at them, trying to seem as grown-up as he could. He was pretty sure he had one stop he had to make, One place he had to be seen: near Anabelle’s coffin, where Jonah was.

Jonah stood at the peak of this oval-shaped tower-top, in glorious blacks with a fur ruff and purple tips, with gleaming rings on his fingers and more silver around his neck and on his head. An enormous fire burned next to him, crackling, the most colorful thing in view. Jonah stood there with all the bored calm in the world, as if he hadn’t been the one to kill her. Stood there, looking at everybody, with something harsh in his glittering eyes as if he was seeking for more betrayal.

Or whatever he considered betrayal.

And he had no right to be that way when he was the one who’d betrayed.

(How did Jon know that? What did that even mean?)

Jon swallowed and stepped into view.

Jonah raised his eyebrows. “There you are, Jon.”

“Hello, sir,” said Jon. “I’m afraid of you, but you said not to look away, so… so I’m here.”

And that, clearly, was the right thing to say. Jonah’s eyes lidded. “Well, now—unexpected wisdom from one so young.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Jonah sighed. “She has put me in quite a bind, Jon. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her.”

“Sir?”

“With anyone else, I would her foolishness as simply being wrong. As judging the situation poorly, betting on the wrong horse. But with Annabelle... she was never wrong. So. Why did she even choose to talk to you, and tell you about supply issues that don’t exist, when surely she must have known how it would end?”

Be careful, whispered everything in Jon’s gut. “Sir, if I knew that, I’d be a lot happier,” said Jon fervently and truthfully. “I don’t like questions with no answer.” Because he didn’t know why it had to be him. Why he’d made some crown and given it away. Why someone else who’d died before it all started couldn’t be the one.

Jonah looked fascinated. “We share that trait. Perhaps we shall discover the answers together, Jon. What do you make of that?”

And Jon said, “As long as you don’t blow up my head, sir, you can do whatever you want.”

Jonah laughed. It was a terrible sound in the middle of communal grief, and many conversations stopped as people stared his way. Jon hunched.

Jonah smiled. “I need to know, Jon. I need to know why you’re here. You’re very lucky.”

“I am?”

“Yes. I will hardly kill you as long as I don’t know.” He reached and squeezed Jon’s shoulder, then loosened again. “If you are very good, I will even tell you what I learn.”

Jon swallowed. “Answers?”

“To anything you ask. Anything at all.”

Such a promise. Jon knew he’d do it, too; there was a voyeuristic quality to it, feeding Jon answers, feeding that hunger they shared.

If Jon just did that, just let Jonah do that, no one would have to die. No, he then told himself. That’s a child’s reasoning. He knew it wasn’t true.

Jonah smiled. “I have answers to almost everything—very nearly—and most certainly anything a fourteen-year-old can conjure up.” His look was fond. Indulgent.

Jon swallowed again. He seemed to be producing a lot of saliva, as if hungry. “I’d like answers,” he whispered.

“Imagine that,” said Jonah. “And I never grow tired of questions. Never. I think we can make good use of the next few years, hm?”

Jon knew he meant it. And he also knew it was a bribe. As if Jonah knew, somehow, that giving Jon a book would shut him up.

To keep you from acting.

Jon swallowed again. “Yes, please.” He kept his breathing slow. He’d learned, long ago when dealing with Amherst and Prentiss and Carnegie, that the appearance of submission was often enough to persuade.

“I feel your hunger,” said Jonah, patting his shoulder, and finally turned away. “I will see to it you are satisfied.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Jon, and somehow made himself stand still while Jonah began talking to other people.

One by one, people came up to them, said some words over Annabelle’s coffin, and tossed something into the enormous fire. It became a whole thing. Everyone required an individual response from Jonah; everyone required a minute at the coffin. Everyone required a moment at the flame.

No one was looking at Jon anymore.

Jon did not want Martin to die. He did not want Sasha to fall, limp and eye-dulled, dead. He did not want to consider Mike sad at one of these funerals, maybe making it rain. He did not want to think about Tim dying like Carnegie, alone in a chair when he turned thirty.

There was no good choice to make. There was only the right one.

He would do it. This had to end. Carefully, he wandered away. No one looked at him. Not even Jonah watched him go. Jon checked carefully, but no one saw as he slipped away down the stairs.

He knew he had little time. Establishing his presence upstairs had taken much of what he had, but it had been necessary. He was sure. He hurried to the floor below the roof—the one he knew was Jonah’s—and pulled his special key from his collar.

It made sense that it had been sent to him now. It all made sense. Jonah’s door unlocked, and Jon hurried inside.

Annabelle Two immediately took point. She crawled down his arm, waved to get his attention, and gestured.

He followed her instructions; followed where she directed. Past enormous and empty living rooms. Past ridiculously appointed bedrooms, with beds like pools. Past the enormous dining space, with one lone place-setting at the head of an gigantic table. Into a library, and here, he faltered. He could just… grab a book. Stuff it in his jacket. No one would know—

Annabelle Two hissed.

He jumped.

She made the no motion.

Jon sighed. “Really?”

She gestured.

With regret, Jon hurried on.

Finally, she brought him to a strange hall. It lacked clothes and furniture. Instead, it was some sort of showcase. Wallpapered in yellow, it had plinths topped with glass cloches, and under each one, something spun—something glowing with power, some object suspended in green, misty swirls and will.

A man was waiting for him here.

Jon froze. He’d never seen the man who stood here before in his life, but he knew. He knew who it was.

“Hello, Jon,” said Oliver, the Will of the End, who stood ensconced in dark smoke instead of clothes, whose eyes glowed a solid, dark red.

Jon stared.

The spider gestured.

“Yes,” said Oliver.

The spider gestured.

“No,” said Oliver.

“What?” said Jon.

Oliver sighed. He looked so weary , now that Jon had a moment to adjust to all the spookiness. The man looked like he hadn’t slept in a year.

“Are you okay?” said Jon.

Oliver’s face twitched. “So he’s kind.”

The spider gestured.

“That makes this harder,” said Oliver.

“I… I’m sorry, but if you’re not here to stop me, I have to hurry,” said Jon.

“You do, and I’m here to make sure you know how. Did she tell you how to break the crown?”

Jon gasped. “How did you… no, she didn’t.”

“Thanks a lot, Annabelle,” Oliver said drily.

Jon could swear the spider laughed at him.

“What… what do I have to do?” said Jon.

“Take the crown to the top of the tower and throw it off.”

Jon had a strangely clear, separated moment, like one of those memories from his life past. He could almost see it. Almost see that the crown was tied to him in some specific way—something about the way it had been handed over, about misplaced trust, about… about…

It was gone. He couldn’t hold onto it. But he could hold on to this: his whole life led to this moment, to the choice, which he had to make, and it would be terrible to do. For one moment, he was bitterly angry. Wound up, manipulated. Betrayed.

Then he was himself again, and afraid, and unsure he could. “Jonah will kill me,” he whispered.

“Maybe. Unfortunately, it’s the only way.”

It just didn’t seem fair. “If I do this, they’ll all die.”

Oliver sighed. “Yes. I’m sorry—but Jon, it’s only death. We’ll finally be free. Even I will be.”

“You want to die?”

The mist swirled, hiding more of him, but not hiding his face. “I’m tired, Jon. I know that probably makes no sense to you.”

“But… but Martin,” Jon whispered.

“Yes. Probably everyone in the tower.”

Jon shook. “Is it a sacrifice to the End?”

“No. It’s cutting the End off so we can be free.”

He felt sick. “This isn’t like a story.”

“No, it’s not. I’m sorry, Jon. I wish there were another way, but as it is, it’s taking everything everyone has to keep Jonah from just killing you already. The likelihood of him doing it will increase the older you get. This really is the only time you can help us. Save us all, Jonathan Sims. We need you. Please.”

Jon knew he was right. He knew—felt—that somehow, his past self had known about this, too. It was too much to understand. “Does Jonah know you want to be free?”

“Yes. He doesn’t care. He’s terrified of death, and if I die, so will he.”

“But he’s its Heart.”

“And he’s still terrified of it,” said Oliver, and stepped aside to gesture at one of the cloches.

There it was. The crown. Second from the last, on Jon’s right. Floating. Jon felt it like a gear in his chest. He ached, like it had been twisted right out of him, whole and unblemished. Ached, as if it was his heart, floating in that cloche.

“You’re not afraid to die,” said Oliver. “I can tell.”

“I’ve never been afraid to die,” said Jon.

“That’s how,” said Oliver. “That’s how you got through this without being Aligned. You’re not afraid of anything.”

“Sure I am. And I don’t want to hurt anyone,” said Jon. “Am I really saving the world?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t there another way?”

“Not that I know of. Jon, you’re almost out of time. Please hurry.”

It wasn’t fair. It was, in fact, horrible. But what choice was there? He believed Annabelle was right; the world would end if he didn’t do this. Everyone would die. Everyone. If he did do it, the world could continue; population could grow again (and he desperately hoped the resources would be there).

But if he did this, Martin would die, too.

No good ending. Only the right one.

He lifted the cloche—carefully—and took the crown.

It felt so good in his hand. Heavier than it looked, a thick gold band, inset with black stones, and warmer than he’d expected. It fit his grip as if made for it.

“Thank you, Jon,” said Oliver, the Will of the End, and he sounded so sincere.

Jon looked up.

Oliver’s eyes were shiny. “Thank you.”

It was a vulnerability Jon didn’t know how to handle, and he fled. He left, because to stay any longer was to invite disaster. He left, because he could almost understand Oliver’s tiredness, and the full impact of what Oliver had asked him to do. He left, and he tucked the crown into his shirt. It hid neatly beneath his vest, trapped against his thin waist. No one would see it there.

He made his way back up to the death party—back to Annabelle’s funeral—and realized that when Jonah killed him, he wouldn’t get the chance to read the book he’d gotten from Gertrude.

Well. Maybe he would learn things after he died. There was only one way to find out, after all.

chapter twelve

#rusty quill big bang #rusty quill big bang 2023 #rqbb2023 #tma #tma fic #the magnus archives #magpod #magnuspod #tma au #the magnus archives au #tma spoilers #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #sasha james #jonah magnus #annabelle cane #tim stoker #this dark thing that sleeps in me

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justatypicalwizard · 9 months

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Wants Within | S. Shinazugawa | Chapter 17

✦ Sanemi Shinazugawa x femReader!, college au, reader is adult

✦ Synopsis: You're a college student taking classes with a very strict lecturer- professor Shinazugawa. Because of an unfortunate event you got on his bad side so now you're trying everything to regain in his eyes. Well, you most certainely didn't expect that kind of attention.

✦ Word count: 2,4k

18+, minors do not interact

You were back at the university, the winter painfully present. It was cold and the days were short. Nevertheless, your humour was good. You had yet to write Shinazugawa back but your mind was at peace. Somehow the meeting with Tanjiro and his friends helped you gather your thoughts.

Picking up your phone you opened the empty text page and wrote.

Maybe we could meet.

Text sent.

Oh my god. What did you do? You just texted your professor that the two of you can meet. What if he thought it through and didn't want to go further with you. It took you so long to write back!

He read the message.

Now he was writing back.

What the heck.

Friday evening, my apartment?

Huh? He really did want to meet. So Friday evening it was.

Your week was kinda messy. You were absentminded often, not thinking about the reality. Your mind was cloudy with all the possible scenarios. You didn't know how to dress or whether to bring anything. Every idea that you had felt stupid. Buying some whine would be a disaster because you didn't have the financial resources to purchase something really nice and fancy. Guess Shinazugawa isn't the type to get drunk with cheap booze. Getting something for his apartment would be ridiculous.

You massage your temples as you thought hard. It's better to not take anything. In the end you can just tell the truth, that you had no idea what you could bring him.

Just as you were about to mentally drop the topic you felt someone's chest on your nose. Looking up you spotted a tall man with a blank expression.

''Oh, I'm so sorry.'' You said in an apologetic manner.

He didn't answer, just stared at you.

''Did something happen?'' You asked, not sure how to react to such a behaviour.

''No.''

Okay... is that all? Should you just walk past him and forget about everything?

''I'm sorry, I need to get to my lecture.'' You tried to circle the man and run away but someone stopped you.

''So good to see you.'' Another tall figure, this time familiar.

Professor Rengoku gave you a bright smile as he grabbed the other man by the shoulders.

''You haven't had the opportunity to meet Tomioka here, did you?'' He asked, bending down to your eye level. ''He came to the university not so long ago and needs someone to give him a tour.''

Oh no, please no.

''I have classes in a short...'' You wanted to get away.

''I'll talk with your lecturer and tell them that you're helping me, no need to worry.'' You were not able to defend yourself. ''Who do you have classes with now?''

''Professor Shinazugawa.'' You mumbled, not happy that you would miss his classes.

''I understand. Well, this sounds even better. Tomioka must meet with Shinazugawa later on so you two can take a tour and then proceed to his classes.'' Rengoku gave you a thumbs up and left.

What should you start on? This was so random and you were totally unprepared.

''I'm sorry, I'm just a little bit shook, but I will show you everything.'' You started, walking to the entrance of the building. ''So, what made you come to our university?''

''I'm doing my bachelor's here.'' He answered, looking to the side.

''Oh, so you're way more advanced than I am.'' You smiled guiding him from the beginning.

You showed him some places and briefly talked about these ones that you didn't walk through. For the biggest part he was silent, occasionally asking some questions but never interested in your person directly.

''And that's the room that Professor Shinazugawa's classes are in. We should probably come inside.'' You whispered as you pushed the door open.

Everyone was noting something down as he explained. The whitehaired gave you two a look and he was visibly shocked. You quickly skipped towards a chair in the front and Tomioka took a place next to you.

''I think you can talk to him after the classes end.'' You whispered towards the blackhaired.

He only nodded in response, locking his eyes on you for a moment.

The lecture ended shortly after your arrival and when everyone was packing their stuff you guided Tomioka towards Shinazugawa. After that you left, not listening to what they were talking about.

You found your way to the cafeteria and sat beside one of the tables waiting for Tanjiro and his group when someone tapped lightly on your shoulder. Looking up you spotted that it was Tomioka again.

''I have a question.'' he started not even greeting you.

''Yes?'' You turned your body to face him with a nice smile plastered on your face.

''We are in a similar major. I need someone to help with experiments. You could learn a lot of things. Do you want, Miss Y/N?''

You were kinda taken aback. Why would he jump with it so suddenly? Well, on the other side, having the opportunity to roam through the university laboratory that you would most likely access in a few years seemed exciting. Also, you could take a few ideas for your own university papers.

''Why not? I'm just not sure whether I'll be a good partner. I'm way lower than you.'' You blushed a bit, embarrassed by your own unawareness.

''Doesn't matter. We're here to learn. Can I have your phone number?''

You nodded, taking out your phone as the both of you keyed the numbers. You nodded to him and he left. That was weird but whatever.

Wait... how did he know your name?

The week came to an end and you found yourself in front of Shinazugawa's apartment. You decided to dress semi-casual, semi-professional, in order not to look too loose and too strict. Fondling with your fingers you waited for him to open the door.

When he finally showed up you were shook. He wore nice trousers with a white shirt and even his hair was kinda done, or at least he must have tried to tame it somehow. He let you past him and in.

''Did you meet anyone on your way here?'' The whitehaired asked.

''No, and I was cautious.'' You said, taking your shoes off.

''Extra cautious?'' he pried.

''Yes.'' You felt uneasy.

Something about him felt off. He seemed angry. Well, his humour was always kinda down but this time it looked like he had something on his mind. You didn't know whether it was a good idea to ask.

The two of you went into the kitchen that was connected to his living room. Oh, how many memories did that black, leather couch bring back. Your cheeks sprung red and the thought of that night. When you turned around you were speechless. Never did you anticipate something like that.

The small, wooden table that sat between the two house spheres was prepared for dinner. There were plates along with wine glasses, a fine liquor already there. You felt embarrassed because you had no idea what label it was. All you actually recognised was that it had a German name. The thing that struck your heart were the candles, long and white, sitting in between the tableware. Never had anyone done something like that for you.

SHINAZUGAWA, YOU ROMANTIC BITCH!

''You look like you're about to shit yourself.'' Okay, nevermind, take it back.

''Oh...'' You really didn't know what to say.

''Sit.'' He instructed you, tying an apron around his hips.

You did as told and watched him carefully. His movement seemed careless, like he was used to having such dinners everyday. Opening the oven he took out a delightfully smelling dish. When he put it down on the table you learned that it was a Lasagne.

''Guess everyone likes that dish.'' He spat out, not looking at you.

Redness rushed to your cheeks. Looking around the room you thought that every single thing must have been done by him. It was clean, he prepared all the plates, he lit the candles, he spent hours on cooking. You on the other side came here to... bang.

The white haired took off his apron, opened the whine, poured you a glass and started to cut the dish, motioning you to pass your plate. You just did everything mindlessly.

He sighed seeing your expression. Did he overdo it? Shit, you must think he's a freak now.

''You don't like it?'' He glanced at you, something dark lingering behind his eyes, his brows furrowed and fists clenched.

''No.'' You didn't even spot the signs of his anger. Poking the lasagne with the fork you looked down all the time. Shit, you were ruining the mood with your actions and he must have put so much of himself into all of this. Yet, that's what you were scared about the most. Never have you thought that he thinked about you in this kind of way. ''I'm just lost.'' You decided to tell the truth. ''I thought what you meant by meeting more was... you know. I'm shocked by all this. I never had someone treat me like that. I feel stupid because of what I was thinking.'' Your head sunk down like a ship on a dark, unknown sea.

He patted the table a few times with his fingers, calculating what you just said. He thought you didn't like it, when you just simply didn't like yourself, thinking about your own persona in such a low way.

''I know I may not look like it, but I have emotions.'' He locked his pale eyes on you, making you flinch. ''I could word it out better. I think of this as a date.''

Your head darted up. The way you looked at him, with the deep blush, not minding it, made something in his stomach move. It was nice to see someone who was not scared by him and his appearance.

Suddenly, you bursted out in laughter. Your palm snaked around the wine and you put up the glass.

''To better communication in the future so I don't look like a dumb shit.'' You giggled.

Shinazugawa felt like someone took a huge weight off of his shoulders. He stuck his glass with yours lightly. Not controlling it, he gave a very small smile. The corner of his lips just barely curved and it was all he needed to look like the most handsome man in the world in your eyes.

''But seriously, I had a totally different thought about this evening.'' You started while digging in the lasagne.

''What did you think?''

''I thought you just wanted a... hm, how to name it? A friend-with-benefits I guess.'' You shrugged.

''And how do you feel about it now?'' He asked, taking small bites out of the dish.

You spotted it and took a mental note not to push everything in your mouth like you just did.

''And what is it?'' You took him under, grinning a devilish smile.

''I've already told you, a date.'' He put his elbows on the table, leaning in and making his chest muscles stand out even more. He knew damn well what he was doing.

''Then we can date.'' You put it out simply. Then you realise how you worded it out. ''I mean, agh, you know what I mean.''

''We can get to know each other first, before it.'' Shinazugawa chuckled in a dark manner. ''But I don't exclude that thought.''

This took you off track and he saw it, the intense stare that you gave him.

''What? Stop thinking so little about yourself stupid.'' He crossed his arms on his chest. ''Actually you know what, speaking of better communication. Put it down in your head finally.'' Saying that he flickered your forehead painfully. ''I see you as a potential girlfriend.''

The flick hurt but his words sent an electric shock up and down your spine. You giggled.

''I'm... I'm just shocked. Normally I don't get this type of attention.'' You rubbed your cheek sheepishly.

Just then he remembered something, something that made him very angry. The man huffed and this time you spotted the clenched fist.

''What's the matter?'' You asked.

''As always, you're wrong.'' He scoffed.

''What do you mean?'' You really didn't know.

''About the attention.'' The white haired locked his eyes on you in an intense stare. ''Just today some fucker had the audacity to come to me and ask about you.''

''What!'' You laughed. ''No, I don't believe you. Things like that don't happen to me.'' Still giggling you looked at him, yet he still had the dark expression. ''Wait, are you serious?''

''Remember the dude you gave a tour to. The one with long, black hair and a shitty expression? He asked me about some shit and at the end wanted to have your name.'' Shinazugawa started to massage his temples. ''And I stupid gave it to him.''

So that's why Tomioka knew your name.

''Why did he ask?'' You still had a hard time believing.

''Move your brain a bit.''

So you moved and came up with an explanation.

''Oh! It's nothing you have to worry about.'' You waved your hands in front of your face. ''He only came to ask me to be his assistant for a few experiments.'' You gave Shinazugawa a thumbs up.

''And what did you say?'' His eyes became an ongoing solar eclipse, darkening every second.

''Uh, I said yes. Why miss out on such an opportunity?'' You said dumbfounded.

Shinazugawa just looked at you for a few seconds and you realised.

''Oh no, no, no, no!'' You chanted. ''How do I undo it?''

The white haired threw his head back and looked through the window at the pulsing city centre.

''You don't.'' He said in a low tone. ''You said it was an opportunity for you, and it is.'' he rested his chin on his palm, pushing away the empty plate. ''I can't take that away from you.''

His voice was somehow more quiet. Could he actually hurt?

You felt an impulse and did what your heart told you to. Placing your hand on his, you started.

''Sanemi, I will be Tomioka's partner, but I'll definitely turn him down if he'll try anything. Right now I have someone else to focus on.'' You gave him a genuine, sweet smile that melted his unspoken fears away.

The man looked at you in slight disbelief. Then he proceeded to move quickly.

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#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #demon slayer sanemi #kimetsu no yaiba sanemi #sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi x reader #sanemi x you #college #university #college student #shinazugawa x reader #demon slayer shinazugawa #shinazugawasanemi #sanemi x y/n #sanemi smut

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