EYES DON'T LIE ──── prince! touya × fem warrior! reader.
about. the crown prince can't tear his gaze away from the warrior girl. set in edo period, rural japan! au. written from age to age. a bittersweet romance. touya is written as touya ( before dabi existed ) includes his stimming in some parts, minor mentions alcohol and blood, death. wc of 5300+
notes. silly tsundere prince who has a thing for his strong independent warrior UEGJ I'M IN LOVE. if you didn't know i love rural japan stuff. perhaps courtesan!reader next??
𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓, there was a birthday celebration held for the crown prince tōya of the todoroki royal family. his turquoise gaze briefly rushed past the crowd in boredom, looking forward to the end of the day already. even as a young prince, he never found anything in the royal events intriguing.
his birthday was no different. as a child of eight years, he already felt like he knew the darkest secrets of the world, the ones that were locked away to the underworld for the reapers of hell to deal with.
prince tōya sat with his family, seated between his sister and brother, both younger than him. as his eyes roamed around, they came to a halt the moment they landed on eyes that sternly looked around. tōya ceased his chewing for a second, staring at the owner whom those stern gaze belonged to.
“fuyumi, natsu, can little girls become warriors?” the curious prince asked, tilting his head to the side, his gaze never leaving the little figure that stood by taller ones.
fuyumi followed her elder brother's gaze. she has just spoken to the girl that stood beside honourable warriors and soldiers. the princess could feel a smile surfacing at the sight of little eight year old you, mimicking your father and his comrades to serve as guards of the party.
“that is y/n! kuromiya y/n, she's the daughter of the general.”
“daughter of the general?” tōya repeated, his tone twisting into curiousity. he resumed his chewing before swallowing. “i didn't know general kuromiya had a daughter…”
the younger prince popped a bite of a monkfish, chewing it to taste the flavour before beaming with satisfaction. the fish was fresh and amazing. firm texture, a refined sweetness with a clean aftertaste.
“she follows her father around a lot, brother. you might get to see her more often.”
just as the crown prince pondered on his brother's words, you looked around, eyes and senses all together alert for any danger that might strike. then, your gaze traveled to the young crown prince, freezing upon his gaze which was locked on yours.
in your eight year old mind, it is rude to stare at people of nobility and royalty. so you quickly looked down at your feet, afraid that perhaps the crown prince might tell of your discourtesy to the king and queen. if that is the case, your eyes will certainly be gouged out the fingers of an executioner.
you shivered at that thought, feeling your father's arms resting on your shoulders as you looked up at the huge man.
“anxious, little warrior?” asked your father as he bent down to your eye level.
you shook your head, fingers grazing at the corner of your eye sockets. “my eyes are going to be plucked out, father. i stared at the crown prince for too long..”
your words made the general raise a brow before he chuckled, a roaring laughter emitting from the back of his throat as you simply stood there in confusion. the man tells you that you shouldn't worry about staring at the prince for way too long, because he noticed that the young todoroki also has his gaze on you the moment he sat down to eat.
you calmed down a little. just a little, though.
𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐄𝐍, you excel in kyūjutsu, the art of archery. supposedly, you are a natural in the field of long-range attacks, never a loyal servant to the close-ranged such as a blade.
crown prince tōya did not like the fact that there is a soul who dared to take his place as the most supreme in a field. he would occasionally grumble, roll his turquoise eyes, and repeatedly tap his feet on the ground whenever you overtake his arrows in a much more professional way.
he silently cursed you for having a father that is idealistically superb in the field of archery, since your father specializes in serving the king as his eye during battle. tōya simply couldn't stand the fact that a mere girl is better at something he should be good at.
so one day, the young prince approached you as you were firing your shots in the archery academy. you never falter even as he stood behind you, his gaze burning into your back as you ever so calmly shoot arrows repeatedly. one by one, each arrow that overlapped the other, completely tearing the previous one out.
“you're not very girly are you? shooting arrows like how a soldier is supposed to do that,” the prince said, eventually breaking your momentum with his childish and immature words. your arrow did not overlap the previous one. instead, it went a bit over the bullseye, eyes immediately shooting glares at the prince who watched you with furrowed eyebrows.
“that is rude, don't you think, your highness?” you lowered your bow, face twisting into a frown.
tōya shrugged. “nope. i mean, you're the only girl in the archery academy! yet the only one who's genuinely good at shooting a bunch of… stupid arrows...”
his words are uttered with frustration, let loose like a curse through gritted teeth. you noticed that his cheeks are a bit flushed, as if they have been covered in blush that was extracted from red ochre.
“your highness, i believe you caught a cold. your cheeks are red,” you pointed at the prince as he flushed even redder, his feet moving to stomp away.
“i-i’m not sick!”
𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍, the crown prince hunted his first live animal to present it to his parents as a trophy and a remembrance piece of his first hunt. of course, the todoroki family is proud, even little prince shōto who gave his brother the littlest of claps.
on the other hand, you stood by your father, watching the royal family's interaction. your eyes might be on the sweet family, but your mind wanders right to the cuts and bruises that tōya received when he hunted for the animal.
your fingers twitched slightly, resisting any urge to pull away the prince from his family just to force him into treating his wounds. the prince is smart. he hides his newly-received marks with layer upon layers of cloth, allowing it to seem like a gear when in reality, it stains his skin dirty.
but you knew. you were with the prince when you hunted with him, assisting your father.
“father, i know it's a crime. but do you mind stealing the prince away?”
so that same day at night, when the military army discusses their plans about the next battle, you're in the room of your friend-enemy, telling him to stop moving around and sit still as you tend to his wounds.
poor tōya, his wounds left unattended for the whole day and only treated at night. you knew the crown prince is stubborn enough to not pay a visit to the family doctor just to get himself treated, so you'd rather get medical knowledge just to treat a stubborn prince.
he's such a hard wall to break too, always putting up a façade that he's so strong and independent wherein he really is just a child who seeks to be the best and to live up to the expectations of the country as its prince.
the colour turquoise is practically imprinted in the skin of your fingers and hands now, having the prince to stare at you working your hands so skillfully to patch him up without trying to tickle a burn or torn skin.
with such silence, the boy moved his gaze upwards, now staring at your face which was so focused on patching him up. tōya searches for a reason in your focused eyes, attempting to find a reason as to why you would stick around to help him with such stupidity.
tōya couldn't help but feel heat rising up to his cheeks, even if his lips are still and his gaze is still locked onto your face. he takes in your feature, your beautiful features that has him in an unbreakable trance.
he wonders just why in the world would you want to be a warrior that will eventually stain your precious face with splatters of the enemy's blood instead of the snowflakes that would paint your cheeks a rosy hue.
“your highness… prince tōya,” you called out, waving your hands in front of his face before he snapped out of his daydreaming, fluttering his eyes a little.
“you were staring, your highness.”
not again. he's been caught doing that so many times it is almost easy to catch him staring. specifically, his gaze is on you, always you. as tōya grows older, he gets smarter than the age he was before. he's quick to act now.
“i’m not. i’m looking at the candle behind you,” the crown prince lied as if he's telling the truth. it flows down his tongue so smoothly, like the waters in the lake that dances forward.
he will never admit the fact that he was just daydreaming and wondering about you into the unknown. no, never. the prince will never embarrass himself with a mere girl that is just a tad bit better than him in archery.
he moves his hands and arms, slightly wincing at the sore.
“you should rest, your highness. i shall take my leave now,” you bowed at the prince, standing up before leaving him alone, not even staying to listen to whatever regards he might have kept in stock for you when his mind travelled to the back of his mind.
crown prince tōya laid down, holding his hands up in the air as his mind once again replayed the images of you treating his wounds. it played in his mind over and over again as if the memories were an old stop motion film.
“what a bother,” he murmured under his breath before covering his turquoise eyes with the back of his hands, covering an initial blush that started building up along the heat of the candle before he blew it off to have his rest.
𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍, you are presented to the crown prince as his retainer upon joining the military ranks. however, the prince isn't delighted in the least at the idea of having a girl as his personal follower.
he tells the king, the general, and you— that he is capable of protecting himself and has no need for a retainer, let alone someone of the opposite gender. tōya isn't keen on bringing a girl to the battlefield where she has to protect him. it makes him feel absolutely pathetic.
despite despising the entire ordeal of you being his personal servant, his mind changed a little when you got on your knees to vow and promise your life to the prince.
“your highness, i ask that you use me. i am your eye, the one who will look after your back or your front in battles. i swore to lay my life down for you, crown prince tōya.”
tōya wanted to protest, to tell you in your face that you are not supposed to be the one doing that. he wants to tell you to stand up immediately and ask that you leave. but he knows all too well that in his weaknesses, there's strength.
you are his strength. you are the one that will cover for his one weakness and complete him. crown prince tōya does not want to protest anymore. he is too tired to let any word slip out from the tip of his tongue anyway. so he only lets out one simple sigh.
that one sigh that told the warmth of your heart that the prince is all the more appreciating your dedication to serve him until death.
he will be sure to use you well as his eye.
𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍, the eavesdropping ears of the young boy pondered upon the conversation between the general and the lieutenant general. they speak about the coming of age for the general's daughter.
her birthday is coming up very soon. and at the sixteenth birthday of a girl marks her age of legality. her youth and beauty is at its finest. to be dressed in silk, expensive makeup and be wedded to a man is the standard life of a woman.
“my wife and i will celebrate her birthday, do not fret,” said general kuromiya to his lieutenant. “we have not celebrated her birthday in a few years because of how busy the military gets. but, we've cleared some time for our girl's special day.”
tōya hears the lieutenant chuckle then speaking. “if your daughter isn't the crown prince’s retainer, are you going to arrange your daughter into marriage with a noble?”
upon hearing those words, tōya furrowed his eyebrows. it is as if those words were the sharpest of blades ever forged which had just impaled the skull of the todoroki.
his mind is a mixture of curiousity and anger. curiousity for the wanderer mind, and anger for the mind that remained. he could not pick one emotion to feel.
how could the lieutenant speak of such things to the general about his daughter?
and even so, the thought of you being arranged into a marriage with a noble tickles the back of his mind where his pent-up frustration and anger is kept in the dark. he might not be fond of the idea of you becoming his retainer a year ago, but he isn't exactly fond of the idea of you being a normal girl and being wedded to one of those wretched nobles.
if there's anything he did get from eavesdropping, that is that your sixteen birthday is in a week. and he spent a whole week thinking about it.
during missions, visiting a neighbouring village, meeting the citizens and villagers to offer services, hunting, training. whatever that was on the prince’s agenda. he could not get your birthday out of his mind.
when the general's small team along with you and the prince walked through a rather busy city, tōya finally set his mind on a specific subject for your birthday.
he watched in silence beside you as the both of you ventured into a shop that sold all clothing essentials. some of your gears are ruined from the previous hunt, and this is a great opportunity to purchase some items to fix your gears.
your eyes flickered at each corner of the store in search of your desired items. but occasionally, they come to a halt at a few jewelries that were on display. the beautiful blinking ones that beautiful women wear in their hair.
tōya sees you staring at pretty hairpins, and his gaze switches to your hair, wrapped in a topknot that he has never seen falling before. the prince doesn't even know if you even knew how to place a hairpin in your hair. well whatever, he now knows what he's going to give you for your birthday as a great and loving prince to his beloved retainer.
on the night of your birthday, a nicely wrapped rectangle box appeared on your windowsill as you were cleaning your arrows. crippling curiousity overflowed from you as you opened it, eyes widening in surprise at the content inside the box.
there it is, a hairpin which colour perfectly matches the hue of your eye. it was custom made, you can tell, since such a colour isn't so easy to be made into a hairpiece.
regardless of the surprise, you cannot fathom your imagination on who could've given you such a beautiful thing. you opened a supposedly jewelry box and looked at yourself in the tiny mirror before beginning to let your hair down, brush it, and tie it like the girls on the streets with pretty hair and pretty kimono. at last, you set the hairpin in your hair, fingers caressing the metal piece.
such a sight to behold . . . it made tōya’s heart flutter at the sight of you with your hair down, the hairpin beautiful set in your hair. he isn't going to fall for this absurdity though, considering how he just sneaked in the manor of the kuromiya family and swiftly placed your gift on your windowsill.
he clicked his tongue in annoyance. annoyance in himself for committing such a ridiculous thing and all for such a foolish reason.
all for his eyes to watch as the corner of your lips curved into a sickeningly warm smile which twisted at his lower abdomen and in return, granted him a moment to admire you with a lovesick gaze.
you looked extremely beautiful with the hairpin.
𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍, at one of the days where you are off duty from serving the prince, you attend a party with your father instead— as his daughter. the daughter and the heiress of the kuromiya family.
not seen as a military officer or a servant of justice, you are present as the daughter of the honoured general and a woman of the kuromiya house.
dressed in the finest silk of the kimono found in that age with a dolled up face and beautifully brushed hair.
tōya of the todoroki family isn't a prince at that moment. he is a normal guest at that party. this is not his party, he only arrived because he was invited by the general.
but gosh, from heaven and back and for the love of the twinkling stars in the universe, he could not tear his gaze off of you. he has never in his entire life seen you so proper, so ladylike and poised.
it was like a whole new different person to him. the only thing that remained the same is the hairpin that was sticking out from your little bun, the extra pieces dangling to and back.
his heart flutters at the sight of you covering your mouth in utmost manner as you smiled and laughed at the other guests. you've greeted the man you've served, that's for sure. but he isn't the only one you have to entertain for the night. and somehow, he doesn't mind being like that, treated like any other normal guests and not being pestered by other souls.
familiar turquoise eyes keep making their way to yours, never plucking them off of you as you conversed through the night. he couldn't help it, he couldn't look away from such beauty. it was too overwhelming for the prince to handle.
it twists at his cold heart that tonight— you wouldn't speak to him that much, or even walk by his side. his insides did a little pout at the realisation at that very simple fact that you have no time for him.
however, the moment his gaze lingered onto her, his feet moved on its own to approach you, intrusively grabbing your hands to hold onto them, never letting go before his gaze bores into the soul of a samurai.
“this is my wife.”
and tōya makes sure the samurai's mind has that information burnt into him, albeit his grasp on your hands were let loose almost immediately after the man who was harassing you left.
there was an uncomfortable silence before you said a soft “thank you,” something you'd never ever say to the prince, to the man you serve. the prince walks a bit ahead of you, his back facing you like how it is always supposed to be. “whatever…”
you assumed he's going to walk away and leave you alone to entertain the other guests, but you invited the crown prince to ditch this aggravatingly bone-crushing party. so now, you two are alone by the lake, far away from people. the moon takes favour in the both of you, illuminating an equal amount of beauty.
yet somehow for this special night, you managed to shine and glow more than the prince himself.
“you look beautiful.”
your cheeks flushed. “uh, thank you..”
and there was silence again. this time, a comfortable silence with a reasonable distance between you and the prince by the lake and the moon reflecting onto the surfaces of the lake.
one more gaze, and tōya sees you smiling up at the moon. his heart aches and clenches inside of him, doing whatever tricks it could— including a race that would not last a horse.
todoroki tōya's eyes never lie. once they determine something is beautiful, it stays beautiful for an eternity.
𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘, the scent of strong alcohol hit your nose the moment you entered the prince’s lounge room. drunken men are laid all over, obviously wasted. the prince drinks, coming to a halt the moment he notices you standing at the entrance of the room, watching his every move.
“hello, dear retainer..” he grumbled under his breath as you went over to him to pluck the cup out from his fingers, draping his arm over your shoulders and balancing him up on his feet.
“you are drunk, my prince.”
“ah ah archer, you know.. my guys don't have retainers who're good at archery..”
“is that so?”
the prince hummed in response as he held your shoulder and wobbled in his steps. “you’re the best one in the entire country, y/n.”
“it's an honour. but you mustn't speak. your words are oddly disturbing to me,” you said, receiving a chuckle from the drunken prince.
it is true, the prince never touched on the topic of your archery skills. he is still angry at the fact that you excel at archery better than he is. even if it has been an entire decade of indirect competition. you will always surpass him with efficiency.
“i hate the way you always steal my attention, you damned retainer.”
your eyebrows furrowed at his words, glancing at him momentarily before sliding the door to his room open.
“my apologies,” you said softly with a tiny smile, leading him to his haven where he slumbers. “i didn't mean to do that.”
with that, you set him down his bed, plucking whatever piece of him that felt uncomfortable as his turquoise eyes burned into your soul, watching your every move.
the prince is silent, gaze following the way your fingers would graze the collar of his kimono or untie his obi to loosen it. his stomach felt like it was twisting at your touch, butterflies swarming around like fools at the pit of it.
he snapped out of his trance the moment you were going to stand up as he quickly grabbed hold onto your wrist.
“do not leave me…” he uttered, words so slurred from the alcohol that he consumed, grip tightening when he felt you lightly tugging your wrist away. “i said, do not leave me.”
“your highne—” your senses tingled as your back hit the soft futon on the ground.
both hands at either side of your face, the prince looks down at you through his half lidded turquoise eyes. you searched for a reason behind this action in those ethereally dangerous eyes of his. and there was only a hint of a dark desire.
“you make me sick to the bones.”
you held your breath, the prince letting out a heavy sigh as you felt his fingers gently grazing your cheeks, moving along the lines of your jaw. his touch fueled you on the inside, you have to admit to yourself. cold fingers with such a tender touch. it makes you yearn for him to continue his actions.
“who knows you would look so… beautiful, under me?”
as if warmth hasn't made their debut to your cheeks, he words gifted your cheeks a field of red roses. you were about to part your lips before his sweet traces along your jawline ceased, his weight falling onto you.
and then there was it. nothing else. just a drunken prince who fell into slumber after leaving his retainer in a flushed mess. you cursed under your breath and moved him off of you, tucking him into bed before brushing his hair as white as snow away from his face.
“you are murdering my mind and heart, your highness… it's been like that for so many years too..”
𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐎𝐍𝐄, the prince puffed and panted at the cruel training given to him by his retainer upon orders of the king. you are to hone his skills to perfection in the fields of kenjutsu.
prince tōya does not know why he has to go through this rigorous training with someone who specialises with a bow and an arrow instead of a sword, but his tongue slips out curses of regret the moment he clashes his blade with yours after a whole decade.
he clearly underestimated you, never imagining the fact that your swordsmanship skills have been polished way over perfection until it appeared to the prince that you are ultimately the perfect warrior. and it itched his brains along with the tugging at his heart.
the both of you were well aware of an upcoming war that will possibly bring nations to an end. neither your father nor tōya's father has the time to spend on their respective children to train them, so it was only ideal that they trained each other.
“your highness .. we must continue to swing our blades…” you tell the prince, gripping the sword hilt with both hands.
“oh come on, you should shoot arrows, not play with swords in the first place,” tōya rolled his eyes and dropped his sword to the ground, taking a seat. “can't continue anymore.”
once again, your stamina outranks the royal prince. what a shame, you stood longer than he did before you followed him and seated yourself on the ground, falling backwards to hit the ground.
“i’m still not fit for swords, it seems…” you murmured as the prince is now seated beside your lying form, glancing down at you. “then stick to being the archer, my backbone. let me charge ahead. you will follow me behind.”
you looked at his eyes before switching to the clear blue sky. his eyes matched the colour of the sky perfectly, it made you tugged a smile at the corner of the lip along with his words that sunk into your mind.
“i will always follow you behind, prince tōya.”
the prince rolled his eyes and rested his chin on his palm, a tiny blush coating his cheeks rose. “you better not stray too far..”
“i won't. i’ll be right behind you,” you chuckled as the voice of the royal princess fuyumi called out, inviting you and the crown prince to have some tea with her.
the prince stands up to brush his hakama. then as you sat up. before you could push yourself off the ground, he held his hands out. you looked at his hands for a quick moment before accepting it and he pulled you up gently.
“imagine if this is the last time we'll ever leisurely spend time with each other… you know... before the war and stuff.”
“that is not a very nice thing to say,” you frowned at tōya's words as he chuckled. “i’m just kidding… it will not be. trust me.”
𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐎𝐍𝐄, heaven forbid the prince to keep his words and promises to you.
oh dear, how could this happen? why is there an arrow stabbed right through your shoulders? why are you still clenching the reins when blood drips down your shoulders and stains your clothes wine red? why are you still marching forward to follow the prince right behind as you have told him you would?
the prince’s army came to a halt when he stopped his horse and went to catch your falling body into his arms, your blood seeping into the fabric of his clothes almost immediately.
you hear the prince call out to you over and over like it was a chant, a desperate chant that does not go through your ear. your mind is too hazy to even be focusing on the view in front of you.
you shut your eyes to relieve some of that blur and when you do, it's the prince's turquoise eyes that cover your field of vision. it has always been his eyes that pulls you back to reality, it pulls you from straying away too far. his eyes are that one thing that you always seek from the very start.
“shit, y/n, no no no no no….”
you hear him say, oddly clear that your mind isn't as hazy as it was before, thanking his eyes that pierced through your haziness to make way so you could see his face.
“why would you do that!?”
you knew he was referring to the moment where at the most unexpected moment, an arrow shoots the prince's way and you went to his side to serve as his shield.
you did it because you want to protect him. you did it because you have made a promise to be his eye. you did it because you didn't want him to be hurt.
you did it because you love and care for him.
“how dare you get hurt, y/n!”
it makes you sink your teeth into your bottom lip to hold an amount of pain, both on the outside and on the inside. you must not falter, you mustn't show weakness in front of the prince as his retainer and most loyal servant.
“i apologise, my prince,” you forced yourself to sit up, coughing up a smile that breaks tōya heart.
“we have to get the arrow out now, quickly, and efficiently,” the prince calmly said in a stern voice, unsure of how to really react to this. the inside of his mind a whole raging calamity.
from this point onwards, the sleeves of his hakama is now completely stained from holding you in his arms. it drips down his arms like blood-soaked honey. his fingers are constantly moving around to squeeze your arm, his usual habit of stressful stimming clearly portrayed as his mind wanders everywhere in visible conflict.
“your highness, you can't! none of us are authorised medics! and she will bleed more if you take the arrow out!” one of tōya's soldiers exclaimed as you held the prince's hands to calm his stimming down.
“please, prince tōya. it's futile, the war is still ongoing. you must go back out there to fight.”
“without my archer? without my retainer? without my backbone!? how am i even supposed to stand without you!?” he cries out as you shut your eyes to contain the tears that are beginning to gather at the corner of your eyes.
“someone please. please just get it out of her...”
“i’ll be fine. please... your presence is needed out there,” you whispered.
“i don't want to go out there without you. not when there's still so much for us to do.”
you felt his fingers resting on your dirtied cheeks, caressing your face with such shakiness that your cheek is now dripping with the tears of the prince. one drop at a time, he wipes his tears on your cheeks with his thumb, this sickeningly despairing smile portrayed on his face.
it makes you want to clench your heart in nothing but for the sake of easing your pain. even if it hurts and pulls at your soul, you held his hands and leaned into his touch, holding his fingers tightly.
“i’m sorry.”
there's not even a moment where his eyes leave you, darting all around while trying to find a way to put you out of your pain. it twists and turns on the inside, fueling his debuting rage.
tōya rests his forehead against yours, his snow white hair falling onto your face as he gazes into your eyes, trying to find a way to find solace in your own gaze.
“i don't want to leave you alone.”
“but tōya," you dropped the formality. "my eyes feel heavy. i’m going to rest for a bit.”
turquoise eyes widened at your words before his hands held you tighter and embraced you into a hug so warm that you smiled your way out of his life.
Suitors: Comte, Jean, Vincent, Napoleon, Leonardo, Dazai, Sebastian
Warnings: None
Comte- Macaroni. The daddy of the mansion gets a box of dollar mac and cheese. Apparently “men in the 1700s who wore makeup and were in high society were nicknamed macaronis”, also “Not only that but some macaronis cheeses’ use multiple types of mature cheeses and white wines to make a richer flavour”-Evie @littlewitty (I’ll keep the u in there just for you 😒).
thank you for the tag @kuroowo yours is like fukurodani, inarizaki and another fukurodani? :<
no pressure :: @your-girl-mj @sweet-lovely-bambam @011tsukishima @fluffy-mayarii @keromancer (it’s your time to get kamomedai) + anyone else who likes to join
According to our overlord Google, brownies were invented right in 19th century. Circa 1893. Source? Trust me bro.
-Theo eats the whole pan by himself would he share? Well only with Vincent. Team fudgy brownies all the way though. His favorite piece is the center and Will steals it to spite him.
-Shakespeare cuts the center piece because he’s our chaotic boy™. Does he like brownies? No. Does he enjoy pissing off Theo? Y e s.
-Dazai would just cut like a random piece from the pan and everyone is like wtf?
-Comte is definitely team edge. Specifically the corners. He can dip it in tea maybe hehe. He doesn’t have a strong preference though!
A/N: I’m back and I think I’m finally ready to write again! I kinda went through stuff but I’m feeling better now! Kisara out ✌️ 🌻💛
As always leave a comment if you liked it please! 🥰
Please let me know if you like to be tagged for future works, as well as untagged. No hard feelings! @nad-zeta @littlewitty @heavensbabygirl @yukina-otome @crystal1 @kikocchii @iotona @spoopy-fish-writes @xarexraven @itsannaslife13 @alby-rei
Hey everyone I'm starting a tag game say 1 nice thing about your body's appearance 1 thing you think you're good at and 1 personality trait you like about yourself
Thanks for the tag @with-love-anu @ghosts-of-hogwarts
my hair is nice
I'm decent at art?
umm I'm a good listener
tags (no pressure guys!!): @nad-zeta @bokutoism @belladonnabarnes @mareaderinsertfanfiction @mllorei @silhouette-of-a-dream @lumos-barnes @venulus and @anyone else who wants to join
^^;; these tag games do wreck your brain for a moment
Welp, forgot to reblog this tag- anyways, thanks for tagging me @mareaderinsertfanfiction 💖
😭 ← 7th last emoji
hmm *plays Melanie Martinez's crybaby*
tagging (no pressure!): @angeloniaa @heloisedaphnebrightmore @iwritesiriusly @electriclocean @with-love-anu @just-a-belgian-girl @alby-rei @synesthetic-simp @truth-be-told-im-lying and @anyone else who wants to join
My brain is interpreting this in every possible way and I have no way which way is correct but this emoji literally had these two: 👁😤 on either side so definitely the lesser of three evils. Hoping this means that he finds me either intriguing or attractive 😃 AJKAJSJS probably just overthinking as usual 😅
Tagging @iotona @kisara-16 @a-chaotic-dumbass @rurifangirl @ikemenworldlife @nad-zeta @yanderepuck @otome-scribbles @laito---sakamaki @lulu-the-smol-floof @crunchy-cloud @damnfoxx (feel free to ignore) and anyone else who wants to join 😊
Warning Tags: infidelity, explicit sexual content, hurt and comfort, eventual second relationship, Arthur main story spoilers, sad with a happy ending, vaginal fingering, oral and vaginal sex
Summary: Slow fractures creep across what you considered a happy, loving relationship; the inevitable break bleeding into your and Arthur’s lives, sure and sinister until it’s finally too much.
The woman Theo holds untoward affections for finds herself lost and he… he is unable to stay and watch from the shadows as he has, all this time.
Her hair’s grown much in length within the past several months, Theo observes, as she seats herself by the vanity to undo the braids the children she’s taken to teaching — during their time away from France — wove through for her. Perhaps she doesn’t care to cut it because of how it amuses her tiny pupils, to ‘dress’ her up during their breaks in between lessons. He’d once teased her about it; how his little puppy seemed to have adopted a litter of her own, to which she’d responded with a raised brow, a lopsided smile and a very sensual: Like this beautiful man I’ve got on my hands, one so very smitten with me?
She’d winked then before drifting straight out of his grasp. Leading him into a dance; she’d wished to get caught, she breathed against his lips, once he did. Nipping her moans along with the gentle brush of teeth, testing at her lower lip before he kissed her full.
It seems foolish, almost a time long past, to remember how he'd proposed they temporarily move back to his homeland while the Comte sorted matters in Paris. To have dealt with that frisson of fear, of her rejection, if she turned him down. If she didn't want him by his side, anymore... but she hadn't. She'd smiled, so joyous, and kissed him before she uttered her assent in a laugh she pressed against his cheek.
Now, fond of the place as she’s grown, she insists on being entirely foolish, thanking him for bringing her along to where he’d spent most of his childhood. Declaring they simply must visit his home once more sometime within the next year. His heart she’d taken for her own as if once more with the way she’d eased herself enough to speak of a future, with him. It was a foreign experience; to hear of another’s dreams no matter how minuscule they seemed and plot his path against hers, aligning themselves.
“I’m looking forward to seeing everyone again. Aren’t you, Theo? Although I wish le Comte hadn’t arranged return tickets for us.”
“Vincent’s letter mentioned they’re well. He also mentioned how none of them can wait to see you again.” He flashes her a knowing smirk. She laughs.
“I’m sure they’ve missed you too, especially Vincent. I can’t wait to see his reaction when he receives our gift.”
The entire day they’d spent within the nearest town, picking souvenirs for the mansion residents she’d stressed on buying. None of her hard-earned money she planned to keep for herself, for they’d find ‘better use’ in their gifts to their friends.
The sound of King’s eager bark gathers his gaze toward where his fur friend paws at her for attention she more than generously provides. Theo can’t help the grin that pulls at his mouth to witness the exchange. “My hondje seems far too fond of King than she does of her own master.”
She hums in thought at the assessment. “Perhaps… the master’s been rather out and about to give proper care to one he insists is his favorite partner. If you’re not careful, she might just make better friends with King.” His little traitorous friend seems content to bark his agreement before trotting out of the room in high spirits.
Theo snorts at the absurd notion; moving to haul himself off the bed and steal towards her. Heaving his scarf aside, he tosses it onto a nearby chair, stepping behind her. Sharp gaze fixated upon hers within the mirror. He reaches a hand out to ease her free hair over to one shoulder, dragging his palm, slow, across the exposed flesh. She, predictably, shivers; it sets the blood raging tighter within his veins. “Oh? Are you trying to fish for attention?”
She tips a hooded gaze over her shoulder, pink tongue darting to slick a quick path against her lip. Theo's own digits twitch upon her in response. A slow, torturous drag of her chemise off her shoulder.
A smooth delicate finger she moves to tap against her parted lips, “You seem well-aware so why don’t you do something about…” Carding fingers tight through her hair to angle her face upwards, he dips, letting his mouth slip against hers. One brush turning into another. Several kisses: soft, biting, chaste... then wet. Her hands are within his hair, jolting him closer; her hums pleased and delighted, breathless. It pilfers the air from his own lungs to hear the sound of her happiness.
As if he could — no he would — never tire of feeling her skin against his own. His heart, his body and desires ache and beg to flee in her direction every single time he moves to touch her. Each one: burning and singeing his soul like the very first time he'd put his hands on her. Consuming him bit by bit, with each single sound, each important gaze that seeks to find his in her love and lust and begs for him. An insatiable greed for this one woman; the bottom of a well he doesn't see in sight.
She bites down at his lower lip, her voice spills on a needy Theo, more. His entire rationale is bitter ashes in the wake of this one woman, at her mercy and he wants her — wants her as ruined as she has him, the devil within soughs in possession.
Hauling her off of the vanity’s chair and into his arms the second she tries and tests his patience; desperate lips moving against each other. Theo moves to sink his own bite into the plush of her lip — well-earned — her hold around his neck spasms at the stimulation.
Before she taps at him to be let down, impelling his body soon after onto the settee behind. Clambering on top of him, she cements an eager knee on either side of Theo’s thigh. Sinking down upon firm muscle, bunching the fabric of her gown, to expose her own. The warmth of her, damp beneath panties as she gyrates her hips against him. “Greedy,” he muses, his smile wide, — as if he is anything but — fingers threading secure through her hair before he tugs her mouth back against his, sweeping the taste of her onto his tongue.
Her restless digits rush down the line of buttons on his shirt as she moans against him; Theo hauls her tight into himself, catching up her wrists within a fist he pins to her breasts. She makes a sound of protest so needy, it tows a dark burst of laughter from his chest. Meeting her gaze, he holds it firm, flexing fingers in one warning squeeze, so she knows, “Not before I do, snoepje.”
Rebuked once, he tips his mouth back towards her jaw, her neck; dragging gossamer skin in between the bite of gentle teeth. The scrape of fangs he lets settle on her, she feels in each single searing kiss. His name’s a low, desperate prayer across her lips, nails digging into his fist demanding he kiss her. And he goes, to silence those garbling sounds of hers, sealing his mouth against hers till she jerks forward within his grasp. “Theo… Theo, I need you.”
The way each word seeps in desperation, a different kind; the bite of fingernails into flesh each time she moves to tug him closer…
Tongue testing one last sweep against her wet lips, he draws back to capture her gaze — warm in affection and lust so consuming, he feels his own arousal, uncomfortable, beneath the tight placket of trousers.
He’d held her close; he’d kissed and pleasured; drunk from her numerous times they’d lost count along with the sounds he’d pilfered right from her throat…. short of making love to her. Theo had no intention of drawing her into his bed, in that manner, any time soon, not if she wasn’t ready. He was a patient man, used to the test of endurance, but the way she looked upon him, as if her own breathless heaves were blanketed only through his body against hers, he had to halt and listen.
Shaping a palm against her cheek — she’s incredibly warm, he wants his mouth back on her soon — he asks, “Are you sure?”
Her answer is a sweet, gasping sound; a nod and the imprint of her lips as she tips her head, into the palm he holds against her cheek. “...More than I’ve ever been in my life. I want to take you… entirely.”
Theo's heart very nearly gives with how she coaxes his undoing, effortless, disastrous thing; how her affections — and comfort within their love — sifts through to the surface in a smile so vivid, he very nearly releases hold upon hard-bunched control within but this — her assent to be his, all of her…
“That’s a good response, hondje.” Mouth pulling apart on a grin, Theo teases a thumb against her own flushed smile as if he wishes to make sure it is true. Sweeps her back against him, forearms folding beneath and buckling the plush of her thighs as he lifts her. Theo basks in the taste of her high squeal of delight as it presses into his mouth before tossing her onto the sheets. “Don’t expect any mercy, hondje. Tonight, I’m not letting go even if you beg me to.” He can’t drag his shirt, fast enough, off of his back before discarding it, brusque, to the floor.
A happy, dazed smile framed by the glow of her cheeks; locks scattered as if floret vines across his pillows: she’s nothing short of exquisite art herself. He bites back the words before they tumble free off a traitorous tongue.
“I have a greedy lover on my hands, Theodorus van Gogh.” She quips his words right back at him.
Palms sinking into the mattress on either side of her body, he offers her a grin of his own. “Never denied it, hondje.” His hands are upon her, bunching the fabric of her nightgown in a drag up against her body. Tossing crumpled fabric and her bra off the side. Until she is entirely his to admire and touch; his breaths punched into a deliberate inhale to curve the path of her exposed collarbones, the swell of her breasts — the softest of grazes of fingernails across the tip has them puckering hard beneath a shuddering gasp.
If he’d been told she’d be here within his arms, that she’d be far more devastating — beautiful — beneath tracing fingertips, more so than he’d ever envisioned within vivid dreams; Theo might’ve laughed at the very notion of such folly. Dreams had always been just so; beautiful swathes of visions he’d been chasing after, since his humans years, stubborn as he was and now, not dead, as a creature of the night. That she chooses to relinquish herself to him of her own will, as if choosing to fulfil his dreams... He’s in love with this woman. It’s hard to think of any other state of being when she is beneath him like this: open affection across that crooked smile.
Theo breathes her in; a fortifying breath. Fingers following trail of a hungering mouth upon her, he hooks her legs apart, pressing into the space in between. A low gasp of discontent and desire breaks the air, “Theo—”
“Hands where I can see them,” he directs, harshly. Dark, sapphire gaze meeting hers — flushed — in between her legs, he tucks her panties to the side. And halts: the sight of wet folds, glistening with her arousal, flushed, erotic, his cock throbs at the sight and scent of her, it nearly drives him insane.
Eyes flickering her way, he quirks a brow — eyes on me — before he drags a broad swipe of tongue against her folds. Her jaw falls open, head thrown back onto a startled moan, shattering onto a hitched squeal as he hauls her closer. “This… is in the way,” he mutters, bunching her underwear to tear apart. “Don’t you dare look away.” The warning’s a low, rattling sound of lust, Theo tracks a harsh bite into the soft of her thigh to affirm that threat in place. She listens, trembling gaze returning to watch, a fist she presses into her mouth to bite, smothering her moans.
The entirety of her being as if made to hound and steal his senses. He withdraws his attentions back to how her pussy weeps; his own arousal tightens and burns with the urge for release. Moving forward to bury his face into her, his tongue steals a quick, angled path across her — she shivers but otherwise, remains obedient.
Good girl: he chuckles. Secretes his praise into her slit, Theo kisses and sucks a path across her. Nosing at her clit as he moves to curve his tongue into her. Her hips jump along with the groan that claws free of his body at her drenching his mouth, her taste, liquid addiction. His fangs, scrape against her and she moans a distant, broken sound. High, pitching higher, he moves to push two fingers into her depths. Her body immediately clamping onto the sensation with an obscene squelch.
Theo moves to wrench himself away from the intoxication of her body, pressing an open-mouthed smirk onto her mound. She’s whining as if a broken, wrecked thing; eyes clouding over and begging for release, the sight shoots straight to his groin. Adding a finger to the mess of her, scissoring into her walls; withdrawing slow before he thrusts in deep. Curving tapered digits up into her spasming walls to rub at that one specific spot he finds makes her clamp hard, scream loud.
Her breaths are labored, breaking apart the syllables of his name into three wonderful, fucked-out garbles — she could sound much more ruined, he knows she will — until she makes of his name, a senseless Th-eee-o. He relishes it, traipsing open mouthed kisses across her heaving belly, a twisted sound of laughter leaves the confines of his chest at her next scream. “You’re slurring your words, lekker ding. Don’t think I can decipher your whining like that.”
Her eyes are as round, as the formation of her mouth into an O as if she means to retort… before he breaks her for himself. Trapping his fingers as he hooks them into her depths, grinding against her spot, her voice flees entirely. Soundless cries and tears, her incessant shaking the only response of her body to her orgasm.
Trembling fingers reach to frame his face, weave through his hair before she heaves him onto her mouth, pressing heated breaths against his tongue and he lets her — for a few moments of reprieve. Extracting himself out of her — she whines into his mouth — before he draws away, smearing the tips of slick digits against her lips. Painting her glistening for himself before he sweeps in to sample.
She tastes just as — better. Divine, his mind whispers — than what he’d conjured within fever dreams; her body’s pliant beneath his touch and she is his, a primal part within snaps, rejoices.
Her fingers clutch into fists across his chest before she knocks him back gently; Theo lets her glide along with his own descent onto his back as she moves to trap him in between her legs. Unbuttoning his pants before those coveting digits reach into and palm at his cock; his palms convulse across the flare of her hips as she raises herself. Positioning his cock in between her thighs, gaze skewing to meet his.
“Sit on me— Godver!” He clenches out in between grinding teeth, fingers trailing across the slope of her ass to settle upon the small of her back to push. And she goes, thankfully, down. Theo’s unable to tear his gaze away from the sight of her nether flesh parting around him, drenched, tight, a feral growl singes free of his throat along with her choked whimper.
The erratic movement of her breasts along with her urgent thrusts upon him, streels his gaze and fingers, rolling the dark tips of them until she breaks onto a pleading whisper. Scraping fingernails across his scalp when he pitches his mouth across her nipple, sweeping a broad lap against the hardened peak. Squeezing at the soft flesh, a palm he forces down against her spine to guide when the symphony of her rhythm falters. Theo’s almost addicted to the sound of her voice around the syllables of his name, making and breaking apart. “T-That! This feels… i-insane!” she gasps.
“Insane? So it feels good then.” The smirk he feels pulling around the release of her peak to nip in between her breasts. She yelps, the torturous, wet squeeze of her pussy around his length dragging his own grunt.
“S-So…” She breathes, shatters, head tipping back in pleasure but he’s there, gathering a palm at the back of her head to pull her gaze towards him. Keeping her from withdrawing too far. She tries and frowns, around her breathless sounds — fails — before attempting words. “So… very aware and — ah — modest t-too.”
Her palm caressing across a firm pectoral before she finds her own target and pinches at his nipple in between middle and index — the pleasure that jolts through him at her audacity blooms white-hot just as her stuttering phrases, coiling into his groin.
“Buckle up, hondje.” He grins, fierce, riled; tongue sweeping a path against glistening teeth as he folds his hands beneath the give of her ass, lifting — she whines her protest — and tosses her back towards the pillows. Sweeping just as soon after, inhuman brisk reflexes sanding in, he fists a hand beneath the back of her head before it meets the headboard. Fixating a firm grasp across her arm, knees knocking her thighs apart to hold her down hard. Theo snaps his hips forward, entering her on a swift thrust, she screams to her God on her next, fractured breath.
“Your words are pleasant to hear, snoepje. Make me want to prod at you.” Letting her head roll onto the down of their pillows as she sobs out broken, beautiful sounds, he feels his own release rising imminent within his groin. “But you sound sexier when you can’t form them, let alone gather sane thoughts.”
Looming over; every single propulsion brushes against her clit and she’s pretty and ruined beyond measure as she unfurls her arms towards him. Securing his head within the crook of her shoulder, as if she’d never let go. Theo breathes his final warning, hot against her neck, “Sing louder, mijn liefje.” Tongue sweeping a desperate, wet path against her skin before he plunges aching fangs into her, just as her walls flutter and drench in a tight hold around — she listens, obedient, and screams her release.
The light streaming in is merciless against his closed lids and her fingers are restless, feathering patterns across his chest; he catches her wrist within a loose, languorous fist before dragging it up to his mouth in a nip. “....My hondje’s got the energy to play so early in the morning?” Meeting her wide-eyed, contrite gaze as he tips his head at her, half-draped across him.
“I am… sorry?” Wriggling the digits of her captured wrist before she smiles.
He beams, unkind; the Devil. “Don’t apologize. I’ve got energy to spare.” She releases a choked sound of disbelief, gathering his palm within her free hand just as he's moving to slip it in between her legs.
“Thank you, no. I am sore and satisfied.” She breathes, feathering a kiss against his captive fingers. Angling a sanguine brow at him. “Perhaps this afternoon…”
He laughs then, a surprised, unrestricted burst of happiness. “As soon as we’ve had breakfast, I’ll need my sugar, knabbeltje.” He amends. She returns to peppering open-mouthed kisses across his neck, his face — he almost considers asking her to give way before his heart does. Almost.
But she is merciless, a finger traces familiar patterns right across his heart. “What are you doing?”
“Writing. Words. Since you’re fond of them.” She skews a loving grin his way, dangerous—
Gathering herself up above him before she drops in for a kiss. Murmuring her words against his mouth, the truth of her heart, fracturing his own to fall into her palms. “…Ik hou van je, Theo.” Brutal, cruel but she's still just his.
I love you, too. More than life, more than I’ve ever loved and I will, for as long as my heart continues to sound its renewed beats. Across centuries and through time, schatje, I will.
Go to Chapters: 1-10 | 11 | 12 | 13 [End]
End Notes: Thank you all for joining me for this long, almost an entire year long journey. This story has been so very dear to me and I'm delighted I got the chance to share it with you all. And for Nana, who let me run with this spark of idea, starting with some soft loving wisps for Theo and the prompt she requested:
I am so sorry, Nana and thank you for letting me write this, ILU2!!
Ahem, friends, you can find the rest of my stories within my master-post here.
