ikeromantic

[ikeromantic]

Parting

A Chevalier Michel fanfiction. Approx. 2000 words. This scene takes place in Chapter 23-24 of the romantic route and is told from Chevalier’s POV. Part 21 of a series.

Chapter List

Dawn crept slowly into the room, a slow and gradual shift from deep shadows to a lifeless gray, and finally the rose-gold of morning sun. Chevalier watched the light grace Emma's sleeping face. She was so beautiful. He kissed the edge of her jaw and saw her lips curl into a slight smile. 

He wanted to make love to her again. To hold her and let himself fall asleep here, together. But that was a fantasy for fools. Chevalier carefully extricated himself from bed and dressed. He moved quietly, not waking the exhausted Belle. She only stirred when the door closed behind him. 

His room waited for him. The space felt more empty, somehow, though it held the usual assortment of his things. Chevalier laid down, still in his clothes from the day before, and tried to sleep. He was still tossing and turning when Clavis turned up at noon with his breakfast. 

"You can't mope in bed all day," his brother said cheerfully, jerking the sheets off Chev and tossing them to the floor. "You've got work to do. Or would you like to abdicate now and make this easier on everyone?"

"Abdicate?" Chevalier's tired mind took only a heartbeat to catch up. Emma had chosen him as King that morning then, and must have signed the proclamation with Sariel for his brother to know about it. He sat up, frowning. Her choice was expected, but the rapidity was a surprise. He's assumed his precious simpleton would take another few days to state her choice and say her goodbyes. "Where is she?"

"She?" Clavis blinked at him as if confused. "Sariel is waiting for you. He's sent three servants to wake you but no one was brave enough to get you out of bed. No one but me." He grinned, his look more feral than amused.

"Four-Eyes can keep waiting. Where is the Belle?" He stood and grabbed his tea from the tray.

Clavis' smile turned sly. "The Belle can have no contact with the King once she's appointed her choice. You know that."

The icy look Chevalier turned his way would have sent most men into a panic. Not Clavis. He was used to murderous glares. 

"Anyway, Sariel got her moved out within an hour of her signing. So you won't have to put up with her foolish face again. That's what you wanted, right?" Clavis continued to needle him, looking for a reaction. 

Chevalier refused to give him the satisfaction. He sat down at the table and ate his breakfast, book in one hand. Clavis paced the room the whole time, unable to sit still. The nervous energy was palpable. Chev ignored him, his thoughts turned inward. 

There would be so much to do. Announcements of the King's death, the succession, coronation planning. Diplomats would need to be sent to their allies and neutral trade partners. Four-Eyes would handle most of it, but nothing could proceed without Chevalier's agreement. The Belle was gone. Chev ignored the errant thought. He was no fool to be distracted by love. He would put it aside, as he must. 

Clavis accompanied him to meet with Four-Eyes. Sariel had a mountain of documents to review with him, which took up the rest of the day. Chevalier shut down his emotions and focused on what needed to be done. The only remaining distractions were his brothers, popping in one after another to congratulate and comment. 

Nokto gave a bright grin when he stopped in. "Never thought you'd adopt my tactic. But all's fair in love and war, hm? And succession too. Seduce the judge, win the contest."

Clavis laughed and even Sariel smirked, but Chev was not amused. "Are you insinuating that the Belle's selection did not come from her pure heart?" His voice was cold enough to freeze the blood. 

Nokto stepped back, surprised. "N-no! Of course not. Just that we didn't . . . I didn't think . . ."

"Fools rarely do." Chevalier turned his attention back to the paperwork and reports, and Nokto slunk away.

Sariel exchanged a look with Clavis that Chev didn't like, but he let it be. Calling out the behavior would only increase their ridiculous opinions and give more fodder to the circulating rumors. 

When he left Sariel's office, he meant to go to the library. He needed a book to distract him. A story of doomed love that he could mock. But his steps took him back to her room. Maids were busy there already, stripping the sheets and preparing the furniture for storage. Every last sign of Emma would be gone. 

"Stop." The order passed his lips before he'd finished his thought.

The maids turned, surprised to see him there. They fell into deep curtsies, heads bowed. "M-majesty? We were ordered to clean this room," one squeaked.

This was the logical course of action. Guest rooms were only prepared when a guest was expected. But to Chevalier, this wasn't a guest room. It was Emma's room. Her ghost haunted every corner of it. He could almost see her sitting in her favorite spot near the window, book open on her lap. "Keep it exactly as it is. Do not defy me."

"Y-yes, your Majesty." The maids dipped even lower, though he didn't miss the confused looks they exchanged. 

Next, Chevalier went to the library. He pulled down the book Emma had loved so, and skimmed the pages. The scenes were as vibrant in his memories as if he'd read it only yesterday. The trembling commoner, confessing her love. The soft-hearted prince doing all in his power to keep her by his side until he finally realized neither of them could be happy if they were together. 

He set the book beside him at the small writing desk and glared at it as if the book was to blame for his confused heart. It ached in his chest, a throbbing bruise as bad as any he ever took in sword practice or battle. The story was a good reminder of what should happen, not that he needed to read it. Perhaps the former Belle would though.

Chevalier decided to send it to her as a parting gift. He pulled out a clean page of paper and some ink to write the last message he would ever send to his beloved.

This is a parting gift. You said you cried over this book many times, so I thought you may want to have it. In the story, the prince and his common lover say goodbye and wish each other happiness. Even if they aren't together, they just wish for the happiness of the person they love. If you want to call that sentiment love. I wish for your happiness. I may never see you again, but the truth is that I do love you. Even if just for a moment.

After you return home, marry someone else. Have a family. A life. I want someone to be there for you. Someone who can make you smile, and wipe the tears from your eyes when you cry over silly stories. I'll never be able to do that for you. Find a man who is gentle, and be happy. After all, nothing is more foolish than pining for someone beyond your reach. 

And in case it's not clear, this is an order from the King. It's absolute.

He signed his name, and tucked the letter into the book. 

"What are you doing? You look as if you've bitten into a lemon." Clavis' teasing voice came from the doorway. 

Chev hadn't heard him approach, but since he was here, he could be useful. "Make sure the former Belle receives this." He held the book out to his brother.

Clavis didn't take the book. "Why should I? You give it to her."

"That's an order. Failure to comply will be met with a death sentence." 

His brother laughed. "That's the Chev I know. For a while there, I thought you might stop threatening to kill people completely. She really changed you."

Chevalier frowned. "I haven't changed." 

"No? I must be mistaken then." Clavis took the book and turned to leave. "Oh!" He paused. "There's a delegation of miners that want to speak with you about working conditions."

Chevalier's frown deepened. "Why are you telling me this? Have Four-Eyes add them to the schedule."

Clavis only laughed and left, leaving Chevalier alone again with his thoughts. 

For the next several days, Chevalier's days were full. Briefings, fittings, all of the requirements for the ceremony. It was a pointless custom, but Chev knew the value of ritual. If he discarded coronation, there would be doubt and unrest among the commoners. His mind flashed to the Belle. Emma, smiling that vapid, sweet smile of hers. The one that shouted joy and contentment. He missed her. Had she returned to the bookshop?

"Majesty, what bookshop?" His tailor looked up from where he was pinning the coat Chevalier would wear for the coronation, confused. 

Chevalier felt a spike of irritation at himself. He hadn't meant to speak aloud. "Focus on your work, fool." While the chastened tailor continued the fitting, Chev worked out a plan to keep an eye on the Belle without rousing suspicion as to the subject of his concern. It would need to be undertaken with care, of course. If his interest in her well-being was too obvious, she would be a target, and a liability. 

That evening, he penned a letter and sent it out by courier. He had only to wait a few hours before the recipient arrived at the palace gardens to speak with him. Chevalier would have preferred to meet in town, but it was difficult for him to be inconspicuous there. The Dog, on the other hand, had no problem slipping into the palace unnoticed. 

"Your Majesty." Rio gave an exacting bow, just deep enough to be appropriate. "You said Emma was in danger?"

Chevalier gave a curt nod. "Don't play stupid, Dog. You know as well as I do that some people will make the connection between the woman they saw at my side and the girl in her bookshop. Simply leaving the palace does not ensure she is out of danger."

"Bossman said -"

"I didn't summon you to waste my time with reassurance from Four-Eyes." Chevalier felt a spike of annoyance.

"Then what do you want?" Rio wasn't cowed in Chevalier's presence. He seemed at ease, something even Chev's brothers struggled with at times. 

Chevalier allowed a thin smile to rise on his lips. "You are resourceful. I want you to keep an eye on her. Ensure she comes to no harm. And -"

"You want me to spy on her." Rio's brows rose, his expression challenging.

Chev shook his head. "No. I don't want to know about her daily activities. Only tell me how she is. Or if something serious occurs." 

Rio crossed his arms. "Did you send Prince Clavis to check on her too?"

"Clavis?" Chevalier felt a flicker of surprise, a rare occurrence. "No." He didn't know what his brother's specific goal was, but to be sure it was something disruptive. "That would be something I want you to report. Do you understand?"

Silence stretched between the two men for longer than courtesy allowed. Finally, Rio nodded. "I'll write to you if anything happens. But only because I love Emma and I want her to be safe."

"Don't tell me what I already know, Dog." Chevalier snorted. 

Rio gave him a look as imperious as any prince. "In time, she will forget you and find her happiness with someone else."

Chevalier nodded. "You continue to state the obvious." He kept his expression still, but Rio's words stung the raw wound of his heart. "Now go, and do not allow yourself to be seen. I don't think I need to tell you what will happen if you reveal this arrangement to anyone."

"You don't need to threaten me. I'm doing this for Emma." Rio didn't bow before he left, only slipped away into the shadows. 

The King stayed there in the garden for awhile longer, breathing the rose-scented night air. Memories stirred within him, recalled in painfully perfect detail. 

[ikeromantic]

Can i request some Ieyasu angst where he was too late to return MC's feelings and now she's getting married to someone else?

Ooooh it's been a bit since I wrote something angsty. Here's approx. 600 words of heart-stricken Ieyasu!

Ieyasu trudged through the hall, his hands balled into fists at his sides. He paused at the chatelaine's door, glaring at it. His green eyes were hot, dampness gathering at the corners. He blinked away the wetness and put one trembling hand on the door. 

It slid open under his palm, and he took a step back in surprise.

"Ieyasu?" 

Her voice sent a sharp pain through his chest. His hand, still outstretched, ached to touch her. He dropped it to his side, fingers curling again into a fist. "You." He couldn't help the way his gaze drank in the sight of her, sweeping over her face, her form. 

"I'm so glad you came back in time!" She smiled at him brightly. "I was worried I would have to get married without my best friend beside me."

He hated the way her words hurt. The awful weakness that invaded his body and made him feel as if his legs could not support him, as if his arms were too heavy to lift. "You don't need me," he snapped, the words flat and cold and full of suppressed fury. Anger at himself for waiting, for saying nothing to her of how he felt. "You're just a fool." He wasn't sure if he meant himself or her.

The chatelaine gave a soft laugh. "You are always so sharp. But I know you wanted to be here. You came straight to see me, still in your traveling clothes."

Ieyasu opened his mouth, and closed it again. His heart throbbed in his chest, bruised and bleeding. He wanted to lash out. He wanted to cry. The air felt too thick to breathe. "Why . . ." The word escaped on a gasp, barely formed, hardly audible. 

Understanding filled her eyes, terrible and heavy. "Oh." That one syllable held a world. She hadn't known, hadn't understood. Not until this moment, this moment that was far too late. Her heart belonged to another, and whatever might have been would live only in dreams. "Ieyasu, I loved y-"

"Don't. I don't need your pity." He bit the words off in a rapid-fire staccato. She'd loved him and he pushed her away. Now there was another. And he - he felt like he was dying.

There was no wound of war so great as this, that tore him open and left him exposed. Vulnerable. Weak. The fires of his anger burned him, searing the raw pain of this loss. The grief of a love he'd been too afraid to enjoy. To admit. He was a coward.

Her fingertips brushed his arm, and he jerked away. "Please." A tear ran down her cheek.

Ieyasu turned away, unable to look. "Congratulations." The word choked him. His feet began to move, pushing him further away from her. He couldn't look back, though he could feel her eyes on him. All the things he wanted to say, the feelings he'd kept in for so long, threatened to break loose. He had to escape her before they did. Before he made himself look even more foolish. 

There would never be another love for him like this one. He knew he would hold her in his heart, his weak and silly heart, forever. While another enjoyed her smiles and wiped her tears away. Ieyasu could not forgive himself for his fear that kept the words "I love you" pinned inside his chest. Words that it was now too late to ever say. They were carved into his flesh now, as permanent as a scar. I love you. I love you. I love you. An echo of never-was and never-will-be.

[ikeromantic]

Hi! Can I ask for a sweet(no NSFW please) fic for Sasuke? The scenario is: first meeting.

My MC is named Tatsu. She is a blind ninja who serves as a bodyguard for a lady in Azuchi. She is the quiet type, but straightforward. Tatsu has heard much about Sasuke and is secretly in love with him.

It may not necessarily be romantic, it can be platonic too! I just want sweet interactions between Tatsu and Sasuke.

Tatsu may get nervous and shy when meeting Sasuke for the first time.

Tatsu's appearance

This was fun to write! Tatsu is very cute! I hope I did her justice ^_^ Approx. 2700 words of ninja-ninja sweetness.

Tatsu stood quietly just behind and to the left of her lady. She was dressed as a handmaid, there to serve tea or adjust the lady's dress - whatever was needed. At least that was the polite fiction. In truth, the family wanted to ensure the lady's safety as they sought a powerful alliance in Azuchi. Especially while the truce talks continued with Kasugayama. There were so many visitors in the city, so much unrest. Anything could happen.

The garden around them bustled with activity. Tatsu could see none of it, blind since birth. But she could hear and smell and feel everything. The manor guards walking along a gravel path to the left, a mere four steps distant. The blossoming flowers beside her lady's shaded seat, that smelled of camellia and asagao. The gossiping manor servants whispering about the day's assignments in the corner, ten large steps forward and a little to the right. 

Her lady shifted in her seat, bored and uncomfortable. It seemed she would be left to her own devices another day, with no news from the matchmaker or her parents. "I think I will retire to my room," she said finally. "I want a nap."

Tatsu knelt and held out a hand to help her up. "I will accompany you."

"No. I'll be safe enough. I want you to study our hosts. Listen and see what you can find out." She took Tatsu's hand and squeezed it once. Then she was gone, her footsteps retreating across the garden path toward her rooms. 

After a long moment, Tatsu stood. Her lady was gone, back to her rooms to be waited on by her servants. She took a breath. This was work she'd been trained for. Even so, there was an anxious tightness in her as she began to make her hesitant way across the garden. 

The most important guests would be in the main castle, which connected to this manor through a series of covered walkways. Tatsu began counting the steps toward the servant's entrance of the main hall. She was nearly to the door when she realized she was being followed. Her trained hearing picked up the near-silent rasp of cloth on wood. Somewhere above her. Not another servant then, nor a guard.

She opened the door and stepped in, moving as if unaware of her sneaking companion. Once inside, she pretended to fumble her way across the space, patting at the wall as if she didn't know where she was. 

The sound of feet lightly landing on the wood floor came a heartbeat later. Then, "You look lost. Do you need some help?"

Tatsu spun toward the voice, her nerves on edge. "Who's there?" She knew it was a man, and that he was four steps behind her. Her fingers grazed the hilt of a hidden knife in her sleeve. If he was a danger to her, she was ready.

"Sasuke Sarutobi at your service."

Tatsu went completely still. This was the Sasuke Sarutobi. And she was standing here talking to him. Or, not talking exactly. Her mouth didn't want to work.

"Sorry if I surprised you," he added.

She managed to find her voice and tried to sound confident as she replied. "Are people usually not surprised when you jump down from the ceiling?" 

He chuckled, sounding a little embarrassed. "You've got a point. That isn't the standard entry."

Tatsu found herself relaxing. There was something about Sasuke that was calming. He was nice, something the stories about him didn't include. "What are you doing here?"

"Same as you, I would guess." Sasuke's steps scuffed lightly across the floor as he took a few steps toward the inner door. 

"I'm on an errand for my lady," she replied a little stiffly. 

She could hear the fabric of his clothes rustle as he shifted. "Of course. And I am on an errand for my lord." There was a smile in his voice. 

Tatsu was about to reply when she heard the unmistakable sound of creaking armor. She was about to warn Sasuke when he pulled her close and ducked behind a decorative shelf. 

"Guard coming," he whispered.

"I know," she hissed back, feeling slightly embarrassed to suddenly be so close to him. "I didn't need you to grab me."

"Sorry." Sasuke sounded contrite, though he did not let go. The sound of the guard's steps silenced them both. 

The door slid open, and Tatsu could hear the guard breathe, could feel the slight shiver of the floorboards as he took a step inside. Behind her, Sasuke was as still as a statue. Every muscle in him was tensed and ready to fight or flee. She squeezed his hand gently, reassuring him that they were safe. The guard's breath was even, his steps relaxed. If he suspected someone was in here, it would sound different. 

After a moment, the guard departed, closing the door again. Sasuke let go. "I apologize for the noncon. There wasn't time to ask."

"Non . . . what?" Tatsu shook her head. "Thanks, I guess. I could have just stood there. I'm a blind maid. No guard is going to care if I wander into some place I'm not technically supposed to be."

He chuckled. "Underestimating you to his own detriment. You're like Daredevil. Only much prettier." 

Tatsu wasn't sure which part to respond to. She didn't know what a dare devil was, but he'd also called her pretty. She felt her face heat. Sasuke had complimented her. Was this real? "I . . . dare . . . pretty? What?"

"Daredevil is a blind hero. Anyway, that's immaterial to current circumstance." He cleared his throat. "I don't want to assume anything, but if you're here for reconnaissance, we'll need to -"

"The negotiations room is on the third floor, second door to the right. There is a preparation room to the immediate right, which has two entrances, one for bringing in supplies and another for carrying things out. Both are guarded and all entries and exits are searched. But there's a balcony two rooms over." Tatsu was glad her voice sounded steadier than she felt.

Sasuke let out a breath of surprise. "You did your research."

Tatsu smiled. She couldn't help it. There weren't many opportunities in her work to show off, much less to another ninja. "Of course." 

"Then . . . may I accompany you to the balcony? Since we're both headed the same place it just makes sense to join forces." 

She considered. Sasuke was skilled. But he was also ninja for another lord. They could end up on opposite sides of a coming conflict. But that was always the case. Alliances changed more often than the seasons, so it was equally possible they'd end up on the same side. Tatsu nodded. "Alright. I'll help you."

Tatsu took the lead on their way up toward the negotiations room. On the way, Sasuke snared a tray for each of them to carry in case they ran into another guard. As it happened, they passed several. The guards didn't notice them. Servants were often invisible, which made her job so much easier. It was interesting to pay attention to how Sasuke got past.

He would slow his steps and make them more obvious rather than less. Just another unsubtle servant. Sasuke also changed his breathing to pretend being slightly out of breath. Or at least, Tatsu thought he was faking it. 

She paused at a landing and turned toward him. "Do you need a rest?" Tatsu wanted to make sure he could keep up. They had more stairs to climb, afterall.

"What?" He sounded genuinely caught off guard.

"Nevermind," Tatsu muttered. She felt her face flush, embarrassed being caught out trying to take care of him.

"You heard the change in my breathing?" There was a smile in his voice again. "Don't worry. I am operating at peak efficiency. I just like to make sure to play my part when we walk past the guards. I think most servants would be a little out of breath climbing so many stairs."

Tatsu nodded. "I thought that could be it, but I wanted to make sure." 

Sasuke patted her arm. "I appreciate it."

His hand was warm and calloused. She could feel the way his skin caught at the smooth fabric of her kimono. His touch was gentle, as if he were uncertain how to reassure her. Or perhaps, unused to making such gestures. It made Tatsu wonder what his life was like when he wasn't on a mission. Perhaps they had more in common than she initially assumed. 

They resumed their trek, finally reaching the correct floor. Tatsu could hear the heavy presence of soldiers even before they stepped out into the hall. "There are three . . . no, four men ahead. All in armor, and well armed," she whispered. "Two on each side of the hall. I think they may be from opposing sides."

"You can tell all that from the sound?" Sasuke sounded impressed rather than skeptical.

"Of course. If you listen, you can too. There are four distinct sounds of breath, and the slight creak of armor. There -" she paused, "that was the sheath bumping up against the wall. And if one is armed, best to assume all are."

"So what's the plan? We walk past to the balcony room?" 

Tatsu nodded. "Reconnaissance only. No assassinations and no unnecessary violence. We should be able to get in and out without causing a disturbance."

Sasuke made a small sound of agreement. "What's the plan if we're stopped or caught? I was thinking we can retreat to through the ceiling tiles and escape to the rooftops."

"We can if we have to. It shouldn't come to that. If someone walks in and asks questions, I will play the bumbling, blind serving girl. And you can be . . ."

"New to the castle, assigned to help you. I don't know any better." Sasuke chuckled. "Alright. But I'm keeping my smoke bombs handy."

Tatsu couldn't help but smile. There was something infectiously joyful about the strange ninja. "You have a strange attachment to climbing through roof tiles."

"What can I say? Rooftop escapes are fun." 

The two of them entered the hall, both still smiling. The guards didn't ask them any questions as they carried their trays into the balcony room and shut the door behind them. When they got inside, they realized why. The room had already been set up for a feast. Servants must have been coming and going all day to arrange so much food, drink, and decor. 

Tatsu could smell the heady, conflicting scents of the dishes. Roast fish, pickled vegetables, rice, vinegar, poached egg, bean paste . . . She stopped just inside and tried to reorient herself. The layout she'd memorized contained only the room's usual furniture. That was clearly not the case now. She would need to be careful.

"The table is nearly three meters, umm, about the length of a man and a kid lying lengthwise. The width is about five forearms. There are ropes of flowers hanging just above head height, but nothing that should touch you." Sasuke went on to describe the space to her with clear measures and directions, as if he knew exactly what she needed to know to move with confidence. 

"Thanks," she murmured, feeling a mix of relief and bewilderment. 

"Closed caption by Sasuke," he said, a smile in his voice. 

She had no idea what that meant, but found herself smiling too.

They set down their trays and made their way to the balcony. From there, it was a simple enough process to get past the railing and onto the slim rail that wrapped the building. Though Tatsu knew it was exactly the width of her palm, it felt much narrower standing on it. She was glad she could not look down to see the distant ground.

Sasuke didn't seem to be bothered at all by their height or precarious perch as he followed her onto the rail. The sound of his movements was confident, quick and self-assured. "I'm going to put a safety rope around you," he whispered. "Don't move."

She held still as he wrapped a rope around her waist, and listened as he secured it to the roof above. "Good idea," Tatsu said. She generally didn't bother with such measures since she worked alone. On most missions, she knew she had only her skill to rely on and if she failed, death was the better option. But with a partner, she was more and less exposed. There were opportunities, and different ways of working. It made her wish, in a way, that she could work with Sasuke more after this. 

They clung to the wall, listening as they moved closer to the negotiation room. Tatsu paused when she could make out the conversation. "They are discussing territory," she whispered.

"I can't hear anything," Sasuke admitted. "Your ears are good."

"Have to be," she smiled at him. "Here, I'll repeat what they're saying." For the next two hours, Tatsu gave a running dialogue of the meeting, and Sasuke took notes. They were both relieved when the enclosed nobles broke for the evening. Tatsu's throat was sore from so much talking, and her hands and feet hurt from holding to the narrow rail and wall. "We should go back, before the feast starts," she said.

Sasuke touched her arm. "I have an idea."

"I'm listening."

"Let's go up, instead of over. We can relax on the roof for a bit before we go back to make our reports. It will make it easier to get out too, since it will be full dark by then." Sasuke tugged gently at their safety rope. "Just need to climb this."

Tatsu didn't need it to be dark for her to get out. But she wanted to spend a little more time with Sasuke. She might never see him again after this, or even have to go up against him. "Alright. We can wait on your favorite rooftop for a bit." 

She quickly clambered up the rope, and Sasuke followed. He led her to an alcove formed by the roof peaks where no one from the ground could spot them. The chill wind was blocked here too, thankfully. 

Sasuke sat down beside her, his leg brushing up against hers. The contact was warm and pleasant. Tatsu found herself leaning into him. "Here," he said, handing her a leaf-wrapped parcel. "I snagged it from the table."

Tatsu was impressed. She hadn't heard him take anything while they were moving past the feast. She unwrapped the leaf and found a pair of red bean paste buns. She could smell the sweetness of them. Tatsu picked one up and held it out to Sasuke. "One for you, one for me."

"Thanks." She heard him take a bite and blushed. She'd meant to hand it to him, not feed him with it. "Good," he said, his mouth full and voice muffled. He lifted the remains of the bun from her fingers and stuffed it into his mouth.

Tatsu ate hers more delicately, savoring each bite. It really was good. 

"The view from here is amazing. Do you want me to tell you what it looks like?" Sasuke's voice was quiet, but intense, like the man himself. 

"That would be nice," she replied. 

Sasuke tilted his head toward her, almost resting his chin on her shoulder as he began to speak. He told her about the city arrayed below them, the lights of the homes and teahouses. He described the sky above, the names of the glittering stars. His voice wove pictures in her mind, beautiful and awe-inspiring. No one had ever given her the world like this. Made it pretty, for her. 

She wished their time together could go on, but she knew she would have to go back to her mistress soon. Report, and on to the next message. Sasuke sensed it too, the goodbye that came closer with each breath. "Can we -"

"I'd like to -"

They both spoke at the same time, and both stopped, laughing. 

"Do you think we could meet again?" Sasuke's voice was soft, hesitant.

"I think so. But I don't know when, or how." Tatsu sighed. "We have our duty." 

"We do." He gripped her hand. "Let's make a pact. When we have a chance, we'll seek each other out. Ok?"

"Deal," she smiled at him, and she knew he was smiling back.

[ikeromantic]

Maeda Meet Cute

A Keiji Maeda red thread of fate story for @scruffymctee for the occasion of her birthday ^_^ Featuring her lovely OC Tomoyo. Approx 2000 words of modern AU fate, love, and kisses!

Keiji wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. It was a warm day, bright sun and a hint of a breeze. Shame, he thought, to spend it working like this. But needs must. He pulled his sweat-soaked shirt off and hung it off one of the bare planks jutting from the side of the building. 

"Showing off again, boss?" One of the guys shouted from his spot up on the scaffolding. 

"Always," Keiji laughed. He kept a smile on his face for the crew. All day, every day. In work like this, morale meant everything. Happy men made for better workers. Besides, his misery was his own. They didn't need to know. "Besides, it's hot," he added. "I can't believe it's only May!"

"Be a rough summer," the guy agreed. 

"Now stop watching me and pay attention to the damn crane," he shouted up at the workers. The building project Keiji managed was scheduled to complete in August. It was a beast of a job, but worth it, if they could make the deadline. He felt fairly confident they would. No matter what kind of failure his family thought him, he had a good reputation in the industry. He was the guy you hired when your building had to be done by a certain date, within budget. Keiji hadn't failed a project yet, and wasn't about to start. 

He might never be famous, but damn if he wasn't going to be the most successful construction company in the country. The crew he'd built, his network of suppliers and contacts, his reputation . . . it would all . . . Keiji's thoughts scattered as an odd tingling swept over his skin. He felt as if a cool breeze kissed his bare chest and back, raising the hairs on his arms. 

Keiji glanced around, wondering if anyone else on his crew felt the same. If they did, their faces didn't betray it. He bent back to work, but the sensation persisted. Keiji kept looking up, distracted and a little confused. That was when he spotted her. 

She was gorgeous. Long dark hair pulled into a loose braid over her shoulder, eyes that flashed emerald green in the afternoon sun. Lips as red and sweet as ripe pomegranate seeds. Her curves were hardly concealed by the playful sundress she wore. The woman was lounging beside a drink cart. Her fingers were curled around the neck of a glass bottle, little droplets of condensation glittered on her skin from the cold drink. 

Her eyes met his as she lifted the drink to her lips, and never in his life had he wished to be a bottle more than at that moment. There was something irrepressibly sensual about her that made his face hot and sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. He grinned at her and winked. 

The woman smiled back. Then, she let her eyes travel up and down Keiji's body. He could feel her gaze, as if she were trailing her fingers along his chest and the fly of his jeans. Keiji licked his lips, feeling suddenly exposed. 

"Looks like you've got an admirer, boss," one of his crew commented with a chuckle. 

"Something like that." Keiji cleared his throat, trying to bring himself back to the moment. So what if a beautiful woman gave him a once-over. It wasn't like this was a first. It meant nothing. He pulled himself away, turning back toward the building. He could still feel her eyes on him, that phantom touch caressing his shoulders and the small of his back. 

Keiji tried to ignore the sensation, even as it drew him toward her in a way he could not explain. His eyes travelled over the work site, avoiding the woman, checking the safety measures as his crew began one of the more dangerous parts of their job. Hoisting structural supports to the upper floors. 

"Hey, watch that I-beam!" Keiji shouted up at the crane operator. Several tons of steel swung up over the scaffolding, titling precariously. The area beneath the hoist was clear, but the crane cables were swinging more than he liked.

"We got this," his crane operator called back. The prediction came a moment too soon. A sudden gust of wind at the top of the structure made the beam swing out wildly. The heavy steel tore free of the crane cables and tilted, first one direction, then another. Its shadow careened over the ground, predicting all the places it might come crashing down.

This wasn't the first time Keiji saw such a mishap. As the I-beam slipped free of the last restraint, he saw where it would land. Atop the woman, who was still watching him. Her expression betrayed not a hint of dismay. Keiji didn't pause to shout a purposeless warning. He lunged toward her, knocking her out of the path of the falling steel. His body twisted to protect her from the hard asphalt and concrete beneath them. 

The world shook for a moment as the I-beam landed with a deafening crash. Keiji and the woman were only inches away, lying half on the sidewalk, half on the street. The remains of her sweet soda slowly soaked into Keiji's jeans. He barely noticed. His full attention was on the woman.

He could smell her, a scent unlike any perfume. It was warm and summery, with just a hint of cinnamon spice beneath. Her hair tickled his face where it had come loose from the braid. She fit against him as if they were molded together. The curves and hollows of her body pressed into his own perfectly. Though she was safe now, he found himself reluctant to let go. "You should watch where you're standing, princess," he murmured, trying to play his reaction off as something other than attraction.

"Maybe you should watch where you drop your things." She arched a brow, unphased by the near miss and the intimate contact. Her nails trailed lightly down the outside of his upper arm. "Somebody might get hurt," she added, her lips curling in a slight, playful smile as if she'd made a joke. 

"You could have been," he retorted, feeling all out of sorts. His heart was pounding harder now than it had been when he leapt for her. Somehow, the idea of this stranger being injured set a panic in him. 

The woman gave a slight shrug. "I knew I'd be alright."

Keiji couldn't help but grin, though it was out of exasperation as much as amusement. "So you just expect random people to jump to your rescue?"

"Nope. Just you." She nibbled her lower lip for a heartbeat, as if considering whether or not to say more. "I just knew you wouldn't let me get hurt. It's weird but . . ." Her gaze fixed on his. "I feel like I know you?"

Though she spoke the words with a questioning lilt, Keiji knew it wasn't a question. He felt it too. Down to his bones. He didn't even know her name but holding her like this felt natural. Like he'd been doing it his whole life. "Yeah."

People were crowding around now, and he knew he should let go. Help her up. Check the damage to the beam and the worksite. But he couldn't bear to let go. Not yet. "What's your name?"

"Tomoyo." She smiled. "And you are?"

"Keiji. Keiji Maeda."

She repeated his name, savoring the syllables. "We should probably get up," the woman added. She made no move to follow through. 

There were sirens in the distance, coming closer with every breath. In no time at all, he'd need to be looked at by emergency services, and begin the unpleasant task of getting the work back on track. "Tomoyo." He liked the way her name sounded, liked the flicker of heat in her eyes when he said it. "Can I get your number?"

Tomoyo grinned. "Only if I get yours too." 

Only then did Keiji stand, still cradling her to his chest. He set her on her feet and released one arm, though the other still curled gently around her back. "You ok?"

"Yes." She had a smile he could only call challenging. "Thanks for saving me, Keiji."

He was going to toss out some half sarcastic, witty reply, but before he could, she lifted onto her tiptoes and brushed the lightest of kisses to his lips. His mind emptied of everything but her. The feel of her, the sweetness of her lips. The faint taste of strawberry from her drink, and Tomoyo, even sweeter beneath that. 

Keiji wanted to crush her to him, to kiss her breathless. To carry her off like some romance novel hero, to make love in a mountaintop castle worthy of a woman like her. He wanted to drown in her passion. To make her say his name, to moan it, while he buried himself in her. Keiji had never wanted anything so much as he wanted more of Tomoyo. But the emergency services were pulling up and the world was already breaking into this moment between them. Pulling them apart. Asserting the bald, sharp face of reality against the pleasure-dream. 

He let go. She stepped back. The two of them were swarmed a moment later, phone numbers forgotten in the panic of the aftermath. Medical services checked them over, along with anyone else in the accident's general area. The construction crew poured out of the worksite, hemming and hawing about the crane and the wind and what to do next. 

There was so much to worry about, so much to do. Keiji tried to catch sight of Tomoyo through the throng, but couldn't find her. His body ached for her closeness. Absurd, he thought. But true nonetheless. It was as if a string tied tight around his heart, and every moment away from her it drew tighter. 

Then, with no warning she was there, pushing something into his hand. Her satin-soft fingertips pressing against his calloused palm. A shred of paper. "Call me," she mouthed. And then she was gone again. 

"To hell with that." Keiji stood from the spot the medics left him. He pushed past his crew and the emergency responders. "Tomoyo," he shouted. "Tomoyo!" Keiji spotted her sundress, her graceful limbs, the now-tangled sway of her braid. He ran toward her.

Tomoyo turned as he closed in. "Keiji?"

"I don't want to call you," he admitted. There was a flash of hurt in her eyes, and he reached out to take her hands. "I don't want to be that far from you." 

She blinked up at him, confused. "I don't understand."

"Come home with me? Or let me come with you? I'm-" Keiji paused, not sure if he should admit more. They barely knew each other, after all. But in for a penny, in for a pound. "I'm not ready to let you out of my sight. Not now, when I've just found you."

A smile slowly lifted the corners of her lips. "Bold of you, Keiji Maeda. What would you do if I said no?"

He knew she wouldn't. Not with that heat simmering in those jade green eyes. "I'd have to find a way to convince you."

Tomoyo laughed. "Is that so? And how would you convince me?"

"I could sing? Dance?" He dropped to his knees. "I could beg."

"Or you could kiss me," she counter-offered.

"Or that," he agreed, pulling her down to him. His lips met hers and this time it was no light brush. Her lips parted with a gasp as his arms went around her, hands tangling in her dress. His tongue teased past those sweet candy-red lips and into the sacred mystery beyond. Tasting, toying, exploring her. And she kissed him back, every bit as hungry for more of him as he was for her. 

Keiji wanted to keep his eyes on her, but the feeling was too overwhelming. His body felt as if it was on fire, as if his heart was ready to burst. His eyes closed, flickers of light forming in the darkness behind his eyelids. The light was green as emeralds. Green as jade. Green as the color of Tomoyo's eyes. He could feel the rapid beat of her pulse, the flutter of their shared breath. 

He stood, lifting her up as he did. Breaking the kiss to call back to his workers. "I'll see you tomorrow!" 

Tomoyo gave them a cheeky wave as they left to the sound of joyful laughter and confused questions. Between them, there was no confusion. There was only an undeniable connection. A thread woven between them, unbreakable, and drawing tighter every moment. Keiji was afraid to use the word love, but he didn't need to think it, to say it, to know it was true. In time, it would come of its own accord, admitting with a breath what they both felt.

[ikeromantic]

Ugh. IRL is kicking my ass. I thought I'd have a few stories to post this week but I probably won't have anything up until Monday. Positive vibes appreciated!

[ikeromantic]

ur requests probably ended but what if okay

any suitor of ur choice, any ikemen (sengoku,vamp, prince, literally any) MC is unnamed.

How would that said suitor react like, MC is listening to music from the 21st century and she just starts blasting woman by doja cat. Shes singing out the words "let me be your woman" without noticing the suitor watching her.

Thanks for the ask, nonny! I picked Isaac from Ikevamp ^_^ I hope you enjoy! Approx. 600 words of some Doja Cat inspired fluff with Isaac!

Isaac's eyes widened. He could hear someone singing. Scratch that. He could hear her. He'd promised himself to stay away, but the sound of her voice was a lure, one he didn't have the strength to refuse. He crept closer to the library on tiptoe, and paused at the open door. As loud as she was, he didn't think she would hear him but if she was looking this way . . .

He leaned past the doorjamb, peering in. She was dusting. Or, she was supposed to be anyway. Instead, she was dancing. Nothing like the decorous, formal dances he knew. No. This was raw and sensual. Her hips rolled in a way even he could not mistake. 

"I got delicious taste, you need a woman's touch in your place," she sang, her voice bold and unrestrained. "Just protect her and keep her safe, baby worship my hips and waist!"

Isaac felt a fire flicker to life in his chest and low belly, and an ache in his jaw as his fangs tried to lengthen. She was beautiful. Divinely so. Like something beyond the narrow confines of logic and mathematics.

He felt a flicker of guilt for watching her like this. Spying. But he couldn't tear himself away from the sight. In fact, he wanted to do more than watch. He wanted to touch. Taste.

"Let me be your woman! Woman, woman, woman!" She did a slow turn, swaying in an undeniably carnal way. 

Isaac realized too late that her spin brought her around to face him. Their eyes met, both widening in surprise. He felt frozen in place, pinned there by desire. A feeling he saw echoed in her gaze. Neither moved as the moment stretched between them, both waiting to see how the other might react. 

"Y-you!" She squeaked. "You were watching me?" Her words broke the spell that held them in place. She took a step toward him, her expression hovering near outrage as her cheeks went hot. 

"No! No, I - I was just . . . walking?" He backpedaled away from the door, almost tripping. 

"So you didn't hear me singing?" Her tone was clearly skeptical.

Isaac debated lying. He wanted to lie. Deny everything. But the words tangled on his tongue and all he could do was nod.

She advanced another step closer. "So you did hear me sing? Or you didn't?"

"I - I -" 

Her eyes narrowed and she was close enough now to poke the feather duster at him. "You were watching me. For how long?"

"A - a few minutes?" Isaac swallowed. 

"Did you like it?"

"What?" His eyes went even wider. She was so close now. He could smell the sweet scent of her, a mix of perfume and soap and that certain smell that was all her. Worse, he was terribly aware her pulse, the rapid beat of her heart as it pushed the sweet red liquor of her blood through the arteries and veins just beneath the thin silk of her skin. 

"Did. You. Like. It?" Each word was punctuated by a poke to his chest, the tip of her finger pressing into him and wrinkling his shirt. 

Isaac wanted to tell her how lovely she was, how graceful, but he couldn't. He wanted to tell her she could be his woman. His. He opened his mouth, searching for a reply he could make, and then spun on his heel and fled.

[ikeromantic]

Hello and Happy New Year 🎉🎇

I'd like to make a request for some Sweet Mitsuhide 💕🦊 for a prompt I guess lap pillow?

I imagine MC being slightly clingy; sits too close wants to hold hands, whatever. If Mitsu stays up too late working, she wants to stay close then, too. "I'll go to bed when you do."

Wishing you a lovely, cozy new year ✨ I hope you find many little joys this 2025

Thank you nonny! I love this scenario! Snuggly, teasing Mitsuhide is so much fun ^_^ Approx 2000 words of fluff!

Mitsuhide shifted in his seat, glancing at the woman to his right. She was sitting close enough that her leg pressed against his, a spot of warmth he found it hard to ignore. His lips curled up in a crescent moon smile as he leaned close. "What are you reading?" He made sure to speak close enough to her ear to tickle.

"Wha!" The chatelaine dropped the scroll in her hands, flailing for a moment. 

"What are you reading, little mouse," he repeated. Her reactions were a constant source of amusement. She was easily startled and blushed at the slightest provocation. It was too easy, but then, that was part of the fun.

She scooped up the scroll and smoothed it out. "Umm. This one? It's a - a history. Of Azuchi?" Her nervous response was adorable, but then she surprised him by leaning her head against his shoulder. "Thanks for asking! Would you like me to read it to you?"

Mitsuhide's eyes widened. He looked at her head, where it rested against his arm. "No. I've read that one." His voice was even but his mind was racing. What was she doing? What game was this?

"Mmm, alright." She stayed in that position as she lifted the scroll up to resume her reading.

If she was hoping to make him react, she had another thing coming. He was the Mitsuhide Akechi. Spy. Tease. Tormentor. So he snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her up against his side. 

She made a surprised squeak, and he expected her to shift away or even stand up. Instead, she settled into the crook of his arm and began to read. 

Flummoxed, he tried to return to his reports and ignore the chatelaine completely. Except, it was nearly impossible to ignore someone nestled against your side. Especially when that someone was soft and warm and smelled nice. After several wasted minutes, Mitsuhide decided reading reports right now was not the best use of his time. He extricated himself from her and stood. 

"Are we done studying for today?" She blinked up at him with a happy smile. 

"Yes. I'm going to check on some things. You have my permission to -" Mitsuhide paused as she stood. "Are you going someplace?"

The chatelaine's smile widened. "Yep." She reached out and took his hand. "With you!"

"I . . ." He hadn't expected this. She wasn't supposed to want to come with him. "Why?"

"I dunno." She shrugged. "So where are we going?"

Mitsuhide wasn't about to let her get the better of him. "You'll see." He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. "Maybe I should make you hold my hand everywhere we go together. We can tell people you're my toy."

"Pffft." She laughed. "If you want, I guess. But I don't think anyone would believe you. They'd probably think you kidnapped me or something."

This was true, he reflected. People did think the worst of him. He'd made sure of it. "Come on." He tugged her along with him out of the study and through the halls of his mansion. Servants peered at them as they passed, confused. Mitsuhide ignored the looks. This was hardly the strangest thing his servants saw him do. 

He didn't have a specific destination in mind, but decided on checking the training grounds. Kyubei was there, practicing with a bokken. Mitsuhide decided to join him. The little mouse surely wouldn't stick around for that. He let go of her hand. "I have practice to do. You're free to go."

The chatelaine smiled. "If it's alright, I'd rather stay and watch." 

"Alright." Mitsuhide decided to push her a little. Tease her. He leaned close, cupping her cheek with his hand. "Shall I take off my shirt to give you a show, little one?" 

He expected her to blush and stumble over her reply and she did blush, but her eyes widened and she didn't stutter at all. "I wouldn't mind that!"

Kyubei made a sound suspiciously like a laugh. 

Mitsuhide was determined to get a reaction, so he didn't let her throw him off his game. "As you like." He stepped back and slowly stripped off his top, moving with the grace of a dancer. He didn't look at her directly, but checked her reaction from side glances and a lowered gaze. She seemed to be genuinely enjoying it. Strange. 

Kyubei rolled his eyes. "Are you ready to spar, my lord?"

Mitsuhide responded with an attack, lunging toward him with a bokken in hand. For the next few hours they fought in a variety of styles. Practicing with each hand, with differing advantage, a variety of weapons. Training for the many situations their missions would sometimes put them in. He was so involved in the movement and strategy that he nearly forgot the chatelaine. But every time he glanced at her, she was watching with rapt attention.

Kyubei was very aware of her presence. Each time Mitsuhide's gaze traveled her direction, he gave his lord a knowing look. "You have a fan," he whispered when they came into close contact. 

He scoffed. This was just some game. There were several angles she could be working. Watching him for Hideyoshi, or fulfilling some promise she made to Nobunaga. Or perhaps she was afraid to be on her own, even within the castle. He was so distracted by the problem she presented that Kyubei got a hit on him. Which was surely what his vassal intended. 

"I think that's enough practice." Mitsuhide thanked Kyubei and put away his practice weapons. The chatelaine watched the whole time. He pulled his shirt back on and walked up to where she sat on the stairs. "That's all I have for you today. You can head back to the castle."

"That's alright. I'd rather stay here." She stood and held her hand out to him. "Where are we going now?"

"My room . . ." Mitsuhide gave her a slow, warm smile. "You want to be alone with me, in my room?" 

She took his hand. "Sure!"

He couldn't tell if she was trying to tease him or if she was faking this enthusiasm. Mitsuhide studied her face, but there was no sign of deception. The chatelaine was an open book, her emotions obvious. "I'm just going to be reading," he admitted.

"That's fine. I like to read." 

Mitushide looked down at their joined hands, feeling conflicted. She was pleasant company. He liked teasing her, seeing her cute reactions. Her company was enjoyable, but it wasn't good for her to be around him. Especially not alone in his rooms. There would be rumors. "You should go back to the castle," he repeated.

"Are you sending me away?" Her wide eyes held his gaze, and he couldn't miss the hurt in them.

"Do what you want," he said finally, "but know that people will talk. I have a certain reputation." Mitsuhide let his eyes travel down her body, taking in her pleasing, feminine form. "And it is not unearned."

The chatelaine gave a soft laugh. "You just like teasing me. I know you're secretly a nice guy. Deny it if you want."

He would have denied it, but her words surprised him so much that he had no snarky reply ready. Worse, he could hear Kyubei chuckling. "You're a fool," he murmured, and pulled her along with him, back into the hall.

Her hand was warm and soft in his, and Mitsuhide found some enjoyment as they walked together toward his room. He lifted their joined hands to his lips. 

"W-what are you doing?"

"You gave me your hand, so I've decided to enjoy the gift." He kissed the back of her hand slowly, sensually, his golden gaze fixed on her as he did. Her expression was most amusing. Her eyes went wide and heat spread up from her throat to her cheeks all the way to the tips of her ears. Her lips parted as if to say more, but no sound came out. 

Mitsuhide smiled widely as he lowered their joined hands. Then, acting as if nothing had occurred, he continued on. He'd enjoyed the taste of her skin, the satin feel of it against his lips. That little sample made him want more, and wanting was dangerous. For her. He glanced at the chatelaine from the corner of his eyes. She was smiling happily.

Strange.

Once in his room, he settled comfortably and began to review the reports sent by his contacts. Merchants and spies and warriors. All sending him a small piece of the larger picture. It was a puzzle he had to assemble, dissect, and analyze. Predicting possible  - the chatelaine was leaning on his arm again.

He glanced over at her. She'd sat down right next to him instead of literally anywhere else in his room. And now she was resting on his shoulder, a book open in her lap. Mitsuhide was tempted to tease her, but he needed to focus on his work. Besides, he was sure if he paid her no attention, she would get bored of this game she was playing and leave. And that was best. He ignored the quiet protest of his heart.

Mitsuhide focused on his reports, and the hours passed. He couldn't shake his general awareness of the chatelaine. Her warmth and the soft pressure against his side were impossible to ignore, but he didn't react. Despite his silence, she didn't show any sign of getting bored or leaving for her own room. "You should go to bed," he said suddenly, surprising himself and her.

The chatelaine tilted her head to look up at him without shifting from her spot on his shoulder. "Nope. I'll go to bed when you do."

"What?" 

"I don't want to go to bed until you do." She smiled up at him. "So stop trying to get rid of me. Aren't you the one that said you were gonna keep me close? Keep an eye on me."

"I did say that," Mitsuhide chuckled. "This wasn't quite what I had in mind, but if you like being close . . ." He gave in to his own desire to touch and tease. His arm slipped around her, pulling his little mouse tight against his side. 

She snuggled into the space. "That's better." 

This position might have been more comfortable for her, but for Mitsuhide this position was worse. She was half in his lap, her head on his chest. He could feel wisps of her hair where they brushed up against his throat. The chatelaine was incredibly distracting. No longer just a warmth at his side, she was now a bundle of sweetness in his arms and the reports he was meant to read were nowhere near as interesting. 

Mitsuhide did his best to focus on the words, on his plans, but he was hyper aware of every shift of her body, the rise and fall of her chest, the sweet scent of her. And she seemed completely ignorant of the effect she had on him. The chatelaine only sat there, reading her book without any problem, as if being curled in the crook of his arm was completely normal for her. 

The hour grew late, and outside the servants were lighting lanterns. It was well past time for the chatelaine to return to her own room, but she was still leaned up against him. Her head had slipped down his chest and now she lay against his belly. He noticed she wasn't turning the pages of her book anymore. 

"That must be the most difficult page in the book," he joked. She didn't reply. "Little mouse?"

"Mmm." She made a little humming sound and turned to slip further down from his belly to his lap. He could see her eyes were closed, her lips turned up in a slight smile. Mitsuhide knew he ought to wake her and send her away now, but she looked so precious. And it felt so nice to hold her like this. 

He lightly stroked her hair back from her face, unaware of the smile that curled the corners of his mouth. "You are such a little fool," he whispered. "Confidentially, just between us, I rather like it." It would be wise to send her away, but just for now, just tonight, he decided to enjoy it. Tomorrow he would do his best to push her away. "My little one." He pressed a kiss to her temple, chaste and sweet, and full of a love he wasn't ready to confess.

[ikeromantic]

Hi. Happy new year!

I don't have a detailed idea, but that's the main problem with ideas. If I'd see it in my head, I would have already written it, but… for some reason, my head is full of gaps. Maybe your imagination will work better with this. No pressure.

Victor from Villains and classic Kate. Somewhere at the very beginning of the route, and she doesn't have any romantic interests. At the moment.

She had a hard time at crown. Mission after mission, blood and violence… all the time. She felt very depressed… Some of the boys were worried about her (most likely Liam or Ellis), but for some reason she didn't let them cheer her up. Out of stubbornness or distrust. So… The boys asked Victor to do something about it. Victor knows how to approach anyone, and he's a magician of the sort.

He asks her for a favor. He needs to pack the presents… And she's the only one with "very delicate hands that can tie bows so cutely"… So… a lot of fluff, a lot of double-meaning teasing and, in the end, completely undeniable smut. Is it too much? If it's too much, you can end on teasing her… It'll cheer her up a bit.

Damn, this Kate is a slut. She takes everything while she can… But… maybe she has feelings for him, and that's why she didn't let other guys get close. This will work as well.

I haven't asked about stories before. I'm sorry if I did it wrong.

Again happy new year!

Ooooh I like this one. By our powers combined, we will birth this idea ;) I hope this brings you a smile. Gods know, I enjoyed writing it. It was meant to be 1K words or so and the scene, well . . . you'll see. Fair warning though - I haven't read Victor's route yet, so apologies if I don't get him quite right. Approx 4500 words of fluff and spice.

Kate stared down at the typewriter with a sense of dread. She needed to finish this report, but the last mission refused to be condensed into simple text.

Slavery, drug addiction, trafficking, murder, and theft . . . and that was before she got to the actual mission events. Her mind's eye filled with images of the room as Crown left it. Blood spattered walls, faces twisted with terror, some still gripping the instrument of their own demise. 

She shuddered. 

A knock at the door brought her attention away from the memories and back to the present. "Yes?" 

Ellis poked his head in. "I hope I'm not disturbing you." 

"Nope. Not really. Just working on the latest report." She turned to fully face him. "Is there another mission or . . ." 

He shook his head. "No. I just noticed you weren't at breakfast. Or lunch. You've been in your room all day." 

Kate nodded. "I've been working."

"You were in your room all day yesterday too. You had a maid bring you food."

"I was working then too." She sighed. This wasn't a lie, exactly. There was a lot to condense into her mission reports, a lot to analyze about the Cursed that she needed to consider, define, and record. But she also just felt numb. Chronically distressed. Being around the Crown guys made it worse, so she stayed in her room. 

Ellis took a breath. "Are you happy," he asked after a moment of awkward quiet.

No. "I'm fine. Really. Just trying to do my best." Kate gave him a quick, fake smile. "See? Happy."

He said nothing for a long moment. Then Ellis nodded. "I'll leave you alone then." He withdrew, his expression solemn. 

Kate sighed. Ellis was nice enough, but he was still Cursed and he reminded her of the missions and her duty as fairytale keeper. Ellis was work. Ellis was stress. They all were. Except . . . she closed her eyes, willing her mind not to think about Victor. Trying not to think of him only brought him more solidly into her thoughts. 

Victor was a beautiful man. His long, silky, dark hair, and those gem-like eyes that seemed lavender and other times cornflower blue. He was so tall, with broad shoulders, his chest muscled and firm. Kate's thoughts drifted past what she knew to what she imagined. The smoothness of his belly, the sight of the notches at his pelvis that pointed the way lower. The light dusting of dark hair that would lead her hands, her lips, down and down. Her mouth felt dry and her face hot as her imagination conjured his cock and what it might look like - feel like. 

She liked Victor. He inspired in her thoughts and feelings she'd never had before. Desire she previously only encountered in the heroines of naughty books. Bold, beautiful women that knew how to flirt and how to tease and how to make love. Not silly little robins with big imaginations. Kate cleared her throat. She had work to do and imagining Victor naked wasn't going to help her find the words for the violence and awfulness she needed to write about. 

After another heavy sigh, this one leavened with longing, she bent to her task. Kate didn't get far before another interruption though. A knock on the door. "What?"

The door opened to reveal Victor. His broad smile was the complete opposite of her scowl. "Kate! I thought I'd find you here."

She had a sudden surge of worry that perhaps his Cursed gift was reading her thoughts. What if he'd sensed her imagining him . . . and - and - no. Kate swallowed. "Umm. Hi. Victor."

He chuckled as if she'd said something funny. "I have a project I need some help with."

"What is it this time? Feeding the birds? Smelling a bouquet you bought? Eating a dessert you made?" Kate couldn't help the apathy that infected her words. Victor didn't trust her with anything important. Just these kinds of silly, pointless tasks. 

"I do like watching you take your delicate little bites." His smile widened. "But alas, no. This is a true emergency. Something only you can do."

Kate felt torn. Part of her wanted to blow him off as she had Ellis so she could mope in peace. But part of her leapt with joy that he sought her out, even if it was probably for another ridiculous pretend job. "What is it?"

Victor held out his hand. "Come with me." 

Despite her reluctance, she did. 

"Wrapping presents?" Kate stared at the pile of gifts, the painted paper, and colorful ribbons. "This is your emergency?"

A mischievous smile lit Victor's face. "Magic words to perform a magic trick. I've made you appear in my room. Tada!" 

She couldn't help but laugh. He made her feel better, even with everything else. Even knowing Victor was Cursed too. "Yeah, I guess that's a pretty good magic trick." 

"I promise you I can do much better than that."

His tone was sultry, suggestive. Kate blinked, sure she'd heard him wrong. Victor wasn't a flirt. Alfons, Liam, perhaps Roger - but not Victor. "Ummm. Like cards?"

"Among other things." He winked. "Now, shall we get started? I'd like to see those skillful little hands at work."

Kate nodded, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. It felt like Victor was still teasing her but that couldn't be right. "Ok, where to start?"

Victor gestured to a box marked Laboratory in fancy gold stencil. "Let's start there. You pick the paper and ribbon."

"Alright." This gift was certainly for Roger. She looked over the assembled wrapping papers and selected one in a dark green with amber accents that reminded her of the color of his eyes. Kate smoothed it out atop the table, ensuring there would be no wrinkles before she set the package down.

"Such a light caress. Perhaps a little force is needed?" Victor settled his hand over hers and pressed a little more firmly. "Just like so, hm? A firm touch, but still gentle."

She was surprised by his 'help' but didn't pull back. It felt nice to have his hand over hers, pressing it down. Pressing her down. Kate almost shook her head to clear away the thought and the ideas that came along behind it. Victor was just helping her out. That was all. Being nice, as he usually was. He meant nothing by it.

His hand trailed up her arm before he let go. "There we are. Now grip the edges on a side, yes. Just so!" He beamed at her. "Such skill. Tell me, little robin, did you wrap gifts for the postal service?"

"N-no?" His attention was making her nervous. 

"Mmm, natural talent then. I should have guessed." He watched as she carefully folded the paper over the edges of the box, pinching the creases and smoothing each fold. "Ah, to be a bit of wrapping paper."

Kate glanced up. "What?"

Victor chuckled and reached toward her, his fingers brushing against her ear. "What's this? A matching ribbon?" He pulled it from behind her ear as if she'd had it hidden in her hair. The silk rasped against her skin as he pretended to pluck it free. "Here you are."

His long fingers wound the ribbon around her wrist and draped the loose ends into her palm. Kate stared down at it, her skin prickling and sensitive. His frequent light touches were making her hyper-aware of him, his closeness, the cool softness of his hands. "Thanks," she murmured, trying to look unaffected.

"Mmm, now you're all tied up." Victor tugged the edges of the ribbon, causing it to tighten around her wrist. "How lovely!"

"You . . . like the way I look tied up?" Kate felt a strange thrill run up her spine at the spark in his gaze. It was more confirmation than anything he might have said. 

The silk ribbon pressed into her skin as he pulled it even tighter, then Victor laughed and let go. "You are always lovely, of course. And the ribbon suits you." 

She could hear the unspoken temptation under the innocent words. Kate looked away, hoping Victor didn't note the mirrored desire in her own eyes. "Thanks." She unwound the ribbon and wrapped it around the box, tying it with a big, decorative bow. 

"You're quite handy making knots. If you didn't learn that at work, I do wonder where you might have picked it up." Victor's brows lifted and his smile was teasing. 

Kate couldn't meet his gaze, not with the heat coursing through her right now. She tried to focus on the packages. The wrapping paper. Anything but Victor, anything but the sinful curl of his lips and the heat in his mischievous eyes. "I . . . it's just . . . wrapping gifts?" 

He laughed, the sound low and throaty, so different from his usual polished tone. "I wonder how long it would take me to get loose from one of your knots. Should we find out?" Victor held his wrists toward her, hands pressed together as if in prayer. 

"Ummm . . ." She wanted to come back with something clever so badly but it felt like her brain was short circuiting. Just imagining tying Victor up did things to her insides that she didn't want to think about to closely. "Y-you, it's probably n-not much challenge just being tied to yourself."

"That is a valid point." He sat back, putting a hand to his chin. "Perhaps I ought to let you tie me up to something else." Victor grinned. "A chair? Oh! My bed?" Seeing her shock, he laughed again. "Your bed then, hm? That sounds positively wicked!"

Kate felt her heart stutter. He was flirting. Outrageously. Unacceptably. And she loved it. "I - I - I don't think my headboard . . . that is . . . you can't tie . . . I don't think that would - would work." Her words tumbled out in a mixed, nonsense jumble as several replies came together at once. This did not appear to throw Victor off his game at all.

He lifted another item. "Shall we wrap this one next?" It was a breathtakingly beautiful carved music box. "It's for Elbert. Do you think he'll like it?"

She wound the box and listened to the delicate music scribed on the wax cylinder within. It was as pretty, she thought, as a live pianist. "This is amazing. He will definitely love it!" 

"Good." Victor held the box while she selected the wrapping, one with a glossy white finish and little matte blue bows. He watched her closely as she carefully packaged the gift. "You really seem to enjoy this."

"Hm? Well, wrapping gifts is kind of fun." Kate enjoyed giving presents before she'd been kidnapped by Crown and blackmailed into service. This felt a little like getting back to normalcy. Or it would have if not for the sultry heat in Victor's gaze. But then, she was enjoying that too if she was honest with herself. The way he looked at her sent pleasant prickles across her skin.

"Is it?" He cocked his head, regarding her. "What about unwrapping, Kate? Do you enjoy that too?"

She nodded. "Oh yes. Very much. Unwrapping means there's a surprise inside. And even if you know what it is, it's still fun to open a nicely wrapped gift." 

Victor flashed her another of his bright smiles. "I quite agree. I love unwrapping gifts. Peeling away the covering slowly builds excitement, don't you think?"

Kate wasn't entirely sure they were still talking about gifts, but she nodded again. "Yes, sometimes slow does build up the reveal but usually I just kind of . . . tear the paper off."

"Can't wait to get your hands on what's inside, hm?" 

His words sent another pleasant jolt through her. There was something so lascivious in the way he spoke, smoky and sexy and dangerous. Kate's treacherous mind teased her with imagined boldness, ripping his clothes off as if he was the gift and then -

"Kate? You look warm. Are you alright?" Victor leaned close, touching his lips to her forehead. 

She nearly leapt out of her skin at his sudden nearness and the unexpected familiarity. "I'm fine!"

Victor didn't release her despite her proclamation. "You are. Mmm, yes. Very much so. But here, let's help you cool off a bit." He slid his hands up under her ruff. 

She could feel his hands skim over her breasts and bit back a sigh. His touch felt good. Too good. Kate didn't want to escape, but she was too nervous to move closer. All she could do was hold still as he lightly caressed her, his hands moving up slowly to the pin that held her ruff in place. 

He undid the clasp, and gently pulled the blue fabric away. "There, that's better." Victor grinned and added, "Shall I make it disappear?"

"Please don't! I like that one."

"Alright," he laughed. "But here," Victor slid his index finger under her collar, popping the first two buttons open. His finger tip glided along her collarbone, first one side and then the other. "Yes. Now, aren't you feeling cooler?"

Not at all, she thought. Her pulse was racing and her whole body felt as hot as a summer day. Kate just nodded though. She wasn't sure she could say anything right then, with his finger still resting on her skin. In truth, she ought to button right back up. The top of her slip was showing now, and that was indecent. But she found she couldn't care much about propriety. Victor seeing her underclothes was nothing to what went on here, and nothing to what she wanted. 

Victor watched her from beneath his dark eyelashes. "You don't look satisfied though. And what kind of man would I be to leave you looking so unhappy?" His hand slipped lower, popping another button open. And another. "You'd be much more comfortable without this, don't you think?"

"Y-yes." Kate met his gaze with a sudden and unexpected bravery. She wanted to have the word back as soon as she said it. This was a bad idea. Flirting back. But she was glad she'd spoken up, though it left her trembling.

"Your request is my command." His hand moved achingly slowly, undoing the buttons one at a time, moving from her breasts to her belly and leaving a trail of heat behind it. He paused at the waistband of her skirt. The buttons there were off to the side, running down her hip. Victor did not move his hand toward them. Instead, he made little circles atop the silk slip with his thumb and forefinger.

Kate tried to breathe normally. Tried. Failed. Every time his fingers drifted toward her belly button in their tantalizing circle, her breath caught. "That's b-better."

Victor regarded her with a knowing look. "Is it? You look as if you're holding back, my dear. Why not give in to your desires? You are in the company of a villain, afterall." 

Give in. The words felt impossible to her. A lifetime of being taught to be demure, to be chaste, to be proper . . . could she throw it all away? Hadn't she already? What would be the harm in allowing herself this one little pleasure? "I'm still h-hot. Too hot," she said hoarsely.

"Ah. Then let me continue to unwrap you, little gift - I mean, robin!" He looked positively gleeful, like a bright eyed boy about to have the best treat. His hand slid under the waistband of her skirt, sliding slowly toward the buttons. 

Kate wanted him to move faster, to open presents the way she did. Tear the paper off and- and- 

Victor kissed her. A light, teasing brush of his lips against hers. The tip of his tongue taunted her, tasting the crevice between her lips without parting them further. He started to pull back but she caught his neck with her hand, and pulled him back. Victor let her. The next kiss was slow, a blossoming of shared breath as he pressed his cool mouth to her hot one. His tongue moved with sultry languorousness, savoring her. 

She tried to match his pace, but she was eager, thirsty for him. If she was going to let go, as he urged, she wanted to let go all at once. Instead, he held her to his pace, resisting her entreaties to go deeper and move faster. Kate barely notices when the last of her skirt's buttons came undone, but she did note the sudden cool air on her stockinged legs as he pulled the heavy blue wool away. 

"There. Half-unwrapped." He gave her a wide smile as his hand slid back up her leg from where he'd deposited her skirt. Victor caressed her thigh above the stocking, spreading her legs as he explored further up, to the soft cotton of her bloomers. They were in the French style, short and soft and tied closed with a ribbon. "Now what to reveal next, hm?"

Kate had some ideas. "My slip?" 

Victor chuckled. "I think we'll start lower." He took hold of her house slippers and slipped them off one by one. She gave a frustrated huff which only made him laugh again. "What's that, my dear? Don't be so impatient. The wrapping comes off quickly enough." He leaned forward and licked her nipple, letting his tongue wet the silk until it clung to her skin. 

She let out a soft moan, arching into the touch. Her nipple jutted obscenely against the near see-through fabric, and the outline of her areolas was visible. 

"See?" He held up a hand. Her garter straps and belt dangled from his fingers. 

"H-how did you get them . . . I didn't . . ." Kate couldn't wrap her head around it, or much else. Her thoughts were thoroughly scattered and colored by lust. 

He flicked his fingers and the belt and straps disappeared. "Magic." The word spoken so close to her spit-damp skin sent another pleasant jolt through her. Victor took hold of the ribbon tie that held her bloomers closed. "And now for my next trick . . ." With a tug, he undid the tie. The soft cotton fell open, baring her low belly to the air. 

She gasped at the sensation. Just the touch of air on her skin felt good. How much better would Victor's touch feel? Kate wanted it. Badly. She wanted to kick her panties off and spread herself wide for him. 

Victor seemed to sense her thoughts, and his smile was indulgently evil. "Maybe I should just leave those on, hm?" He laughed at her expression, his hands sliding up to the loose waist band. "I suppose not. It would make it harder to appreciate the gift beneath." His cool fingers slipped beneath the cotton and down her hips, peeling her bare. He dropped the bloomers to the side. 

Kate trembled as his hands slid back up her legs, dragging over the silk of her stockings, pausing to stroke her upper thigh. "Please . . ."

"Go on. I take requests." He winked. 

 "Touch me?" She did spread herself open then, eagerly. She wanted him to touch her, to taste her, to fill her. Kate couldn't remember feeling like this for anyone ever before. Wanting the way she did now. Maybe it was magic. She didn't care, so long as he did.

Victor trailed a finger up, up to the rise of her mound and brushed down the cleft, teasing. "Like this?"

"Y-yes!"

"But I'm not done unwrapping you," he laughed. 

Kate whimpered. She couldn't help it. 

"So impatient, little robin." He tutted, lifting her slightly to pull her slip up. Victor leaned forward and kissed the spot just above her cleft, then ran his tongue lightly up, up her belly, following the line of her slip as he pulled it up and off. Then he sat back on his heels, regarding her.

She was splayed on the floor, naked but for her stockings. A pile of gifts, wrapping paper, and ribbons sat piled to the side. She started to cover herself, a habit of modesty ingrained since childhood. But Victor caught her hands. 

"No need to hide your desires from me. Be wicked, Kate. Indulge the darkness in your heart." His hot-eyed gaze encouraged her. "What do you want? Show me."

Kate nodded, feeling something joyous, free. Hedonistic. She felt almost like a woman possessed, but these thoughts and feelings were her own. She reached down and ran a finger through her cleft, teasing the little bud of pleasure hidden within. "Here. I - I want you to touch me here."

Victor's smile was bright, pleased. He reached one long-fingered hand down, while the other cupped her breast. He parted her, spreading her folds open while his thumb brushed that sensitive pearl at her core. A light touch, taunting. His lips closed over her nipple, suckling, tongue flicking across her skin. 

Her hips twitched up, desperate for more. She didn't need to ask with words. He understood. His thumb pressed down, strumming her like a lute. Playing her as if she were his finest and favorite instrument. He slid one finger across her slick skin, teasing her opening. Circling it, dipping just the tip in, and then out again.

"More," she moaned, demanding, begging. This was torture. This was heaven. 

"I approve this request," he grinned, switching his mouth to her other breast. His finger dipped deliciously deeper as his thumb continued its rhythm. Sliding in and out, curled at the knuckle to press and turn against the clenching walls within. 

Kate was certain she would peak any moment. The sensations were too much, her desire overwhelming. But as she bucked and arched into his hand, he pulled back.

"Mmmm, no, I don't think so. This is my gift, afterall. I unwrapped you." He withdrew his hand completely and Kate mewled. She wasn't ashamed of the sound, not even really aware of it. She wanted his touch back. Now. 

Instead, he kissed down her belly, his slick fingers gripping her hip as his lips stopped just at the top of her cleft. Kate froze, breath caught in her chest, hear pounding like mad. Was he . . . was he going to put his mouth there? 

Victor's tongue slid between her folds, tasting her clit. His lips closed around it as he suckled, teeth lightly scraping her skin. 

Kate's body felt as if it should burst into flame. Hot and cold and electric. Every nerve was quivering, sensitized, at the edge of ecstasy. She tried to say 'more,' but all that came out was a needy moan.

"Oh yes," Victor smiled, his words tickling her skin. "My darling, you were so very worth unwrapping. What an excellent present you've given me." 

She might have attempted a reply, but then his mouth was on her again and all thought fled in the rush of sensation following. His tongue lathed her with curling, teasing strokes. Sliding into her as his fingers had, and up over her bud of pleasure. She came hard against his mouth, a crest of bliss that went on and on as he kept devouring her. 

He pulled his face away, chin glistening with her juices. "Yes. That face you're making right now. It's so beautiful. Let me show you." Victor stood and pulled her up with him on shaky legs. There was a mirror across the room from the small table and reading chair. He draped her over the chair back, facing the mirror. 

Kate wasn't sure what she was supposed to see. Her own face, flush with pleasure. Eyes glassy. The chair fabric was cool against her breasts, the velvet rubbing pleasantly against her aroused nipples. 

"Yes, like that." 

She could see him behind her, his smile, his dark hair draped over her shoulder as he pressed close. Kate could feel his cock slide between her legs. Hot and satin-soft, rubbing against the throbbing nub of her clit. She'd thought her orgasm was done, but this sent another tremor of pleasure through her. 

"Shall we give in, the both of us?" He kissed the side of her head, his hands on her hips. 

"Y-yes. God, yes." She pressed her hips back and felt him thrust up and into her. In this position, he was able to go deep, and there was so much of him. So much that she felt almost too full, at that perfect edge between pleasure and pain. 

Victor's gaze was heavy lidded, his lips parted. He withdrew slowly from her, and when he was almost fully out, thrust in again. One hand slipped around her hip to play with her clit. His fingers stroking her as he withdrew, and still when he drove himself in, impaling her. "That face," he panted, his cheeks flush now too. 

Kate was sure she couldn't focus on her expression, not now. Not like this. But her eyes found his face in the mirror. Perfect Victor, disheveled now. His shirt wrinkled and half buttoned, his hair mussed, and his expression intent. Focused on his pleasure and hers. With each stroke, she felt lifted higher, her understanding of her own desire changing. She liked this. She wanted more. 

Her body communicated this to him without words, which was good because she was beyond verbal. Lost in sensation, in movement. Victor moved faster, pounding deeper with each thrust of his hips. His fingers were wild against her clit, stroking and teasing madly. They both shook, breath ragged and hearts pounding. 

She came again, rocking back against him as every nerve in her body burst into a bliss she hadn't known existed. Her trembling pushed him over the edge, and he pulled her close as his cock plunged as deep as he could go. Victor held her like that until the waves of pleasure began to ebb, leaving them both sweat-slick and sticky. 

"Next time," she said, her breath still uneven, "I get to - to unwrap you." 

Victor kissed her shoulder blade. "Next time," he agreed. And she felt her heart soar. For the first time since coming to Crown, perhaps for the first time in her life, she was doing what she wanted. Without fear, without shame. She wanted Victor, and she could have him. Would have him. 

Kate wiggled her hips. "More?"

He mock-groaned. "What darkness have I woken in you, darling? You are insatiable." Then he grinned. "I like this side of you." Victor pulled free of her, leaving her feeling empty in more ways than one. Bereft. At least, until he lifted her in his arms and placed a kiss on her lips. "Let's get clean and dirty in my tub. You'll like the way I do baths. It's magical."

She laughed and clung to him. "I'm your gift today. Do what you want."

"Dangerous words." Victor's smile was wicked and full of dark promise. "Very dangerous."

[ikeromantic]

Punishing the Belle

A Chevalier Michel fanfiction. Approx. 3900 words. This scene takes place in Chapter 22-23 of the romantic route and is told from Chevalier’s POV. Part 20 of a series. Contains smut!

Chapter List

Chevalier was pleased with his prosecution of the war. Obsidian's forces were stretched thin by the multiple fronts of the attack, just as he'd planned. And as predicted, they signalled a willingness to sign a treaty of non-aggression. He left the details of the event to Four-Eyes and his brothers, though he kept an eye on intelligence reports. He read them every day, from his spot on Emma's couch. 

She was healing from the poison, but not as quickly as he'd like. Her delicate frame did not endure as well as her steel spirit. Emma was getting stronger each day, a fact that both pleased and disturbed him. Soon enough, she would be ready to announce her choice for King. Then she would leave the palace, and his life. As she should. As he wanted her to. 

"Ah! That brought tears to my eyes," she sighed from her bastion of pillows and soft, fluffy blankets. The book in her lap fell shut and Emma leaned back with a smile.

Chevalier felt his own lips curl up in response. "A royal romance with a twist, right?"

She nodded. "Yes! There are many kinds of royal romances, you know? But this one seems like the type where different people would have different opinions on whether the ending is happy or tragic. Love was the reason for their separation. A commoner and a prince." Emma gave a wistful laugh and then winced. 

He closed the cover of the report he was reading. "I didn't think it was tragic at all. 'I'll hope for your happiness even when we're no longer together,'" Chev quoted. "I found it satisfactory."

"Well, I can't say for sure either way. I mean, in the end they both marry other people, have families, and are happy. But I can't help feeling that it still wasn't exactly a happy ending for them." She hugged the book to her chest and sighed. "I am conflicted about the ending, but I loved the scene with the dance party. It was wonderful!"

Chevalier nodded. "I knew you'd like that."

She glanced at him curiously. "Really? How?"

"Remember the ball you attended some time ago? The look in your eyes changed the instant the dancing began. I assumed you had a strange longing for it." Strange indeed, thought Chev. Dancing was pointless. "The reality of a ball is that it's a social occasion full of political intrigue and scheming."

Emma shrugged. "In stories it's a wonderful moment where love blossoms and you can share feelings with your dance partner." Her gaze turned nostalgic. "Wearing a beautiful dress and dancing with the one you love. Ahhhh, that is what dreams are made of."

"Ridiculous," he snorted.

"I knew you'd say that." Her smile faded as she set the book on the nightstand. Then she slid out of bed, standing unsteadily on her feet. "I'm thirsty so I'm going to make some tea. Would you like a cup?"

He studied her with a critical eye. "Are you sure it's alright for you to be moving around?"

"Yes. I got permission from the doctor when he examined me earlier today." She took a wobbling step, like a small child just learning to walk. "The poison is completely gone and so is the numbness in my limbs. Emma spun in place, holding her arms out for balance. "See?"

Chevalier opened the report folder and pretended not to notice her display. He felt conflicted, just as she had at the end of her book. "I'll have what I always do."

"Okay!" She pulled on a robe and tottered out the door. 

He watched her from his lowered gaze. The Belle's time in the palace was coming to an end. As early as next week, in fact. His chest gave a fierce pang, one he ignored. Such feelings were beneath him. Like the prince in her book, he would marry another. And she would as well. She would be happy. Happier with another man, one that came without the troubles of a royal scion.

When Emma came back pushing a tea cart, she sat down beside him on the couch. She poured his tea and then reached for a new book. 

"We're holding a peace conference with Obsidian next week." Chevalier said, the words unexpected. 

"Oh!" She swallowed, reached for her tea and then changed her mind. The import was not lost on her. 

Chevalier continued. "If you're fully recovered, you should know what I'm trying to say." He forced his voice to a coolness he did not feel. Feel. How that word came into the lexicon of The Brutal Beast he still did not understand. He willed his heart to its former hardness. 

Emma nodded. "The time has come for me to choose a king, then."

"Once a king is selected, Clause 99 will go into effect. Immediately." His ice blue gaze met hers. "No matter who you choose, you cannot have any further contact with him. You aren't permitted to stay in the palace beyond that point. Consider the day you choose a king to be the last day you spend in the palace."

For a heartbeat, he thought she might cry, but his Emma was stronger than that. She squared her shoulders and took a breath. "I understand." Her lips parted to say more. She paused, then, "Could I make one selfish request?"

Chevalier was curious what she might ask for. More time, perhaps? "You can make the request, but it doesn't mean I will grant it." He took a sip of tea, trying to quiet his roiling emotions. Such inconvenient things. 

Her lips curled in a tremulous smile. "Prince Chevalier, would you dance with me?"

The request surprised him so much that he froze, nearly choking on the tea. Dance? She wanted to dance? Of all the things she might have asked . . . his mouth twisted into a grimace. "That sounds like a bother."

"I see." Her hopeful expression faded to resigned disappointment.

"What could possibly be the point of dancing with you? There's nothing to be gained."

"As thanks for the dance, I could entertain you in some way?" She didn't sound optimistic, but still determined to try for the slight possibility she could convince him. 

Chevalier considered. Her persistence was one feature of her that he found endearing. Emma was always willing to try, even when she expected to fail. "You say that as if there is something meaningful about it. But entertainment is a very small price to pay for daring to have me dance with you." He gulped the remainder of his hot tea and stood. 

"Are you leaving then?"

He didn't answer. He didn't want to. Dancing was an annoying activity. And worse, because he did not dance at any ball, to give her this one gift would mark her out as special to him. As good as painting a target on her back. Another poisoning attempt. A fire at the bookstore. A random alley-way attack on her way home. Chevalier paused after a few steps toward the door. Despite all that, he did want to dance with her. To give her that one special romantic memory. He glanced over his shoulder. "What are you just sitting there for?"

Emma perked up, her eyes wide. "What do you mean?"

"Do you want to dance in a confined space like this?" He gestured to her room, crowded as it was with piles of books, the tea cart, and a myriad of medicines. 

"Oh! You - you mean you will dance with me afterall?" The joy in her voice was worth everything. Anything. Chev felt a fool, but he could not regret it. Not now, anyway. 

He held out a hand to her. "It's a bother, but the nerve it took for you to ask me is something I hold in high regard."

Her hand fluttered to her chest and her smile was so bright it hurt to see. "Thank you," she breathed. 

"I think you must be the only woman in the world with this strange desire to dance with me." He gently cupped her hand in his and walked her to the ballroom. The setting sun set scarlet glimmers dancing across the floor from the swaying crystals in the high chandeliers. Gold light spilled from the wide windows and made everything glow. 

Chevalier stepped into the light, leading her to the center of the marble floor, to the heart of the rose of Rhodolite. He could not help but feel Emma belonged here as he gazed at her now. Mussed hair from time abed, wearing no fine gown, only her comfortable day robe and simple satin gown beneath. She was so beautiful. Precious and fragile and entirely his. Could he truly release her as duty demanded?

He pulled her close in a formal position for a slow waltz, one hand in hers and the other at her back. Though there was no music, he led her in the steps of the dance. Movements ingrained in him since childhood, for a prince must be as good in the ballroom as on the battlefield. 

Emma's expression was rapturous. Joy suffused her face and lent grace to her limbs. She followed his lead, seeming to grow stronger with each step. "Prince Chevalier, you're really good at dancing. I assumed from what you've said that you never danced before."

"I haven't, but I do know how." He smiled down at her. "I never imagined that knowledge would be put to use to entertain you, though." He pressed closer to her, closer than a proper dance would allow. "You're a simple woman if you find such joy in something so minor."

She shook her head slightly. "I'm not simple. Having the opportunity to dance with you is a treasure to me. More precious than gold."

He scoffed. "Maybe that's true for a simpleton." Despite his words, he found himself enjoying this dance with her as well. Her closeness, her beauty, her happiness all infected him with a warmth that spread out from his chest. He found his smile grow, making his cheeks ache. He wanted to draw this moment out, but all good things must end. His steps slowed and they came to a stop. Still, he looked down at her, unable to tear his eyes away.

"Prince Chevalier." She let go of him and took a step back. "I intend to choose the second prince to be king."

His brows rose, though he wasn't truly surprised. "Oh? Your ideal king isn't a man who meets the people halfway? Like Black?"

"Naturally, if Leon became king Rhodolite would become a wonderful country where many people could smile." She studied his face, her gaze seeing more than just him. "In spite of that, I want to entrust Rhodolite's future to you."

"Why?" He stepped close, erasing the distance she'd put between them. 

Her smile grew, and it was full of her hope and love and loss. "You're the kind of person who can do anything, Prince Chevalier. If you wanted to, you could be successful at so much more than just foreign or domestic affairs. I'm sure you could also promise happiness to the people of your kingdom."

"Of course," he replied slowly, absorbing her words, her expression. "I have outstanding aptitudes but have you forgotten the reason many people keep their distance from me?"

"That's in the past." She placed her palm to his chest, right over his heart.

Chevalier looked away, unable to meet her gaze any longer.

"Before the war, you swore to the anti-war faction. You promised that you would bring peace without fail. That you would protect our kingdom so that their loved ones would find happiness. And you fulfilled that promise. Pressing Obsidian for a peace treaty, uniting our allies to fight for that dream. " Emma took a trembling breath. "You even convinced those that took the enemy's side. The people in the anti-war faction that you saved are enjoying peaceful lives now, with their loved ones beside them."

She waited for a response, but Chevalier didn't have one. He'd expected she would choose him for his intellect. Or his warrior's nature. Worried she might choose another for the same reasons. He didn't expect she would pick him for the qualities no one but she saw in him. His humanity. 

"Without your help, the situation could not have been resolved peacefully. I think that now, you're actually listening to your people. It's my firm conviction that you'll become a king who will surpass generations of kings, past and future." Her voice was full of faith in him. Trust.

"What a foolish reason for a selection," he breathed, the words hollow. His gaze narrowed as he looked out at the setting sun. "You believe that I won't return to the way I was?"

She tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

Chevalier finally turned back to her. "What I did for the people was on a whim. I was curious about the value that you claim love has. However, when the need is no longer there, I will return to my former ruthlessness. The beast that horrified you when we first met hasn't gone anywhere. He's right here." He tapped her hand where it still rested above his heart. "Knowing this, do you still chose me as king?"

Emma smiled. "I'm not worried about you returning to the way you used to be."

"Why not?"

"Because you've recognized the value of love, haven't you, Prince Chevalier?" Her eyes locked with his, denying the coldness he presented there. "If you hadn't, you would have gone ahead with another purge. And you know the kingdom is better for it. I can't imagine you would ignore that fact."

She was right, of course. Chevalier could see the bonds between his people strengthen from his merciful choice when confronting the anti-war faction. The loyalty his choice built. It had been the right decision, even though it relied on the inconsistent hearts of men. 

"I believe in your human heart, Prince Chevalier."

"I see." He wasn't sure what else to say. 

Emma's hand dropped away and she took another step back. She curtsied low, as a commoner to royalty. "Thank you for dancing with me. I'll never forget this day. I will treasure it for the rest of my life."

Chevalier wanted to respond with some callous remark, something to defend the tender heart her words bruised. No words would come. She was saying goodbye to him, as she should. And he was letting her go. 

She turned and began to walk away. "I guess it's almost time for dinner," she called over her shoulder in false cheer. "I know you always have it in your room, but perhaps sometime before I leave, we could -"

He closed the distance between them in a heartbeat and found his arms wrapped tight around her before he understood what he intended. Chevalier buried his face against her hair, inhaling her scent, her warmth. 

"Prince Chevalier?" Her voice was breathless and surprised.

"You . . . reminded me. I haven't given you your punishment," he said, his voice husky and low.

"What punishment?"

He kissed the edge of her ear, pressed his lips to the racing pulse in her throat. "I said before I let you go to war. Getting hurt wasn't permitted." He nipped her earlobe. "I'm sure I told you that you would receive appropriate punishment if you broke your promise."

"O-okay. What's the punishment?" Her face tilted so that she could look at him. 

Chevalier's hands caressed her curves, and pulled her back against him until she fit tight to his body. "I find myself feeling . . . famished. Would you join me for dinner?"

"What," she gasped as his teeth scraped the delicate skin beneath her ear. "That's my - my punishment?"

His tongue traced the line of her neck and flicked against the sweetness of her lips, tempting. Taunting. "Indeed. Even after you leave the palace and we never see each other again, I won't allow you to forget me." Nor will I ever be able to forget you, he thought, but did not say.

Chevalier was almost surprised when she turned in his grasp to face him. Her lips invited a kiss, and the prince obliged. He let his passion, long suppressed, bubble to the surface. It was dangerous to let go of control, but it felt so good. He captured her mouth with his, plunging the sweet depths of her with his tongue. His hands caressed her body through the thin fabric of her night dress and robe. 

Emma didn't pull away. She wrapped her arms around him, and when his hand cupped her rear, she let him lift her. Her legs wrapped around him, her nightgown rode up to her thighs. It excited him to see her nearly disrobed. He felt hungry for her, needy in a way that was strange and exhilarating. He wanted to touch and taste every bit of her. Chevalier wanted - desired - and for the first time in his life, he allowed it.

In just a few steps, he had her pinned against a column, his hands hiking up her gown and robe. She tugged it over her head and let the garment fall to the floor. Moonlight bathed her bare skin, and for a breath, all Chevalier could do was look. She was more beautiful than he'd imagined. Lush and soft, delicate and firm, he knew there was no such thing as a perfect body, but she was perfect to him. 

His lips and teeth left a trail of little marks down her throat and collarbone. He lavished her breasts with attention, enjoying the way the nipples hardened against his tongue. Chev wanted her so badly that his body ached with it, a tension as sweet as it was unendurable. 

Emma undid his shirt buttons, sliding her cool hands across his chest, running her nails down his sides. Her hips rocked against him as she arched under his ministrations. She was enjoying him as much as he delighted in her. Matching his desire, his hunger. Her hands slid down his belly, leaving a wash of coiled heat behind them as her fingers found his belt, and the button of his trousers.

Chevalier knew they should not be doing this here, in the midst of the ballroom. A passing servant could carry tales, or a messenger. They should retreat to her room, his room, any room with a door that closed and locked. But he found himself unwilling to pause, to stay their shared desire, and besides, the risk was small. The ballroom would not be in use for weeks, especially not at this late hour. He was free to indulge, and he would. 

His pants slid to the floor, joining her gown and robe. Chev gasped at the sudden touch of cool air on his cock and then shivered as Emma's warm hand wrapped around him. Her touch was gentle, uncertain, and he let her direct his pace though he wanted nothing more than to bury himself as deep in her as their joined flesh would allow. 

Instead, he channeled all of that hunger into his kisses. He devoured her, licked her, bit her. There was no exposed skin that his mouth and hands did not know. And she teased him with her gentle touches, running her satin palm against his length. Letting his aching head rub against her slick cleft. Chevalier groaned, and muffled the sound with her soft shoulder. 

Her movements were becoming more desperate, hips bucking at each pass of heated flesh. "Can I," she sighed, pushing him up to her opening. He could feel the pulse of heat, of lust, between her legs. 

Chevalier replied without words. He pushed slowly up, guided by her soft moans of pleasure. At half depth, he pulled back, letting his cock relish the feel of slowly pulling away as she clenched tight to hold him there. 

"Oh god . . ." Her words were thready with pleasure, barely coherent.

He found that he liked pleasing her. Enjoyed the sounds she made, the look on her face. Right now, her expression was pure ecstasy, and he thought his might mirror it. She felt like heaven. Better than any book could describe. His body trembled with euphoria, and he thought he might lose himself in this one, deep thrust. But he held tight control. She would peak first. He would bring her to her peak again and again, until she could think of nothing but him. 

Chevalier left just the tip of his cock inside, barely moving - just enough to tease the opening. Emma tried to wriggle against him, to push him deeper, but he refused. Not yet. He would bring her to the brink, but not over, not until she was a quivering mess in his arms. 

"You like that, do you?" Chevalier smirked. He bent to swirl his tongue over her pert nipple, expertly wringing another moan from her as his mouth clamped around her breast. His hips moved to thrust into her again, still moving slow. Still teasing them both. 

"Please," she gasped. Her nails dug into his shoulders and he enjoyed the sudden, sharp hot heat of them. 

He went deep this time, feeling the walls of her close around him until her juices were soaking his balls. The sound she made nearly undid him. Chevalier pulled nearly out and then thrust again, watching the way every motion of his hips dissolved her to senseless bliss. He found a rhythm, one he paused every few strokes to tease her. To tease himself. The discipline it took not to simply surrender to the feel of her, the scent of her, the sound of her breathy voice. 

Emma's hand drifted to his cheek, trailing her fingers lightly over his cheek. "Prince . . . Chevalier . . . I'll always adore you. Even when we're apart."

"I know." He kissed the palm of her hand and nipped at the pad of her thumb.

"I'll be like the woman in that book I finished to - to-" Her words dissipated in a moan, but she held onto the thought. "Even when we're not together anymore, I-I will wish for your happiness."

Chevalier was surprised, but then, he knew how strong her heart was. How determined. Still, he wanted this to be their one moment. Afterward, she could not harbor these feelings for him. Neither of them should want that path. "You can do whatever you want, but I am a heartless man. I'm sure I could easily forget you." 

The words were a lie, but the kindest one he could offer. It would only hurt her more to admit that he would treasure the moments with her for the rest of his life. The woman who saw him as a man. Who did not fear him. The woman who'd fallen in love with him despite every warning and obstacle in her path. Chevalier knew he did not deserve her affection. He was a cold man with a hard heart and a soul stained scarlet from the lives he'd sacrificed for his cause. She should forget him and find a kind man to love. The thought only spurred him to want to give her more, to lavish her with what love he could give on this one night. 

"You don't mean that." Her eyes closed with a shudder of pleasure. 

Chevalier did not reply with words. His body spoke for him, busying his lips with her soft skin, his hands with caresses, plunging into her with abandon. 

Her breath came in gasps and sighs, but she still managed to speak. "I hope . . . you find . . . happiness." Emma's hips lifted to meet his, her entire body shaking as the orgasm rippled through her, stealing her breath and her thoughts. 

"A king doesn't need happiness," he whispered, his words lost in the sound of her climax. The feel of her shuddering against him was too much for even his self control to hold against. His thrusts became more wild, erratic, a brutal beast of another kind. He pounded into her until he felt he might come apart at the edges. His groans of pleasure mixed with her breathy exclamations. The peak hit him in a burst of sensation, a storm of ecstasy that made him shake like a maiden. His hips pushed him deeper still as his cock bucked against her trembling core. 

I love you, he thought, kissing her forehead where her hair stuck to sweat soaked skin.

[ikeromantic]

May I request for some Mitsuhide fluff?

Where the MC and him share a nice quiet night after a hectic day of buying gifts for everyone for the new year?

Thanks for the ask, nonny! Mitsuhide sweetness coming up! Approx 700 words ^_^

Mitsuhide was tired. Buying gifts for all his fellow warlords took more time than he'd thought it would. This was due in large part to his little mouse. Each gift had to be perfect, which meant visiting nearly every shop and stall in the city. And now his arms were laden with bags. Not heavy on their own, but getting weightier with every step. 

"Oooh, what about this? Do you think Ieyasu would like a glass sunflower? The color reminds me of his hair." She was stopped a little ahead of him, pointing at yet another stall. 

"We already bought a gift for Ieyasu. The amber cloak pin, remember?" Mitsuhide shifted the bags around, trying to recall which held that item. 

His little one sighed. "But is it as pretty as the flower? I don't know. Maybe-"

"The pin is beautiful and he will love it." Mitsuhide had endless patience for his lover, but sometimes she was just too kind. Too sweet. Which was fine when all that energy was aimed at him, but less so when applied to other men.

"You're right. Of course you are." She beamed at him and her smile gave him a burst of energy. He would do anything to see her so happy. "So that leaves . . . Kyubei? No. We got him that Portuguese language book. And Masamune has spices. Nobunaga is getting those fancy cards . . ."

"We've bought gifts for every single person on your list. And a few who weren't." Mitsuhide smiled at her, his crescent moon grin soft and warm. "Let's go home."

She nibbled at her lower lip. "I can't help but feel like I'm forgetting someone." She ticked off the other warlords and their gifts, mouthing each one silently. "I guess that really is everyone. Let's get home then. I'm sure those bags are heavy. Can I help carry them?"

"Nope." His smile widened. "But there is one thing you can do."

"What's that?" 

"Say thank you. With a kiss." 

She laughed and stood on tip toe to press a kiss to his waiting lips. 

Mitsuhide relished her touch, the sweet softness of her. He wished he could draw the kiss out, but the best things in life were precious precisely because they were fleeting. Besides, there would be other kisses. Other moments of shared intimacy. Many of them, if he had his way. And he would. 

Once home, with the packages carefully stowed away and ready to be wrapped later, Mitsuhide retired to his rooms with his lover. He sat back on their futon, watching as she stripped out of her daywear and into a more comfortable robe. He could not help but enjoy the view. His little mouse was beautiful to him. Every curve and every line of her. The fall of her hair, the spark in her gaze, and the grace of her motion when she did not realize she was being observed. 

"Come here," Mitsuhide told her. 

She looked over at him, eyes widened in surprise. "I need to brush my hair."

"I'll brush it for you. Come here." He patted the spot between his legs and smiled.

Her cheeks heated as she came to him and sat. "Like this?"

Mitsuhide took the brush from her hand. "What do you think, little mouse?" 

His words, spoken close to the delicate shell of her ear, made her shiver. "Yes?"

"Yes." He ran his fingers through her hair, careful not to pull where it tangled. The brush followed in the wake of his fingers. 

Neither of them spoke. The only sound was the light rasp of the brush, and their shared breath. His, even and relaxed. Hers caught at his light touch on the nape of her neck, and came out in little pleased gasps as she relaxed against him. 

Mitsuhide set the brush down and pulled her close against his chest. This was not meant for men like him, and yet he'd defied fate and whatever gods may be to have this love. This life. He would not waste it. "I love you," he murmured the words against the crown of her head.

"I love you too," she sighed.

[ikeromantic]

Happy new year! I'm new to this blog but I saw your ask box was open so can I ask for some mitsunari fluff? Building a snow man leading to a snow ball fight if it's okay! It'll be so cute! Thank you!

Thanks for the ask, nonny! Here's some snowman fluff with Mitsunari! Approx 800 words.

Mitsunari gave the construction site a quick once over. It did not look very promising. He glanced at Mai. "So . . . you want to roll the snow into three balls of decreasing size. And then . . . stack those balls atop each other?"

"Yep." She grinned widely. "I have a daikon for his nose and some pretty river stones for his eyes." 

He didn't respond. This was because he didn't hear her. His mind was already off, calculating the maximum size for each snowball given the availability of snow within a reasonable area for rolling a said ball of snow, considering the flatness of the terrain and the various obstacles within.

The volume would be relative to size, but due to compaction, smaller than expected. Mitsunari wished for a moment that he had something to write on, but the math wasn't too difficult. The base was the most important part, and would need to have a flattened bottom. A quick survey of the space gave him the exact position that would be most advantageous, considering wind and sun factors as well as the -

"Mitsunari. Mitsunari! Hellooooo?" Mai waved a hand in front of his face. "Stay with me, huh?"

He laughed, feeling a little embarrassed. It was so easy to get lost in his thoughts, even when he wanted to be present and here with his best friend and lover. "Sorry. I was just planning it out."

She grinned. "I figured." Her mitten bumped his as she struggled to hold his hand through the thick fabric. "Come on. Let's do it."

Mitsunari grasped her hand and smiled back. He loved the way she smiled in moments like these. So bright and cheerful and full of life. His heart felt too full with love for her and all of the sudden, this moment seemed so much more important than just afternoon fun. He pulled her close and kissed her, savoring the contrasting warmth of her against the icy chill of the day. 

"What was that for," she asked when their lips parted. 

"You were too beautiful to resist."

Her cheeks heated and her smile grew. With an impish glint in her eye, she kissed him breathless.

His body thrilled at her touch. A heat beyond that of two bodies pressed close. "If this continues, I don't think there will be any snowman built."

She laughed and took a step back. "Can't have that, now can we?"

Mitsunari privately considered that it wouldn't be the worst thing. But sometimes delaying satisfaction made it all the sweeter. He shook his head. "We will not fail."

It took the two of them more than a few hours to roll the snow into 3 huge, packed balls. When Mitsunari wrestled them into place, they had a larger than life snow sculpture. To his eyes, there was nothing human-like about the rounded stack of snow. At least, not until Mai added the stones for his eyes and the daikon nose, with branches for arms. She finished him off with a jaunty straw hat, ridiculous for this time of year but perfect too.

"What do you think?" She stood next to the snowman, eyeing him.

"I was unsure at first," he admitted, "but with your clever details he looks very human."

Mai nodded, satisfied. "I think he's cute." She draped an arm around the middle snowball and leaned into the snowman. "Ahhh I wish I still had my phone. This would make an adorable selfie. He looks so cute!" 

Mitsunari felt an odd tension in his chest. Just the slightest tinge of jealousy. He'd gotten used to her calling him beautiful, cute, adorable. Hearing her say that about the snowman while leaning into his embrace was . . . discomfiting. "He isn't that cute."

"Are you . . . pouting?" Mai tilted her head. "Mitsunari! Are you jealous of the snowman?"

"No." He tried very hard not to be. It was silly. Ridiculous even. But the feeling was still there. "A little," he admitted a breath later. 

She tried not to smile but couldn't help herself. "You are too much. You know I love you more than anything, right?" Mai stepped away from the snowman and closed the distance between them. 

"I know," he agreed. And he did know. "But . . . could you . . . show me?"

Mai's eyes widened and then she did smile. "I can." She snuggled close and kissed his cheek. "No snowman is cuter than you." She kissed his jaw. "Not as adorable either." She kissed his lips, and that kiss was sweet and hot and deep, and left Mitsunari feeling light-headed and off balance. "I love you."

"I love you too." He smiled and hugged her tighter. "Let's go inside so I can warm you up." 

"I'd like that," she replied. And she did.

[ikeromantic]

hii i saw your requests were open!

the MC is unnamed, a suitor of my choice would be Arthur Conan Doyle from ikevamp.

MC is a vampire and has been a resident of the mansion for quite some time. She was very acquainted with Arthur and had been his muse and his love for a long time during his young days, though tragedies separated them. How would Arthur react when MC finally tells him the truth that its her, the muse in all of his stories,all the things he has written, the love of his life. Would he recognize her? This could be fluff or angst or even spicy, ill let you decide for that part.

Oooh I like this alternate history line for MC and Arthur! Let's see if I can do it some justice. Thank you for the ask! Approx 2900 words of AU Arthur and an unnamed muse MC ^_^

Arthur's eyes opened. The room was dimlit and well appointed. Heavy, soft sheets lay beneath him and above him, the face of his savior blinked. "That's it then," Arthur asked, aiming for a jovial tone. It was spoiled a bit by the unease in his voice. The promise of life eternal - or so many years it might as well be - had seemed a fine idea on his death bed. But now the burning hunger in his veins and the unnatural strength in his limbs left him fearful in a way he could not put words to.

A strange looking man with dark hair and dark eyes handed him a cup as he sat up. The liquid within sloshed, leaving scarlet stains on the rim. The scent of it was copper and salt. The scent was rich and thick and as heady as a woman's perfume. Desire raged through him in a way it never had in life. Arthur greedily drank from the cup, draining it in a breath. Had he an ounce less self respect, he would have licked it clean. 

"Sebas, I think our newest member may need another cup."

"Of course, monsieur le Comte." The dark haired man - Sebas - refilled his glass.

Arthur managed a thank you before quaffing it down. Thankfully, the surge of hunger in him died down with this second serving of . . . he could not fool himself into believing the liquid was anything but what it was. Blood. He was a vampire now. A creature that lived off stolen life. He felt a flicker of shame, quickly smothered. 

"Now, to the details of your new life." Le Comte smiled and motioned for him to come in a large overstuffed chair beside a small table. Steaming cups of tea awaited them there, and Arthur eagerly took hold of this return to normalcy. He sat and listened as the rules of his new existence were explained. Most of it, he already knew. This would be his chance. His time to write the stories he didn't put to paper in life. 

"I understand." Arthur gave a nod. "So are there a lot of us? Vampires, I mean?"

"There are several others here, those I have brought together. People like you. You will meet them soon." Le Comte's expression was wistful. "But no, there are not a lot of vampires in this world, pure blooded or otherwise."

"I suppose that makes sense." Arthur stood. "So when do I meet my roommates?" 

"At dinner. We try to eat together, if not everyday then often." 

"And it's alright if I walk around a bit before then?"

Le Comte nodded. "Of course. You are free to do as you please, so long as you follow the rules."

"Thanks old boy. I think I'll stretch my legs then." Arthur opened the door to the hall. More opulence greeted his gaze. Heavy wood panelling and gold accents, velvet curtains in shades of crimson so deep they looked almost black in the low light. 

There was a massive library, a music room, a hothouse, and a gymnasium with a sparring arena. Behind one set of massive doors, he found a roman style bath. The steam was thick in the air, obscuring the pool so that he could only see the edge nearest him. It seemed the height of decadence, appealing to his senses in a way he hadn't expected. 

A splash drew his attention just as he turned to leave. "Is someone in here?" He squinted, peering into the haze. 

"I didn't mean to surprise you." The voice floated to him through the heavy air, sweet and melodic. A woman's voice, familiar, yet strange. 

"I wasn't surprised." He leaned forward, trying to see the speaker. 

She laughed, a low, soft sound that sent chills across his skin. "Your face says otherwise, litterateur." The water lapped against her skin as she glided closer to the edge of the pool. 

Arthur could see the outline of her now, the vaguest silhouette within the steam. There was something in her voice that stirred him, reminded him . . . his mind reached for the flicker of memory even as it disappeared. "Do I know you? Come a little closer and let me have a look, luv."

Her laugh came again. "I don't think so on either count. How could you know me, hm?" Her voice fell quiet a moment, and then, "The others here respect my peace while I am bathing and do not interrupt without invitation."

"Is that a polite way to tell me off?" He scoffed, though in truth he felt a bit chastened. He wasn't the sort to harass a bathing woman. Arthur turned, looking back at the door. "Suppose I'll leave you then."

"Until later!" She called, her voice following him out the door. It stayed in his ears, the ghost of a sound, even as he continued to investigate the mansion.

There were several locked doors, and Arthur thought these might be the rooms of his housemates. He was curious about them. A painter and his brother, another writer, a musician, a playwright, a scientist . . . all names of men he knew from history lessons. It didn't feel as if it could be real, but then, only a short while ago he'd been a dying old man. Now he was young again, and ageless, so why not? 

One of the open rooms looked to be a gaming room, with a billiards table, a card table, and a handful of board games. The chess set was out with a game in progress. Arthur ambled over and eyed the pieces with curiosity. Games were something he loved. "Hm. Looks like black is about to be toppled. Some foolish plays were made," he murmured. 

"Foolish?" A sharp voice interrupted his thoughts and made Arthur spin around to see who was speaking. It was a man with honeyed brown hair and eyes the color of the evening sky, about the same height as Arthur if a little broader at the shoulder. 

"Yes." Arthur grinned. This must be one of the players. "If you like, have a seat and I can demonstrate? I'm Arthur, by the way. Arthur Conan Doyle."

The other man scowled, an expression that seemed natural to his face. "Theo." He sat at the table and glared at Arthur. "So?" He gestured to the board impatiently. "I don't have all evening, klootzak."

"Alright." Arthur sat, studied the pieces a moment more, and then moved the bishop. "Check."

Theo leaned close to the pieces, his frown deepening. He shifted a pawn and looked up expectantly.

"Clever, but as I anticipated -" Arthur moved his queen. "And that's mate, old boy."

"No. I can . . . if I . . ." Theo studied the board with a wrinkled brow and then leaned back, arms crossed. "Fine. So you won the round, but I bet you couldn't beat me a second time."

"You bet, eh? What's on the line?" Arthur felt a little thrill.

Theo stared at him hard for a long moment. "I'll get you a drink."

He thought about it and then grinned. "Sure, old boy. Grab your pieces."

"Not now. I've got shit to do." Theo stood abruptly. 

"Or you're afraid of losing again." Arthur raised a brow. 

Theo's frown deepened. "We'll play Friday. Noon." His blue eyes were hot with challenge. "I'm not afraid of anything." 

Arthur chuckled. "Alright. It's a date."

Theo rolled his eyes and stalked away, muttering under his breath. 

After a few minutes, Arthur stood as well. There was more house to explore. He stepped out into the hall and staggered to a stop. A beautiful woman stood at the far end on the staircase landing. She was turned slightly facing away from him, presenting her profile, but even that was enough to still the breath in his lungs. Arthur felt as if he could not move, as if even his heart had stopped at the sight of her. 

Then she turned toward him and when her eyes met his, a jolt of heat tore through him. His heart lurched and his pulse raced. It was as if his blood was on fire and his chest was suddenly too small to contain him. She was alluring. Mysteries pooled in the depths of her eyes, hints of gentle mockery lived in the corners of her lips, the softness of her curves drew him in as the moon pulls the tide. 

"I . . ." Arthur cleared his throat. This was the perfect time for a suave greeting. A smooth, intelligent introduction spun through his thoughts but his tongue was tied, ungainly, confused. "Hello?"

The woman laughed and he knew that sound immediately. The mystery woman from the baths. But the sound teased some deeper memory. Something slippery that escaped him as he reached for it. 

"Hello Arthur," she said, and he shivered to hear his name fall sweetly from her tongue. 

"You . . . know me? I mean -" He coughed again. "Of course you know me. I'm new here. I'm sure le Comte told you all I was coming. But he never mentioned I'd be sharing a home with a sweet bird like yourself."

Something in her gaze flickered, and for just a breath, her expression hinted at a deep sadness. Then it was gone, shifting so quickly that Arthur wasn't sure he'd seen anything. "Yes, le Comte did mention you would be along. How are you finding our home?"

Arthur took a step closer to her, feeling strangely reluctant to get too close. "It's nice." He could have slapped himself. Nice. Yes. This conversation was going well. 

"Good." She smiled and closed the distance between them. "If there is anything you need, let Sebas know. He'll be able to procure it." The woman's fingertips grazed his sleeve as she reached for his arm and then dropped her hand back to her side. 

The cloth of his shirt communicating that slight touch to his skin set the hairs of his arm to standing and left him feeling oddly sensitive. For a breath, he vividly imagined the way her palms would feel, cupped against his shoulder. Her short, brightly painted nails scraping over his skin. The flight of fancy was so vivid he could almost feel it. Or remember feeling it. A false deja vu that left Arthur disoriented. 

"Thanks. I'll keep it in mind." He studied her, trying desperately to get ahold of himself. It wasn't like him to be so off kilter just for a pretty face. Not that it was just her face he liked. She was the whole package. Everything about her was beautiful, he thought. "But now that you're here, I think I've got everything I need."

She laughed again, a flash of dimples, mischief in her eyes. "Is that so? Do you have me, Mister Arthur Conan Doyle?"

"Don't I?" He winked. Why did it feel as if he'd had this conversation before? He could almost hear himself saying these exact words. A much younger him, before the Boer war, before the horrid illness of his first wife, before his failures as a doctor and a man. He reached out and took her hand, just as the image of himself in his mind's eye did the same. "Got you," he mouthed, the playful words uttered with breathless uncertainty.

Her fingers curled over his, and together they said, "I rather think it's I that got you." The woman's eyes widened. "Am I so predictable?"

"No." Arthur blinked, trying to banish the strange daydream. "I just . . . it really feels as if I've done this before. Met you. Made the same silly joke." He pretended to laugh, making light of it despite the pounding of his heart. "Quite ridiculous, hm?"

She went up on tiptoe, holding his gaze. Her free hand touched his temple, her fingertips resting lightly against his skin. "Perhaps it is only the shock of your change." 

Arthur nodded even as part of him knew this wasn't so. The feel of her skin against his triggered another sensory cavalcade. No images this time, only a multitude of touches. Her fingertips brushing his lips to seal away her kiss. Her hand resting against the back of his neck, tangled in the curls of his hair. Her voice at his ear, reading aloud from one of his Sherlock stories. 

"You feel so . . . familiar," he admitted. "Is this some power vampires get?"

She laughed again, a soft, breathy sound. "Not that I know of. I can't give someone a false memory, though perhaps there are others that could."

Arthur swallowed. The enormity of this new world was finally beginning to sink in. He was dead. And not. He was alive, but not. Living in a house full of near immortal blood drinkers. What else was real? Fairies, perhaps? Angels and devils and spirits . . . and this woman. "What are you?"

"What do you imagine I am?" She brushed her hand through his hair in a practiced gesture that followed the natural pattern of his silvered locks. 

"How are you making me feel like this?" His voice was rough with emotion, though he couldn't understand why her touch provoked so much within him. 

The woman let go of him and stepped back. He was cold in the wake of her touch, and almost reached out to pull her to him again. "I am sorry, Arthur. I didn't mean to confuse you. You need more time, I think. To adjust."

He did reach out then, and took her hand. "I'm not confused. Or, yes. I am. But the only way to get to the bottom of a mystery is to go straight through. And you, luv, are a mystery." Arthur felt a twinge in his chest, a tightness. "Maybe you're a fairy come to enthrall me. Steal me away to your fairy kingdom and then take advantage of me." He grinned, pretending a playfulness he didn't really feel. 

Her expression turned wistful. "It is a capital mistake to theorise before one has data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts."

"I remember writing that line." He took a breath. Conflicting memories slid through the edges of his thoughts. In one, he was alone, writing late into the night, drinking coffee and banging words out on his typewriter until dawn light crept in past his office curtains. And in the other, a woman - this woman, leaned against his back, her bare arms draped over his shoulders, reading as he typed. "Are you a fan then?"

"Of course." Her thumb caressed the back of his hand. "Your biggest fan, in fact."

"And . . ." Arthur swallowed. "You were there? When I wrote A Scandal in Bohemia?"

"Was I?"

He nodded. The smell of her perfume tickled his nose. A light, floral scent that whispered of not just that night but a hundred others. His open window, the room lit by silvered moonlight, falling on a tangle of limbs. Sweaty flesh and soft breath. The clack of the keys and her breathy laughter. 'Really, Arthur? A trained snake?' 'No one will expect it.' His voice. Her answer. She'd been there, sitting on his lap as he'd typed out The Speckled Band too. "I . . . remember you."

"You aren't supposed to." She sighed, her hand slipping to cup the back of his neck in a way his body knew so well. "You wanted to forget. So I let you."

"I can't imagine ever wanting to forget you." Arthur studied her anew. The arch of her brow, the curve of her neck, the shape of her eyes, and the slight lift at the corners of her mouth. His heart was pounding so hard that he felt his ribs might crack. 

Her lips curved up even as her eyes grew damp. "You were so full of anger, so hopeless. You wanted to stop writing. Do you remember that?"

He nodded. There had been a time, right after one of his failures. When he'd realized medicine couldn't always save lives. That sometimes all he had to offer was false hope and distraction. He'd wanted to kill Sherlock. To destroy all his stories. Stories that were silly and meaningless in the face of disease and injury. 

Arthur bowed his head. "I remember you in bits and pieces. You inspired me. You . . . wrote with me. Read my drafts. And then you were gone."

"I never really left. Only stood aside, and gave you time to heal." 

"I loved you," he said, his voice cracking on the words as if his throat wanted to hold them in. 

"Loved?" 

"Love," he echoed, bringing the word to the present moment. His heart knew it, even if his head hadn't quite caught up. This woman was his muse. His partner in art and life. And in his depression, he'd pushed her away. "How are you here? Now?"

"I'm like le Comte." She squeezed his hand gently. "Immortal."

Arthur nodded mutely. It made as much sense as anything else. "And he gave me this second chance. To live again." To love again. Had le Comte known? He found that he did not care. He was only glad to find her again. His first love. 

"Yes."

"I hope you know, I've no intention of forgetting you again." He pulled her closer, and she came to him willingly.

"I hope you know I've no intention of letting you." When she smiled this time, it came with a kiss. Tender and full of longing. The years between them melting away in a touch that was both familiar and novel.

[ikeromantic]

Hi! Happy new year! (Tho it's not new year yet)

May I request an angst fic for Kanetsugu? MC maybe has an incurable illness or something that's up to you! Thankyou 🥰

Well now New Year's is in the past and we're stuck in 2025, but we're gonna enjoy this angsty ask regardless ^_^ Approx. 700 words!

Kanetsugu's eyes burned. His limbs were as heavy as lead, and his head hung heavy from his neck. When his eyelids drifted shut for a long blink, he pinched his earlobe hard enough to bring blood welling to the surface of the already bruised skin. He sat upright at his desk, a discarded pile of scrolls to his left, and an orderly pile of scrolls and western books stacked to his right.

"They are all garbage," he whispered in a voice harsh with disuse and thirst. He could not remember the last time he stood. But food and drink and rest were luxuries. 

The door to his room slammed open, the wood giving a dangerous crack as it collided with the wall. Kenshin stepped in, his mismatched gaze dark. "Come now."

Kanetsugu didn't need to ask why. He pushed himself up, legs buzzing and numb. A shooting pain leapt up from his hip and his skin felt aflame as circulation returned to his limbs. He hobbled alongside Kenshin to the Room. 

Several maids bustled in and out of the open door. The scent of bitter herbs and incense drifted out into the early morning air. The quiet whispers of the sickroom halted as Kenshin and Kanetsugu stepped inside. Neither man seemed to notice the maids nor the doctors within. They had eyes only for the withered figure atop the futon, buried beneath layers of blankets as if already entombed.

"Is she-" Kenshin began to ask but stopped at a quick nod from the head doctor. 

Kanetsugu let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. She was still alive. Still fighting. 

"Her breathing has steadied but I do not know if she will live to the dawn," the doctor told them in a hushed and solemn voice. 

"She will," Kanetsugu found himself grating out the words before he realized he was going to speak. She had to. He could not imagine the sun rising without her still in this world. He knew this wasn't a logical thought, nor a disciplined one. It had the taint of faith upon it. Irrational. He did not care. She would live. She would live because he loved her. 

Kenshin knelt beside her, and Kanetsugu sank down beside him. The sight of her was a pressure on Kanetsugu's chest. He could not breathe. The weight of her sickness bore him down and seized his heart. It hurt. He wanted to howl, to cry, to lash out. 

"Breathe," Kenshin said quietly. 

He did. Forcing the air into his lungs and out again. She lived and he would too. 

"Kan . . . sugu . . ." His name escaped her lips, a sound as soft as the beat of a butterfly wing. 

Kenshin's mismatched gaze met Kanetsugu's violet one. There was pain there, shared. An unspoken understanding passed between them. Two men that loved a dying woman. Kenshin's chin dipped in the slightest nod, and then he stood and left. 

Kanetsugu stroked her hair back from her face. "I am here." He wasn't sure if it was wishful thinking but it seemed at the sound of his voice that her lips curved in the slightest smile. "I . . . I haven't found a cure yet," he admitted, his voice cracking on the words. 

Admitting his failure made him sick. He wanted to tell her she should have given her love to someone more worthy. Someone smart enough, disciplined enough . . . someone that could save her. He couldn't say any of that because she'd chosen him. Given him her heart. And so he could not give up, no matter how hopeless and undeserving he felt. 

He leaned forward and placed a kiss on her cool brow. "I won't give up though. I will never give up on you."

Her breath hitched for a moment, and Kanetsugu's heart froze, only beating again when she drew an easier breath. The need to heal her, to defeat this invisible enemy, burned through him. "Hold on just a little longer," he begged, unashamed of the pleading tone. "Just a little longer."

He stood and stumbled from the room.

[ikeromantic]

I'd like to ask for a mix of sweet and spicy with my favorite kitsune Mitsuhide🤭 what better way to kickstart the new year than with a scene taking place NYE!? My OC is Mikasa, she's just as playful a tease as he is but he far exceeds her abilities🤭 thank you!

I love this ask ^_^ Here's a little modern AU with Mitsuhide and Mikasa on NYE, approx 800 words. A little spice, a little sugar!

Mitsuhide leaned against the balcony rail, his eyes not on the starlit expanse above the glittering city skyline, but into the penthouse suite. He found the view within a thousand times more beautiful. 

"Are you watching me get dressed?" Mikasa's voice held a teasing note. She knew full well he was watching her as she moved through the room in nothing but her panties, getting ready for the New Year's Eve party they'd agreed to attend. 

A sharp smile creased his face. "I was just thinking about our plans." 

She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes, a smirk playfully lifting her lips. "Oh? Well, why don't you think about it while you help me out." Mikasa dangled a lacy bralette from one finger. 

Mitsuhide took the bait. Of course he did. When your beautiful, topless lover beckoned, you came. He took the bra from her and helped her slip it on, letting his touch trail over her bare breasts before securing the fabric atop them. "Are you sure you want this on?" 

"Sure? No . . ." She laughed, her cheeks flushed. "But Masamune will be crushed if we don't make it to his party. Nobunaga might come looking for us and I don't want to think about Hideyoshi's reaction if we skip out."

Mikasa was right. They were expected and not showing up would cause some uproar. But every kitsune knew that forbidden sweets tasted best. "You're right," he sighed, leaning close so that his warm breath would ghost over the sensitive skin at the back of her neck. 

She shivered. "Mitsuhide," her voice held a warning tone just under the breathless excitement. 

He kissed her neck once for each snap on the bra. "Mmm. What is it, my little mouse? Am I not helping?"

"Oh, you're helping alright," Mikasa murmured. She turned and met his lips with a kiss of her own. Her hands slid down his sides, and the lace of her bra rasped against his shirt as she pressed close. 

Mitsuhide's pulse raced and an electric jolt of excitement arced through him. "We could arrive a bit late," he suggested after pulling back for a breath. 

"We could," Mikasa agreed. Then she stepped back from him and turned away, her hips swaying in a way he found entirely captivating. He almost missed the movement of her hand as she snagged her dress from the hangar. 

"I can see you aren't a fan of being fashionably late," he sighed. His gaze followed the hem of the dress as she slipped it over her head and slide down over her skin. 

She laughed at his mournful expression. "You know we wouldn't just be late. If I let you get started, we won't leave til tomorrow morning." 

Mitsuhide covered the distance between them in a few steps, one hand coming down on the wall beside her head. "Is that an objection to my bedroom skill?" 

He was rewarded with a flash of surprise and a merry smile. "Hmmm . . . well, your kabedon is looking pretty good. And that kiss was at least a B plus. Maybe an A minus." She traced a line down his jaw to his throat leaving a line of heat that followed her fingertip to where it rested against his collar. 

"A minus?" He raised one eyebrow. 

She shrugged, pretending nonchalance. As if she could hide the heat in her cheeks and the racing beat of her heart. 

Mitsuhide rested his other hand against her hip, hitching her skirt up slightly. "Now you've done it." He shook his head in mock dismay. "We'll be late for sure."

"What? Why?" Mikasa's eyes went wide as he gathered her skirt in his palm until her thigh was exposed. 

"I have to do better than an A minus," he purred, letting his lips brush against her ear. 

She gave a little squeak which she tried to smother. "My grading might have been hasty!" 

Mitsuhide laughed and pressed a kiss to her neck just beneath the glittering gem of her earring. "It's fine. I don't mind a re-test." He slid his palm down her thigh, letting her dress drape over his roaming hand. 

"I - I guess we can text Masamune. As long as we're there before the fireworks," she murmured. 

"Sure." Mitsuhide grinned, and then kissed her.

Masamune never got his text message. They did make it to the party though, just in time for Mikasa to see her second set of fireworks that night. Impressive as the midnight show was, they paled in comparison to the earlier display that left dappled love-bite marks across her skin and a pleasant warmth in her tired limbs.

[ikeromantic]

Hello hello! And happy new year!

Can i request a fic for Kenshin fluff? A snow ball fight if that's possible!

I just want this man to be happy lol

Thankyou!

Me too, nonny, me too! Here's approx. 800 words of Kenshin fluff.

Kenshin gave Mai a half smile. "You want to fight me? With . . . snow?"

She nodded, her eyes bright and wide and full of laughing mischief. "Yep. I used to have snowball fights with my friends all the time."

"So you would consider yourself a skilled combatant of these snow battles?" Kenshin's brow rose.

Mai gave another nod. 

Kenshin felt an unexpected excitement. He had never fought with snow. In snow, yes. With it? Ridiculous. But with Mai, it could be fun. A challenge.  He grinned. "When does this battle begin?"

"Now." She grinned and pulled a fistful of snow from the folds of her heavy winter kimono. The cold, wet glop landed on his shoulder, icy flecks sliding under his clothes. Mai giggled and ran.

He stood there a moment in shock. "An ambush?"

"I learned from the best," she shouted, still laughing as she disappeared around the corner.

Kenshin followed in hot pursuit. He loved her, yes, but in that moment he was pure instinct, a god challenged to battle. He burst out the open door and into the snow-covered garden, his hands scooping balls of the soft, white powder, icy cold against his palm. 

Mai glanced over her shoulder and spotted him. She threw him a sassy smile and ducked behind an ice encrusted pine tree. A moment later, a snowy missile launched up over the branches and landed in his vicinity.

"You missed," he crowed, and sent one of his snow balls hurtling over the tree, his aim better. He was rewarded a moment later with a laughing shriek as the projectile found its target. Kenshin knew the only path to victory was a relentless offensive. He followed the first snow ball with another and another, moving the whole time to get around her cover. When he lunged past the branches, she was already gone, disappearing over a mound of snow. 

She sent another snowball sailing toward him. It splattered against his chest. "Got you," she shouted from her hiding spot. 

He didn't give her a moment to breathe. Kenshin kept moving forward, pelting her cover with more icy cold missiles. Fighting with snow was a silly idea, but he had to admit it was fun. There was a thrill to the combat, a pleasant tension like and unlike battle. No one would die today, but someone would win. And it would be him. 

A snowball crashed into his shoulder, splatting cold slush on his cheek. 

"Another hit!" Mai's giggling voice came from a spot further back than the mound he'd thought she was behind. Of course she was a clever tactician. His wife would be. Kenshin felt a surge of pride even as his competitive nature took over. 

Kenshin leapt atop the mound and spotted her several steps away, already in retreat. "You can't escape!" He scored a hit with both snowballs in his cupped palms, and bent to scoop more. 

Mai bolted, heading for the next hedge to hide behind. Her foot caught a snow-covered root. Instead of diving to safety, she tumbled to the ground and landed heavily.

He was by her side in a heartbeat, snowballs dropped to the ground behind him. "Are you alright?" Kenshin knelt, reaching for her.

"Y-yeah." She smiled sheepishly at him. "I just tripped." Mai rubbed her knee. "I think I got a bruise though."

Kenshin slid a hand under her legs and another at her low back, and lifted her up as he stood. "I will care for you." 

Mai slipped an arm around his neck. "I know. But I'm really ok. It's just a bruise. No big deal."

"Any hurt you feel is a big deal to me." He pressed a kiss to her temple. 

She snuggled against his shoulder, silent for a moment. Then, "So. Our snow fight ends in a draw . . ."

"No. I won. You surrendered." 

"What?" Mai blinked up at him. "No way! It's a draw. You didn't beat me. I fell." 

Kenshin gave her a bright, dangerous smile. "I will accept a rematch. But I won this round. And once I am assured you are not hurt, I will claim my spoils."

"Y-your . . . spoils?"

"It's customary." His smile widened. "Or do you plan to deny me this victory?" His gaze was warm, his mismatched eyes ablaze with the love he felt for her. 

She blushed. "Noooooo."

"Good."

[ikeromantic]

Duty and Distance

As for the scenario itself, I was thinking something along the lines of Sasuke and Aru reuniting after having gone on long missions for Kenshin and Shingen respectively? Maybe Aru’s injured and Sasuke’s at her side because naturally he’s worried. If that doesn’t work maybe they could just be romantic and stargazing :>> I don’t have a particular taste in mind tbh maybe a little angst/fluff?? Whatever direction it goes is totally alright with me^^

I’m so sorry for the long message😭 and thank you so much for writing!! I really like your work☺️

an ask from messages! @just-a-little-silly thanks for the ask! I hope I did your lovely OC justice ^_^ Approx 800 words of light angst and fluff!

Sasuke curled a lock of Aruhndhati's hair around a finger. He loved the way her dark hair looked, the softness of it, the slight, sweet-herbal scent of her shampoo. He cradled her against his chest, careful of her injured arm. White bandages wrapped her left upper arm to the elbow, evidence of an enemy's lucky bow shot on her last mission.

She leaned back against him, her gaze turned toward the velvet-dark sky, seemingly unaware of his light touch. He knew better, of course. Aru was always alert, a slight tension to her at all times. The result of her years of training and work in the Sengoku, if not her life before the wormhole.

"I'm glad you're back." His voice was low and quiet, heavy with months of yearning. They'd been apart since the start of autumn, sent out on different missions. Now it was early spring, and their first moment alone together. 

"Me too." She reached back and patted his leg with her uninjured arm. The gesture and tone were as distant as the stars.

"Aru." Sasuke let go of the lock of hair and leaned forward to see her expression. 

"Hm? What?" Defensive now, a certain sharpness beneath the words.

He scooted back a little as she turned to look at him. "What's wrong?"

Arundhati's dark eyes narrowed, her brows drawing together. "Nothing." 

Sasuke raised a brow, or he meant to. Both went up a tick. 

"Don't look at me like that," she snapped. "If there was something wrong and it was your business, I would tell you." 

He took a breath. It hurt a little when she got like this, her defenses up and her spines out. Sasuke had to remember it wasn't about him. She still had scars from her prior engagement, and years of secrets, lies, and betrayals that built the walls around her heart thick and tall. "Arundhati. I am your BFF. I love you. I can tell when you aren't happy." He paused, reached a hand toward her and dropped it when she drew back. "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. But I'm here to listen if you do." 

Aru's tension ratcheted up for a long moment. Then it flooded out of her in a drawn out sigh. "I have another mission. I have to leave before first light." 

"But you only just got back. And your arm . . ." He gestured toward the bandaged limb, feeling a sudden rush of helplessness. Sasuke didn't have the words to explain the emotions boiling in his chest, nor the expressions to relay them without words. He wanted to spend time with his lover, to hold each other, to heal the distance that time apart put between them. 

She clearly didn't see any of that in his reaction. "I don't need you to tell me what missions I can and can't do."

"I'm not . . . I wouldn't . . ." Sasuke paused, gathering his thoughts. Love made him feel as irrational as the square root of 2. "I'm just surprised," he told her. "I thought we'd have more time. I'd never tell you not to go if you've been given a mission. I'm just -" The familiar feeling of loneliness, the inevitability of lost friendships, and abandonment flooded him. It was a bitter, sharp pain in his heart. "Disappointed," he finished.

Arundhati studied him, her gaze softening. She took his hand and squeezed it gently. "I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bite." Her breath hitched. "I miss you too and I - I thought we'd have a few days at least." 

Sasuke could read between her words. She was lashing out from her own conflicted feelings. The work they did was so important. Lives rested on it. They couldn't say no, but that didn't make it easy. He pulled her close and she let him, resting her head on his chest. "Let's make the most of tonight then."

She gave him a soft, sweet smile. The kind that took his breath away completely. Her eyes danced with mischief and warmth. "Want to head to my room and form a covalent bond?"

He laughed, glad to see his Aru was back, her walls down. "Are you suggesting we convert our potential energy into kinetic?" Sasuke tried to wink which made her laugh too. 

"Guess you'll have to find out." She grinned and stood, her posture confident and sassy. 

Sasuke smiled up at her. He still worried, but he knew she was strong and smart. She could handle whatever this world threw at her, and she'd handle it with him there at her side. Not because she needed him but because she wanted him there. 

He stood too. "We can test a few of my hypotheses." Aru giggled. He loved her so much that it made his chest ache. She must have felt the same, because she pulled him to her and met his lips with her own in a kiss so passionate that he felt breathless, his pulse pounding. Love wasn't easy in the Sengoku, but it was always worth it. 

[ikeromantic]

I’m sending in a humble request for a spicy IkeVil story where Roger gets jealous over some other guy (crown member or not) getting too close to Kate. he’s normally so confident but I think he would get overprotective and jelly if other guys actually got touchy with Kate

Oooh I think this is my first time to write for Roger! Approx. 800 word of a jelly Huntsman!

Roger took a drink, trying to keep a frown off his face. He brought Kate to this tavern, intent on having some time with just the two of them. Only, Liam hadn't got the memo and was sitting right beside her, talking animatedly. Normally, he didn't mind Liam's company but tonight . . .

"I bet it's been hard, huh?" Liam's eyes widened a little as Kate nodded along. 

"Not hard, exactly. Just a lot of adjustment. My schedule is so different, what with the missions being at all hours and then I stay up to write too!" Kate smiled sheepishly. "Silly to complain about it though."

Liam put an arm around her shoulders. "Not at all. You can tell me -"

He cut off short when Roger loomed over him, a wide smile stretching the doctor's mouth. Roger didn't remember deciding to stand, but here he was. And good thing too. He took hold of Kate's arm and pulled her to her feet. "The lil' robin and I have work to do." He slipped his arm around her shoulders.

"Oh! I'm sorry. I thought this was a night off." Kate's cheeks heated. "I didn't mean to delay you."

"Tonight is a night off." Liam's eyes narrowed. 

Roger realized he should have spent a little more time on the lie if he planned to let it loose. Too late now though. "It's a personal project." He shrugged. "Anyway, see you later."

"What kind of personal project," Liam asked, his curiosity on high as always. "Can I come? I can help too!" 

"Nah. It's just a me and Kate thing. Your presence would impact the test results." Roger took a step away, pulling Kate with him.

She held her ground. "Hold on. Is it an experiment? You didn't mention an experiment to me before we left the estate."

Now Roger was in an even bigger pickle. "I wanted it to be a surprise." He let his thumb stroke her upper arm. Her soft, warm skin always managed to surprise him. Being a doctor, one would expect touching someone to feel more or less the same, but Kate felt different. Every time he touched her, he wanted to touch her more. Liam probably felt the same, with the way he was always hugging her, trying to hold her hand, or put an arm around her. The thought made him feel inexplicably twitchy. 

"A surprise?" Liam's brows rose. He stood and took Kate's free arm. "Maybe you can do it another night then. It's not fair to interrupt our fun like this."

Roger was prepared to argue, but it was Kate that replied. She patted Liam's hand and then extricated herself from his grasp. "It's alright, Liam. I'll come by and visit you when we get back to the manor."

"Can we have a late night snack together, and talk until the sun comes up?" Liam's lips were on the verge of a pout. 

"Of course." She smiled at him sweetly and Roger felt a pang of . . . something. Something uncomfortable.

Roger gave her a little push toward the door. "Kate, go grab your coat." She turned her smile toward him and Roger felt that stirring sensation more strongly. 

Kate waved goodbye to Liam and went to the coatroom. Once she was out of earshot, Roger turned to Liam. "She won't have time."

"What?" Liam blinked.

"To sit with you until dawn." Roger felt a surge of satisfaction. A strange reaction to Liam's puzzled expression. "If you need company, ask someone else." The words slipped out as he turned to follow Kate. 

Once outside, Roger realized he would need to have someplace for them to go. Kate was watching him expectantly. There were things he could suggest that were work. But he didn't want to actually work. He wanted Kate all to himself, and nothing else. 

"Ummm . . . so . . . are we going somewhere? Because it's kind of cold out here." Kate gave a little shiver. 

"Sure we are, lil' robin." He gave her a slow, satisfied smile and draped an arm over her shoulder. 

Her cheeks heated and she looked to the side, unable to meet his gaze, but she snuggled closer to his side. "Oh?"

Roger felt warm despite the cool night air. He realized then that it didn't matter where he went with her so long as she was by his side. Thinking that, he set off with her into the dark streets of London.

"Isn't this the way back to the estate?" 

"Might be." Roger grinned. He knew where his feet were taking them, and he didn't mind it one bit. Tonight was going to be an all new experiment. One with just him and just Kate, where his hands were the only ones touching her, and his face was the only one she saw.