#ikemektober

[ikeromantic]

Princess

Day 27 of Ikemektober!

I chose Shingen because the prompt is princess and I can’t imagine writing something with that and not the master of sweet nicknames and terrible pick up lines. Approx 900 words of fluff.

The garden hummed with chatter as servants placed tables and lanterns, and arranged flowers into delicate wreaths and bouquets. A veritable army of cooks and their assistants delivered steaming platters to the tables, an array of savory and sweet that would flatter an emperor. Shingen watched it all with an anticipatory grin.

“All of this for a boar woman,” muttered Yuki. He set the table he was carrying down and glared at his lord.

“She is a princess, Yukimura. A goddess. You’ll understand one day.” Shingen smiled wider, thinking about how excited she would be to see this.

Yuki rolled his eyes. “Please tell me I don’t need to move anything else?”

Shingen waited for Yoshimoto to speak. While the idea for a garden party had been his, Yoshimoto was the aesthetic expert. 

“No - I think another table would crowd the space. There must be enough room for the flowers and lanterns to glow. And for people to walk between.” Yoshimoto sighed. “It will be so beautiful.”

“I hope she thinks so,” Yukimura rolled his eyes again. 

“She will,” Yoshimoto replied. “You’ll understand one day.”

“I wish you’d stop saying that.”

Yoshimoto and Shingen shared a knowing grin. 

Yuki sighed. “Ok, whatever. I’m going to go find Sasuke. He’s weird, but you guys are weirder.” He left in a huff, but even he couldn’t hold back a wistful smile at the garden’s transformation.

Shingen waited at the entrance for his princess to return. She was out today, delivering a haori and kimono she’d made for the owner of her favorite tea house in town. That was part of why he chose today for his surprise. The other reason . . . he felt his heart thud in his chest as he remembered. One year ago today, he’d met her for the first time. 

She came up the road as the sunset. Limping, her geta in one hand. 

He didn’t wait for her to get closer, but instead rushed down to the road to sweep her up in his arms and hug her to his chest. 

“My strap broke.” She looked up at him with an unhappy pout. 

“Is my princess hurt?” Shingen took the sandals from her. The strap was worn and snapped. It was just like her not to tell him she needed new shoes, or at least, to have these repaired. 

She shook her head. “No. I tripped but caught myself. My feet hurt.” She kicked them in the air and sighed. “They feel much better now that I’m being carried.”

“I would carry you everywhere - anywhere.” Shingen tilted his head to kiss her. After a day without her, it was heaven to feel her lips again. He kissed her breathless, only stopping when she gasped and pulled away. 

“Mmmm, let’s go home,” she whispered. Her eyes were warm and her hands, as she slid them beneath the fabric of his clothes, were warmer still. 

Shingen chuckled. “Slide those hands a little lower and we won’t make it past the gate.”

The comment had the intended effect. She blushed and slid her hands out again. 

“My eager goddess. I can’t wait to surprise you.” He kissed her forehead and carried her into the castle. From the entrance to the garden, he kept her too kissed to realize they weren’t going to his rooms. It wasn’t until he set her on her feet that she realized where they were.

Beyond the steps, the garden was lit by stars and the glow of small lanterns. The flowers were a muted rainbow, soft pastels in the dim light, reflected in the waters of a small koi pond and in the eyes of one, beautiful princess. Her hands went to her mouth and her eyes wide. 

“Shingen! What - what is this? Is there a celebration?”

“There is, princess. Do you know why?”

She shook her head. “Mmm, it’s not Kenshin’s birthday. Or Yuki’s. And we had Sasuke’s birthday last month . . .” 

“It’s none of those.” He played with the hair at the back of her neck, loving the little shiver of pleasure she gave at his touch.

“It’s not a holiday. Is this something local? For Kasugayama? Or is there a special guest?” 

Shingen slid his finger down her neck to her collarbone. “Nope.”

His princess bit her lower lip in thought. “I don’t remember a festival a year ago. That was - it was just after I got here. I was still getting used to this place and -”

“And you went to the Azuchi market.” 

Her eyes went wide. “Was that a year ago?”

“Mhmm.” Shingen took her hands in his. “Something fell when you walked by, miss.”

“Oh?”

“It was me. I fell in love with you.”

She laughed softly and stood on tiptoe to kiss him. “And I fell in love with you too, though I didn’t know it yet.” She turned her head to look at the garden again. “I can’t believe you did all this for me. For our anniversary.”

“Nothing is too good for my princess.” Shingen smiled. “I can’t take all the credit though. Everyone helped.”

“Everyone?”

“Yes. And they’ll join us soon. But I wanted this time for us. You, me, and the moon above. Remind you of anything?”

“A few things. Did you bring a mat, so we can sit apart?”

He laughed. “Hey! I thought we were past all that!”

“I don’t know . . . a certain warlord keeps dropping cheesy pickup lines on me. I’m a little nervous.”

“I’ll have to do something about that,” Shingen’s voice lowered to a purr. He swept her to one of the tables and pulled her onto his lap. 

“This is how I’m protected? I don’t think I’m safe here.” She wiggled her hips, teasing. 

Shingen slid his arms around her waist and lowered his lips to her ear. “Safe from everyone but me, princess.”

[ikeromantic]

Ikemektober MasterPost

I honestly cannot believe I managed a post everyday of October. Most of which are not terrible xD Here they are arranged by game, tagged with prompt, character, and type of story. And, even though Ikemektober and it’s cute prompts are over - I am, as always, open to asks ^_^

Ikemen Vampire  

Music/Mozart/Angst       

Rose/Comte/Fluff        

Photo/Arthur/Spicy      

Hourglass/Napoleon/Angst       

Coffee/Sebastian/Spicy       

Candles/Vincent/Smut  

Horns/Shakespeare/Angst

Scarf/Theo/Fluff      

Guarded/Jean/Fluff  

 Ikemen Sengoku        

Hug/Nobunaga/Fluff       

Heart/Hideyoshi/Angst    

Rain/Masamune/Fluff        

Couple/Kenshin/Fluff    

Broken/Ieyasu/Angst    

 Kiss/Yukimura/Fluff      

Hairpin/Kyubei/Angst    

Aura/Sasuke/Fluff      

Princess/Shingen/Fluff    

Diamond/Mitsunari/Fluff?

 Ikemen Revolution

 Lipstick/Seth/Fluff

 Shy/Harr/Fluff                    

 Fireworks/Oliver/Fluff

 Doll/Jonah/Fluff  

 Suit/Zero/Fluff

Ring/Sirius/Fluff 

Dress/Edgar/Angst

 Message/Loki/Fluff

 Red/Lancelot/Angst

Gift/Fenrir/Fluff 

Moon/Luka/Fluff 

Warm/Ray/Smut 

[ikeromantic]

Ikemen vampire theo x mc where theo and MC become parents and theo has to take care of the baby for a day by himself? LOL if it’s to hard u don’t gotta do it idk if I requested this before lol

Day 26 of Ikemektober!

I haven’t read all of Theo’s route yet, so I don’t know how accurate to character this is - but I hope you enjoy ^_^  Approx. 1800 words of baby filled fluffiness for the ask.

Theo snuggled to his precious hondje despite the insistent sunlight streaming in the windows. She was soft and warm, and it felt good to have her nestled against his chest. If fate allowed, he might have stayed right where he was until Sebas announced lunch. But late morning weren’t for parents.

As if on cue, the twins began to cry. Anna was breathy and quiet, but her sister Akari made up for that in spades. Her cry was demanding and loud, and there was no way to ignore it. Not even for five more minutes in bed with his lovely wife. 

She sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Oh - oh, my babies. I’m coming, coming . . .”

Theodorus watched her stumbled from the room, half asleep. She was exhausted since they’d had the twins. It was a lot of work, even with helpful uncles in the manor. 

He watched her shuffle back from the nursery, a baby in each arm. They had their mother’s dark, straight hair and their daddy’s big blue eyes. A deadly combination. Theo scooped Akari up and bounced her in his arms. She stopped crying as soon as he held her. 

“Ah, papa has the magic touch, hm?” His wife smiled at him. “I don’t think they’re even hungry. They just wanted company.” Anna was settled too, happy to be held. The four of them ended up laid out in bed, the two babies in the middle with their mom and dad on the sides. 

Hondje was falling asleep already, with long, slow blinks. Theo felt bad for her shouldering so much of the work with the babies. He wanted to help out - he just wasn’t sure what one did with a baby. They were terribly fragile things. 

As if to illustrate his point, Akari wrapped her tiny hand around his finger and started chewing on it. Her mouth was small and pink and it tickled a little. 

“Trying to eat me up, eh?” He laughed quietly. Maybe he could try to give his beauty a break today. Let her sleep in, take a long hot bath, eat pancakes in blessed silence . . . all things neither of them had done since the babies were born.

All he had to do was take care of these two feisty little ones for a few hours. Surely . . . surely that couldn’t be too hard. 

Theo slipped out of bed, silent as a cat. He carefully lifted Anna and Akari and took them for a chat with Vincent.

“So what I want to do is take care of them all today - but, what do you do with a baby, broer?”

Vincent tickled Anna’s tummy, fascinated by her smiles. He didn’t look up as he replied. “Well, if you want her to have peace and quiet, you should take them out someplace.”

“Like a gallery or a cafe?” Theo tried to imagine it. All he could picture was Akari and Anna trying to eat random items and crying a lot. 

“No. Someplace they can just . . . be babies. Maybe take them for a picnic?” Vincent finally looked up. 

“A baby picnic? I guess that could work.” They would stay on the blanket, safe and sound, and well out of their mother’s hair. 

“Perfect. Why don’t you get them dressed and I’ll meet you out front with some picnic supplies.” Vincent smiled widely.

“Are you coming with us?”

“Of course! I can’t miss a chance to dote on my sweet nieces.” 

Theo carried the babies out. At eight months, they were getting a little heavy but they were still too small to walk. He didn’t mind the weight but he wished they wouldn’t wiggle a kick so much.

It took Theodorus almost an hour to get the little ones bundled up for an autumn day. Long sleeve dresses and little warm leggings courtesy many shopping trips with Comte, mittens and boots from Arthur and Dazai, and a red scarf for Akari, and a yellow one for Anna. He topped it off with little knit caps shaped like an apple and a pumpkin. The hats and scarves were handmade by Sebas. He’d taken to knitting cute accessories for the girls in his spare time, and seemed to really enjoy seeing the twins wear his creations.

“Why do my babies look like they’re part of a harvest festival?”

Theo turned to see his beauty in the doorway, making puppy eyes at him. “Mijn knabbel, I was going to surprise you with a day to yourself.” He felt ridiculous having to tell her about it. Couldn’t she see what he was doing? 

She crossed the room and put a kiss on his cheek before he could say anything else. “Thank you, love.” 

The look in her eye made him go warm inside, like a summer breeze. It reminded him of all the reasons he loved her. “Just go back to bed, hondje. You look tired.”

“Mmm, I will. I want to be rested up when you get back.”

“Oh?” And now Theo knew he had something to look forward to. He gave her a quick goodbye kiss and took the squirming babies to the front entry.

Vincent was waiting for him with a double carriage for the babies and a big basket of goodies. He also had a blanket for the ground, a spare one for the babies in case they were cold. “Are you ready to go?”

“I think so. They’re dressed and wiggly.” Theo laughed, setting the babies in the carriage. He looked at the basket on his brother’s arm. “Did you bring something for them to eat?”

“I did. Sebas made up a special pancake and berry blend and put it in little jars. They will love it.” Vincent grinned. “I’m hoping to sketch them today. They are almost a year old and I haven’t managed to get a single good painting of either of them.”

“They move too much.” Theo gave the babies a mock stern look. “You have to hold still for mijn broer when he’s painting you.”

Anna and Akari gurgled at him in response, completely unrepentant. 

The brothers took the babies out to Vincent’s favorite flower meadow. They laid the blanket under a tree and set the babies down on it. Anna sat where her papa put her, but Akari pushed herself up on all-fours and wobbled toward a pile of fallen leaves. 

Theo scooped her up just before she got there. “Think you can escape little one?”

She started to cry, an angry, helpless sound. 

Vincent put his hands to his ears. “Can’t you let her play in the leaves? It wouldn’t hurt anything. We used to play in leaf piles all the time.”

“Yes but -” Theo wasn’t sure how to put it into words. It was different when it was your baby. You worried more. About all kinds of things. Still, his brother was probably right. 

“Ok, ok,” he told Akari, and set her down on the blanket. She immediately stopped crying and went for the leaves again. “Just don’t eat them - please?” 

Vincent laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you plead like that. Being a father has changed you.” 

Theo shrugged. His brother was right, but he didn’t want to admit it. The two of them watched the babies crawl over and under the leaves, picking up the bright red and yellow ones to stare at them in wonder. And occasionally gnaw at them with their little slobbery mouths. 

Gloves, hats, scarves, and booties disappeared through playtime, replaced by dirt and dead leaves. A different sort of fall costume, Theo mused. 

Vincent managed a few quick sketches, but the girls made it hard to catch them in any pose. They had so much energy and everything fascinated them.

Eventually they got tired and let their papa and uncle feed them. Then promptly fell asleep in the baby carriage. 

“I guess that’s our cue to head home,” Vincent sighed. 

Theo nodded and stood up to gather the scattered picnic items. He found the two hats, and the mittens and boots, but the scarves were gone. He tore through the leaf pile and checked under the picnic blanket. They weren’t there. Or in the baby carriage. Or in the basket.

“What’s wrong,” Vincent asked. “Did you drop something?”

“No. Godverdomme. I can’t find the girls’ scarves. They have to be here someplace.” 

“The ones Sebas just gave them to wear for winter?”

“Yes, those.” He shot his brother a look of annoyance that faded the second it landed. It was impossible to be annoyed with Vincent. “Can you help me look for them?”

“I will. I’d hate to see Sebastian’s face if we had to tell him we lost them.”

“Thanks, broer. Helpful.”

“Don’t worry Theo. We’ll find them.” Vincent gave his angelic smile and the two of them tore through the picnic site again. Still no scarves. 

Theo knew they needed to get back soon, but he didn’t want to give up. That just wasn’t his style. “Did you check the grass, Vince?”

“Yes, and I went through the leaf pile again. Lots of red and yellow, nothing knit.”

“And the picnic basket?”

Vincent sighed. “We both looked through it. Unless Akari and Anna managed to stick them in the jam jars, the scarves aren’t in there either.”

Theo popped open the basket and checked the jam jars just in case. With the babies, you could never be sure.

“I think we’ll just have to admit we lost them, Theo. I’m sure Sebas will be alright. The twins got to where them out once at least.”

“Yeah.” Theodorus felt a sudden wave of exhaustion. It had been a very nice day but the ending spoilt it all. 

He and Vincent pushed the baby carriage back to the manor in low spirits. Anna and Akari slept through the whole drama, unaware of the importance of their missing scarves.

Sebastian met them at the door, all smiles. “Did you have a nice day out? Did the girls like their pancakes?” He leaned down to look at the snoozing pups. His smile faltered. “Ah, still not cold enough weather for a scarf?”

Vincent looked over at Theo.

It would be easy to lie right now. Say that’s right, and then the scarves could go missing without it being his fault. But Theodorus wasn’t one to shirk responsibility. Sometimes you had to man up. Admit your faults. He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, as he considered how best to break the news.

His fingers brushed something wooly and soft. His eyes widened.

“What is it, broer?”

Theo tugged the soft fluff from his pocket. A scarf. Yellow. And in the other pocket, one red. He grinned at Sebas. “Nah, they took them off while they were playing. I stuck them in my pockets for safe keeping.”

Vincent laughed, relieved. “I wish you could have seen them, Sebastian. They were so cute.”

Sebas smiled. “Well, I’ll have to wait for your next outing.” He gestured upstairs. “I believe your lady is waiting for you?”

Theo grinned. 

Vincent nudged his arm. “Don’t worry, Sebas and I will babysit the rest of tonight.”

He didn’t need anymore encouragement. He bounded upstairs, eager to show the mother of his children how much he appreciated her.

[ikeromantic]

Candles

Day 22 of Ikemektober!

I chose Vincent - because I just finished his route and OMG I am dying. I think he’s my favorite. I love love love loved his story. This story is smut! Approx 1600 words.

Vincent surveyed his atelier. The paints were organized, the canvas just so on the easel. He’d covered the couch with a piece of red velvet cloth for this new painting. Red was passion. Love and lust. Perfect for his subject. 

He’d set out several candles as well, a bank of them in borrowed tea saucers across the floor, on shelves, and in the windowsill. Painting by candlelight was much different than sun, oil lamp, or electric lighting. It deepened the shadows, drew out the darkness. The mystery. It let him blend more easily the figures in his sight and those in his heart.

The door opened. His model stepped in. Vincent turned to face her, already feeling the familiar tremble in his chest. Breath stopped. She was so beautiful. He moved toward her, a flower turning to face the sun. She smiled and it outshone every candle in the room.

“What’s this Vincent? You’ve changed your room around.”

“I did, mijn liefje. To paint you differently tonight.” 

“Oh?” Her eyebrows rose, a mischievous look in her eyes. “I am surprised.”

Vincent felt a momentary worry. “We don’t have to if you don’t want-”

“I like surprises.” She kissed him. Her lips were feather-light, soft as silk. She tasted like cream and tea. 

“I’m glad.” He gestured for her to sit on the velvet. The red complimented the blush in her cheeks, and the rose-tint of her lips. Vincent leaned down to kiss them as his fingers began to work the buttons on her shirt.

She pulled back, giving him a questioning look. “Should I undress for this?”

“You should sit still and let an artist work.” He felt positively evil as her eyes widened. But she didn’t look afraid, or even uncomfortable. She looked . . . eager. The expression she wore made it so hard to go slow. Achingly slow. But good things could not be rushed.

She let him resume his work, a slight smile playing at the edges of her mouth. That smile melted into a sigh of pleasure as he kissed down the line of her jaw to her now-revealed collarbone. He ached to free her breasts, to kiss them, but first -

Vincent straddled her, untying the corset lacing under her shirt with deliberate slowness. He slid his fingers under the lace-edged top to play with her nipples. They were hard little pebbles, rising to his touch. 

The corset was easy to slide free once undone. Beneath it, she wore a thin shift, cloth so light he could see through it even in the flickering candle light. The swell of her breasts, nipples pressing against the cloth, the line of her belly. The shadows that gathered in the well between her legs. 

“I - I thought you were going to paint me,” she breathed. 

“I am.” He smiled at her, knowing the effect his angelic face had. She’d remarked on it often enough, even if she knew now the sort of man he was underneath.

Vincent slid the shift down, exposing just one breast. His hand massaged the other as his tongue flicked across the nipple, the areola. She gasped at the light brush of his fangs against her skin. It was so hard not to bite her now, to give her pleasure and take his own. 

Patience, he told himself, despite his own growing desperation.

He stepped back, and picked up his paintbrush. He began to paint the lines of her onto the canvas. Just the general outline now, in darker shadowed hues. He tried to capture the feel of the flickering candlelight with the press of the brush, the thickness of the paint. 

When he glanced over to her, she’d lifted the edge of her thin linen shift, a hand slipping up her thigh, legs spread. 

“Ah, haha - no, no touching yourself. Tonight, let me be the only one?”

She blushed from cheek to chin, and bit her lip as she nodded. “I can’t deny you anything when you look at me like that.”

Vincent set his brush down and went back to her. “I can’t deny you, either.” She sat up as he slid the thin gown off, and now even the veil of innocence was gone. The red velvet and the play of candlelight suited her, and the feelings she’d made in him. 

He laid kisses across both breasts, and pressed her legs to open wider with his hand. Even without touching her, he could feel the heat that came from her cleft. Did she ache for him as he did for her? Vincent slid his hand up her thigh, fingers light and playful. She shivered under his touch.

“Oh . . . wh-why do you tease me like this?” 

“You don’t like it?” He stopped his kisses, looking up at her. 

Her hips lifted to rub against him. “You know I do.”

“Then that is why.” He couldn’t help his own tremor of pleasure at the feel of her, nor deny the way he ached to be inside her. 

He let his fingertips explore further up, opening her with a gentle stroke. She gasped, twitching at the bare touch. He could feel her pearl throb, begging without words for more. Instead, he kissed back up to her neck, nibbling the skin there. His fingers rested at her opening. The slightest motion he made with his hand had her rocking forward against him.

He stood again, his eyes hot with desire for her. Seeing her like this, spread before him like a flower opening for the sunrise - it drove him mad. He did not think it was possible for any man to have felt this before. It was too much. Too strong a need for a mere mortal - or vampire. 

Vincent went to his canvas, and in quick, brutal strokes set his desire in paint. Heat and blood and passion. It was beauty and madness. Setting the image did nothing to ease the hunger in him.

“Come back to me, Vincent. I - I’m cold,” she whimpered. He could tell by her half-lidded eyes that it wasn’t the temperature she wanted rescue from. 

“I will.” He turned back to the painting and set his brushes down. It was a good start, but nowhere near the beauty of the real thing. He turned back to drink her in with his eyes. 

His own clothes felt hot and restrictive. He didn’t need them to paint, or to make love. He unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall to the ground. Then his pants. He slipped out of his undershorts. The air was cool on his exposed skin, but it did nothing to tame his erection. Knowing there was now nothing between him and touching her only made him harder. 

“You’re beautiful,” she sighed. He loved the way she looked at him - as if he was a delicious snack and she would soon eat him up. It made him want to devour her.

Vincent returned to the couch, kneeling before it. With his hands, he eased her forward until the core of her was near to touching. She knew what he would do - what he wanted to do - but she still made a surprised sound as he slid his tongue into her cleft. Her body trembled, as if she was struggling to hold herself still.

He pulled back and looked up at her. “Is it ok if I kiss you here?” 

“V-vincent, I - I think if you don’t I’m going to scream.”

“I think if I do you will scream,” he grinned. Whatever reply she might have had was lost in another sharp breath as his tongue flicked against her clit. This time, she didn’t resist the urge to lift her hips and grind against him. She didn’t scream, but her cries were loud enough to wake the manor.

The feel of her, the smell and taste was intoxicating. Vincent painted her with his lips, with his teeth, and his tongue. Arrhythmic stroking that left her moaning, begging for him to please - please don’t stop - don’t ever stop. 

He almost lost control of himself when he slid his tongue inside her. She shuddered, clenching against him as he stroked her from her depth back to the edge. He wanted to take her with more than his mouth. 

Vincent wrapped his arms around her legs, his palms at her back. His face was buried between her thighs, tongue now settling into a solid rhythm, one that echoed the rush of her pulse, the beat of their joined hearts. He lifted her hips with him as he stood, still bent forward to keep her at a comfortable angle. He wasn’t sure this was ‘doing it right’ but all he wanted was to pleasure her. And at that he seemed to be doing a perfect job.

She braced her arms against the back of the couch. Her moans were wordless, desperate and needy. 

His breath was hot and ragged. He could tell any moment now, she would climax. He wanted to hear her - wanted to feel her. She began to tremble, and the pitch of her voice changed. The sweetness grew unbearable. 

Vincent lifted his head and spread her even wider. He brought his hips forward. Slowly, agonizingly so, he plunged into her. She cried out so loudly that everyone in the manor had to hear her ecstasy, if they hadn’t woken up to it already. The feel of her shuddering against him was all it took for him to find his crest too. Buried to his hilt in her. 

He gathered her to him, kneeling on the couch. “More,” he gasped. And she understood. She bared her neck.

Vincent felt his fangs pierce her delicate flesh, the hot flow of blood, filled with her passion and her pleasure. He drank deep as she rocked against him. Even she was greedy, he thought. Greedy for more of him. 

He looked at her in the dying candlelight, enjoying the sated expression she wore. There was no painting he could make that would capture this feeling, he thought. None at all.

[ikeromantic]

Hairpin

Day 21 of Ikemektober!

I chose Kyubaebei! I have so many feelings about this . . . Spoilers for Mitsuhide’s route, if you haven’t read it. Also, light angst. Approx. 850 words.

The message Kyubei received was expected. He’d been waiting for it as he coordinated the spies, messengers, and unknowing allies for his lord. The list was simple:

A mount, hidden in the forest nearby

A sword

Clothing

Food and traveling sundries

And . . . a bellflower hairpin. Not just any bellflower hairpin but the one Mitsuhide’s mother had worn. White jade inset with the bellflower pattern picked out in blue pearl on the handle, a blooming bellflower at the end in silver and imported sapphire. Only Mitsuhide’s sister, Oichi, had one like it. 

Kyubei did not question why his lord would ask for it - only . . .  he felt his heart constrict and for a moment, he could not breathe. But he was a loyal vassal - through everything - always.

He spent the day assembling his lord’s travel pack - careful to source everything from different places so that no one would guess his intent. A strategy Mitsuhide taught him many years ago, when he first came into his lord’s service. Food, water, a weapon, and clothes. Then he took one of the horses from the stable out for some exercise. 

The food and water stayed with the horse, hidden in a small clearing where no patrol would come across it accidentally. The weapon and clothing would be delivered in person, just before the prison break.

No one questioned him. Even with Mitsuhide imprisoned, he was only Kyubei, vassal. Harmless. It rankled to be overlooked, but there was benefit in it as well. A warlord would be watched, his movements marked. A servant was nobody. To most, anyhow. He did not think of the chatelaine’s face. He did not think of her at all. 

Then he went to his lord’s manor, and there in his office, opened the secret hollow in Mitsuhide’s desk. This was where he kept sensitive correspondence, and the few personal items he collected. The correspondence was already gone. Burned to ash. 

All that remained was the hairpin, a small paper packet of crackers, and an oddly stamped coin. The crackers were a gift from the chatelaine, the coin was hers as well. From the strange town she lived in. He took the crackers and the hairpin, then closed the panel carefully. 

Mitsuhide did not think he would survive this mission, but Kyubei would still not see his secrets exposed. 

Then he had only to wait. It began to rain, the water coming in unpredictable waves as if the sky was weeping. 

The bribed guard finally came on duty, and as expected, hurried off to check on a ‘disturbance’ nearby. Kyubei extinguished the torches along this side of the dungeon entrance and slipped inside. His lord was waiting for him, golden eyes alight in the darkness. 

Without a word, Kyubei slipped the clothes and sword through the bars and set to work on the lock. It was a simple thing - three tumblers that clicked into place in a few breaths. He swung open the door, cursing his luck as it squealed. Some of the other prisoners called out, but their voices were muffled by the rain. 

Together, they fled. Out into the courtyard, ducking between the buildings, racing for the wall. Kyubei half hoped Mitsuhide would simply flee, forgetting the hairpin he’d requested, but his kitsune master was not so fickle as that. 

Mitsuhide stopped in a sheltered alcove, holding out a bandaged hand to still Kyubei. “Do you have it?”

“Yes. Would you like me to give it to her?” He imagined for a brief moment what that might be like. Her eyes tearing up. His shoulder, a place for her to cry. Wrapping his arms around her as she grieved. It made his chest ache, a bittersweet pain to think of himself as the man she would turn to.

“No, I . . . I must see her before I go. I will give it to her then.”

Kyubei shook his head, torn. It was a risk for his lord to go to her, and he wanted to disagree with Mitsuhide for that reason alone. But in truth . . . he felt the poison-hot burn of jealousy. 

Mitsuhide was silent a moment. His gaze set on his vassal, unyielding. “Kyubei, I know it is a risk. And I know -” He stopped, considering. “I know she will need someone to comfort her when I am gone. Someone that will protect her, as I have.”

His vassal looked up, eyes wide. 

“You cannot hide anything from a kitsune,” Mitsuhide smiled his razor-thin smile. 

Kyubei returned it with his own pained grin. “Of course not, my lord. I will do my best to honor your request.” He handed Mitsuhide the hairpin. Even in the dim, stormlit night, it sparkled. Everlasting love, wisdom, loyalty, and beauty . . . a gift fit for an empress.

“I know that you will.” Mitsuhide took the hairpin, and with a final nod to his vassal, disappeared into the gloom. 

 Kyubei felt his heart twist, a sharp pain. It hurt to want what you could never have. He savored the feeling. This sacrifice was the least he could make, when his lord was willing to sacrifice everything.  

[ikeromantic]

Rose

Day 6 of Ikemektober!

I decided on le Comte Saint-Germain. Approx. 750 words of fluff!

Le Comte de Saint Germain was a man of means. He had this mansion, and other estates in other places and times. Carriages and boats. Cars. A museum’s worth of artifacts and knowledge many men would kill for. There was nothing he wanted that he did not have. Well, almost nothing. 

He stepped out into the garden, eyes searching for the one blossom without root. He spotted her watering the roses, a soft smile on her face. 

“For this, the sun does also rise,” he said softly.

“Bonjour le Comte!” She waved. 

He tilted his head in greeting and continued on to the way to bower. This time of year it was fragrant with flowers, and humming with bees. It settled his mind and eased the nightmares that even centuries could not calm. 

Sebastian brought his tea. A black tea, sweet and hot, and a plate of gibassier with honeyed butter. He did not need to eat, of course, but some things were worth savoring. 

“Will you be needing anything else, monsieur?”

“No Sebas, thank you. You’re welcome to join me if you like.”

Sebastian shook his head. “I must decline. I have a trip into town this morning to fetch some specialty items for Herr Mozart. If you like, I can send a messenger to reschedule -”

“No, that’s quite alright, Sebas. It was an invitation, not an order.”

“As you say.” Sebastian bowed and left. 

Le Comte noticed him stop beside ma cherie for a moment. He couldn’t hear what was said, but she smiled at Sebas and waved him away. 

The tea was perfect - just enough to cleanse the palate between bites. And the gibassier was sweet, with a slight anise flavor. The sound of birdsong and the delicate scent of growing things permeated the cool morning air. This was part of why le Comte so loved the 19th century. Advanced enough for so many conveniences, but still without the incessant engine grind of cars and planes, the ever-present smog. 

“Are you enjoying your breakfast, monsieur?” 

“Ah, ma cherie, not as much as I would if you joined me.” He gestured to the seat beside him, pleased when she took it. 

She set down a basket of clipped flowers, a colorful mix from his garden. 

“Are those for the dining table?”

“Mhmm. Most of them.” She smiled at him, something coy in the look she gave him. She picked up one of the sweet pastries and nibbled the edge. She made a little sound of happiness as she chewed.

“I take it you like these?”

“I do! I asked Sebastian to teach me how they’re made but we haven’t gotten to pasty making yet.” 

He smiled. “You can’t expect the man to give up all his secrets so easily.”

Her bright laugh was his reward. “You’re right of course. I have to earn my way to pastry making. But until then, I hope you don’t mind if I steal another of yours?” She delicately swiped one from the tray.

“Ah, cruel thief. Now you’ve left me with nothing!” 

“Not nothing,” she protested. She reached into her basket and pulled out a rose. It was pink, only just opening from it’s tight bud. She stood and leaned over him. Her warm fingers brushed against his cheek as she tucked the flower into a buttonhole on his coat. 

She pulled her hand back quickly, a bright red spot blossoming on her fingertip, darker than the petals of the flowers in her basket. 

“You must watch the thorns,” le Comte said softly. He caught her hand, pulling the hurt finger to his lips. Her blood was coppery, warm like a winter wine. He could taste the spice of her, the sweetness. 

Ma cherie made a sound in her throat, somewhere between a moan and a sigh. Her mouth opened, giving voice to the sound. 

It was most certainly closest to a moan, le Comte decided. He let her hand go. 

She sat back down, looking a bit flustered. Her cheeks were pink, and he could hear the rapid beat of her heart from here. It reminded him of times long gone, when he was the hunter, and delicate innocents were his prey. Not that he would hurt her, but there was joy in the pursuit.

“Such a lovely rose, ma cherie. I thank you.”  Of course, he did not mean the flower in his lapel, pretty as it was.

[ikeromantic]

Guarded

Day 31 of Ikemektober!

I can’t believe I did a post everyday. I’m not sure if that qualifies me for crazy or not xD I chose Jean for this last prompt. Approx. 1000 words of fluffiness.

You find Jean at the estate chapel. It is a small building at the far edge of the property, hugging the line between the garden and the forest. From the outside, one might mistake it for a small garden home, with its cheery brick exterior and wide, colored glass windows. But inside, there is no doubt that it is a place of worship. 

Le Comte, ever a man of mystery, has decorated it with the holy symbols of many religions, making it either the most comfortable place to pray, or the least. You aren’t sure how Jean finds it, only that he comes here often. And he prays.

You decide to stand quietly at the back, waiting. It would be easy to lose yourself in the beauty of this place, or to rest in the serenity, but you cannot take your eyes from the tense figure, kneeling before a small altar. Several candles burn atop it, surrounding a small, gold crucifix. 

Jean is Catholic, of course. Common in his time, and common for France even now. You aren’t that familiar with the tenets of the faith. That is part of why you’d rather wait quietly until he is done. Better not to interrupt.

“I know you are watching me, girl.” His voice is flat. Not unfriendly, but far from the genial welcomes you’ve received from the other men in this manor. 

“I’m sorry,” you reply. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Have you come here to pray?”

“Ah, no monsieur I - I just brought your lunch. Sebas mentioned you sometimes forget to eat . . .” You trail off, feeling more out of place than ever.

Jean turns his head to look at you. There is so much sorrow in that gaze that you want to cry, even if you’ve no idea of the cause. The look only lasts a moment before he replaces it with a neutral expression. “I am rarely hungry. But I appreciate the kindness.” 

You aren’t sure if that means he wants you to leave the basket of food and rouge, or no. 

He stands and approaches you, his beauty breathtaking in the shifting light of the chapel. Jean stops an armslength from you. “It is unwise to show kindness to monsters. Some - some see it as weakness.”

“Oh.” You aren’t sure what to say to that. Instead, you hold out the basket to him. 

“You do know that I no longer need food.” The emphasis he places on that last word is unmistakable.

“I - I do,” you nod. The whole situation is still sinking in, but you have the gist of it. Time traveling vampires, with you stranded in the middle of them for a month. More or less.

“And you still brought me -” he lifts the basket lid. “Buttered croissants, ham, red grapes, pickled asparagus, a bottle of rouge, and a bottle of blanc.” He closes the lid. “Why?”

“Because Sebas mentioned you really liked croissants? And the pickled asparagus is spicy, which Napoleon mentioned you also like.” You fall quiet again under that unsettling stare.

After an awkward silence that feels like hours, he frowns. “Do you want to sit and eat with me?”

This was not the question you expected. You agree without thinking about it, and follow him out of the chapel. He sits down on the steps and motions for you to join him. There isn’t much conversation as you eat. He keeps looking at you from the corner of his one eye though, as if he doesn’t trust you.

Something about Jean’s guarded nature makes you want to know more about him. At least, that is what you tell yourself. It sounds better than admitting you’re tagging after a guy because he’s drop dead gorgeous and completely unavailable. That just sounds desperate.

“So . . . how do you find Paris these days?” You realize the question is idiotic the moment it comes out of your mouth but you can’t unsay it.

Jean stares at you as if he doesn’t understand and then shrugs. “Violent, dirty, full of loose women and drunks, and children without family. As it always was.” 

“Really?” That isn’t the Paris you know at all. “But what about the art galleries? The gardens? The beautiful architecture?” 

“Hm.” Jean shoves a piece of croissant in his mouth, delaying a reply. In someone else, you might have thought this accidental but you’re pretty sure with him it’s a tactic to avoid answering. 

“Well, I think Paris is very pretty. Even if there are parts that aren’t nice,” you say finally. 

You notice Jean isn’t really looking at you now. His gaze has gone to the basket. To the bottle of rouge. You reach in and pick it up. “Sebas said to make sure you take this.” It isn’t exactly true - all Sebastian said was to make sure he ate. But you feel like this is important. All the other residents drink a bottle with every meal.

His lips part, he licks his lips. “I don’t want it.”

“Monsieur, I can tell that isn’t true.”

Jean’s piercing gaze fixes you to the spot as he leans close. “I am a beast, mademoiselle. And you are . . . food. Why would I take what is in the bottle, and not live up to my monstrous nature?”

You shiver, not at the threat so much as the close proximity. You can feel his hand on the ground beside your hip, and his breath on your cheek. This moment is important, though you can’t say why. You poke a finger in his chest. “You are already being beastly. Now sit down and take this.” The bottle in your other hand feels heavier than it should.

This seems to be the right thing to do. Jean sits back. His lips twitch up in a smile, still guarded, but perhaps, the softest expression you’ve seen on him. “You are right. I apologize.” He takes the bottle and stands. “I must pray. You may leave.”

He turns as if this statement is all the goodbye you’re owed. “Perhaps, if I have not frightened you, you can show me your Paris one day.” Then he is gone, back into the chapel.

You aren’t sure what to think, but maybe, just maybe, you’ve started a tiny crack in the wall around this mysterious member of the mansion.

[ikeromantic]

Warm

Day 30 of Ikemektober! 

I chose Ray! Let me just say, this started out as a heartwarming story and then took a left turn into smut. Fair warning! Approx. 1500 words. Why is Ray so delectable??

Ray sat at his desk, staring out the window at the training grounds. The trees were red and gold in their autumn glory, and the dahlias were blooming in the flowerbeds. Despite a chill in the air, it was a beautiful day. 

He turned when he heard someone at the door. Alice stepped in, carrying a little basket. 

“I thought you might need a break.” She gave him a knowing little smile. 

Ray was busy these days with rebuilding efforts and peace negotiations. A never ending series of requests and planning arrangements had to be reviewed, signed on or rejected, and discussed. It was better than war, but still exhausting. These little visits from Alice were all that kept him going some days.

“I suppose I do. It’s been three hours since -” 

“Four hours, actually. That was when I brought you tea. You skipped lunch,” Alice chided.

Ray rubbed a hand across his head, feeling a bit like a kid caught breaking the rules. “Ha, was it four? I guess I was pretty focused.”

“You could say that. Sirius stopped in around lunch to see if you were hungry and you didn’t even say anything.”

He didn’t remember the Queen stopping in, but he had been pretty focused. “Alright - alright. I can tell you’ve got something in mind.”

“Mhmm. I thought we’d take a little picnic.” Alice put her hand on the basket. “I packed us some sandwiches.”

Ray grinned. “I’ve got just one condition.”

“What?” Alice looked startled.

The King closed the space between them, and pulled her against his chest for a kiss. She was soft and warm in his arms. Her gasp of surprise melted into a moan of pleasure as he tasted her lips and slipped his tongue between them. He couldn’t help the way his hands slid naturally down her back to cup her rear. Maybe they didn’t need to go for a picnic afterall. His room was just down the hall and . . .

She pulled back, breath unsteady. “I know what you’re thinking, Ray.” Her eyes were lit with desire. “We could -”

“Well, little lady, it looks like you talked the boss into taking a break.” Sirius called out from the hall, a knowing smirk on his full lips. 

Ray coughed and made some space between himself and Alice, though he kept his arm around her waist. “You have the worst timing, my friend,” he muttered. Then louder, “She did. We’re having a picnic.”

“I know. I helped pack the basket.” Sirius knew full well what he’d interrupted, but he didn’t so much as blush. “I can recommend the best spot too. Do you remember how to get there, little lady?” 

Alice nodded. “Yep!” She smiled up at Ray. “There are blooming willows and autumn crocus. It will be beautiful.”

“I can’t say no to that,” he replied. Though nothing would be as beautiful as seeing Alice’s face when they made love. Just thinking about it stirred him. He couldn’t look so desperate though, not in front of his friend or his lover. 

The two of them left with the basket, with Sirius promising to finish the building plan reviews Ray was working on. That way he could take the rest of the afternoon off to enjoy the day. It almost made up for his earlier interruption.

Outside, the sun was bright, and the breeze was crisp. It smelled of flowers in bloom and fallen leaves. Thick grass, still green, cushioned the lovers’ steps as they made their way from the more traveled parts of the Black Army headquarters to a forested part of the garden.

Under the trees, the light was golden and red, and the shadows were deep. Alice spread a blanket on the sunnier side of one of the trees, where they had a nice view of a river bank and the blossoming willow trees. Here and there, the subtle shine of magic crystals added an enchanted glow to the leaves.

“I am so glad I can live here in Cradle, with you. I can’t think of anywhere I would ever want to be.” Alice smiled and reached out to take Ray’s hand.

“I’m glad too.” Ray squeezed her fingers gently. 

After they ate, Ray leaned back against the tree and Alice sat between his legs on the blanket, resting on his chest. They were quiet, a comfortable silence. The birds sang and the leaves whispered against each other. This far out, they could only just hear the occasional shout from headquarters.

Ray couldn’t help but think about how close he’d come to losing Alice. To Amon. To her home. She might have died or left. It made him aware of the space she took in his heart now. He could not imagine the world with an Alice-sized hole in it. She was a part of him and a piece of his home. 

She must have been having similar thoughts, because she turned her head to look at him. “Isn’t it scary to think of all the ways this could have turned out?”

“Hm? Like what? You falling in love with a guy like Jonah Clemence? He did want to date you . . .” 

Alice elbowed him with a giggle. “He is pretty cute though.”

“Hey!” Ray sat up straight and caught her chin in his hand. “I thought you only had eyes for me? Are you tryin’ to make me jealous.”

“Maybe.” She grinned at him slyly. 

“I know how to fix that.” Slowly, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. Nibbling gently at her lower lip, until her mouth opened to let out an excited breath. Then his tongue slipped between them to stroke her tongue. 

She wasn’t one to take this attack lying down. She wiggled her hips against him, teasing. He knew it teased her too though - he could tell by the little sound she made when he reacted. Alice turned her body to face him, sliding her hands under his shirt to scrape her nails against his skin.

“Naughty kitty,” Ray gasped. He loved and hated the way it felt. 

“Mmm, I can be even naughtier,” she murmured and bit his neck.

Ray nearly let out a very uncool moan. He was supposed to be the one teasing, not the other way around! His hands found their way under her skirt, stroking the skin of her thighs. She was so warm. Soft like silk. And . . . pantiless? He grinned at her, pleased.

Not to be outdone, Alice stroked a fingernail down his side, tickling him. Right to the waistband of his pants. Her other hand went to the buckle, quickly undoing his belt.

“A-alice,” he warned.

She just smiled and kissed him again. Her deft fingers had his buttons undone and his zipper down. Alice drew lazy circles on his pelvis above the rising shaft of his manhood. It was absolutely more than he could handle. 

“I don’t think I can control myself with you - if you - Alice, please -” Ray was almost pleading. It was his last line of defense as a fire built inside him. He tried to keep his emotions carefully balanced, but with a touch, she’d thrown all of that out the window and now he could only barely keep himself in check. 

“I want you to lose control,” she whispered. Her next kiss was so full of hungry passion that he couldn’t mistake her meaning. 

His hands slid further up, massaging her. Opening her. His fingers found her clit and he began to play. 

“Oh - my - n-now who’s naughty,” she gasped against his lips. 

Ray would have replied, but she chose that moment to free his length from his pants, and lift her hips. All his words disappeared as she sunk down onto him, impaling herself. All he could manage was a moan, one she silenced with her mouth. 

“Shhh,” she breathed, panting against his cheek. “D-don’t want to- to get caught.”

“Yes,” Ray breathed in reply, both an answer and a desperate gasp of pleasure. It took him a moment to catch up with his thoughts. Being inside her was heaven. She was beauty and love, divine. But he couldn’t let her win this little game.

With one hand, he found her clit again and began to rub it in rhythm with her pace. His other hand sought out her breast, pinching and teasing her nipples. 

Now it was Alice, biting his shoulder to keep herself quiet. She began to quiver, her breath growing more unsteady as she neared climax.

Ray could see nothing but her in these moments. Her eyes closed tight, her lips parted, cheeks pink. He was near to his peak too, unable to hold back anything as she rode him.

With a muffled cry, Alice shuddered, and Ray lost control as well, spending himself inside her. She laid her face against his chest, still breathing hard. 

“You’re amazing,” Ray sighed, stroking her hair. 

“Mhmm,” she grinned up at him. “You’re not bad either.”

He laughed and lay back against the tree. Together with her like this, the world was a warm place. Perfect. Beautiful.