#ikemen ruby real

[tank041]

POV: You're on a date with Ruby Nesoberi.

[ikeromantic]

The Angel's Choice

This is written for @the12thnightproject as part of the Ikemen Sengoku Exchange - she briefly mentioned in her ask that she was ok with noir AUs and my feverish little brain took that and ran with it. And when I say ran with it, I mean 7K words long-distance cross country racing. So, here goes! A noir mystery AU starring Shingen Takeda as the detective with Mai as the dame in distress. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.

Shingen came to consciousness slowly, the world resolving from dark blurred shapes to the familiar geography of his office as seen from the floor. He peeled himself off the carpet with a groan. His head hurt and his mouth was dry. He had lipstick stains on his collar and smelled like last night’s whiskey and cheap cigarettes. 

He didn’t remember much of the night before and didn’t care to. About the only worry was - yes - he had two dollars and a dime in his wallet. The money from his last job was spent and rent was due. Shingen sighed. He’d worry about that later. After coffee. He pushed himself to standing and the room spun. Bloody hangover.

“Am I . . . interrupting something?” Her voice was cool as an autumn breeze, with a low, sensual burr that sent a jolt down Shingen’s spine. It held a playful note, almost like she’d intended to catch the gumshoe flat-footed.

“Just making some coffee. Ever heard of knocking, lady?” He kept his tone casual, a hint of mild annoyance, but when he got a look at her . . . The dame was a dish, a real angel. Her hair was dark and shone like silk even in the dim light of his curtained windows. It barely brushed her sun-kissed shoulders. She wore a strapless white dress, the fabric a sparkling second skin that hung on her curves in the kind of way to give a man the wrong idea. Or maybe the right one, with the look she was giving him. Her ruby lips curved up in a slight smile, and her dark eyes took him in from the ground up.

Shingen self-consciously smoothed his rumpled shirt and tucked it in. “Say doll, what’s the time?”

“Half past ten. Why? Do you have somewhere to be, detective?”

“Nope. Just wanted to remember the exact moment I fell for you.” 

She quirked an eyebrow, bemused more than put out. “What?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m assuming you didn’t come for coffee. So what do you want?” He sat down behind his desk. 

She leaned against the doorframe. “No introductions?”

Shingen laughed. “I was going to call you beautiful, but if you’ve got another name, I’ll take notes.” 

“You can call me Mai.” She looked away. “Mind if I smoke?”

He frowned. “If it helps you talk, sure. Get to gabbin’” Shingen tried not to notice the way her lips pursed around the slim, long cigarette holder. He swallowed.

“I came here because I wasn’t sure where else to go.” She sighed. “I tried the police, the church . . . but no one wants to help.” She looked at him again and her eyes were damp. “Someone - something - is trying to kill me.”

“Something? Look - angel - if someone wants to kill you, go to the cops. If you think-”

“Not someone.” She crossed the distance between them and leaned down to put her hands on the desk. “Something. It’s not a person. It’s more like a - a shadow. A darkness.”

Shingen reached out to pat her hands. A mistake. Her skin was silk. Warm and smooth and it made him want to slide his hand up her arm, touch those bare shoulders. Kiss them. He blinked and made himself focus on her face. She was watching him, maybe calculating. Shingen let go of her. “Then you need a priest, angel. Not a detective.”

“I already tried that.” She sighed, eyes downcast. “Please. I need you to find out what it is, what it wants. And I can pay!” She reached into her cleavage. Pulled out a roll of cash, the kind of money people kill for. She splayed it out. “That’s five hundred. To start.”

“Plus expenses?” Shingen felt like a heel asking, but damn this was one loaded angel.

“Yes, yes. If you’ll take the case. Please.” 

He sighed and stood. “It’s your lucky day, angel. I’m a sucker for desperate dames and impossible odds. I’ll need you to cover me at twenty five a day plus expenses.” 

She nodded. 

“Then we’re in business.” Shingen took the money, tucked it away. 

***

Turned out Mai was an heiress with a fortune and the kind of digs you’d expect to find a princess living in. Her estate was huge, acres of forest and grass up in the north country. A house you could get lost in. 

Shingen determined to cover all of it. This was where she’d started seeing shadows, hearing voices, and feeling sudden bouts of nausea and fatigue. If something or someone was trying to kill her, home was where it started. He’d been inspecting the upstairs, one room at a time. Accompanied by the dame’s butler. A shifty, smiling bastard named Mitsuhide Akechi. 

The butler watched his every move, grinning sharply at every note Shingen made, every question he had. 

“This is the last bedroom upstairs. Mai’s bedroom. I don’t suppose I need to tell you not to touch anything? My lady prefers her privacy.” Mitsuhide unlocked the door and motioned Shingen in.

He stopped for a moment, taking the space in. What a bedroom it was. He surveilled the four poster, big enough to have a party in, and the armoire, thrown open to reveal a selection of slinky dresses and see through lace. Shingen sorted through the garments, and couldn’t help imagining her in every one of them.

“Do you think the ghost might be in her wardrobe?” Mai’s butler peered over his shoulder. 

“What ghost?”

Mitsuhide chuckled. “The one lady Mai thinks is trying to kill her, of course.”

“Why do you think it’s a ghost?” Shingen glanced over his shoulder at the grinning butler.

He shrugged. “What else? There isn’t anyone alive that would wish our little mouse ill. It must be a ghost. Or a demon. But you’re the detective - you tell me.” 

Shingen closed the armoire. “If I had answers, I’d be back in my office sending Mai the final bill.” He didn’t like having Akechi so close. “You really need to be here while I’m investigating?”

Mitsuhide shrugged. “Mai told me I was at your disposal.” 

“Huh. Then dispose of yourself elsewhere.” Shingen gestured to the door.

“Of course. I’d hate to distract you from your . . . investigating.” Akechi turned to go, his hip knocking over a small end table. A glass ashtray from the table skidded across the floor, landing at the foot of Mai’s vanity. “Oops.” He gave Shingen a sharp smile. “Mind picking that up? Thanks.” 

The detective narrowed his eyes. “Sure. Just go. I’ll pick it up.”

Mitsuhide sauntered off, finally leaving Shingen to his own devices. The detective knelt to pick up the ash tray. On the floor, behind the stool, he saw a glimmer of something lacquer-red. A matchbook for some dive called Holy Cats, the words arcing over an image of 3 cat heads wearing haloes. Huh. Might be worth a look. 

He pocketed the matches and meandered out, letting instinct guide him. 

There wasn’t anything so far that felt out of place. It all seemed typical for your old money families. Big rooms, old furniture, flaking gilt, and dust. None of it seemed to fit Mai, but that was no surprise. Probably looked like this since before her grandparents came screaming into the world. 

 Shingen meandered through the halls and found himself downstairs again. There was light and sound from a nearby room, the smells of cooking. He pushed open the door. The kitchen beyond was huge. Six ovens, a stovetop and griddle, knives and pans and cookpots. A meal mid-prep on the counter. But what drew Shingen’s eyes was the platter of delicate pastries.

Dozens of sweet cream puffs and glazed tarts and macarons and - well, honest to god, who cares what they were called. The whole platter made him salivate. He got closer. To investigate, of course. These looked fresh. Expertly made. The scent of sugar filled his nose. Was that a caramel creme? He plucked one from the pile and popped it in his mouth.

“The lass doesn’t need help with dessert.” Mai’s cook crossed his arms and gave Shingen a glare. The man didn’t look like a cook. Brawny, one eyed, with a shock of dark hair, and a devil-may-care attitude. But she’d introduced him as Masamune Date, her chef and master of the kitchens. 

Shingen chewed slowly, ignoring the violent gleam in Masamune’s one blue eye. “Add it to the expense sheet, Date.” He examined the cabinets and countertop.

“Pfft. Typical dick. Just in it for the money, aren’t you?” Masamune huffed.

“What can you tell me about a ghost?” Shingen didn’t look at him when he asked, but he listened close. A man gave a lot away in his pauses, his breath, the tone and pace of a reply. Especially when he felt he wasn’t observed. 

There was a sharp intake of breath and a slow exhalation. “Ghost? What are you flapping your jaw about?”

“Are you planning to yank my chain or answer the question?” Now Shingen turned to watch him. The telltale reactions were there. Jaw tightening. Gaze down and to the left. Tension in the hands.

Masamune smiled, his teeth white as his lip curled back. The expression looked more like a warning than a friendly face. “Some of the maids have mentioned a ghost. Never seen it. Never heard it. Don’t believe in it. Satisfied?”

“Never.” Shingen chuckled. “Ever been to Holy Cats?”

“What? No!” Masamune looked briefly flustered. “I never even heard of the place,” he added, trying to sound calm.

“Hm. You sure about that?” 

“I-” Masamune was saved from answering by the entrance of one large, white tiger. 

Shingen froze as it sauntered into the room, tail flicking. He met the tiger’s cool, blue gaze. Swallowed.

The tiger pushed its head up against his leg. 

“Shogetsu likes you. Good thing too.” Masamune laughed. Then he reached over and grabbed the tiger’s head and began to playfully wrestle it. 

“Yeah. Well. Thanks for the info, bud. I’ll follow up if I need more from you.” Shingen left Date to play with the tiger. Rich people were weird. So far, he had jack and shit to go on with this job. A ghost and a club. Well, he could at least follow up on one of these things.

***

Holy Cats was hard to find. No signage on the street, buried in a narrow alley with nothing to mark their door besides a faded logo of three cats with haloes. Shingen knocked. 

The door opened a crack. One warm brown eye peered from the opening. “Who are you?” 

“Names Takeda.” He flashed the matchbook. “Here to meet a friend.”

The eye narrowed and then the door shut. For a moment, the alley was still. The only movement were the flies, lazily buzzing over a rubbish bin, traipsing over the petals of a wilted bouquet stuck out of the top. 

“Come in.” The door opened to a dark, smoky interior. A cheerful jangle of piano keys and the sound of soft laughter hung in the air. A solemn young man greeted him. “I apologize for the delay. We don’t serve many . . . men.” He gave a barely perceptible smile. “You are meeting someone?”

This place had the look of a dive, but the feel was different, Shingen thought. “In a manner of speaking, yeah. There’s an angel I know that frequents this place. I needed to get my eye on it.” He held out his hand. “Name’s Takeda. P.I. I’m here on a case.”

“I . . . see.” The young man took his hand in a stiff, formal gesture. “I am Sasuke Sarutobi. Doorman, bouncer, and moderately awesome personal assistant.” He glanced behind him. “I can’t allow you to bother the guests, but I’ll be happy to answer your questions.”

“Thanks, Sas. I can call you Sas, right?”

“Actually, I’d prefer-”

“Great.” Shingen kept him off balance. “What kinda place is Holy Cats? What can you tell me about the clientele? What goes down here?” The direct approach seemed the best way to go with the overly serious Sarutobi.

Sasuke sighed. “It’s easier to show you than explain it. Come with me.” He led Shingen past the coat room and into the club proper. There were tables spaced amply, booths along the walls, and a small, private balcony above. Everything pointed toward a well-lit stage where a man sat playing the piano.

The pianist was something. Delicate featured, pale as porcelain, platinum blonde hair swept back from his face. It was his eyes that held the viewer though. Distant and full of melancholic disdain, a mismatched set of peepers that landed on Shingen with an icy glare before sweeping past. 

And that wasn’t the only strangeness in this place. The next thing Shingen noticed was the audience. Women at every table. Women at every booth. Excepting himself, the bouncer, and the pianist, there were at best three other men present. What was this place? A cat house?

“No, sir. That’s not a service we are interested in offering.” Sasuke raised a brow. 

Shingen mumbled an apology. He hadn’t meant to say that aloud. The bouncer left him upstairs in the small, private balcony. From here, he could observe the audience as well as the stage. 

The pianist finished his set and went off stage. Whispers and laughter ebbed and flowed. Shingen was beginning to relax when Sarutobi seated a familiar guest at a reserved table nearest the stage. His angel! Mai. Tonight she was dressed in red. A silk slip of a dress that bared most of her back and left her long legs in full view. 

He drank in the sight of her, even at this distance. Gorgeous. He was tempted to go down and take a seat beside her. It’d be something to have a drink with a woman like that. But he was working. Someone was out to get Mai, or so she thought, and it was up to him to find out who and why. 

The lights on the stage dimmed, taking on a softer hue. A man stepped out from behind the curtain. He was breathtaking. The kind of looks the gods usually only laid out for movie stars. And there was more to his appeal than the obvious beauty of his dark eyes, curled locks, broad shoulders, and narrowed hip. His movements across the stage held a preternatural grace. An elegance one would usually ascribe to a work of art. Even Shingen felt the pull of his charisma, a confusing attraction mixed with a strong sense of being outclassed. 

He noted Mai’s enraptured expression and sighed. Well it figured a dame like that would have it in for this guy. The performer’s name was Yoshimoto, according to his adoring audience, and he was clearly very popular. His attention turned to the balcony stairs as Sarutobi brought someone up.

“Mr. Uesugi, sir, this is Takeda. A private eye. He had some questions about our establishment.” Sasuke spoke from the stair, standing just ahead of the pianist. 

“What do you want?” Useugi spoke to Shingen directly, stepping past Sasuke and into the seating area. He took a chair opposite Takeda and glared at him. 

Shingen cleared his throat. “I’m here on behalf of a client.” He explained with minimal detail that a woman was in danger and he needed to familiarize himself with the places she frequented. Uesugi listened with an expression of distaste twisting his lips. 

“I understand. And your client is?”

“Mai.”

Uesugi’s brow rose. “I see. Well. I can understand why you would need to come here. Lady Mai never misses a performance by Yoshimoto Imagawa.”

“Huh. Does Yoshimoto have any relationship with my client?” Shingen’s eyes returned to the stage, drawn there by the elegant movements and gorgeous voice of the performer. It hit the ear like warm honey on the tongue. 

“Relationship? No. Imagawa cares only for one woman. The White Lady.” At Shingen’s confused expression, Uesugi added, “Death.”

Takeda chuckled. “You got to be kidding me. A guy like him? He’s got these dames around his little finger. Why’d he want to end himself?”

“If I may?” Sasuke asked his employer. At a nod from Uesugi he spoke. “Yoshimoto is the last of his family. They were a powerful political force here, but he refuses to take on that role. He showed up here asking for work shortly after their funerals.”

“Heh. I bet his bad fortune was your good luck.”

Useugi frowned. “It doubled our audience.”

“But?” Shingen sensed a ‘but’ was on its way.

“But all he wants to do is sing and drink until he collapses. He’s passed out on stage a few times. Nearly got himself run over. His car crash tally is at four now. But no matter how terrible an accident, he always comes out unharmed. I am worried he will take one of the guests with him, sooner or later.” Sasuke shook his head. “He says it's a curse.”

“Might be.” Shingen took out a cigarette and lit it. “So. How did his family end up dirt napping?”

Uesugi started to speak but Sasuke interrupted. “Kenshin, sir. Allow me. The Imagawa family had many enemies, but none claimed the deed. Most blame Oda -”

“The mayor?” Shingen’s eyes widened slightly.

“Yes, Nobunaga Oda. Some think he is innocent, but believe his mafia allies are to blame - the Monkey King in particular.” Sasuke shrugged, “but no one can say for sure. And the details of the case are murky. The whole clan was found dead one morning, collapsed where they stood or curled up in their beds. Not a mark on them. No blood. No weapons. No clues.”

Takeda took a puff, contemplating this new wrinkle. “So, some real mystery there. Any connections you know of between Mai and Imagawa? Any shared enemies?”

Kenshin snorted. “No. And even if they were, no one would dare harm a hair on Mai’s head.” His cold gaze took on a slight warmth as he said her name.

“Speaking of, where’d the angel go?” Mai wasn’t in her seat by the stage now, though Yoshimoto still sang. 

Sasuke’s eyes narrowed. “Unusual. She always stays for the whole performance. We should look for her.”

The three of them quietly filed down from the balcony. Sasuke left to check the front while Uesugi made his way through the audience. By the reactions, Yoshimoto wasn’t the only one popular with the clientele, Shingen thought. He took himself to the back, pushing through the Employees Only door. 

He found a dressing room, a break area, a closet of cleaning supplies. There was a powder room back here too, the door of it shut tight so not even a crack of light showed at the bottom. He couldn’t tell if anyone was inside. Shingen knocked on it, gently at first, then with more force. “Hello?”

No one answered, but something in his gut felt wrong. He tried to open the door, but it was locked. Picking it took a bare minute - locks like that didn’t require much finesse - and then he yanked the door open. 

The smell hit him first. Sharp, acidic, a hint of sweet that hung in the air and burned the inside of his nose and made his eyes tear up. The space felt darker than it should, shadowy and confined. He ignored the heaviness in the air and the way the hair stood up on the back of his neck.  His eyes landed on Mai. She was curled up on the floor, insensate. Shingen scooped her up and carried her away from the acrid odor. 

Shingen set her down on a break room settee and tossed a glass of water on her face. 

She woke, spluttering, taking air in little gasping breaths. “What? What happened?”

“That’s what I want to know, angel. How’d you end up on the floor?” He pulled up a chair and made himself comfortable.

Mai took a breath, her dark eyes brimming with fear. “I came back here to leave a note for Yoshimoto. He - he likes it when we write him poetry. If it’s any good, anyway.” She swallowed, her hands trembling as she clenched her skirt in white-knuckled fists. “But as soon as I got to the bathroom I - I knew it was a mistake. I could feel the - the shadow here. And then the smell hit me and everything went blurry. I tried to leave, but the door swung shut and locked. And then nothing - until you came.”

Shingen nodded thoughtfully. “This the first time you got that feeling outside your home?”

“N-no. But it’s the first time I felt it here.” She swallowed. “I thought the club was safe.”

“It always happens the same way? You get that feeling? Get hit with the smell and then nothing?”

She shook her head. “Not exactly. Sometimes there’s a noise. Or no smell at all, just that feeling . . .” She shivered. 

Shingen reached out to pat the back of her hand but she grabbed his arm, held it like she was drowning. 

“I think if you hadn’t come in just now, I would be dead.” 

“That would be a shame.” Yoshimoto’s voice carried across the room, mellow but for a slight rasp on the last word that lent it a sense of intimacy. He came in and knelt beside the settee, ignoring the detective entirely. 

The way Imagawa was cooing over Mai now, you’d think they were lovers, Shingen thought. But Uesugi said the performer wasn’t interested. Odd. He tried to pull loose from Mai’s grip but she held tight, transferring her attention back to the detective all at once.

“Oh, Mr. Takeda. Please - I feel much safer with you around. Don’t - don’t go yet.” 

“I’m just gonna have a look around that bathroom. Unless you want to follow me in there? I wouldn’t mind.”

She blushed and looked away.

“Crass gumshoe,” Imagawa murmured. Then to Mai, “Let me get you a glass of water while we wait on the detective.”

Shingen ignored the comment, reprising his arm from the dame. The backstage toilet held about what you’d expect. A sink, a toilet, and a mirror. A vase of wilted roses sat to one side of the faucet. The flower scent was gone, but the vase held a trace of that sickly chemical odor. 

He found a slick, oily substance smeared along the flower stems. Carefully, Shingen dabbed an edge of his handkerchief in it and then folded it up and tucked it away in his coat.

“Did you find anything,” Yoshimoto asked. 

He nodded. 

“What was it?” The lounge singer’s eyes shone with a cold light. 

“Not sure. I’m gonna take a sample to a friend of mine. See what we’re working with.”

Imagawa nodded. “Good. I’m going with you. I know Mai thinks someone is after her but . . . the smell . . . reminds me of my family. The night they died.”

“I’m going too, detective. And I won’t take no for an answer.” Mai had come up on them talking. She was clearly calm now, her full, ripe lips pressed together with determination.

“Look angel, I got places to go, things to see, people to do. I can’t babysit.”

She blinked up at him. “I’m coming with you and I won’t take no for an answer.”

“It’s a bad idea.”

***

Shingen glanced over at Yoshimoto and Mai. This wasn’t just a bad idea. It was a terrible one. “Sure you can’t just wait in the car?” 

Yoshimoto gave him a withering look. Mai ignored the comment completely.

He took a breath and knocked. The office door opened. Takeda took a moment to study the man on the other side before he broke into a wide grin. “Yukimura! Looking good, rookie.”

“Shingen! You know I’m not a rookie anymore. Got my lieutenant’s badge.” He shook Takeda’s hand enthusiastically. He was quite a bit younger than the grizzled detective, not as broad or as tall either. But he had a solidness to him, a toughness that spoke of hard experiences despite his youth. His bright, brown eyes landed on Mai and Yoshimoto. “You brought friends?”

The detective shook his head. “Clients.”

Yukimura’s smile faded. “So it’s business then. Come in.” He stepped aside and beckoned the three of them in. “Can I get you some coffee?”

“I’d take a mug.” Shingen settled back in one of the old, stained precinct chairs. His gaze traveled around the room. It seemed his old trainee was doing well for himself. Commendations and photo ops filled the space, crowding shelves and hanging askew beside safety notices and motivational posters.

Yuki handed out three, mismatched coffee mugs, chipped and stained from hard use. 

Mai took a sip and frowned. 

“Don’t like it?” Yukimura’s brows drew together in annoyance.

“I have a better question,” she replied smoothly. “Does anyone actually enjoy this?”

“She’s got you there,” Shingen chuckled.

Yukimura scowled. “This is a cop shop not a damn cafe.”

Mai gave him a cool look. “You’re very rude.”

“Me? I’m not rude. You’re the one with manners like a boar. Sneering at a free cuppa.” Yukimura’s neck was flushing red, his gestures flustered.

“Thank you. I appreciate your generosity,” Yoshimoto interrupted the pair. “The coffee is hot and dark. Really, what else matters?”

Yukimura gave a grunt of agreement. “So, who are you and what do you want?”

Mai and Yoshimoto introduced themselves and gave Yukimura a brief rundown of the evening. 

The cop nodded along thoughtfully. “You said you’re an Imagawa? Shingen, didn’t your niece marry an Imagawa?”

Takeda considered, then nodded. “Sure did.”

“Huh. So technically you two are related.” Yukimura grinned. “Small world. Anyway, where’s this evidence you collected, Takeda?”

Shingen produced the handkerchief. Yukimura examined it carefully. “Smells kinda familiar but let’s get one of the eggheads on it. Just to be sure.”

They left Yoshimoto and Mai in the office and headed down the hall to the police labs. Yuki kept stealing glances at Shingen as they walked, suspicious looks. Takeda finally stopped and frowned at his old trainee. “What?”

“What do you mean, what?” Yuki frowned right back at him.

“You keep giving me looks.”

Yukimura sucked in his cheeks and crossed his arms. “Fine. I’ll just ask you straight out. You working this case for free?”

“What?” Shingen’s scowl deepened. “What kinda question is that?”

“Look. I know how you get with dames. Especially the pretty ones. I bet she batted those long eyelashes at you and you just smiled, called her angel, and agreed to everything.” 

Takeda shook his head, exasperated. “It’s none of your business, rookie.” He wasn’t working the case for free, but Yuki’s tone rubbed him the wrong way. 

“It is. Because we both know who got your gun out of hock last time. Who left some cabbage for your landlord.” Yukimura’s brows lowered. 

“The dame is paying. There. Feel better about it? Nosy git.” 

“Good.” He resumed walking. “She single too?”

Shingen hurried to catch up. “Yeah. What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” Yukimura pushed open a door marked, ‘Lab. Do Not Enter.” Someone had added, “Or I will actually kill you,” in pencil underneath.

A hot-eyed blonde looked up as they came in. He was short, sharp featured, and his angry eyes were a deep, jade green. “Seriously? Can you not read? What does the door say?”

“Ah come on Ieyasu. We both know that doesn’t apply to lieutenants. Or their guests.” Yukimura grinned.

“That’s exactly who it should apply to. I don’t want interruptions while I’m working.” The blonde looked as if he was ready for a fight.

Shingen raised an eyebrow but kept his mouth wisely shut. No reason to antagonize the little guy.

A lab assistant came in one of the side doors carrying a tray. “Oh! Visitors!” He looked like the polar opposite of Ieyasu. Tall, with dark grey hair and amethyst eyes, his expression set in gentle, cheery lines. “To what do we owe the -”

His foot caught on a table leg. The tray he held flew out of his hands, the glass vials on it shattering against the floor. The liquid began to smoke where it landed, sending up a sharp odor.

Ieyasu hissed like a scalded cat. “Are you kidding me? I told you to leave that stuff in storage until I had time to get it out. Why?” He looked as if a vein might burst in his forehead.

“Oh dear. I suppose I made a mess. But I couldn’t leave you to do it on your own. Ieyasu! What kind of lab assistant would I be then?” He grabbed an absorbent cloth and began to dab at the mess.

“Look, you guys seem real busy. I just got one thing I need from you, then I’ll get outta your hair.” Yukimura held out the handkerchief.

“Cheap cotton. Needs a wash. There. Analyzed. Now get out.” 

Mitsunari laughed from where he knelt on the floor. “What a sense of humor my boss has! I love working here.”

Ieyasu shut his eyes and took a long, deep breath, counting to ten slowly. 

Shingen chuckled. “I see the department still only hires the best and brightest.”

“Shut up.” He snatched the handkerchief from Yukimura. “Wait right there and touch nothing.” 

“Awww thanks, Yasu. I owe you one.” Yuki stuck his thumbs into his belt loops and grinned.

“Don’t call me that.” The blonde bent over his lab equipment, snipping a bit of the handkerchief off and sticking it into a tube. “I’m just doing this to get you out of my hair. It’s not like you owing me one means anything. I think at this point you owe me several and I have yet to see a single benefit.”

Mitsunari sung out, “I believe this is the thirty-first favor he owes you for. I can check my notebook if you want an exact count.”

“What? I’ve paid you back a bunch of those. What about that thing with the uh - the . . .” Yukimura stuttered to a stop, unable to come up with any actual favors he’d done for Tokugawa.

Ieyasu gave him a thin-lipped smile. “Thanks for making my point.” He added something to the tube, swirled it around. Watched as it changed colors. “Anyway, looks like you’ve got a petroleum extract on your hands. Probably toluene. I’d need to send it off for a full spectrum to be sure.” He gave Yuki a questioning look.

“Nah, not necessary. So uh, what can you tell us about that stuff?”

“Hm? Oh. Highly toxic. Toluene. Was an additive in paint thinners for awhile, still used as an industrial cleaner. Applied to the skin, it can cause rashes. Inhaled and you’re looking at nose and eye irritation. Inflammation of the lung tissue. Confusion, fatigue, dizziness, nerve damage . . . breathe too much or imbibe it and you get kidney failure. Or was it liver?” Ieyasu frowned. 

“Where would a man get his hands on something like that?” Shingen leaned forward, eager.

Ieyasu shrugged. “Oil refinery. Industrial chemist. Sales are restricted so buying it isn’t easy. Why, are you going to pick some up?”

Yukimura crossed his arms, his lips pursed. “So not something just anybody could get their hands on.”

“Isn’t that what I just said?” Ieyasu rolled his eyes. “There isn’t an oil refinery in a 100 miles of town and everyone knows all the industrial chemists are holed up in Jersey. So if you found it in town, someone with connections got it.”

“Connections, huh?” Shingen shared a look with Yukimura. 

“I know what you’re thinking, but you can’t just show up on his doorstep and start making accusations.” 

Takeda grinned. “Like hell I can’t. I’m not a cop anymore.”

Yukimura nodded after a moment. “Alright. Just . . . don’t expect me to bring the cavalry if you end up kissing dirt.” 

“Sure thing, rookie.” Shingen felt a warm nostalgia for the days he used to work with Yuki. But the boy had grown into a fine man. Well, fine if he ever learned how to chat up a dame. He still had the manners of a barnyard mule.

***

The Toyotomi manor was off the main road by a few miles. A giant parcel of land, shadowed by thick trunks of ancient trees that leaned drunkenly over the narrow track. Exactly the sort of place you'd expect to find the Monkey King.

Thin, spidery branches scratched along the roof and doors of the car with an unsettling screech, putting an effective end to any attempt at conversation. Not that Shingen had much to say. “Just keep your yaps shut and your eyes peeled. Anyone asks you something, give the shortest reply you can.” 

Yoshimoto nodded. His jaw was tight, his shoulders tense. 

Mai wasn’t doing any better. Her lips were pale and her eyes wide and round, luminous in the reflected light of the car’s headlamps. 

“Sure you want to do this, doll?” Shingen asked, his tone more gentle than usual.

She gave him a slow, sultry smile only slightly spoiled by the tremor in her hand as she raised it to light a cigarette. “I wouldn’t be along if I didn’t want to, detective.”

“Alright, angel. I won’t fight you on it. But you gotta know, of all your curves, your smile is my favorite. Let’s make sure whatever happens tonight, you don’t lose it.”

Yoshimoto reached over and patted her shoulder. “I’ll be right there with you, Mai. If Toyotomi is responsible . . .” He took a breath, his expression somewhere between regret and cold anger, “if he is, then he owes us both.”

They parked in front a broad set of stone stairs leading up to the front door. The porch was deep, unlit, and full of shifting shadows. Above, weak light leaked from open windows, and strains of some soft piano music drifted through the night air. The house was an odd construction. Red tile roofing, done in a set of cascading tiers with a tower overlooking the whole. 

Yoshimoto followed Shingen out of the car. Both men stood, looking up, their posture as alike as their thoughts were different. 

“You know, you don’t have to do this. You can stay down here with Mai. No one would name you a coward for it.” 

“I could. But I won’t. This is something I’ve needed since the day I woke to find myself alone in this world. I owe it to my family. To the men and women that worked for them.” Imagawa sighed. “I’ve failed them in every way you can imagine, Takeda. I’m not my father. I - I can’t even die properly and remove my stain . . .”

Shingen set a hand on his shoulder. “You got your own skills to bring to the fight. Don’t let the dead choose your path.” He gave Yoshimoto a sad, half smile. “Men like you bring something back to the world. Men like me - like Toyotomi up there - probably your pops too - we were made for destruction. For violence.”

Yoshimoto’s eyes glittered with reflected star light. For a moment it looked as if he might take Shingen’s word for it. But something heavy and hard settled in his gaze, extinguishing the light. “For Mai, and for my family, I must do this.”

“Then here, take this.” He handed Imagawa a pistol. 

“Do I get one too?” Mai stepped out of the car, one long, slim leg after another. 

Takeda chuckled. “Nope. You’re already armed to the teeth with the assets you got, doll. You want to take a man out? Give him that smile and watch him fall.”

She adjusted her top, tugging the neckline a hair lower. Her smile was hard and a little cruel. “Then I guess I’ll have to make the most of my natural weapons.”

“You can aim those at me any day, angel.” Shingen swallowed, suddenly wishing very desperately for a strong drink or a cold shower. Neither was coming any time soon. He turned and led them up to the door. 

A tired looking serving man answered. He was polite to the point of being obtuse, but Shingen didn’t mind. He let the doorman settle them in the parlor while he checked to see if Master Toyotomi was available. 

A few minutes later, an annoyed looking Hideyoshi arrived in the doorway. He was dressed for an evening in, wearing a robe and slippers over satin pajamas, and his hair was mussed. It stuck up at all angles. A speckled bruise sat just under his ear lobe on his neck. 

“Do you have any idea how late it is? I don’t generally accept uninvited guests this time of night. I hope you have a very good reason for showing up like this.” Toyotomi crossed his arms, his tone closer to that of a lecturing parent than an annoyed mafia boss.

Shingen bristled at his tone. “I’d say I got a damn good reason. Don’t you try to play good citizen with me, Toyotomi. I know enough about your usual guests to be sure we ain’t the worst to show up on your doorstep at this or any other time of night.”

He felt a surge of anger remembering how many good men died because of Toyotomi and the man that held his leash. The Oda rise to power had been brutal. Nobunaga took out everyone he thought might be a threat. The power players he couldn’t get on his side were massacred or driven out of town. Shingen lost a lot of friends in that action. Guys from his neighborhood. Beat cops and brass. 

Hideyoshi cracked his knuckles. “I don’t like being insulted in my own home.”

“Turns out it doesn’t matter how nice the house is. A thug is always a thug.” Shingen clenched his fists. 

“Boys! We didn’t come here to beat chests and compare the size of your . . . wits.” Mai glared at both of them. “Mr. Toyotomi. We came because the detective found something strange in Yoshimoto’s dressing room. A chemical.” She turned her wide eyes on Toyotomi, full blast. All wide and dark and damp, her long eyelashes fluttering.

“Look, you feisty broad, that expression might work on some but it’s not going to get you anywhere with me.” Hideyoshi frowned, but some of the tension in him eased. “Now, what are you asking me for?”

“A favor. I need to know -”

“Shut yer yap, Mai.” Shingen pulled her behind him. “I need a favor. I need to know if you’ve sourced anything unusual lately.”

“Like what?”

Shingen considered what cards he ought to lay on the table. “Something a chemist might ask for. Oily. Sweet odor. Could put a grown man on his knees.”

Toyotomi gazed at him under heavy brows. “Aren’t you a cop?”

“Nope. Not for a long time.”

“Too bad. A favor from a cop’s worth something. From you? A private dick with a frayed coat and tattered shoes?” Hideyoshi gestured toward the door. “Not worth my time.”

“He may not be, but I am.” Yoshimoto stepped forward. “Yoshimoto Imagawa. Last of the north end Imagawas.”

For a moment, Hideyoshi just stared. “I thought you were dead.”

“Sadly, rumors of my demise are quite overblown.” Yoshimoto gave a sad, small smile. “Now, I believe Takeda asked you a question. Answer it, and I will owe you a favor. And you know what that means.”

Shingen opened his mouth to interrupt, but a look at Imagawa’s face showed him iron he hadn’t seen before in those delicate features. 

Toyotomi shrugged. “Alright. Let’s say all three of you owe me.” He gestured to the seats and sat down in one of the overstuffed chairs. “Now -”

“Do we have guests?” The question had a teasing edge to it, but there was an undertone of cold, hard threat. 

Shingen looked from Toyotomi to the doorway in time to see Nobunaga enter. His coal black hair was disheveled. He wore a bathrobe and a pair of slippers, bare skin beneath. His carnelian eyes traveled across the three of them with slight amusement. 

Hideyoshi glanced over his shoulder. “We do. But you don’t need to come down for these. I’ve got it handled.”

Nobunaga smiled. “I didn’t come down for them. I was on my way to the kitchen and -”

“Haven’t I told you midnight snacking is bad for your health? Why don’t you head back upstairs and I’ll have someone bring you a glass of cold water.”

“If I wanted cold water, I’d have asked for a glass myself. No. I am in need of something sweet. You may continue.” Nobunaga ruffled Hideyoshi’s hair. 

Toyotomi flushed, but didn’t duck away from the touch. He cleared his throat. “As I was saying, I might know something about a chemical purchase. An unusual one.”

Nobunaga, despite his proclaimed sweet tooth, hung behind Hideyoshi’s chair, listening.

“Well? Spit it out.” Shingen refused to let Oda’s presence rile him. He had to keep a cool head. For his client. This wouldn’t be his first deal with a devil, or his last. 

“It’s called toluene. A concentrate. Not the kind of thing I’ve had much call for in . . . oh, five years or so? But I had it on hand from prior use. And offloading it was good for business.”

Yoshimoto had the pistol out in one smooth, effortlessly graceful motion. He pointed it at Toyotomi’s head. “At this distance, I won’t miss,” he said softly. “So tell me honestly, that stock. Did you use it to kill my family?”

“No.” Nobunaga’s voice was cold, pitiless. “I did.” His eyes held Imagawa’s gaze, unwavering. “Your family was caught up in city corruption. Clinging to old ways of doing business. Clutching power at all costs. So yes. I killed them all. I would have killed you too, had you been home. But you were out -”

“Enough!” Yoshimoto swung the barrel toward Nobunaga, his hand shaking. 

Mai shrieked as Hideyoshi lunged for Imagawa, grappling for the gun. A shot rang out. A puff of plaster as it harmlessly hit the wall. Toyotomi’s fist cracked across the bridge of Imagawa’s nose.

Shingen and Nobunaga pulled them apart. Imagawa’s nose seeped red, his eyes already swelling shut. Shingen handed him off to Mai and faced the Oda alone. “Well? Who did you sell it to?”

“Get out.” Nobunaga’s eyes gleamed. He had an arm draped around Toyotomi. “The deal is off.”

***

Masamune fetched them hot tea and a snack as the three of them sat around the kitchen table. Mai was trembling, her expression tight and fearful. “I don’t understand why Oda would want me dead. Or . . . if not him, someone connected. I’m not in politics or crime.” She lit a cigarette and drew in the smoke with a breath. 

“Perhaps it’s your connection with me,” Yoshimoto volunteered. His voice was nasally and thick with phlegm and blood. 

“What connection,” Mai sighed. “I’m just another fan to you. No one important.”

“That’s not true,” he replied. 

She flicked the ash into a tray and looked away. 

Shingen tapped his fingers on the table. “We know more than we did. We know it is connected to Imagawa, by method if nothing else. That it’s someone Toyotomi doesn’t feel threatened by. And someone with access to the estate and the club.” He stood. “I’ll be right back.”

He knew last time he’d been here, he looked through all the rooms upstairs, and the living areas downstairs. But there was one are he hadn’t been able to get to. One area he overlooked. Shingen stepped into the servant’s quarters. A narrow hall with rooms to either side for the three maids, Masamune, and Mitsuhide. 

“So. You finally found your ass with both hands. Good job, detective.” Mitsuhide’s mocking voice came from behind Shingen.

Takeda turned. “You.”

“Of course me. You didn’t think it was Date did you? He’s many things, but not subtle.” 

Shingen sighed. “Why’s it always someone close to the victim? Just for once, I wish I could bust some random thug.” He raised his fists, put weight into his back leg. “So. How do you wanna play this?”

“Play? Yes. Exactly the right word for toying with someone like you and Yoshimoto. But you made it this far and I’m in a mood to reward you.” He smiled sharply. “Put your fists down and let’s talk.”

“What are we going to talk about? You going to tell me you got some weird fixation with Mai? Afraid she might get away from you?” Shingen snorted. “Pathetic. Real men seduce women with compliments and gifts. They don’t frighten them into - into whatever you’re trying to scare the dame into.”

Mitsuhide’s gold eyes gleamed. “I don’t expect Lady Mai to notice someone like me. But she deserves better than a lounge singer. I couldn’t sit back and let my little one - Lady Mai - debase herself for that degenerate.” 

“So what? You make her believe there’s a ghost?”

“That’s right. A ghost that strikes every time she visits Holy Cats. I planned to build up an aversion to the place. But then she hired you and I had a better idea. I’d get you to think Imagawa was trying to hurt her.”

Shingen considered. It wasn’t the worst plan. He might have gone for it, except that he’d met Yoshimoto. The man didn’t have it in him to hurt Mai. Himself, yes, but the angel? Never. 

Mitsuhide shrugged. “In another day or two I would have pointed you at the evidence in Yoshimoto’s car. Sadly you went straight to the source of the stuff and now we find ourselves here.” He took out a knife. “I will try to make this quick. I don’t enjoy tormenting others, no matter what the rumors suggest.”

Akechi lunged for Shingen. He took a stuttering step back, trying to stay out of reach of the blade. He thought about calling out, but he couldn’t predict what Mitsuhide would do to Yoshimoto or even Mai. The next slash took him in the arm, cutting through his threadbare jacket and into the meat of his muscle.

Then Shingen smelled something musky and felt a vibration in his chest. A low, growling sound followed by a flash of white at the corner of his eyes. Shogetsu leapt from one of the open doors along the hall, tackling Mitsuhide to the floor. The tiger snarled, a sound that tightened the pit of Shingen’s stomach and raised the hair on his arms. 

Masamune came running, followed by Yoshimoto and Mai. He called the tiger off and took Akechi’s knife. Mai was crying and holding tight to Imagawa’s arm. The whole thing took some work to sort out, but it didn’t take long to get Mitsuhide bundled off in the back of a cop car. 

Shingen watched Yukimura drive away with the villain in handcuffs, pride filling his chest. He’d done it. He’d saved an angel and sent a devil to do time. It was the kind of ending any P.I. hoped for. Almost. Takeda turned and went back into the manor in search of his angel. He wanted to lay eyes on her the way a man in the desert wanted water. 

His feet took him to the library and stopped him right at the door. His angel was in there, alright. Tangled up in Yoshimoto’s arms, getting lipstick all over his perfect cheeks. It looked like the angel made her choice.

Masamune’s hand landed heavily on his shoulder. “I’ve got more of those caramel creams in the kitchen. If you’re hungry.” 

Half as sweet as Mai’s lips, he thought, but something was better than nothing. Besides, he needed to stick around long enough to pick up the rest of his pay. “Sounds good, pal. I’d take a coffee too, if you got.”

“Sure do. Black as sin and twice as bitter.”

[skampi835]

Let’s never speak of this again! (Motonari x reader)

Let’s celebrate Motonari’s upcoming route with an oneshot! 🥳 Since I hopefully avoided most of the spoilers I didn’t come up with any good idea, but then I found this:

you and your enemy hug each other, it's completely accidental, and neither of you know why it happened, and it's like,,, you glare at each other, with an expression of ''let's never speak of this again'´

Thanks for putting this idea in my mind @screnwriter​!

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Language: english

Starring: Motonari x reader (female)

Genre: Comedy

Warning: besides Motonari’s slanguage surprisingly none... ahaha who am I kidding? It's Motonari 😂

real Warnings: angst, bad language, violence (fighting scene!)

Word Count: 1.810

“Get her!”

Shoot! How do I always end in situations like this?!

With this thought you’re bolting straight into the next alleyway. You’ve left the busy trading streets of Azuchi a long time ago and unfortunately lost track of your current position due the rising panic inside of you. Honestly, you’ve no idea where the heck you are right now! Though obviously still in Azuchi you’re running hopefully into the right direction towards the fuller marketplace!

Desperate, you’re squeezing your way through a very small gap between two buildings and dash on. Maybe your pursuers can’t follow you through this and it'll buy you some extra time! The shouts from traders and the sounds of frisky chatters are getting louder with every step you’re taking, which means you have to be on the right track!

Determined you’re keeping up the fast pace, praying you’re able to shake off your pursuers completely in the crowds of the busy market, as you round the next corner. But all of a sudden you’re awfully crashing into a wall.

“Woah!”

“Uff--!”

The heavy impact is stealing your air, though obviously not only from you, but also from said wall, which in the hustle and bustle you’re literally falling into his arms eagerly not to fall. Together you’re even staggering sideways for a split second. Stressed and tense you’re spinning your head up with surprise, staring into the startled, wide ruby red eyes of the man. "Wah-…?"

“… You?!”

You didn't even realize how tight you were clutching Motonari when you crashed into him, until he’s violently yanking your arms away. "The hell yer doing? Got a bloody death wish?" He hisses and is glaring at you furiously.

As shocked as Motonari's reaction was, so are you aghast to face him right now. "What, of all people, are you doing here?!" You snap, still completely out of breath.

Quick steps are pulling you back to the current situation you are still in. You were supposed to keep running from your pursuers but simultaneously you’re facing an enemy of the Oda forces. Your situation is definetly growing somewhat hopeless. Nevertheless the sight of Motonari’s anger makes it a lot easier for your decision, to pass him and run away, than to stand rooted on the spot.

Unfortunately Motonari suddenly grabs your wrist roughly when you've just turned away and is pulling you back. "Ack-…! Let me go!" you plead.

"I won't do shit," Motonari growls venomously. "Now that yer recognized me, princess, I’ve gotta improvise something."

The hectic steps from the side street are getting louder with every passing moment, before they’re coming to a sudden stop right next to you. “There’s this witch!” One of the pursuers is shouting. He’s considerably tall with broad shoulders and a massive body. Shortly afterwards another two coarse figures appears behind him. They’re building themselves up with stern grimaces in the narrow alleyway.

Your eyes anxiously widen and your body starts to tremble ever so slightly. But there is no running away again for you, for Motonari’s adamant grip is chaining you.

"Huh, didn't even know yer know so many grim-looking acquaintances, princess." Motonari’s saying coolly, scanning the three men with his steely gaze. Still he doesn't loosen his grip on your wrist instead he’s tightening it.

"I haven't!" You snort, trying to yank your hand free to get away from him - without avail. You don’t know if it's better, getting caught by Motonari or these guys. But you know for shure both scenarios are pretty bad.

"Hey, you there! Plat-head!” One of the scoundrels growls and is glaring at Motonari grimly, whose dryly raising an eyebrow at this denomination. "Give us the little girl. We have business with her."

“That stupid hussy broke my nose!” Another of them shouts indignantly. You’re noticing his swollen red nose and you can't suppress a brief, yet inappropriate, flash of pride in your face.

It was just a few minutes ago, when they stalked you after you’ve exited your favorite shop. Unfortunately this shop is located in the outskirts of the village so there weren’t many people when they confronted you. The guys wanted to ‘talk to you nicely’ and after a few seconds you’ve ‘nicely declined'. Thank goodness you know some techniques of self-defense!

However, even more inappropriate is Motonari's spiteful laughter that he’s suddenly uttering. It’s giving you the creeps! "Seriously?" With a quick sideways glance in your direction with his ruby red orbs, he’s grinning at the fellow with extreme smug. "Tell me, how’d she did it, putz? Did she climb onto yer?"

Good gracious! Wouldn’t you please make him madder than he already is? Pretty please?!

"What did you just call me?" The broad shouldered man’s roaring furiously. Shortening the distance to Motonari, he’s threateningly waving with his massive fist.

Without wanting to, you’re quickly seeking cover behind Motonari, who has finally let go of your wrist. Now with his hands free he’s facing the attacker. With quick reflexes Motonari’s skillfully dodging the scoundrel's punch and draws his sword with a metal 'shink' that’s humming in the air. You’re holding your breath when Motonari’s holding the blade right against the throat of the ruffian, who is instantly not moving a muscle anymore. "Are you out of yer damn mind? You fucking want to take me on unarmed?!"

Motonari’s sounding incredibly unimpressed, for it was him against three rapscallions, but also incredibly pissed. No matter how this will end, you're sure you won't be of any use. So you’re looking around for an escape route. But you are cornered. The only side you could rush to is a dead end.

"The lil’ one’s mine, get it? So piss off, aye? ” Motonari’s growling with a frown and kicks the man roughly in his side. Gruntling the man hits the ground hard.

"You sunova-!" Furiously about the defeat of his crony, another ruffian - not quite as stupid as his predecessor - is trying his luck with a rusty dagger, when he’s running towards Motonari. But after a few seconds it lands on the ground, followed by the guy.

The last of the crew charges in, just to earn a brutal smack with the back of Motonari’s sword in the side of his neck. "Tch! How the hell did ya morons think yer can take me on when a lil’ girly beat you up? Ya wanna make me really mad?”

You’re recognizing the change in the air around Motonari. It’s tense, shifting from the beginning amusement to bloodlust. Motonari’s wielding his sword, but apparently used it just to disarm his opponent. But now it seems that he won’t restrain himself any longer.

"Crap, let's get out of here!" The guy with the lost dagger is yelling towards his pals. Frantically they’re getting up and quickly disappear into the alleys.

You sigh, relieved as the men finally disappear. But just one moment later your heart’s sinking completely into your boots when Motonari turns back to you, though this time with a sword in his hand. "Back to ya, princess."

“I haven't seen or heard anything!” You shout, throwing your arms up in air and backing from him. Now pressed against a real wall on the side of the house, your heart is pounding up to your throat, when you meet Motonari’s sharp gaze. Luckily the bloodlust you’ve seen before has gone, too.

Motonari’s raising an eyebrow, probably irritated by your strange reaction and is fixing you. Then the corner of his mouth curves up to an amusing smirk while he’s withdrawing his sword back to his belt. “Heh, ain’t that a start?” He snickers.

Abruptly he shortens the distance to you, placing one of his white gloved hands right next to your head against the wall behind you. Superior and smugly, Motonari’s looking straight into your eyes, straight into you. The tension’s getting tangible again and your heart’s pounding hard in your chest. "You owe me. I bet you saw nothing, understood?"

Something you least of all wanted, is to owe to some madman like Motunari! His stern expression is sending a shiver through your spine. "I- ... uhm ... thank you?"

"What should I do with yer thanks? Can’t buy anything with ‘em.” Motonari snarls dissatisfied and is slightly narrowing his eyes. "Either you damn shut yer mouth about everything ya saw - hell, just forget I’m even here! Or I'll cut out yer pretty tongue. Ain’t that a deal?"

Automatically you’re pressing your lips together sealing your mouth - and especially your tongue. You’re staring at him in horror with wide eyes. "Let's never talk about this again, aye?"

What joice do you have? Of course you could just agree with Motonari and then tell the warlords about his whereabouts. But you’ve always been a woman which sticks to her word, no matter how bitter this one is. Not entirely sure whether he'll still carry out his threat to cut off your tongue, you're just nodding, while glancing determined up to him.

"Splendid." Motonari’s pushing himself off the wall with a mask of satisfaction on his face, giving you the way free. "Then rush back to yer patrons, ‘lil princess.”

Uncertain you’re blinking towards him. Motonari makes no move to stop you, he’s just waving with his hand in your direction. He really leaves you with just that! Without further thinking, you’re taking to your heels and bolt away. Not that he'll change his mind after all!

After two more alleys, you’re finally reaching the busy and crowded market and try to calm your panicked pounding heart. That was definitely too much excitement for one day! Still, you're grateful for Motonari getting those ruffians off your back. But why does it haf to be Motonari of all people?!

A deal is a deal, you’re thinking to yourself taking one last, deep, nessecary breath. Certainly it won’t mean anything good that Motonari’s currently in Azuchi. You just hope, you won’t regret this deal someday.

With quick steps you’re heading purposefully back to the castle. Even if this idiot surely won’t appreciate it, your silence about that accident was certain to him.

And you are going to take to grave, that you’ve embraced Motonari by that accident, when running into him. Yes, better never even think about this again!

_____

Motonari’s running his white gloved fingers through his hair and grunts in annoyance, after you left. That you’ve recognized him is a great nuisance to him. It’s time to rethink his plans. That would slow things down a lot.

As if he’d actually trust a little princess like you to keep her mouth shut. What stupidity!

Casually he drives his hands on his sides to get rid of the strange feeling from your delicate arms embracing him.

Let's never talk about this again. - Yeah, better let's not.

[aquagirl1978]

I Have a Confession to Make - Nokto x MC - Ikemen Price (NSFW)

Author's Note: This one is a bit short, but I wanted to post it today for his birthday. I'll be using dialogue prompts from @xxsycamore list that can be found HERE.

Prompt: “Are you sure you forgot to put on panties on accident?”

“I’m happy you agreed to come to the ball with me tonight.” Nokto smiled, perhaps a bit too seductively, as he brushed a lock of Emma’s hair behind her ear.

“I’m glad you invited me,” Emma replied, returning his smile. She would be lying to herself if she said she wasn’t surprised Nokto invited her. She had seen some of Nokto’s friends; of all the princes of Rhodolite, Emma figured Nokto would be the last one to ask her to the ball. Ok, maybe next to last.

Although the carriage was rather spacious for just the two of them, they were seated so closely to one another, their thighs touched. Testing how far he could go, Nokto’s hand began to wander. A comfortable silence fell between them as small, accidental brushes turned into lingering lines drawn on her forearm. Though it was already a warm evening, Nokto couldn’t help but notice the pale pink flush that colored Emma’s cheeks and knew her flush had nothing to do with the weather outside.

Emma was feeling quite bold that evening, as only one would who found themselves alone in a carriage with the handsome suave playboy. Pressing herself ever so closer to the prince, she tilted his chin to face her, and whispered in her most seductive voice, “I have a confession to make.”

“Oh?” he replied, his voice calm and steady, much unlike his quickening heartbeat. Emma leaned her head against his, her lips grazing his ears when she whispered her secret.

Nokto pulled back, his ruby red eyes glittering with amusement. “Are you sure you forgot to put on panties on accident?”

“See for yourself if you don’t believe me,” Emma challenged. Nokto, who almost couldn’t believe what dear, sweet Emma was suggesting was real, remained frozen in his seat. That is, until Emma took his hand and gently placed it on her knee. She smiled at him, sweet but suggestive. What was even sweeter was the sound that escaped his lips when he saw she slightly spread her knees.

With both hands, he hiked her skirt up past her knees. He dipped his head to hers, his lips hovering over hers. “I’ll ruin you tonight,” he whispered, his voice dripping with desire. He covered her mouth with his, swallowing her moans as his hand slipped under her skirt.

And she was, in fact, not wearing any panties.

[cognitivefunk]

A Delicate Play

Anon~~~ I have your smutty Shakespeare fic(๑・ω-)～♥”

I used several archaic English guides, so I hope I got the feel right. It was really fun writing this!!

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire Characters: William Shakespeare x MC Rating: Explicit 18+ (NSFW) Warnings: Light bondage (shibari), blood drinking, knife play (consensual), smut Word Count: 2,242

A breathy sigh escaped the man’s supple lips as he eyed his prize with his heterochromatic gaze, a dreamy look crossing his handsome features. “If death should chance upon me, striking me down this very instant, I shall have perished in bliss…” He draped the red silken ropes over your body gently, looping skillful knots in a crisscross, geometric pattern that framed your breasts, and bound your arms behind your back. “To dine on thy presence alone shouldst be enough to satiate the hunger which drives me mad…”

Hands brushed your hair to the side, to be replaced with his lips as he left a trail of heat on your bare skin. You let out a gasp as you feel him tighten the ropes that bound you not only in place, but bound you to him on a nearly transcendental level. “Will..” you breathed his name, breathing life into his chest which bloomed, igniting the flame in his heart.

“I desire to drown in this beauty, to drift endlessly in the oceanic essence that is surely and entirely thine own,” he let out a shaky breath, steadying his hands to focus on the task of carefully binding your limbs. His touch was so gentle at times you questioned whether he was really there, or an illusion you had conjured up on a lonely night. But he was real, and he was dressing you in sensuality, a feeling you had not anticipated to feel so intimate. He was in control, however, it gave you permission to let go entirely and give in to the sensation of the silk on your skin. Of the hands that trailed over your body, possessing every inch of you.

He took a step back, admiring his handiwork and drinking in your image. It made his chest ache, as though he were a man parched in the desert, and no water on earth could quench the thirst that threatened to drag him into the eternal abyss. “___” he whispered your name on his lips, lost in his admiration, almost afraid to move, lest the moment disappear. The both of you were wrapped in this delicate play, neither wanting the moment to end. It was slow, but entirely intimate and rapturous.

William reached for the blindfold he had set on the nightstand beside his bed. He had lain out his most luxurious sheets for this special occasion, and as he lay you back against the soft pillows you relished in the silky sensation it elicited against your skin, along with the mild pain that came from your body weight sinking onto your bound arms. “As much as I could endlessly become lost in thine eyes,” he soothed, placing the blindfold carefully over your eyes, adjusting it so that your hair did not tangle in the cord, “Allowest me to bring thee to heightened sensations of delectation.”

“I trust you, Will,” you answered, giving him the verbal validation that you wanted him to continue. You felt your cheeks flush in excitement, unsure what sensation you would feel next, but giving into Will completely made you feel giddy. You were aware that he would not intentionally hurt you, and there was safety in that knowledge. You were drawn out of your reverie at the sound of metal scraping against something nearby. Your sex tightened in anticipation as you felt the bed beside you sink in once more as Will returned to your side with something in hand.

The chill of the blade sent shivers throughout your entire body as you pieced together that he was holding a blade to your heated skin. He trailed the tip along your abdomen, barely scraping the surface, mesmerized by the dichotomy of the gentleness of such a deadly weapon against your willing form. He groaned quietly, trailing after the blade with his other hand, warming the skin where it had been chilled, the blade becoming warmer with your increasing body heat. The slight sense of danger was exciting, and he knew that you were enjoying it as much as he.

“May I?” he breathed, pausing the blade at your waist, just above where your frame dips in above your hips. You bit your lip, hesitant for a moment while you thought of your decision. “You may,” you whispered back, just as breathless. A short cry awoke from your lips as the blade stung shallow into your flesh, bringing fresh blood to the surface. The blindfold heightened your senses and the combination of the pain from the fresh cut and the moan that Will released when he drank in the sight of you sent a wave of pleasure down south, and you rubbed your thighs together for some sort of friction.

Will leaned in toward the wound he had inflicted, setting the knife to the side and smearing the blood with his fingers, his eyes darkening with lust. “Sweet ruby decorates thee beautifully,” his voice was dripping in arousal, low as he brought his blood tinged fingers to his lips, inhaling the sweet aroma of your blood before licking his fingers clean. A shame your eyes were deprived of such an erotic sight, however the sounds still reached your ears, and you lay in wait for his next move. You moaned quietly when his tongue slid across the cut above your hip, his mouth lapping your life essence and sending a pleasant sensation through your body.

He sank his fangs in right above the cut, making your toes curl and sending shocks of electric pleasure coursing through you, causing you to pant to catch your breath. “Aahn, that feels wonderful,” you admitted to him, knowing your words would ignite that fire within him and allowing yourself to moan openly, with your inhibition cast to the wind. William pulled away, lidded eyes devouring the sight beneath him, trailing his hand down to your soft mound, delicately tracing his fingers up and down your slit, becoming slick with your arousal.

“Truly I hath already perished and ascended to heaven,” he murmured, enchanted and sighing once more as he circled his finger around your swollen bud. “But is this mine heaven or hell…” Lips were upon your center, ravishing your loins with the intensity of a starving man. He wanted to devour every inch of you, melding to become one perfect being. You were absolutely perfect. It was nearly painful for him, desire threatening to consume his very mind as he pushed his tongue inside your quivering honeypot. He used his fingers to massage your clit and you cursed the binds that held you in place, wanting nothing more than to bury your fingers in his hair as he brought you near to climax.

“Aah, aah, Will…Please, don’t stop…” you whined, unable to find the words to describe your desires to him. He answered by ghosting his fangs over your sensitive flesh and you shivered, he wouldn’t pierce the skin in such a sensitive area but the sensation drove you wild. “My dearest lady, wouldst thou do me the honor of succumbing to this sweet pleasure. Let me drink from you so that I might know what paradise tastes like,” he breathed against you, whispering sweet nothings before continuing his delicious ministrations. It was too much, you wanted to hold on for longer but his skillful tongue and fingers were relentless in their search for your release. He had slipped his fingers inside of you to curl up at that spot he knew would drive you over the edge and your cry was music to his ears as he lapped at your release, moaning against you, his hips twitching of their own accord.

“Mmmn, sweet ambrosia, nectar of the gods that graces mine tongue…” he groaned, reaching up to remove the blindfold from your face. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dimly lit room, the soft glow of the candles creating intimate ambiance. His wild expression of lust caused a moan to catch in your throat, and you felt yourself tighten at the promise of another sensual session with the love of your life. He smiled and gently lay you on your side, the blood rushing back to your arms at the relief of pressure and he stood beside the bed, locking eyes with you as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, fingers dancing along his broad chest as he removed the fabric at a snail’s pace.

You bit your lip and groaned, enraptured by his sensual display but wanting him to hurry up. You were already so sensitive and you wanted him badly. “You are the most breathtaking man I have ever laid eyes on,” you admired, and a light blush spread over his cheeks before that dreamy look replaced his expression once more.

“Dost thou wish to spoil me so completely tonight?” he hummed, a smile gracing his handsome features. He knew he didn’t deserve your praise, but it made his heart soar.  You smiled in return, a lighthearted chuckle escaping you as you said, “I will spoil you night and night again if you let me, for it is you who overindulges in my own pleasure..”

His eyes swirled with emotion, both of love and lust as he continued to undress himself, much quicker than before. Those heterochromatic eyes never once left you, and he climbed behind you, keeping you on your side as he cradled his body against you, rubbing his length along your entrance sensually as he peppered the back of your neck and the crook of your shoulder with kisses. “Then allow me to pamper thee, my pet.”

His words sent your belly aflutter and you leaned back into his touch, your hands grazing against his lower abdomen where they lay, still bound in vibrant red. One hand reached around to cup your breast as the other reached down to caress your heat. He continued to rub his manhood between your thighs, brushing up against your wetness, the friction not nearly enough and yet maddening with its teasing eroticism. “Will, I don’t think I can take it much longer. Please, I want nothing more than for you to come inside me,” your words caused him pause, and he shuddered against you before reaching to guide himself into you.

“As you wish,” he murmured hotly against your neck, running his tongue along your shoulder as he slowly filled you, stretching you to take him in completely where he stilled, and leaving love bites to distract him from the delightful pleasure of you, which clamped down around him. He waited for his cue, when you rocked back against him, desperate for increased friction. He arched himself into you, his hand leaving your breast to replace the other which had been caressing your sensitive nub while he used his now free hand to lift your leg gingerly, allowing him to press deeper into you. His pace was slow, but firm, and he rolled his hips rhythmically into you, moaning and panting as he watched you come undone again. Your cry rang out once more and he dared not look away, continuing his slow motions while you rode out your second orgasm, your sensitive body drunk on the pleasure he was drawing from you.

“The most saccharine symphony pales in comparison to thine angelic voice,” he moaned, turning you on your back once more, but propping your shoulders on pillows to keep your hands from falling asleep. “Look into mine eyes, look only at me,” he whispered desperately, his pace picking up in both speed and intensity, making you shudder at the overstimulation. “Let us meld and become one, take me, all of me.” He was lost in your pleasure, and did not wish to be found. He wanted to stay lost in you forever, your sweet moans serenading him. Your eyes glossed over in lust and affection. Affection for him. He never wanted to let you go, he would never let you go. His pace was becoming erratic and you could tell he was nearing his own undoing.

“Then let’s become one,” you gasped, unable to look away from his eyes for even a moment. You arched into him, your mouth open and panting, he took the chance to lean close and slide his tongue over your lips before delving into your mouth to explore your hidden cavern. You kissed him back in earnest and he let himself release into you, spilling his essence into you, filling you with a warm and ecstatic sensation. He continued to grind against you for a moment, riding out his orgasm before he leaned back on his thighs, still sheathed inside you as he gazed at you lovingly. His chest rose and fell with his harsh breaths, whilst he came down from his euphoria. His hands began quick work at releasing the rope that bound your arms to your chest and you rubbed at your arms once they were free, getting used to the stiff sensation and trying to stretch them back out. His hands replaced your own, and he massaged gentle circles into your stiff shoulders, lifting you into his lap as he sat flush against the bed, keeping you surrounding him. It made you blush, and you could feel him twitch inside you, his member slowly losing its stiffness.

“You are mine forever,” he whispered, placing another set of kisses against your jaw, working his way up to your ear, “Just as I am yours. Thou hast all of me.”

[my-oto-my]

Ambrosia, Gala & Lady

Pairing: Isaac x MC (Ikemen Vampire)

Prompt: October 1 – Body Worship | Masks | Formal Wear

Rating: 18+ (fellatio, dirty talk, teasing, biting, switchy MC, first-time-for-everything awkwardness)

Pronouns: she/her

Word count: 1,436

Note: October hasn’t been kind to me so far in terms of allowing me time to write, so I’m terribly late with this. And between getting back into writing and not quite having a grasp of Isaac’s character, I realize this is likely rough. I hope you enjoy!

  ~ . ~ . ~ . ~. ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~. ~ . ~

              Honestly, he should have seen it coming after the way she first kissed him. Only a few months after she’d first come to the mansion, and she was almost the only thing he could think about, driving him mad with desire. After having gone nearly his entire life celibate—as a human and a vampire—he was ready and eager to experiment with her.

              “I’m going to give you three words, and with them, you’ll tell me if you want to continue, pause, or stop,” she said. Mischief danced in her eyes as she swayed her bare hips against Isaac, not so subtly grinding against the growing tent in his trousers as he leaned against the wall at the foot of his bed. “’Ambrosia,’ and everything is fine. We continue. ‘Lady,’ we pause, readjust, figure out if something’s uncomfortable and how to fix it. ‘Gala,” and everything stops, no questions asked. Deal?” A wrinkle formed between Isaac’s brows as he stared at her intently despite the flush in his cheeks.

              “Why not ‘stop’ and . . . well . . .”

              “Because it’s more fun this way,” she murmured into his ear. Isaac shuddered against her and nodded, his hands twitching against the small of her back.

              “Ambrosia, lady, gala,” he said. “All right then.” She grinned against his neck.

              “Good. Then,” her words tickled his ear on a thread of breath. “Let me touch you.”

              His hips jerked against hers, and his fingertips dug, nearly painful, into the swell of her bottom.

              “Patience is a virtue, professor.” She giggled.

              Isaac made a faint choking in the back of his throat as she kissed his neck wetly, feeling the throb of his pulse quicken as she stroked down his back, fingers tracing the dip and jut and curve of his scapulae, ribs, and hips hidden beneath his shirt, painting the outline of his body against cream fabric. He shivered, head dropping against her shoulder, and his tongue found the points of his fangs beginning to protrude from his gums. His hands slid down to squeeze her buttocks as he ground his hips openly against her, allowing her to slide a leg between his for more friction. She hooked the leg around his, thrust against him, and he shuddered violently against her, lust curling low in his belly at the sheer command in the gesture. His hands lifted from her ass to cup her breasts, but she knocked them away.

              “No,” she whispered, tugging his shirt from his trousers. “This is about you.” She placed his hands against the buttons still holding his shirt closed at his chest before yanking his collar open at the neck to run lips and tongue and teeth over his neck. Isaac squirmed and tilted his head back, fingers fumbling with the buttons as she laid searing kisses and bites down his chest, his ribs, and his belly as she sank to her knees. He’d just unbuttoned the last clasp holding his shirt closed when she unfastened his belt.

              “Ambrosia?” she asked, looking up at him. The sight of him thrilled her—flushed, fangs protruding fully now from his parted lips, chest heaving against the shirt hanging off his broad shoulders. She grinned and nipped at the skin just below his navel, not missing how his eyes followed the gesture.

              “Words, Isaac. Remember what we agreed on?”

              “Am—” Isaac blinked, swallowed. “Ambrosia.” The word earned him his belt yanked from the loops of his trousers, and she tossed it carelessly to the side. She pressed her lips to the jut of his cock in his trousers.

              “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” she murmured against the cloth. A growl ripped from Isaac’s chest as he tangled his fingers in her hair, forcing her to look at him. The look in his eyes made her shudder, like twin rubies nearly glowing in the firelight, pinning her where she knelt in front of him, fingers at the button of his trousers.

              “Don’t stop again unless I tell you to. Understand?”

              She nodded, slick growing between her thighs at the uncharacteristic command in his voice, and she laved her tongue over the fabric of his trousers, unbuttoning them and slipping her hand inside to stroke him.

              “Oh, that feels so good . . .” he murmured, tugging once more at her hair. His shirt slipped from his shoulders, down his arms, to hang off one arm, his hand still threaded through her hair. She peeled his trousers the rest of the way down his legs as she spread her thighs and buried her face in the tangle of hair at the base of his cock. The heady scent of him filled her nose—all sex and musk that was uniquely him. She pressed an open-mouthed kiss against the inside of his thigh, her hand dropping between her own, unable to resist any longer.

              “I want this, Isaac. I want your taste, your cock, on my tongue, you filling my throat, every day, for as long as you’ll let me . . .” She gazed up at him as she circled a finger around the swollen nub between her thighs. Isaac’s half-lidded eyes gave him the look of someone drunk on ecstasy, and as he arched his hips against her mouth, he may as well have been.

              “Yes,” he hissed. “You have me. I am yours, and you are mi-mine—” He groaned and fisted both hands in her hair as she took him into her mouth, stroking him with her free hand. She moaned in response at the clean taste of him, fresh from the thermae, and tinged with the salt of precum at his tip. She sucked him as he began to thrust into her mouth, groaning as he watched himself disappearing, slick, into her mouth.

              Minutes passed, and the only sounds in the room were Isaac’s groans and the wet sounds of her mouth around him and her fingers pleasuring herself over the crackle of the fireplace. She felt his thighs begin to tremble, his voice growing higher and higher pitched as she swallowed him down. The fingers that were around his cock caressed the sac that hung from the base of him, and the scent of lust and sex surrounded her as Isaac’s thrusts grew harder, sharper. By now, she knew as well as he that he was close. But it wasn’t yet enough, his cock on her tongue; her sex ached for more, for him between her thighs, his fangs in her flesh . . .

              She gasped for air as Isaac bent over and pulled her off of him by her hair, eyes screwed shut as his cock twitched mere centimeters from her lips, so close to his end but deliberately denying himself that pleasure. She made a noise of curiosity, and Isaac opened his eyes, nearly glowing once more. His fangs glinted in the firelight as he breathed heavily.

              “You will drive me mad, woman,” he growled. She grinned in response.

              “I don’t hear a real complaint there, Isaac— Mm.” He cradled her head and tilted it back to give her a kiss, all bruising lips and sharp fangs that made her quiver as threads of desire shot through her. He hauled her up by her wrists and pulled her over to the bed. She shrieked as he ducked and swept her legs out from beneath her, throwing her onto his blankets before he followed her down and took her slick fingers into his mouth.

              “Ambrosia?” he asked, licking her essence from her skin. She drew the pads of her fingers over the tips of her fangs and shivered when she felt the faintest prick of pain followed by a tingle of pleasure. His hips settled between her, arousal pressing insistently against her sex. She relaxed against the bed and tilted her head up, baring her throat to his gaze. She rolled her hips against his and nodded.

              “Ambros— Ah!” The pain came first, a pair of pinpricks thrust wetly into the side of her neck, all barely controlled force and fervent lust, before a thrilling heat bloomed from her neck and between her thighs as Isaac filled her.

              “You taste as sweet as ambrosia,” Isaac gasped against her ear as he moved within her. She cried out wordlessly as he lapped up the trickles of blood that welled, thick and hot, from his bite, the heavy scent of wet iron sharpening every other one of his senses. He chuckled as her nails dug into his back. “I think we’ll have to play this little game again, hm?”

 ~ . ~ . ~ . ~. ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~. ~ . ~

@alloveroliver

[athyrabunlord]

Hey Athyra ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Ikemen Cheshire Riko or ikemen Guilty Kiss Riko ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

For some reason this reply turned into a 2k+ blip lmao!!

A/N: I’ve never written any DiaRiko in Dia’s POV so far, so this is fun ( ´ ω ` )Words: 2,175

Kurosawa Dia is not amused.

She takes a deep breath and tries to rationalize her predicament once more. She has been walking around this seemingly endless stretch of forest path, for who knows how long, and frankly she is tired of this nonsense. Oh she still has stamina left, thank you very much. As if a mere walk could defeat the Kurosawa heiress! No, she is simply frustrated at the lack of goal. If she has a known purpose, then she would know where to direct her energy towards. As it is, she appears to be stuck in this maze without an exit in sight.

Admittedly, the forest is breathtaking with its lively, vibrant colors yet retains that serene aura of nature, a haven she would have enjoyed after a stressful day.

However, she already knows this isn’t real. The odd colors aside, she is certain that this is a dream because – no way she would get lost in the first place! That’s preposterous! She’s only ever gotten lost once on Awashima Island, and that was only due to Kanan and Mari having an unfair advantage when they played hide and seek.

Dia shakes her head. She pinches herself for the umpteenth time, sighing at the lack of pain which again confirms her speculation. Practical as ever, she keeps following the forest trail to see where it leads her, and even tries to step off of the road a few times but inexplicably finds herself right back on the track.

In a dream world, shouldn’t she be the master of the landscape? Should she not be able to affect how her subconscious shapes the world?

She could, of course, simply wait for the alarm to inevitably wake her up for school, but that is not who Kurosawa Dia is!

“I command you to let me out of this blasted forest!” Dia uses her most fearsome voice, the tone she uses during student council budget meetings and Aqours discussions. Enough is enough!

A moment later, the trees in front of wobble and melts to the ground, revealing a secret path. She holds her head high, pleased that things are finally going her way, although a part of her is surprised that her demand is actually met.

“See, you just have to make things happen. Nothing will be accomplished if you remain idle!” Dia smiles confidently as she hurries down the new trail. “You just have to take control and-”

She pauses, frowning as she surveys the thinning forest and the massive silhouette looming ahead of her. The colors of the trees have become more and more vivid, fitting of lollipops and candies and even chocolate. Upon closer inspection, the building is actually a castle seemingly constructed out of cake and confectionery.

Blinking, she fleetingly recalls a Western fairy tale called ‘Hansel and Gretel’, and she can’t help but feel a bit uneasy as she approaches the palace.

Well, how bad could a dwelling of sweets be, since this is a dream?

She is mildly disappointed when she couldn’t find any pudding amidst the lawn of snacks and desserts, though she berates herself a moment later for such a silly thought. Never take food from strangers or of suspicious origins, even in a dream!

“Welcome to my humble abode, Dia-san.”

Dia gapes.

There, perched on a balcony reminiscent of the famed Romeo and Juliet, is Sakurauchi Riko. Her demeanor, however, is completely different than what Dia knows of her composed, reserved kouhai.

Dressed in an elegant outfit fitting of royalty and adorned with golden trinkets, the younger girl smiles down at her guest. The smile exudes sheer confidence, as if she knows exactly what is happening and has everything under her control.

The way Riko gazes at her reminds her of the playful yet predatory manner that a cat watches its prey.

Wait, are those cat ears on her head and a fluffy tail swishing like a pendulum behind her…?

“I assure you they’re real, Dia-san.” Riko giggles prettily and hops down from her perch, her white boots making no sound as she lands on the lawn.

“W-What… this is absurd,” Dia folds her arms and turns away from her kouhai. It’s distracting, really, how dashing Riko appears in such garment. Combined with the side braid, draped over her right shoulder, and the faint audacious smirk, this girl does indeed look the master of this world. “This ridiculous dream has gone on long enough. Castle made of cakes, lawn full of sweets and now my kouhai is some sort of… Cheshire Cat-human? No, none of this real, and I demand that you stop this foolishness.”

Riko’s tail curls almost lazily at her response. “As expected of Dia-san, straight to the point hmm? Well then, I have several solutions for you…”

With a graceful gesture, eight vials suddenly materialize out of thin air. Each of these transparent bottles contains a colored liquid. Dia frowns skeptically when she recognizes that those happen to be the representative colors of each member of Aqours.

“What are these supposed to be?”

“Each vial has different effects, though I cannot reveal what secret each one holds,” Riko tilts her head and beckons the Red Vial with her finger. “What about this one? Are you not curious what you taste like?”

Dia’s frown deepens at the suggestive subtext, and Riko’s amber eyes seem to shimmer in jest.

“No, I care not. All I want is to go home or, rather, wake up from this silly dream.”

Riko chuckles throatily then, the sound tickling within Dia’s chest and making her cheeks heat up. “You still think this to be a simple dream? What is a dream? Many claim it is based off of your emotions, your hidden desires… admit it, you like seeing me this way, senpai.”

The last word is uttered with a languid purr, and Dia could feel herself blush harder. She tries to deny it yet words are caught in her parched throat.

She vividly recalls what happened during practice today, when they all tried on their respective subunit outfits. You, Kanan, Yoshiko and Ruby busily flit around them to do final checkups, to ensure that the measurements are fine and to add more embellishments if needed. Each subunit has its own theme, its own style, especially since this is their second release. Yoshiko and Mari got into their zone fairly quickly while Riko had stood on the side, clearly conflicted about how to express herself.

Aqours’ composer is not timid by any means and could be quite headstrong whenever the situation calls for it, a quality that Dia both understands and respects. However, Dia also notices that Riko prefers to stay on the sidelines instead of the spotlight. Unlike their whole group of nine, being in a subunit requires her to be more actively involved, and thus she’s been trying to adapt to the image that Strawberry Trapper had presented.

Even then, even after composing Koware Yasuki, Riko is still embarrassed about Guilty Kiss’ style. She deemed the outfit too much for her, especially her exposed midriff. Though engrossed with Azalea’s own checkups, Dia still took the time to help out her kouhais and had thought the suit fit Riko quite well. The violet bow tie complements her wine-colored hair, and those tight glossy pants really show off her legs…

Click.

Dia snaps out of her flashback and blinks up at Riko. With those boots, the younger girl now stands a bit taller than her, enough that Dia has to look up to meet her amused gaze.

“W-What are you doing?”

Click.

Dia takes a step back. Riko takes a step closer.

“Hey, I said-”

Click.

Dia is forced to back away, only to find their distance shortened again with a fluid stride. Normally, she doesn’t mind having her personal space encroached, having grown up with huggle-happy Kanan and boob-molesting Mari, and she herself has used such intimidation tactic countless times. However, her instincts warn her that she needs to maintain a certain distance from this Riko, the master of this realm.

Unfortunately for Dia, her back soon meets the castle wall beneath the balcony and that’s when Riko strikes.

Dia’s heart lurches as Riko slams a hand beside her head and leans close.

“You still want to leave this… dream, Dia-san?”

Dia swallows hard but stubbornly glares back, refusing to show any weakness. “Yes.”

“Then you must pick one, drink one.” The eight vials hover above them, slowly circling in a mesmerizing rhythm. Dia tries to focus her mind, finding it difficult to think due to their close proximity.

“… one is missing, Riko-san. Should there not be nine in total?”

Riko smiles. Within a blink of an eye, the eight vials vanish and are replaced by a single one filled with sakura-colored liquid.

“You have made your choice.”

Before Dia could move or even reply, Riko downs the drink in one swift motion. Amber eyes narrowing, she tilts her chin and slowly leans in.

Dia hastily closes her eyes and waits for the inevitable. She couldn’t move away, or rather, she doesn’t want to. This is just a dream, so there’s no harm right? It’s fine to indulge herself…

Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep!

Dia snaps her eyes open, her face flushed and her heart pounding like a galloping horse. It takes several deep breaths for her confusion to subside. She scowls at her old-fashioned alarm, smacking the button on the top to silence it only to cradle her throbbing hand a moment later.

The dream is still fresh in her mind, and she is mortified at how utterly disappointed she feels about the way it ended. No, she refuses to allow herself to wallow in such a ridiculous matter!

Grumpily, she goes through her morning routines in a pace faster than usual. Once ready, she tells a very drowsy Ruby that she’s heading to school early to finish up some student council work.

The brisk morning walk to Uranohoshi clears up her mind just as she hopes it would. She begins to list the many things she has to accomplish today, relieved for something to distract her mind, to regain a degree of control over her reality. As per usual, she drops by Aqours’ clubroom to see if any paperwork is left behind even though that never happens.

To her surprise, someone else is here already.

“D-Dia-san, good morning!” Riko looks just as startled as she is, her cheeks flushing as if caught red-handed.

“Good morning, Riko-san. Why are you here so early…” Dia trails off as she looks at the younger girl up and down, puzzled why she’s wearing the new Guilty Kiss outfit.

“Well, I thought a great deal about what happened yesterday and, I really should just get over my embarrassment. You-chan and Yocchan tried so hard to make this, so I need to try my best too.” Riko chuckles sheepishly, her gaze averted and her ears red. “I figure I should just wear the outfit until I get used to it. Even though I disapprove of what Mari-san and Yocchan do sometimes, I… I still hold pride as a member of our subunit.”

Dia nods slowly, the tension in her shoulders lifting now that everything has returned to normal. This is the usual Riko, not the oddly alluring one in the dream.

“Do not fret. You will be fine, Riko-san. Just be yourself. You are guilty enough already.”

“Eh?”

“Nothing,” Dia purses her lips, annoyed that she almost lets something slip. “I think this is a good idea. Keep trying until you are used to it.”

“You think so?” Riko seems to perk up at her approval.

“Yes. I myself used to get stage fright - in fact, I often hid behind Kanan-san and Mari-san. But I kept practicing, speaking in front of people, and more people, until I do not even think about it.”

“Stage fright? I find that hard to imagine,” Riko smiles uncertainly. “You always seem so confident. But okay, I will um, I will just be myself…”

Even as she says that, her arms are still wrapped around her exposed midriff.

“Just try not to think about what makes you feel self-conscious,” Dia chuckles at that, endeared. “What do you feel? How has this outfit changed you?”

School idols are amazing, and this is one of the countless reasons. By donning a special outfit, you feel empowered, that no obstacles can stand in your way. Even the most timid girl would receive the courage she needs to just be herself, to just express her love for school idols.

“How I feel-?” Riko quirks an eyebrow thoughtfully, her arms slowly loosening around her midriff. “Hmm, well, I want to…”

Suddenly, she marches towards Dia, who instinctively takes a step back only to be trapped against the wall. The sense of déjà vu overwhelms Dia, even though Riko is at her usual height unlike the version in the dream.

And this is not a dream. This is actually happening.

Riko casually places her hand beside Dia’s head, smiling as she gently caresses her chin. “I want to do this, Dia-san. What do you think? What… should I do next?”

Gazing deeply into those playful amber eyes, Dia already knows what her answer is.

[scytherion]

Kanadiamari odd questions please?

here we go!!

1. Who takes the trash out? 

kanan: why is dia telling me to get mari out of the house

for real though, probably kanan, gotta make use of your buff gf, plus these rich children probably don’t even understand the concept of trash day and recycling

3. Who is happier when they are out in nature?

kanan, maybe dia! especially if it’s to the beach, kanan’ll drag em all there and just have fun, walking with waves lapping at their feet and discovering little crabs, kanan can’t get enough of it. if you link this to the yoharuby ask, then dia’d enjoy parks, because I mentioned dia might take ruby to walk in parks together!!

5. Do either of them avidly follow a celebrity and/or fandom?

*cough* u’s *cough* kurosawa ‘I own all of eli’s solos and compiled them all into one playlist’ dia

also mari probably keeps up with all the country music news (”did you hear XX died???? the country music industry is SHATTERED” “who?” “I can’t believe I’m dating such UNCULTURED people”)

7. Who plans the romantic date?

kanan, the token ikemen, does most of the time, but mari with many resources at her disposal also puts up fair competition, showing up with two hundred roses (a hundred for each gf) and a pink helicopter at moonlight. dia’s too embarrass to do anything showy.

9. Who calms the other down when the other has a nightmare?

*yells into a microphone* HUGE CUDDLE PILE HUGE WARM CUDDLE PILE

but as for who’d have the most nightmares? I think they’d all have their fair share, from things about death and losing all that they love to huge meatballs destroying awashima hotels

11. Who can’t sleep without the other?

they are all HUGE SOFTIES, but probably more kanan and dia than mari. kanan’s the hugest sappiest nerd around, she probably can’t bear going to sleep with no one to hug her, and for dia sleeping with kanan and mari reminds her of the times she slept with ruby as a kid and now it’s pretty much a necessity.

13. Who makes the first move to cuddle? 

MARI!!!! MARI!! MARI it’s cuddling 24/7 with her, you can’t escape it. dia’s tried, but it’s all futile. you’ll be sucked in before you know it and Goodbye Productivity

15. Who likes to wear the other’s sweaters?

mari, being tall and curvy has pretty big sweaters, I’d imagine. kanadia’d definitely steal from her because Big?? Comfy??? Smells Like Mari????? where are the cons? there’s a huge clothes swap happening around too, but no one really wants kanan’s because they’re all ugly sweaters but she pouts when everyone avoids her clothing (”is there something wrong with it??” “u h no!!”) so. everyone just owns a communal closet I guess

thanks for sending!! still open for more!

[cyaron-blog1]

There are so many different fun combinations you can make with Aqours members.

I literally just made a chart in google spreadsheets and the only odd pairing is Yoshiko and Kanan. You and Dia seemed weird at first too, but then I realized they would totally kill it if they sang an enka song about the sea together (I was thinking something along the lines of Kaga Misaki). But yeah, everyone else would either have a fun day together and/or make awesome music.  When it comes to trios there are way too many options. For example, Yoshiko, Hanamaru and Mari would be the trio with the best vocals. Ruby, Chika and Dia would bond over being muse fans. Or Riko, Kanan and Dia, they would be glad about being paired up with sane people for once, only for it to somehow turn into the worst mess yet. Anyways, the actual choices for the duo and trio singles are nice and all, but if I had to choose, I’d go with, hmm, how about: Yoshiko, Dia and Mari - Yoshiko and Mari are amazing singers, Yoshiko’s good with modern music, Dia has the image of a refined Japanese woman and with Mari being in between, those 3 could deliver the coolest traditional music-inspired EDM track ever. Ruby and Kanan - there’s so much they could go with, Kanan could be the kind and relaxed older sister that Ruby always wanted, or we could have a cool senpai and innocent maiden duo, or perhaps Ruby just reminds Kanan of how Dia used to be like, either way, I want to see Kanan princess-carrying Ruby. Hanamaru and You - King is a really talented singer and Shukashuu has these two voices that she can alternate between so they could probably make some cool songs together (also Hanamaru and You both cosplay as Koizumi Hanayo for this, since they are HanaYou) Ahh crap I just ended up with ChikaRiko, we already see them together all the time, let’s try again. Like I said, there are so many combinations that would work.

Yoshiko, Chika and Mari - Coelapenfrog for real this time. Imagine each of them wanting to decide what their song should be like and they end up mixing all of their ideas, it could either be total chaos, or them crossing styles and genres could result in an Aqours version of Bohemian Rhapsody (probably the former). Crazy ideas plus Ohara money, man, you really can’t leave these three unsupervised.

Riko and Dia - Dia asks endless questions about Otonokizaka. Dia tries to buy Riko’s old uniform. Riko wants to be less plain, Dia want to be less old-fashioned, logical conclusion, “Let’s do a rap song!” Ah it would be hilarious.

Hanamaru and Ruby - well like Chika and Riko they are featured a lot together as well, but I really want Ruby to sing seriously for once and Hanamaru would be the best partner since Yoshiko’s already in a group. A Love Marginal-like rock ballad would be awesome. I mean if Hanayo and Kotori can sound good in some songs, then Ruby should also be able to manage.

You and Kanan - the two fit ocean girls. I like You’s deep voice and I think Kanan should also try something like that. And since Kanan has the most sex appeal, a song with a sultry vibe could perhaps really let her shine, I was thinking something like Garasu no Hanazono. But at the same time, I think those fierce dance moves you see from male K-Pop groups would also be something up their alley. Imagine it, You and Kanan, the two most ikemen members doing dance moves like that, they would be stealing hearts across the nation. Also, if anyone were to rap, those two would be among the most likely. I don’t know what the point of this was. The groups have already been decided and now I’m just torturing myself by coming up with these great combinations that won’t happen.

[tank041]

Ya like Genderbend Ruby?