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ikeromantic · 11 months

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Kyubei - Secret - 🤭

Alas, poor Kyubei. The suitor that deserves to be! Approx. 1700 words.

Kyubei had a secret. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t an important secret. No fortunes would be made or destroyed by it. No lives irrevocably changed. If it got out, there would be no wars fought over it or assassinations because of it. The secret was small and his and he held it in him like a child’s lantern held candle-light. The warm glow of knowing it made his life more bearable.

“What are you smiling about?” Mitsuhide’s sharp gold gaze landed on him as he brought in the night’s reports.

“Am I smiling?” Kyubei drew his mouth into a firm line.

Akechi’s own mouth spread in a grin. “You were.”

“Then perhaps I am learning from you.” Kyubei did his best to imitate the razor sharp smile his lord was known for. And then, before more questions could come, he set his bundle down on Mitsuhide’s desk. “There are two missives from Kasugayama, one from Kyoto, and a full report from one of our eyes in the south.”

News would draw away the too-perceptive eye of his lord. And it did. Mitsuhide opened the bundle, long slim fingers graceful as they plucked the important papers from the rest that could be read later.

Kyubei did not wait to be dismissed. He was already backing out with a bow when Mitsuhide glanced up. “Stay. I may have need of you yet.”

“Yes, my lord,” he replied. Because what other reply could he give? Kyubei settled in, watching Akechi read through the urgent reports. He already knew what was in them, and had a fair idea of what his lord would request done. Another agent sent south, some letters and payments to certain merchants that traveled through Kasugayama, and for Kyoto . . .

His musings cut short as the door opened. The chatelaine stepped in with a tray of tea and some food. “I know you don’t break for lunch but I thought -” she paused as she noticed Kyubei standing there. “Oh! Hello!”

“Princess.” Kyubei bowed, hoping the movement would hide his face long enough to subdue the sudden rush of heat in his cheeks.

The chatelaine smiled at him shyly and tucked her hair over her ear. The tray wobbled in her remaining hand and he darted forward to take it from her. “Thank you. It would be just like me to make a mess when I’m trying to be helpful. I’m so clumsy.”

“You are as graceful as a deer, princess. Next time, ask me. I am pleased to help.” He couldn’t take his eyes off her face. She was so beautiful.

“Ahaha, no - omg - no. No one has ever said I am like a deer.” She wasn’t laughing at him or his words, but at herself and it made Kyubei’s heart feel full to bursting to share this moment with her.

Kyubei returned her smile with one of his own. “Then I am lucky to be the first. Though I am surely not to be the last to notice your beauty.”

And then Mitsuhide cleared his throat, reminding them both that he was there and an unwilling audience to this awkward, inappropriate moment.

In just a heartbeat, Kyubei came crashing back to reality. To the world in which he was a vassal, a man that should not even look above the feet of an Oda princess. The warm glow of his secret fluttered in his chest, buffeted by the cold truth. He turned from her and set the tray on his lord’s desk without another word.

“S-sorry to distract you two,” the chatelaine told them. “I just wanted to make sure you ate something today. Besides whatever crumbs are in your pockets.”

Mitsuhide gave a wry laugh. “I promise you, I eat when I am hungry. I do not need you to look after me. You or that meddlesome dragon.”

The chatelaine blinked in surprise. “I didn’t say anything about Masamune!”

“You didn’t have to. This has his mark all over it.” Mitsuhide sighed. “I suppose now that you’ve brought it, I must appreciate the effort appropriately. But you will stay and enjoy it with me.”

Kyubei saw his exit and gladly took it. “Then I will leave you both to -”

“No. Kyubei, why don’t you stay? Have a cup of tea.” Mitsuhide’s smile was relentless.

“As you command.” He poured three cups of tea, tense and reluctant but determined not to give anything else away.

The chatelaine watched him with interest. “You’re so good at that. The perfect pour. Have you practiced?”

“Yes, have you?” Mitsuhide’s grin grew wider.

Kyubei swallowed. “Yes? I am always seeking to improve my service to the Akechi.”

She laid a hand on his arm and the light touch sent heat coursing through him. “Maybe one of these days we can hang out and you can show me your technique.”

Which was exactly the sort of offer Kyubei dreamt of. Time alone with just the chatelaine. Spending time with her, listening to her. But he couldn’t say yes because he was only a vassal and she -

“I’d be happy to lend Kyubei to you for whatever you like. In fact, he’s an excellent instructor for many subjects.” Mitsuhide gave a nod. “You could start this evening.”

“I must - what?” His polite refusal halted as his lord’s words sunk in.

The chatelaine clapped her hands excitedly. “That’s great! But . . . only if he wants to. You can’t loan him out like a bike, Mitsuhide!” She turned the full force of her gaze on Kyubei. “So, would you be willing?”

And of course, he couldn’t say no to her. Not when she looked at him like that. “I would be glad to,” he replied, which was the simple truth.

Mitsuhide picked up his tea and took a sip. “Then that is settled.”

The break felt to Kyubei like a fever dream. Each time a subject came up, Mitsuhide would look at him and say, “Kyubei can tell you more about that.” Or, “Kyubei is an expert in -” Or even, “What are your thoughts, Kyubei?”

And the chatelaine’s eyes were on him and he felt as if his whole body might catch on fire. He fought the heat down from his cheeks but feared his expression made his feelings too clear.

When they finished with the tea and snacks, the chatelaine stood up and picked up the tray. “Sorry again for interrupting. But I hope you enjoyed the food.”

“Certainly. And the company as well.” Mitsuhide grinned. “Feel free to stop in whenever you like, little mouse.”

“Yes, thank you for coming by,” Kyubei bowed low, reminding himself again that she was a princess and he was a vassal and this was a favor to his lord. Not to him. Not for him. Not about him.

His secret flickered, wavering, but held steady. It was alright, he told himself, to hold this one-sided love. So long as she never found out. When he straightened, his expression was appropriate. Only polite. Nothing more.

The chatelaine grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “I am glad you were here when I did! I’ll see you later. Tonight.” She smiled. “It will be fun.”

And he couldn’t help but smile back, genuinely looking forward to it. “I am looking forward to it.”

She let him go and left, and when she was gone the office felt so much emptier. Kyubei took a deep, slow, steadying breath before turning back to work.

Mitsuhide studied his expression and then sighed. “You will have to work on that.”

“On what?”

“Hmm. On what indeed.” He picked up one of the reports he’d been reviewing before they were interrupted. His eyes returned to the text. Kyubei thought he was in the clear until a few minutes later when he spoke up again.

“She’s quite pretty. Not a court beauty, of course. But pretty.” Those piercing gold eyes found him again.

Kyubei chose to play dumb. “Who are we speaking of?”

Mitsuhide’s knowing smile was his answer. Then, a few minutes later, “She isn’t a princess either.”

“The Oda adopted her.” Kyubei’s back tightened as he realized his lord was not going to let this drop. He buried his secret further down, hiding it under the proper words.

Mitsuhide nodded and his gaze returned to the page as if that was the only point he needed to make. But this time, Kyubei didn’t relax. He knew what his lord was like on the hunt. And he was surely hunting now.

“There is more than one tale in which a commoner marries a princess.” Mitsuhide didn’t look up this time, and Kyubei was glad for that because he wasn’t sure what face he made right then. “And those were women born into it. She barely knows what her title means.”

He took a moment before replying, calming the part of his heart that leapt in response to that idea. “Perhaps. But most of those tales end in tragedy, too.”

Mitsuhide scoffed. “Because they were ill-considered.” He did look up then, and there was something in his gaze besides the usual calculation. An unexpected kindness. “I know you are many things, Kyubei. My most trusted assistant. My friend. But you are never careless.” He smiled and it was a gentler expression than his cutting crescent moon grin. “Should you - and I am not saying you are - but should you ever find yourself in love with any kind of princess, take hold of that happiness while you can.”

Kyubei nodded. He understood the fragile hope he was being handed. The gift, given with intent. “I will take that under consideration, my lord.”

“Good.” Mitsuhide’s eyes sparked with mischief. “And when you do, please do me a great favor. Moon after her out of my sight? I think your passionate gazes left syrup on my reports.”

“At your command,” Kyubei chuckled. “But surely it wasn’t that obvious.”

“I could have scraped sugar from the walls, watching the two of you dance around each other. She was about to crawl into your lap.”

“No. She was not! And I was holding back! Trying to be appropriate!” Kyubei protested.

Mitsuhide shook his head. “If that was your best attempt to pretend not to like a girl, I’m going to have to reconsider sending you out to spy for me.”

“You are as cruel as they say,” he sighed and put a hand to his chest. But inside, he was aglow with hope. Delicate as it was, as improbable and unlikely as anything, he was in love with a princess and maybe - just maybe - that was alright. She might even like him back.

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen kyubei #kyubei #fanfiction #fanfic #otome #otome guys #fluff

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illumins · 1 month

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𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞—𝑗. 𝑗𝑢𝑛𝑔𝑘𝑜𝑜𝑘 (#⁰¹)

✦trope: angst, royalty

✦wordcount: 841

✧first pov

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In the mirrored hall of the palace, crystal chandeliers scattered light like a thousand stars cast down from the heavens, each reflection a fractured tale of the night's revelry. The ball was in full swing, the air a heady mix of perfume and anticipation, as nobles from far and wide gathered in their finery, a garden of silk and jewels swaying to the music of a hidden orchestra.

I stood to the side, a shadow among luminaries, clad in a simple gown of dove gray—the uniform of a lady in waiting. My duty was to the princess, to be her silent anchor in a sea of political games and honeyed words. From my vantage point, I watched Prince Jungkook, heir to the rival kingdom, who was the sun around which all others orbited tonight. His laughter was a melody that seemed to turn the air golden, his charm effortless as he conversed with a group of aging dukes who hung on his every word.

The princess was near him, radiant in sapphire silk, her laughter forced—a facsimile of the joy that lit up her features under less oppressive circumstances. She must marry for alliance, not for affection, and tonight, the weight of her future sat visibly upon her slender shoulders. Watching her, I felt the old, familiar tug of loyalty, tempered by an unbidden, selfish spark of something else as I observed the prince.

As the current dance ended, a new one began—a waltz, sweeping and grand, the music a summoning spell that drew all towards the polished dance floor. I found myself pulled into the swirl of colors and sweeping gowns by an enthusiastic baron who mistook my reticence for shyness.

The dance was a living thing, and we were but cells within it, flowing and dividing. As the baron spun me out in a practiced move, my hand was passed to another, and suddenly, I was looking up into the deep brown eyes of Prince Jungkook, his surprise mirroring my own.

“Forgive me, I fear the dance has made a choice for us,” he said, his voice a low hum that seemed to resonate just beneath my skin.

“The dance, or fate?” I countered, my voice steadier than my suddenly racing heart.

“One often masquerades as the other at balls such as these,” he replied, his hand firm on my waist as he led me through the steps, our movements a blend of reluctance and something akin to grace.

As we moved, the crowd seemed to fade, the whispers of silk and murmurs of intrigue becoming distant, like the sea heard from afar. I was acutely aware of his presence, of the heat of his touch through the thin fabric of my gown, of the scent of his cologne—spice and cedarwood, an olfactory echo of the forest that bordered his kingdom.

“You seem to hold the weight of the room effortlessly,” I remarked, watching his face for a sign of the strain he must surely feel.

“And you observe much yet reveal little,” he shot back with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. “A trait of a good courtier… or a skilled opponent.”

“Which do you consider me?” I asked, my heart skipping with the audacity of my own flirtation.

“That remains to be seen,” he said, spinning me under his arm before pulling me back against him, our bodies momentarily pressed close enough to blur the boundaries of propriety.

The song drew to a close, and the moment with it, leaving a palpable tension strung between us like the final lingering note vibrating through the hall.

“I should not have allowed myself to be swept up in the moment,” I murmured, stepping back, the cool air a stark contrast to the warmth of his grasp.

“Nor I,” he conceded, his gaze lingering on mine with an intensity that felt like a promise or a prelude. “But perhaps some moments are worth it.”

With a final nod, he released me, and I returned to my place by the princess, her knowing glance a sharp reminder of my duty and the razor-thin ice upon which I skated. As the night wore on, the prince’s eyes met mine across the crowded room several times, each glance a stroke of a brush painting something forbidden and alluring between us.

When the ball finally ended, the prince took his leave, and with him, the magic of the evening seemed to depart. The princess turned to me, her smile tinged with sadness. “He is charming, is he not?” she asked, her voice a whisper meant for my ears alone.

“Very,” I replied, my agreement heavy with unspoken confessions.

“He could never be mine, not truly,” she continued, her eyes searching the emptying hall for a shadow of the man who would be her husband. “Nor yours.”

Her words, soft as they were, fell like stones into the still waters of my heart, their ripples a reminder of the tragedy that danced quietly at the edges of our shared reality.

#jungkook imagine #jeon jungguk #jungguk imagine #jungkook fanfic #jungkook bts #jungkook #bts imagines #bts fanfic #illumins #kpop au #jungkook au #jungkook royalty #kpop fanfic #kpop ff #illumins imagines

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piratesoftheseaandsky · 3 months

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I got a full ending for Slay the Princess. My last two routes were The Razor and The Damsel (reverse order again). Woo boy, I have a lot to say about that. We are the Long Quiet, and once we leave the cabin, one way or another, we overtake the construct, and it's only us, and the Shifting Mound. We are as much a self-made god as we are forming our other half. Are we even half? maybe we're less. I don't know. The narrator is as much of a bastard as I first assumed. An arrogant bastard whose selfish desires didn't even reflect that of the world he was trying to "save". What a monster, to force two parts of an infinite whole to torture each other for eternity, until we finally succeed in killing our better. What a coward, to wish to kill the very incarnation of change simply because he fears death. What a lair, to swear she would end the world, when all she could do was allow it to change. I think there's something poetic, that the last path I followed was The Razor, a perfect encapsulation of what we are. Each death is a new voice and they keep coming faster and faster, and when you face her the last time, those voices can't help but still see her beauty, in that collection of blades surrounding her beating heart. We shut them out. We become formless. We are nothing and everything and forever shifting because, like our other part, we are change itself. Those voices are us, but now we don't hear them, they've formed who we are and we are better for it. The Shifting Mound asks us if we are ready. Not yet, we fight, wish for her to see us as we have seen her. Through Conflict We Carve Meaning, the achievement says. We are one and the same and yet two separate entities, and together we shatter the construct and change is returned. What a fantastic way to end a game. I still don't see the psychological horror part, sure the razor was freaky, but she was such a a bad liar and those knives were so kickass and her final form was just goddamn beautiful in all the ways a glittering blade and a beating heart can be. I couldn't find the fear there. Maybe in The Damsel. In the way that, if we keep asking her what she wants, she unravels. I pulled back early there. That was fear for what I had turned her to. But aside from that, I rarely found myself afraid. Awed, angry, amused, but rarely scared. Maybe it's worse for other people. I really loved the Our Song list at the end, and I will be making that playlist for myself. Maybe I'll post it here.

#slay the princess #slay the princess spoilers #Side note: I love that one of the achievements is called “Death of the Author”#more rambling #I am on a roll

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golvio · 6 months

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Also, based on his response to the Razor telling us she liked us, I should have foreseen that Voice of the Broken would morph into some unholy genetic chimera of Astor Ageofcalamity and that snitchy teacher’s pet kid from the show “Recess” once he Found Religion. However, I was still shocked and appalled by him backstabbing me so spectacularly solely for his parasocial god-girlfriend to give him a telepathic shoutout for his Tier 3 sub in the Twitch chat that is my brain.

He was just…so passive in the other routes. He didn’t even react positively to the other more assertive Princesses with will breaking god powers. I wasn’t expecting him to do more than mope and maybe comically and ineffectually pine for the Tower. Instead, he made me stab myself in the chest repeatedly and went full Jambastion Death-Cultist during The Apotheosis! Dude was straight-up talking like a boot licking second-in-command to a Square-Enix villain! It was nuts! Who knew the biggest plot twist in this game would be the Broken finally growing a spine?

I’ve realized one of my favorite things about this game besides the Princess herself is how every character can still surprise you no matter how much you’ve casually encountered them in previous routes. The Voices, especially, since you end up spending so much time with them. You probably already guessed that based on my thoughts about the Contrarian, but since then I’ve seen Hero, Skeptic, and Hunted show sides of themselves I never got to see during my first playthrough, particularly as I strayed off the beaten path. Even if you make what seems like a horrible mistake, you’re still rewarded with new insights into the characters you would never have known if you’d done everything perfectly.

I’m planning a “Sad Endings Only”/“Now You Fucked Up” run after this where I deliberately pursue Chapter III Princesses only. I’m looking forward to seeing what I learn, as well as if Ms. Shifty M. Has new things to say to me if I bring her more emotionally developed vessels with more complicated feelings towards me.

#slay the princess #slay the princess spoilers #stp spoilers #the tower #voice of the broken

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felikatze · 7 months

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Yoo, what game are you playing? Your post made it seem so interesting, I really wanna check it out

i'm playing Slay The Princess, a horror visual novel about a hero going to slay a princess to save the world.

"A fully-voiced, cosmic horror black comedy/romance. The Stanley Parable meets Call of Cthulhu with a dash of Disco Elysium." - Black Tabby Games' website about the game. And yeah, that applies.

It has extremely branching paths and a timeloop aspect (yall can figure i'm a sucker for timeloops) and it's morbidly fascinating to watch how the hero and the princess both shape each other in their mutual dance of longing and repulsion.

it's that combination of horror and romance that really gets to me, cuz i think repulsion and adoration are very similar. do not ask me why. it just is, to me.

an individual playthrough took me two and a half hours but i only saw a FRACTION of the options available, and a full playthrough of everything is supposed to take 15h, i think.

horror game tws obviously for: self-mutilation, suicide, murder, unreality, spooky ghosts who want to kill you so bad, burning to death, intrusive thoughts, some degree of auto-cannibalism, body horror (lots of it), the changing and twisting and warping nature of reality, etc etc.

it has in my opinion great hand-drawn illustrations with a fantastic breadth of design for just one singular character. it also features jonathan sims as the majority of the cast, if you like his stuff - if you enjoyed the magnus archives, you'll definetely like hearing his writing again. both he and the princess' VA, Nichole Goodnight, both did fantastic jobs of bringing all the different facets of these characters to life.

a lot of the game is listening to yourself bicker, so make sure you enjoy that before you buy it. I'd recommend ManlyBadassHero's playthrough of it (currently ongoing) if you just want to check it out first. ...i cant count how many games I checked out because Manly played them.... that guy is singlehandedly responsible for my love of rpgmaker games, damn.

also, despite it being a horror game, there were a good few moments that made me laugh, too (the razor is a master of comedy), and i found it to be very emotionally moving. Probably since it's a visual novel, but my anxiety disorder didn't give me a hard time playing it like it usually does with horror games.

i had a fantastic time with it and i'm 100% booting up another file to see even a fraction of what I missed on my first go-around.

#feli gets asked #slay the princess #this is my official endorsment

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thekimspoblog · 6 months

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Playthrough #1: "The Scientist"

Just because this is my first time booting up the game window, doesn't mean this is my first choose-your-own adventure experience. Nor is it my first rodeo when it comes to metafiction and multiverses. There's only one thing I know for certain: it doesn't matter if the princess dies or leaves the cabin, because they both would mean the end of the world. You forgot to program anything outside this room! Morality aside, the best we can hope for is to draw this out as long as possible. Collect as much information as we can.

Composite Monsters:

The Witch

The Damsel (Deconstructed)

The Nightmare

The Beast

The Stranger

Playthrough #2: "Pruning Shears"

Alright. Well if She doesn't have any strong preferences on who she's supposed to be and what she's supposed to do, that's fine by me! I have my own ideas of who I'd mold her into. And if it means having to hack away at the excess, the contradictions, so be it.

Composite Monsters:

The Tower

The Wraith

The Damsel

The Prisoner's Head

The Adversary (Eye of the Needle)

Playthrough #3: "The Nihlist"

I'll explore more dialogue trees tomorrow. For now, let's give the narrator what he wants and go for the heart. Again. And again. And again. If I say this senseless cruelty doesn't count, then it didn't. It's my world after all; I paid $18 for the privilege.

Composite Monsters:

The Wraith

The Razor (Full)

The Adversary (Fierce)

The Nightmare (Scattered)

The Tower (Fury)

#slay the princess #metafiction #you can't fool me I've had plenty of practice with Kim #the mirrorroot #westworld b like “Socrates is it wrong to burn your Sims?”

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itz-burd · 7 months

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Just finished my first playthrough of slay the princess! Incredible game I’d totally recommend it to everyone. Incredible story.

And to those who have played it, my experiences went something like this

1. The Razor (full)

2. The Prisoner

3. The witch

4. The stranger

5. The moment of clarity

I decided to set her free. I’m happy i did, but next time I’m going to try and save the narrator.

#slay the princess #slay the princess spoilers #fucking incredible game

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ladylooch · 10 months

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Letters in Your Last Name - Chapter 21

A/N: I purposefully didn't post because of the alternate AU Kevin I posted here yesterday. But I love this chapter. I am so happy we got the video mentioned here of Kev at the winter classic "But I'm not gonna do that." 🤭 I love him. So much. He's so ridiculous and such a princess.

Word count: 5.1k

Warnings: SMUT 18 + Content, Angsty!!!

The day before Thanksgiving, blood pounds in my veins due to a freight train of anxiety.

I watch on the TV screen as Kevin waits for the signal from the referee for his shootout attempt in New Jersey. The boos rain down from the Devil fans as he sets his gaze on the net minder. To anyone else, he looks determined. To me, he looks empty. The joy of hockey has been taken from him, or truthfully, maybe he gave it away. He’s had a tough, East Coast road trip that has started rumors and whispers around the league that his time in Minnesota is limited. He did nothing to help them after dodging a question about being removed from the power play by insinuating Dean Evason never had a conversation with him about it.

Boy, did the media love that one.

I tried to call Kevin that night and into the next morning, but he ignored me. It is frustrating to me how easy it can be for him to shut down. Meanwhile, every minute he didn’t respond, a thousand more comments popped up on Twitter about the Wild speaking with Vancouver, New Jersey, Boston, and New York about moving Kevin. When I finally spoke to him, he played it off like he was sleeping. Sure, Kev. It’s three days later and Kevin still looks as shut down as he did in the interview after the loss to Florida. I’m hoping a goal will boost his confidence and his demeanor. He’s been playing well- a team focused game- and if he holds on, the goals him and the fans are longing for will come.

Kevin cuts into the ice and begins his pursuit to the net. First, he goes left, then he moves right before he pulls back to the left. From there, he slides the puck level with his hip and snipes the puck into the top right corner. It’s a beautiful goal- full of patience, finesse and the snapping of white twine. I cheer from my spot on the couch and watch eagerly as the camera zooms in on his face. My smile falls instantly. He’s not happy. A tightness forms inside of me and I feel the anxiety gripping at my throat again. Cam Talbot makes the save at the other end. The Wild are leaving Jersey with another win secured.

As the post game coverage begins, I go over the plan I created this morning while staring at the ceiling unable to sleep. The ultimate plan to ease my anxiety and connect with Kevin after a hard week apart. It’s time to shake some things up and what better way than to turn into a sex goddess. Sex is how Kevin and I connect. I feel safe and loved and desired by him when we are engaging in the most intimate, pleasurable act humans can do. Surely, hot sex has solved every relationship rift, right? So, I wandered to the mall earlier today and selected the sexiest outfit I could find. It’s sure to have Kevin hot and needy before he even has a chance to unpack tonight.

My phone buzzes on the couch next to me as I’m drifting off to the latest Becoming Wild episode on Calen Addison. I glance down at Kevin’s text.

Taking off. See you soon, babe.

Time for my work to begin.

I step into the shower and pay extra attention with my razor. I scrub my body with an exfoliating scrub as well so my skin will feel smooth and rich despite the colder temperatures outside. When I’m done, I begin the delicate task of getting myself ready. I do my full face make up and curl my hair into easy, cascading tendrils. My curls are loose and after struggling with the comb and a bit of hair spray, I achieve the volume I want. Nothing super crazy, but just enough to make him wonder if I’ve been rolling around in bed all day, waiting for him.

Next, I head to the closet and grab the new black, lace teddy I got from Victoria’s Secret. There is a built in bra that covers my breasts in black lace before giving way to see through lace weaving in a delicate design down my stomach and between my legs. The sides have cut outs along with black ribbon keeping the ensemble together. The bra has extra padding in the bust, not that I need it, but it helps keep the girls up and in place. I grin widely when I finish, looking at myself in the mirror. Yeah, I’m definitely fuckable.

Now, I just need Kevin.

You would think this is our first time having sex with the butterflies dancing in my stomach. I’m anxious. I don’t know why. He’s going to love it. At least I think he will. I close my eyes and imagine him entering the apartment. The look on his face when he sees me, the way his hands will grab me. He’ll walk us into our bedroom and bury his face into my breasts. Then, he’ll fuck me hard, fast, and deep until we both can’t handle it anymore.

I pour myself a glass of wine and glance at my phone. He should be home any minute now. I suck down the red liquid and savor the feeling of the warmth sliding into my stomach. I want to feel loose. After being so high strung this entire road trip, I need to melt into a different world with Kevin. I’m in the bedroom, sitting patiently on the bed when I hear the door of our apartment open. A knowing smile pulls my lips apart and I wait.

“Babe?” Kevin calls further into the apartment when he notes I’m not in the living area. I stand and walk to the doorway of our bedroom, leaning against it casually with my arms crossed under my plumped breasts.

Kevin steps into my line of vision and I watch with sultry eyes as he tosses his jacket on the couch. He lets out a cute little yawn. When he finds me at the door, his entire body stills. Then his eyes slowly dance from my face down to my toes and back up. With each look, his features get softer and his jaw unclenches in obvious desire. His hands drop to his sides as he begins to walk towards me.

“Welcome home.” I muse.

“This is nice.” He says, reaching for my hips and pulling me tight to him, his hands immediately slip down to my bare ass, gripping it in his strong hands. “Where is this from?” He asks me, his lips an inch from mine. I can already feel the need building within from the way he’s looking at me. The unsteadiness of the last week is melting second by second.

“Does it matter?” I respond after he kisses my lips gently. He lets out a brief laugh and shakes his head.

“No.” He steps forward and begins to move me backwards leisurely. My knees hit the back of our bed and he sits me down. He takes in a full look of me again. Why isn’t he picking me up and throwing me on the bed?

“You are so beautiful.” He tilts my chin up to look at him. His eyes have melted into pools of desire and his eyebrows are pulled together in earnest.

Everything about him is slow and deliberate and gentle. This is not what I was expecting from him. I thought I looked like a sex goddess. He’s touching me like I’m the girl next door. And I don’t like it. In an attempt to change the pace, I reach for his belt and help his pants slip down his hips. His erection juts out and I reach for it, getting my mouth ready to take him in.

“No.” Kevin reaches for my wrist and gives it a gentle squeeze for me to released him. I look up at him with furrowed brows. What guy doesn’t want a blow job? Definitely not my fiancé.

“Kev..” I trail off.

“Not tonight.” He says to me.

He reaches for my thighs and tilts me back until I’m flat on my back. My breasts bounce in the bra and practically hit my chin. Geez, these things are weapons right now. Kevin seems to have liked that though. His hands come to them, giving each a firm squeeze. My nipples pucker in delight and he brushes his thumbs against their form through my bra. Next, he moves south, slowly, almost painfully, kissing down my stomach until he reaches his destination. His tongue licks at me through the teddy before he moves the fabric to the side with his hand. The cool air reaches my clit and I brace myself for the desperate nibbling I know is coming.

Except it doesn't. Again, he’s slow and gentle and, don’t get me wrong, I like it, but it’s not what I was anticipating. As he works his mouth on me, my eyes open and my heart rate begins to increase. The anxiety is suffocating me again. Why isn’t he railing into me? Why is he going so slow and deliberate? Why is this the reaction I’m getting from this expensive outfit? Is it not sexy? Is he not into this? Fuck!

I lick my lips and push out a breath, trying to refocus on what Kevin is doing. I close my eyes again and focus on the feeling of his tongue lapping at me. His finger circles my opening and he slides in and out with gentle ease. Despite my overactive mind, I’m wet and ready for anything he wants to give me. His finger curls and I feel him bump into that spot inside of me that endlessly begs for him. I pull in a sharp breath and then let it out in a low moan. I open my eyes and Kevin is watching me again with those doe like eyes. Damn it, I want the fire eyes. I break eye contact immediately and reach for his hand, halting him.

“Babe, this is nice, but can you fuck me please?” I ask him. Kevin stills and is quiet for a moment in the dark.

“Ah... yeah.” He finally says, but his tone is questioning. He pulls the shirt off his shoulders and then slides the remaining clothes down his legs. When he is naked in front of me, he looks at me and tilts his head. His hand does a sweeping gesture to my outfit. “How would one get this off?” He laughs, his white teeth shining in the dark. “Is there something on the back?”

“No, it’s the arms.” I start to shimmy and tug the straps off. The bra portion falls down. Kevin pauses my movements, hands working on my breasts again. He leans down and sucks a nipple into his mouth. I let out a needy breath, adding an extra, exaggerated cry to turn up the heat in the room. Kevin pulls away after that and slides the teddy the rest of the way off me. “We will be seeing you again soon.” He assures the fabric before tossing it on the floor. I giggle excitedly at that. So he does like it.

Kevin positions himself between my legs and gradually slides into me. When he’s all the way in, he pulls out a few inches then slides all the way back in again. I adjust to him quickly and I wiggle my hips excitedly for him to go. I settle in deeper to the comforter and wait in anticipation for his thrusts to increase.

And yet again, they don’t. Instead, the tempo Kevin sets is somewhere in the lazy, Sunday morning sex category. Not, haven’t seen you in a week, I’m dying for you, sexy outfit category. I resist the urge to sigh in disappointment and instead focus on the feeling of his dick sliding inside of me, willing the tension to build. This goes on for a few more thrusts. Kevin leans down and presses our lips together in a kiss that’s sickeningly sweet. His mouth opens against mine as he breathes heavier, but it lacks the edge of sexiness I crave.

If the outfit isn’t the problem, it must be me. I think back on the minutes and hours he was able to stay disconnected from me this past week. Like he completely forgot about having someone at home waiting for him. During that same time, I felt like our entire world was falling apart. The pressure of tears begin to build behind my eyes and my chest squeezes as my imagination sprints down anxiety road. The heaviness of my engagement ring on my left hand has completely disappeared from my mind.

He isn’t attracted to me. I’m not enough for him. He’s going to leave me.

“Hey, are you here with me?” Kevin mumbles as he pulls up to glide in and out steadily. He’s looking into my face and he must see the trace of absence there.

“Kevin, can you please fuck me.” I encourage him with a desperate edge to my voice. He immediately stops and looks down into my face with an irked expression.

“Babe, I’m making love to you.”

“I don’t want that.” I borderline cry to him.

“What do you want?” He asks me in a low voice. I can see his eyebrows pulling down over his beautiful eyes. He looks hurt.

“I want you to fuck me so hard that I can’t speak.” I snap exasperatedly at him.

“I can’t do that tonight, Sam.” He whispers back to me. I hate the way my name sounds coming through his lips and it makes me wince.

“Then I don’t want this.” I push at his bare chest as tears fill my eyes. He slides out of me instantly and I roll out from under him. I can feel his eyes burning into my back as I walk to the bathroom and close the door.

"Sam?" He calls to me from where he is still kneeling on our bed.

The sobs instantly come. I know Kevin can hear me from the bedroom and I’m trying to be quiet but it’s not working. Soon, I can sense him outside the door. I know he’s at war with himself between wanting to give me space and wanting to hold me.

My plan has utterly back fired. Instead of the uncontrollable desire from Kevin, I got the vanilla side of him. Don’t get me wrong. There is a time and place to enjoy that, but it’s not what I need right now. Not with this horrible insecurity and unknown swirling around our entire life. I need the burning desire. The ache for each other where even though every inch of your body is touching, it’s still not enough. I need that all consuming passion as reassurance of our connection to each other.

The door quietly opens so I hide my tear streaked face in my hands. Kevin covers me with my pink robe from the back of the door before he slides down to the floor. He wraps me into his arms and lifts me into his clothed lap. His touch makes me cry harder. I begin to feel shame seep into the joints in my body. Kevin holds me steadily through each sob.

“What’s going on?” He asks me when my tears have quieted.

“It’s been a really hard week.” I cry to him through a few sniffles. “Your name has been in every fucking trade rumor in the league.”

“Babe, you gotta stay off Twitter.” He sighs, adjusting my hip in his lap to settle us against the wall better.

“Fine. I need to stay off Twitter.” I admit, wiping under my eyes. My finger tips are black from the heavy mascara I put on. Great. I still can’t look into his face from both embarrassment and distress. “But you’ve been so distant this entire road trip. We barely spoke and half the time you wouldn’t even answer my texts. Sometimes, it was like I didn’t even exist to you. At one point, I was convinced you were so quiet because you had been traded!”

“I’m sorry. I was spiraling and trying to stay focused. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Well, it made me feel like shit. And really insecure. And like an outsider in your life.”

“That’s why I needed to fuck you?”

“Yes. I wanted to feel desired. Important to you...” My voice trails off.

“Sam, I was trying to show you that. That is why I was making love to you. I can fuck whomever. I can’t make love like that to just anybody.”

I gain the courage to look into his face. I can see all the emotions of the last week there- the anger, the sadness, the confusion, the stress, the weight of his entire hockey career feeling like it’s in limbo. He looks young and unsure in the bathroom with me. Like he’s incapable of carrying all of this alone. I drop my gaze again because I don’t know what to say. My hair drops across my face and Kevin’s hand comes up, tucking it behind my ear again.

“Don’t hide from me.” He whispers to me. “I need you. Now more than ever.”

“I’m worried… and I’m sad.” I admit.

“Me too.”

“You’re so good at that.” I shake my head at him. “Making me feel like I’m not alone.”

“You’re not. I’m right here.”

We are silent for a moment. I begin to think about the outfit and the need for a physical connection. Those things were driven by a deep insecurity I’ve felt inside of me this whole week: Not pretty enough. Not close enough. Not what he needs. Not enough, period. My face crumples again and a new batch of tears falls from my lashes.

“I just want to be enough for you.” I cry quietly.

“Enough?” He repeats to me incredulously. His mouth is slightly agape and his brown eyes search my green eyes quickly. He brings my face close to his, resting our foreheads together. “This isn’t about you, baby. I'm so sorry I made you feel this way. You’re everything to me. I’ll do whatever I need to for you to know that.” He murmurs against my lips. “I’ll fuck you straight through our headboard if that will convince you.” His kisses are hasty and I finally feel like I’m getting the Kevin that I wanted. Too little too late- the mood is decidedly gone. I close my eyes and lean into his bare chest.

“Maybe you could just hold me.” I whisper. Now all I feel is a vulnerability hangover that only his arms can cure.

“Of course. But can we go to the bed? My butt is asleep.” I nod and he helps me stand up. “Do you want clothes?” He asks me as I crawl onto the bed. I nod my head yes and he brings me a t-shirt, panties and a pair of pajama pants. I slide them on and then get under the covers. Kevin reaches for me and brings me across the bed to him. We meet in the middle; our legs and arms tangle together until there isn’t an end to either of us. The room is quiet but the silence feels comfortable.

“Do you still want to marry me?” I murmur anxiously to Kevin after a few moments. He lets out a chuckle.

“Yes. Even more than before.”

“It was the lingerie, right?”

“No, it’s the girl in it.” He slowly opens his eyes as I cup his strong jaw in my hand. “It’s going to be okay.” He assures me after studying my green eyes. I know he’s speaking of his contract situation and future on the Wild. “Just hold onto me. Don’t let go.”

“I won’t.” I assure him, gulping down the lump forming in my throat. Kevin’s lips press gently to mine and I kiss him back eagerly. “I’m yours. Forever and anywhere.”

“I know.” Kevin answers me with confidence.

And I mean it, but I drift to sleep that night hoping anywhere can still be here. _ _ _

Winter in Minnesota is anything but kind. However, I think the current temperature at Target Field is a new level of rude. It’s currently hovering at 0 degrees but with the windchill, it’s well into the negatives. I’m careful as I pull my skate laces tighter. The outsides of my pinky fingers tingle in protest but I persist. This is the Winter Classic after all. The team is finishing practice and several family members have already joined the skate. Kevin already ran by me to the locker room so he could shed a few pieces of his gear and add another heating layer now that he worked up a sweat in the chilly weather.

I finish the last of my skates, looping my laces and securing them in a bow. I reach for my choppers and put them back on to protect my skin. Then, I stand on my skates and look out across the Winter Classic ice. Wow. The league left no detail out. Everything about it screams State of Hockey. This Minnesotan is beside herself with excitement for it all.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Kevin says to me from my left. I snap my head to him and I can’t help the huge grin that goes onto my face. He’s wearing his team issued green, Winter Classic jacket, hockey gloves and the rest of his padding from the waist down.

“I have goosebumps. And It has nothing to do with the cold. This is really cool!”

“Then let’s go!” He encourages me towards the door to the bench. When my blades hit the ice, an excited squeal comes out of my lips.

“Ohmygod.” I breathe out and suck in the frigid air into my nose. It hurts and my eyes water from the wind, snow, and the emotions of how cool this is. This will be a game our state will never forget, a bright spot in an otherwise difficult time. I turn and skate backwards to look at Kevin. “I’m so glad I fell in love with you.” He lets out a hearty chuckle and reaches for me. I close my eyes and savor the brief moment we are connected.

“Sam! Here!” Kelly Talbot throws me a white beanie with a poof ball on it. On the front in forest green, glittery patches is the number 22.

“Oh fer cute!” I giggle, taking off the Wild Hockey hat I had on and replacing it. “Now everyone knows who I belong to.” I stick my tongue out at my fiancé.

“Yeah… it’s the hat. Not the fact that he follows you around like a puppy.” She teases me. I laugh and look at Kevin who scrunches his nose in annoyance.

“How about the engagement ring I gave you? I thought it was big enough to send the message.”

“Well you can’t see it through my gloves.” I hold up my covered hands at him.

“Bummer. We need to sacrifice your fingers so everyone knows.” His lips find mine and I laugh into his mouth.

“No thank you.” Our cold noses touch and I shiver a bit in response. “Okay, it is definitely cold AF. This is going to suck for you tomorrow. Hopefully you’ll be amped up enough you won’t notice.”

“It’s bad on the ice, but the bench has good heat.” He assures me. “I’m definitely wearing the head wrap. My ears would be falling off.” We skate around a few times as we chat, envisioning what the game will be like tomorrow. Kevin has never played in front of almost 40,000 fans, so he’s curious to how loud it will be. After a few more minutes, his gaze lifts to the bench and he nods his head in acknowledgement at someone.

“I have to do a video for the league’s Instagram account. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He kisses my cold cheek. “You look good even when you’re freezing.” He tells me, eyes dancing with love.

“Oh god. Stop.” I roll my eyes at him and shove him towards the bench. “Go do your thing, superstar.”

I watch as he skates over to the bench and grabs a phone from a man who is bundled up to the point that only his eyes are exposed. Definitely not from the northern part of the country. Kevin grabs the phone from him and goes to center ice where Kaapo Kahkonen is. I watch from my position by the penalty box and grin at how funny it is to see him like this. His voice changes and his enunciating of his English gets crystal clear as he puts forth the extra effort of his non-native language. He glances at me and I tuck my chin into the collar of my jacket to hide my laugh.

“Thank you, Kaapo. Let’s go talk to a Minnesotan next. Get the family involved.” Kevin’s eyes set on mine and he gives me an encouraging nod.

“Oh boy..” I trail off with a nervous laugh as Kevin comes over to me with the phone.

“This is my fiancé, Sam. Wave to the people, babe.” I do so and skate in closer to him so we are both in the frame. “You grew up in Minnesota. Is this what the state of hockey is all about?”

“Definitely.” I nod my head at him. “The league did a great job. I don’t think they missed anything. They even have an ice fishing hole out there.” I point beyond the ice. “Plus the weather is doing its part by showcasing a true Minnesota winter.”

“You’re used to winter here. Does this feel cold to you?” He asks, gesturing to the weather including the falling snow.

“Um, yes.” I laugh honestly.

“What tips do you have for me to stay warm tomorrow?”

“Score some goals.” We both laugh at that.

“Okay.” He gives the camera raised eyebrows and wide eyes. “Sam says goals will keep us warm, boys.” He says to Matt Dumba and Ryan Hartman.

“Solid advice.” Ryan nods his head at me. I give him a thumbs up.

“Alright, that’s it for me from the Winter Classic ice. We’ll see you tomorrow.” Kevin clicks off and hands the phone back to the social media staff member for the NHL.

“Riveting content.” I say to him when he skates back to me.

“What the people came for, for sure.”

The next night, the people did not get what they came for.

After an even first period, the Blues absolutely slaughtered the Wild from the moment the puck dropped in the second period. All the excitement and fun was quickly sucked out of Target Field and all that remained was the bitter, unforgiving temperatures. Luckily, we were under the heaters in premium seating, but the warmth did little to ease the discomfort of the night. Kevin did end up scoring one goal. The last seconds of the game are waning and I realize my eyelashes have frozen together from the cold. I stick my nose into my jacket for a few moments to try to regain some blood flow to my face.

When the final horn sounds, I clap my hands and release a heavy sigh. After two years of excitement, and many more than that hoping for this game, it was certainly not the ending any of us wanted.

My eyelashes have completely thawed by the time I see Kevin. My heart squeezes at his obvious displeasure. He’s quiet and still looks like he’s frozen solid. He greets me wordlessly with a kiss.

“Your goal, babe…” I say when we are in his car minutes later. “The patience… Incredible.” He shrugs as he turns out of the parking lot. “I know a win would have been nice, but it’s still a cool experience.” I pause and look at his face. He won’t look at me. “Emphasis on the cool.” I reach out and give his thigh a squeeze.

“It was something.” Okay, so talking about the actual hockey part of the game is a no-go right now.

“Do you still have all your toes and fingers?”

“Yes?” He questions me with a head shake.

“Well there you go! You did win! And I got to drink cider slushies all night. Success.” I give a resolved nod of my head and look back at the snow covered road. Because Target Field is only a few blocks from our place, we pull into our parking garage quickly. Kevin shuts the car off and releases a sigh.

“Damn, I’m still freezing.” He says as he turns to look at me. His shoulders shake from a chill.

“Good thing I know a way to warm you up.” I say to him, unbuckling my seatbelt and reaching for him. An immediate, knowing smile stretches his lips.

“How?”

“Fucking.” I whisper against his lips. He laughs into our smooch and I know he’s turning the corner into a cheerier Kevin. “Your goal.” I try again. “Tell me that one didn’t feel nice.”

“Of course it did. But you’re going to feel better.”

“Fine. Avoid it for now, but we are talking about this later.” I insist to him.

“Okay.” He rolls his eyes. “Get moving.” He jerks his head towards the elevator. I step from the car and begin to walk. I hear Kevin’s door shut, but his footsteps don’t follow. I throw a glance over my shoulder and see him standing by the car staring at me.

“What?” I ask him.

“Just watching my whole world.”

“Walk away from you?” I laugh at him. He begins to walk towards me.

“I see it as you walking towards exactly where I want you.” He comes beside me and wraps an arm around me. He dips his hand into the back pocket of my jeans and we walk together to the elevator.

“Your dick?” I joke as he presses the up button.

“I was thinking on my face, in our bed, but we can go with that too.”

“Oh-kay.” I groan out to him. I reach for the up button and begin to push it incessantly. “Come on!” I yell in fake desperation.

Kevin and I dissolve into laughter and just like that, the world feels a little more okay.

#letters in your last name au #my writing #hockey fan fiction #hockey writing #NHL writing

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bloodsbane · 2 months

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Hello, Happy (late? Its 1 am so I think technically late) birthday :) I just saw in yer tags that you decided to play Slay the Princess on your birthday, and I wanted to ask what you thought of the game :)

thank you~ ^^ i'm more than happy to talk about it!

short answer is that yes, i did play, and i had a really good time! I did one "full run" of it. for those curious, i got these in order: the Fury, the Razor, the Damsel, the Prisoner, and the Adversary.

it's a game i'd definitely recommend to anyone who's at least slightly interested in it! and that it's absolutely one that's the most fun going into as blind as possible, BUT by its nature, you'd still have a lot to discover on your own even if you watched someone play part of most of a run ;)

(more concrete commentary and vague spoilers below)

(and of the routes i got, I think Fury and Adversary are my favorites, though I did the Godkiller branch of Fury so I'm really curious to get that again and try going with the Broken's suggestions heh)

I ended up getting what I think could be called a 'middling/Neutral' ending, which was fine, I was playing to explore and pick what felt right in each moment rather than get something more definitive. I think I got a lot of insights by the end of my route so I'm eager to get back into it and play the game at least like 2 more times.

I REALLY enjoy the game, I think the ideas behind it are so cool and I love how it has so much replay-ability. like, I watched Joseph Anderson's playthrough of it (which was super funny, though I didn't finish watching the end of it bc he got a different Ending than I did and I didn't wanna see every detail of that), and it was really interesting to see not only what other routes he discovered, but how when he encountered routes that I'd also run into (Razor, Damsel), he managed to get slightly-to-moderately different versions of them! Like, his version of the Princess at the end of his Damsel route was totally different from mine!

The presentation is perfect, too. I'm already quite familiar with Jonathan Sims' voice talents of course, since I've been a huge fan of The Magnus Archives for the last ~5 years, and he wrote/voiced in that podcast. He does a phenomenal job acting out all the Voices in STP, and it was really nice to hear him performing again (even as I'm keeping up with the TMA sequel podcast, where he also voices, just not as predominantly!)

The voice acting for the Princess was amazing too, I LOVED hearing all the different variations of her vocal presentation. I thought it was such an immediately cool detail... especially since I chose to take the knife down with me on my very first go at it, so my first impression of her was the much more dangerous and stern delivery, which I wasn't expecting - I anticipated the writing to have her play innocent at first, but of course I know now why that wasn't the case, hehehe.

and of course the artwork is amazing. i LOVE how it's kept to a more sketchy, work-in-progress feeling style, i think it conveys the fragility and impermanence and transformative nature of the game and where it takes place. and of course all the ways the princess is stylized, both more subtly and obviously, in each route, is one of the most fun elements of discovering new versions of her. a lot of the compositions are great and i love her expressions a ton!! uhg just really great artwork all around

and speaking of art, the ost is fantastic, really perfect ambiance as well as tracks that convey the feel of each route, like, i'd call them each uniquely textured in a way perfectly suited to each. i'll probably throw the ost on by itself at some point to try appreciating the music on its own a bit more

overall great game!! im excited to play it again and im curious just how many variations of paths and endings there are!

#baneanswers

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ajgrey9647 · 5 months

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(okay, I'm always weary of the muse asks because that is a whole jar of worms, but...these are too cute not to try)

🦇 🍬 + Jason/Tommy + Perfect Drakkon World AU~

Halloween Tricks and Treats

uhh... this is a little late... lol

As much as he hated to admit it, his old man was right. The drunken, neglectful piece of shit would glare at Tommy, a longnecked bottle of booze poised to kiss his lips, reflections from the television set dancing within the glass. The thin upper lip would lift in a contemptuous snarl and, after giving a deep belch, Mr. Oliver would repeat his frequent proclamation.

“Boy, you’re dumber than dogshit. You know that?”

Drakkon ground his molars aggressively at the memory, flustered that such a trivial and irrelevant comment found its way into his perfect world. The bastard was long dead, his very first kill upon receiving the Black Dragon coin. He was worm food and yet still he managed to hiss his vile observations.

‘He was right though. You fucked up, you Disney Princess dumbass.’

Hissing in annoyance, Drakkon sunk lower in the clawfoot bathtub, the warm, bubble laden water just brushing his lower lip. The aromatic oils filled his nose but did little to soothe his agitation. A muscle in his angular cheek twitched and he fully intended to settle into full sulk mode when a knock sounded on the door.

“My lord, forgive my intrusion. You’ve been in there awhile. Is everything alright?” Finster’s voice floated from the other side.

Drakkon rolled his eyes.

Honestly, couldn’t an evil dictator pout in peace? Wasn’t he the one in charge? The tyrant considered pretending he didn’t exist, but that would do him no good. The little alien servant wasn’t going to go away until he answered so he might as well suck it up.

“Everything’s fine, Finster. I’m just woolgathering again,” he called. “You may enter and assist me from my bath now.”

The ornate knob turned and the short grey creature came into view from around the door, plucking a thick, fluffy green towel as he moved towards where Drakkon peered up from the water like a submerged reptile. The boy (who wasn’t really a boy) had that look on his face again, and, for reasons he couldn’t remember, Finster didn’t like it.

Unfurling the warm towel, he held it aloft as his master begrudgingly shifted under the bubbles, water sloshing about his long limbs as he hauled himself to his feet. Quietly, Finster held out a steadying hand as Tommy stepped over the tub’s side, then proceeded to run the towel over his dripping skin.

The silence was uncomfortably awkward and not just because he was carefully drying and pampering a superhero’s crown jewels.

“I don’t mean to sound impertinent, my lord, but you seem to be rather melancholy of late. Is there anything I can do to help?”

In the old days, Finster wouldn’t dare make this suggestion as Drakkon had a twisted way of deciding how an individual could best cheer him up. It could involve a fight to the death, a public flaying, carving a design of his choosing into your flesh with a straight razor, eating expensive decorative glass figurines, or ‘going on a snipe hunt.’ That last one wasn’t particularly clear but essentially amounted to what a large animal hunt entailed complete with mounted horses and old-fashioned weaponry, only with human (or alien) prey.

Now, the pretend teen shrugged lamely, looking like any other put upon, bored adolescent as he chewed his lip idly.

“No, Finster. I just… I don’t know,” Tommy stuttered, unsure how much he wanted to share.

‘Who cares? Aren’t you the most deadly, infamous, murderous, psychotic fucker in the universe? Who gives a fuck what Finster thinks?’

This musing echoed in his mind, only it was cloaked in his deceased ‘dad’s’ voice.

“What the hell?”

“My lord?” Finster asked, brow raised as he pulled himself up from drying Tommy’s lower body.

“Nothing,” he responded sullenly.

Crossing from the bath into his bedroom with nary a stitch of clothing covering his nude body, the teen glanced across to the windows that overlooked his sweeping front yard. It was still early afternoon, the sun blinding white in a picturesque blue sky. Errant red, yellow, and orange leaves swirled about the drive and Tommy imagined he could hear the dry feathery scrapes they made on the gravel.

As Finster pulled his regalia from the large walk in closet and laid it across the four-poster bed, the teen paused near one of the thick panes, peeking around a heavy green tapestry. Across the grassy expanse, he saw small figures gliding through a series of katas while a taller, more muscular one strode close by, stopping to gently correct as needed.

It was the very subject of his festering, roiling emotions.

‘Jason…’

His fingers twitched against the curtain and he ducked out of sight. Strangely, his stomach felt as if the floor had fallen away beneath him, his heart picking up speed, and his cheeks growing warm.

Memories of their trip to the orchard flooded his mind. It had only been scant days ago yet felt much longer. The entire day had occurred due to pure happenstance and it had been one of the happiest Tommy could recall.

Endless wagon rides, corn maze treks, climbing mountainous hay bales…

And the failed attempt to carve their jack-o’-lanterns, the large orange globes abandoned in Jason’s driveway while they secreted themselves behind the garden shed, away from prying eyes.

Tommy’s cheeks grew even hotter thinking back on how sickly sweet and chivalrous he’d been with Jason, the kissing progressing slowly from a chaste brief brush of lips to longer, more relaxed ones. He’d resisted the urge to lose control, to savage the Red Ranger as he would have easily done with his unfortunate Coinless doppelganger.

He hadn’t even tried to put his tongue in Jason’s mouth, for fuck’s sake. The whole thing was straight out of a PG teen romance.

The make out session was intense enough his lips felt swollen afterwards and he wondered if the people he ran into later that night noticed. Could they tell what he’d been up to? Gossip about who he’d possibly been with?

He had an image to maintain here, a different one than in his former life.

Being wholesome and pure was going to be such a pain in the ass and a lot less fun than being a wild motherfucker. But here people looked at him with respect, awe, and admiration. Not fear, horror, terror, rage, and hate. It seemed there was no in between for Lord Drakkon.

Glancing at his black and gold uniform spread across his comforter, Tommy shook his head.

“I’m thinking about something different today, Finster. Maybe an outfit that’s a little more… like theirs…” he ordered, moving to the closet himself.

Pulling out a green and white sweater and green jeans, he dressed quickly and, without a word to Finster, bounded out of the room and down the stairs, not even waiting for the servant to comb and dry his hair. Getting outside while Jason was still there was at the forefront of his mind right now. He even almost missed the bottom two steps and nearly tumbled ass over end into his entry way.

‘Fuck, get it together, idiot! You’re going to go out there and embarrass yourself!’

Straightening his attire, Tommy forced a slow, calming breath.

‘He’s already impressed by me. I don’t have to be so self-conscious,’ he scolded himself.

Another voice chimed in, unasked, and again in the intonations of his worthless dead ‘father’.

‘Is he though? You might have him brainwashed here in your little make-believe storybook world, Thomas. But the truth is not all sunshine and rainbows like one of your bullshit fairy tales,’ it laughed. ‘Underneath your black magic shit, Jason hates you, maybe pities your foolish ass. And the one you’ve locked up like an animal? He dreams of killing you and pissing on your bloody remains!’

Tommy’s hand paused on the knob and he snarled back.

“Fuck off! You’re dead and in hell where you belong, you lazy, bloated drunk!”

Yanking the door open, the teen darted out into the sunlight, feeling a stronger urge to be closer to Jason after hearing the specter of his ‘dad’s’ voice. Too many hateful, traumatic memories, even here!

By the time Tommy reached the little class, they were just starting to pack up. Jason’s deep voice called over the chatter of excited voices, not realizing the resident superhero was approaching behind him. The students though did not miss his presence.

“Alright, guys! Have fun tonight and be safe! Happy Halloween!”

When he glanced over his shoulder to see what all the buzz was about, Jason jumped in surprise and his face flushed slightly.

“My lord! What a surprise! I didn’t realize you were watching.”

Tommy waved a hand and couldn’t stop the small smile curving his lips.

“Don’t mind me. I was just hoping to have a word with you when you were done, Sensei Scott.”

Waiting for the students to pack their gear, Tommy dug his shoe into the grass anxiously. Was his father’s voice related to those fucking spectral beasts threatening his world? Why was it just now speaking up?

Lost in thought, he flinched when a warm hand squeezed his shoulder.

“Ummm, Tommy..err.. my lord?” Jason stammered, confused as to how he should address the other teen.

They’d sucked face a few days ago, but he didn’t want to assume what was taking place between them. This was the great Lord Drakkon, protector of the city, a real-life superhero… He could spend time with (kiss) anyone he wanted; people more desirable than a lowly martial arts instructor.

The other teen blinked at him a moment, those eyes a lovely hazel hue. Finally, he seemed to come back to the present.

“Jason… hi…” he stuttered stupidly.

‘Idiot.’

“Hi,” Jason smiled kindly, moving closer to where Tommy stood.

“Did I hear you say today is Halloween?”

The Red Ranger chuckled as he nodded.

“Yes. Tonight’s the night of the season. I’ll be taking one of the kindergarten classes around trick or treating,” he admitted bashfully. “We’re doing a farm theme, so I get to dress up like the Farmer in the Dell, I guess.”

Tommy wrinkled his nose unconsciously. Little kids were NOT something he enjoyed dealing with. Too loud, too bossy, too demanding, too needy….

‘Like you…’

‘Fuck you, asshole!’

He realized Jason was still yapping at him and struggled to catch up with what he was saying.

“So, I didn’t know if it was something you’d even be interested in doing. I know you’re busy protecting the city and it’s probably pretty boring for you,” he rambled on, oblivious that Tommy had momentarily zoned out.

“Huh?”

Jason blushed shyly at having to repeat his proposition.

“Would you want to go too? Trick or treating me and the kiddos?”

Though he’d rather repeatedly punch himself in the nuts than deal with boogery, sticky, wailing children, Tommy did want to spend time with Jason.

“I’d like that, Jase,” he smiled. “I can’t wait.”

Later that evening, Tommy stood before the full-length mirror in his room, picking at and adjusting his costume. The faux straw was going to give him some itchy rash later, he was sure of it. He would also swear there were tiny bugs crawling amongst the paper and his skin, making him want to scratch more.

But he was determined to fit in with this childish farm theme, a part of his heart desperate to please Jason and fit in.

‘Well, you’re doing a great job of that, Thomas! You look just like that brain-dead fucker in the Wizard of Oz… wait, he didn’t actually have a brain at all, did he?’

It laughed.

‘Actually, any of those characters would have suited you fine, to be honest. No brain, no heart, no courage. A wicked witch. A sniveling, little girl. A lying old man pretending to be something he isn’t!’

“Goddammit, shut the fuck up!” Tommy shrieked into the mirror, his eyes wide and growing wet with angry tears.

‘Jason would make a rather cute doggie, wouldn’t he? What was that mutt’s name? Toto?’

Whirling from the mirror, the agitated boy yanked his bedroom door open and prepared to dart down the stairs. He nearly collided with Finster who was preparing to knock.

“My lord!” he squealed in shock. “Is everything alright?”

Dodging around the little alien, Tommy bounded down the stairs.

“I’m FINE!” he bellowed, jumping down the last few steps and scooping up his knap sack. “I’m going out and I’ll be back when I’m back.”

He slammed the front door so violently decorative art clattered from the wall and broke upon the tiled floor. Snatching the handlebars of his bike from where it lay in the driveway, he draped one long leg over the seat, and pushed off with a burst of angry energy.

Tommy quickly set off towards the Red Ranger’s house. The cool air rustled the straw of his scarecrow outfit about his cheeks, the ghostly touches annoying. Small groups were already beginning to congregate in driveways, preparing for a night of revelry. His legs pumped harder, propelling his bike swiftly along the asphalt.

By the time he turned into Jason’s driveway, the teen was pale, panting, and slightly shaking. He had no idea how he was going to tolerate a bunch of sniveling brats without erupting in a fit of rage while in this state he seemed to be mired in.

The Red Ranger had been waiting for him, his own bike resting on its kickstand beside him so they could ride together to the Youth Center to meet up with the kids. One look at Tommy’s face and he knew his plans needed to change. He refused to believe the other boy’s protestations that he was fine and not at all sick.

“It’s fine,” Jason soothed, as he clicked his phone shut. “Lauren said she’d take care of my group. Come inside and sit down before you fall down.”

Wrapping a steady flannel clad arm around Tommy’s waist, the ‘farmer’ guided his ‘scarecrow’ through the front door and into the living room. Perversely, the tyrant felt a calming comfort at being held so close, having another bracing him when he felt weak inside. That wasn’t how it usually went.

Usually he had only himself.

So instead of trick or treating as they’d planned, Tommy and Jason pilfered the large bowl of candy in the kitchen that Mrs. Scott intended to sit out on the porch and the two slipped through Jason’s bedroom window to sit on the roof under the darkening sky. From up here they had a good view of the merriment below.

Hours passed as they ate candy, talked, laughed, and joked. Shy fingers brushed shy fingers as each boy reached into the bowl of sweets, sometimes taking longer than necessary to remerge, ‘accidentally’ bumping alongside each other with increasing frequency. Stars soon pierced the dark sky, the white moon glowing larger than life from where they sat.

Subtly, they scooted closer, pretending not to notice their thighs coming into contact, knees knocking together.

“You know, this isn’t the way I thought tonight would go, but I actually like this better,” Jason admitted with a grin. “I missed you.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, I did.”

Tommy risked looking into Jason’s eyes and literally felt his heart skip a beat.

“I missed you too,” he confessed to his surprise.

Slowly, as if in a dream or a romantic movie, the Red Ranger inclined his head towards him and kissed his cheek.

As he pulled back, Jason bit his lower lip before breaking into a wide grin.

“What?”

Shaking his dark head, the red clad teen chuckled.

“Its nothing. I just… I just thought those freckles on your nose were part of your costume.”

Tommy scrunched his face. He hated his infantile speckles, so easily hidden in his former life with distracting black veins and terrifying, glowing eyes.

“You don’t like them? ‘Cause I think they’re pretty hot,” Jason whispered.

This was a new wrinkle. The tyrant blushed and he tugged the Red Ranger down to lay beside him on the shingled roof, the open night sky a vast field before their eyes.

“I…like… the way you look, too Jason,” he responded after a moment.

A shooting star arced through the blackness and Tommy was struck by deja vu.

This wasn’t the first time he had lain beside Jason Scott on a rooftop, gazing up at the stars and chatting idly.

Well, he was the only one contributing to the conversation.

Drakkon lay with his hands behind his head, admiring the lovely shower of shooting stars. The terrace that fanned the tallest tower of his palace was the perfect spot for watching the heavens. He could still taste the expensive chocolate and cheeses from the picnic basket he’d brought up with them along with a chilly bottle of wine.

He felt the thigh laying alongside his own shift slightly, trying to avoid touching the monster’s flesh. Must be time for another dose…

Rolling slightly to look at the unlucky soul laying next to him, Drakkon sighed with mock sadness.

“This all could have been much different, you know? But you just can’t behave.”

Sitting up, he reached into the wicker basket and pulled out a vial of purplish tinted liquid. He held it before Jason’s wide horrified eyes and screwed the needle onto the end. Truthfully, he most likely didn’t require sedation as the defiant former Ranger was snuggly bound in an old-fashioned straitjacket.

Firmly grabbing Jason’s leg, he palpated the muscle as he prepared to plunge the long needle into his flesh.

“So disobedient…”

A small whine came from his captive’s throat.

“What’s that? I can’t understand you,” Drakkon teased. “You need to enunciate, darling.”

But speaking was impossible. In addition to the horror show straitjacket, the tyrant had affixed a terrifying sort of ‘muzzle’ to Jason’s lower face. It was made of razor wire and no matter how careful he was, he couldn’t avoid the nicks and small lacerations that oozed thick ruby droplets.

Jason’s cheeks, jaw, and lips stung from the cuts and his salty sweat and tears trickling down into the wounds didn’t help.

Pointing to the device, Drakkon scolded.

“That’s your own fault. I warned you about your foolish sheep’s bleating.”

A kiss to his lips made him jump wildly, jarring him from the past. Tommy jumped to his feet without thinking and flailed wildly, arms pin willing as he lost his balance. For a terrifying moment, he pitched towards the roof’s edge, thoughts of his powers and abilities blanked out in his stupor.

Then strong arms pulled him back, tugging him protectively to Jason’s chest.

“Tommy! I’m sorry! I…”

Then his words were cut off, Tommy’s lips pressing his desperately, hot tears mingling between their mouths. The shaken teen’s fingers clutched the flannel ‘farmer’s’ shirt fearfully, trying to cling to the Red Ranger like an octopus.

‘You know, Thomas… If I’m in hell… where do you think you’re headed? Selfish, misbegotten, psychotic mistake….’

Tommy could only kiss Jason harder.

#lord drakkon #boom! comics power rangers #power rangers #jason scott #halloween prompts

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officialleehadan · 2 years

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Go for a Ride

Hello darlings! Today's story was brought to you by Kat! Darling, thank you so much for your support. It means the world to me! Hope you don't mind. This one's a little more risque than usual.

Prompt: Skyfire Wolves

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“Most men are bothered when they find a blade under my skirts.”

“Most men are cowards.”

Vainen grinned like the wolf he was as he lifted Anghrad up to sit on a table. She was tall, but slim and he was used to sparring with his brothers. Anghrad only laughed and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. The knife in question was one of the ones Vainen had seen when he first saw her kill a man. It was strapped to her calf in a lovely, embossed-leather sheath. The knife had a mother of pearl handle.

His brothers would never let him live it down if they found out he was almost as distracted by her knives as he was by the stretch of pale shoulder he had freed from her gown. What could he say? He liked his lovers to be as dangerous as he was.

Anghrad certainly fit his taste to perfection. She was lethal, ruthless, beautiful, and seemed as interested in him as he was in her. He might be a wolf, but he was raised right. If Anghrad hadn’t, enthusiastically, accepted this particular proposition, he wouldn’t have his hands up her skirt.

Not that she wasn’t perfectly able to kill him herself if she cared to.

“Besides,” he continued between kisses that left him half-drunk. His shirt was long gone and he was halfway done unlacing her gown, although he kept getting distracted by her tempting lips. “How could I fall in love with a princess who couldn’t do her own stabbing?”

“Love is a strong word,” Anghrad said. She gave his hair a sharp pull, and suddenly there was a knife, a different one than the pretty one on her calf, at his throat. He really wasn’t sure where it had come from. She seemed to have as many knives as, well, he did. “You know what I’ve done to the last three suitors to pursue a suit with me?”

“You haven’t stabbed me yet,” Vainen said and held her gaze. He didn’t flinch when the razor edge of the knife slid against his skin, but didn’t quite bite inward. Her grip was absolutely steady. Whoever trained her to use a knife had trained her to perfection. There was nothing more intriguing than a deadly woman with a lot of knives. “But go ahead. I’m not bothered by a little blood.”

Anghrad laughed, showing all her teeth. Vainen felt his knees go weak at the way her eyes stayed fixed on his and the way her knife didn’t waver. He fought the urge to lean into it, just to see what she would do. He wasn’t at his brightest when a beautiful woman held a knife to his skin. “Brave.”

“Stupid, according to my brothers.”

“Are they smarter than you?”

“Some days. Are you going to cut my throat if I kiss you again?”

“Try it and find out.”

There was no way Vainen could ignore a challenge like that. He leaned into her knife, was glad to feel her move with him, and trailed his lips over her throat. She bit his lip playfully. The knife vanished away to wherever she had it hidden in the first place. He might have gone looking for it, seeking more of those pretty knives she had hidden away under her silk dress, but a banging at the door interrupted them.

“Hurry up in there!”

“My brother,” Vainen snarled against Anghrad’s throat where he had been eagerly leaving bite-marks over her pale skin. There would be little question who she had been with, and no question at all what they had been doing. Considering the marks she had given him, she didn’t mind. She laughed and pulled his hair again, hard enough to make his voice catch in his throat. “Go away, Kernac!”

“Mother is looking for you!”

“Tell her I went for a ride!”

“You did,” Anghrad purred in his ear too quietly for Kernac to hear, and bit his shoulder. Vainen cursed wickedly under his breath. She just laughed and bit him again. “But not on a horse.”

“Wench,” he growled at her and glared at the door, arms full of the beautiful, distracting princess. He didn’t want to deal with court politics now. Not when he had something much more entertaining on offer. “Ten minutes!”

“Fine, fine,” Kernac allowed. He was laughing. Vainen resolved to flatten him at training later. Ezanter would help too if he asked nicely. It was good for a little brother to get chased around now and again and Kernac was asking for it. “I’ll see if I can’t distract her. But you owe me!”

“I’ll pay you back by not beating you bloody later! Get going!”

There was a grumble from the door, but then the sound of footsteps headed away down the hall. Vainen sighed in relief. His brothers were awful, both of them, but at least they were a pack. Kernac wouldn’t give him away unless their mother truly insisted. If it was important, he wouldn’t have agreed to give them ten more minutes.

“I hope your sisters aren’t as much trouble as my brothers,” he told Anghrad, who was still snickering against his bare shoulder and seemed to be considering whether or not to bite him again. He rather hoped she did, and tangled his hand in her long hair. She gasped appealingly and smiled like she might still stab him if he gave her a reason. “So, how much trouble do you think we can manage in the next ten minutes?”

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Skyfire Wolves:

Wolf Pack

Under Silk

Flirt and Fail (Subscriber Only!)

Tactical Decision

Go for a Ride (New!)

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MASTERLIST

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