#ikemen vampire arthur conan doyle

[valkyyriia]

*gasp* ARTHUR? In my asks? Blessed day. I love him. 😭

Thank you for your contribution to the brainrot Nati!!

[xxsycamore]

𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝘼𝙍𝙏𝙃𝙐𝙍 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙔𝙑𝙀𝙎 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮

↬ 💌 Arthur & Yves reassuring you about your body image, sprinkled with some extra words of affirmation.

Arthur Conan Doyle x f!Reader; Yves Kloss x f!Reader • rating: G • tags: Fluff; Comfort; Insecurity; Body Image; Food • wordcount: 1, 354 • masterlist

For my darling @maries-gallery 💕

ARTHUR:

It's nothing new for Arthur to barge in your shared bedroom, full-well knowing you've just taken a shower - to pretend he's merely looking for something in his belongings, but never exiting the room without stealing a kiss or two.

Today, as usual, you squeal and tie your towel more securely around your form when you see him entering - but while your affection is genuine when you do return the romantic gesture, the way you strictly prevent the fabric from revealing anything leaves an impression on him.

"Shy, Luv? It's not like there's something I haven't seen under that skimpy towel..."

You smack him playfully and change the topic, neither falling prey to his teasing nor going all the way to push him out through the door and lock from the inside. He brushes his earlier suspicions off as nothing, and goes to the wardrobe instead.

"Need help choosing an outfit for the day, doll? Anything specific in mind? Color?"

There's something heartwarming in letting him pick for you, a way to get to know which articles of clothing he loves on you - but the smile disappears from your face when you see him pick up a dress from the depths of the wardrobe.

"Oh my, hello there. How about this one? I can't recall you sporting it in awhile."

You shake your head and sigh, putting an inevitable start to a difficult conversation, hoping that letting it out would at least make things a little better.

You tell Arthur that you've been avoiding certain clothes lately as you just couldn't feel right in them. The image in the mirror produces a cruel comparison most often than not, with dolled-up ladies crossing Paris' streets, their striking forms clad in fashionable outfits, each one prettier than the other. While you're fortunate to be able to acquire what they're wearing via Comte's limitless generosity, the resemblance ends there. Even the dress that Arthur held out just now, soaked in happy memories, seems to have suited your body better at some earlier point in time. Now, you're not so sure.

Somewhere amidst your confession, Arthur has had you seated on the sofa, rubbing gentle circles into your hands. The gesture prevents those hot tears from spilling past the corners of your eyes, and your lover listens to all you have to say before speaking.

"I could say something was troubling you lately. So, that's what it was, hmm? You're in luck, my dear, because I do happen to have a sharp eye, and besides... not to boast, but, I doubt another chap knows your body better than me. I could even compete with you, if needed. I assure you, you haven't changed a bit; it was this morning when I kissed your eyelids good morning and you opened them for the first time of the day to greet mine - the same eyes I love and adore - and then you let me brush your hair because I couldn't stop complimenting the way the morning sun kisses its ends and colors them with its rays. You asked if I ever get tired of it, no? Same as when I compare our fingers, how I compliment the good pair they make when intertwined. You're still the woman I fell head over heels for. So don't let those thoughts erase the beautiful smile from your face, Luv. It's the smile you're always wearing best."

YVES:

Being Yves' lover means having eyes on you every time you're spotted together - or maybe it's him who they're looking at? With his natural looks and the boost coming from his top-notch fashion sense, he's quite eye-catching, and you don't blame others for staring...

With the lately rising insecurities you have about your body come some pretty nasty thoughts: some of which, but not limited to, your lover and his perception of you. Next to the beautiful Yves, you feel your form strikingly unmatching - is someone as observant as the fifth prince able to deny how you mar his image?

It gets worse each time freshly baked sweets are brought into the Domestic affairs faction's office - a bunch of hands nearly bumping into one another in their haste to secure a treat for themselves; full-mounted exclamations of tasting something utterly delectable accompanied by chewing noises. This is just how it is when Yves bakes. And while the princes have surprisingly and wholesomely learned to save a piece for you (even though they're SURE Yves must bake some kind of super-duper special sweets exclusively for his lover!), you don't take advantage of your privilege today again. Someone cheers with "Yay, more for me!" while others jokingly ask if you're being picky about one of the ingredients again - a frequent lie of yours.

Small excuses work with them, but you didn't realize that Yves saw the exchange this time. His brows are furrowed when he approaches you.

"Come with me. I need to talk to you."

Listening to him, Yves' words catch you by surprise as you learn how the situation appears in his eyes. You've been avoiding showing up with him in public; you've been refusing to eat most of what he bakes, you've even refused to wear some of the outfits he picked specially for you.

"You should at least let me know if you don't like my sweets so I can change the ingredients... not that I'm making them all for you! I mean, my brothers eat them too, but... oh, well! They can just make do with what they have!"

No, it's pretty obvious that he bakes everything with you in mind first and foremost... his true tsundere nature brings laughter to your lips, and you feel a little more at ease. And here you thought he nearly lost interest in you.

Before he can get even more confused and hurt by you laughing at him, you take a deep breath and confess what's been troubling you. It's hard for your voice not to waver, and you avoid Yves' clear blue eyes that are getting wider in surprise by the second.

When he takes your hands and makes you meet his gaze, he's furrowing his brow again. You can tell he's going over his words carefully before he lets them flow, the strong emotion making it harder for him.

"I can't believe you! You worried me a lot, making me wonder if you're sick or if you're unhappy being associated with me. Forgive me for thinking this. It's just something that has happened before, because of who I am, so for a second I thought you wouldn't want to be seen with the infamous fifth prince. I'm sorry for doubting you. Now that I know the real reason behind your behavior... I want to tell you something. I can't change the way you look at yourself, or to make you love your body, but I can promise you I always look at you with love. Ever since we became lovers, it's like I want to show you off... don't laugh! I mean it! And it applies to all of you - your looks, but also your sharp mind, your bright personality, your smile, the emotions written in your eyes. And people won't see all of that, and I actually prefer it that way. You're perfect the way you are, but there will always be perfect things about you that only I can see. I keep them to myself because it's embarrassing sometimes, but I will make sure to share them with you more often, seeing that a certain someone is blind to the truth of just how perfect she is! But please know, that just as you accept me for who I am, I too accept you for who you are. What your body looked like, and looks like presently, or how it might change in the future, I already fell inlove with it once, because it's yours. I'm not good with words, so make sure to take notice of my actions too, if you will! And don't hide from me... I want to be here for you when those thoughts come troubling you again."

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[hhoneypop]

@hhoneypop. — “ i had to return to darkness, i couldn't stand the sun. . . ” (franz kafka.)

[alby-rei]

The Frivolous Phantom (IkeVamp; Luigi's Mansion AU, Part 4)

a/n: What do you mean this silly ghost AU has LORE??? What will you do against a playful ghost who can split himself into multiples? Only one way to find out! Happy reading~ ✨

Series: Comte's Ghost Mansion Tags: Humor, Crack treated seriously, Luigi’s Mansion AU, Spooky scary spectral vampires, Ghostbuster MC Word Count: ~1900 words Characters: You, Sebastian, Arthur Previous: Part 3 Next: Part 5

~*~

You returned to Sebastian, retelling the events of your incursion. The rain had stopped by now and the clouds parted. He scrawled furiously in his notebook, like your words were made of gold. You expected him to be mad at you for capturing a couple of his esteemed residents.

“While I should be, I’m more impressed that you succeeded at all. They’ll be fine. Keep up the good work.”

He took the Poltergust off your shoulders.

“I suppose an explanation is in order,” he said.

“About time, yeah.”

“Follow me.”

Sebastian ushered you into the garden shed. It was a lot bigger than its exterior suggested. Sebastian unlocked a compartment at the bottom of the machine. Two portrait paintings emerged, one for each captured resident. The musician maintained the scowl he wore upon capture while the trapeze artist smiled ear to ear with his eyes closed.

“He’s a writer actually,” Sebastian corrected you regarding the latter.

“A clown-ish one,” you added.

Sebastian chuckled. “It’s part of his charm. Come, I made you some food. You must be starving.”

“Yes, please!”

He asked for your choice of beverage, impressing you with the variety he listed. Alongside it, he brought you some bread, cheese, and a handful of washed grapes.

“I grew them myself in this garden,” said Sebastian, referring to the grapes.

You thanked him for the food. While nowhere near a full meal, it regained some of your energy.

“How long till the sunrise?” You asked.

“Not for another six hours or so.”

This was going to be a long night.

A yawn escaped past your lips, but you had no desire to sleep. You returned the conversation to the portrait paintings. Sebastian explained that the residents weren’t originally ghosts, but some mysterious event caused their spirits to roam at night.

One of the residents, a bright-minded inventor, built the Poltergust 1899 to take care of that. As the only unaffected human, it was Sebastian’s job to capture them, lest they escaped the mansion and never returned.

Every night, Sebastian patrolled the halls. And every morning, he placed the portrait painting above their bed to return the spirit to its vessel. When the residents woke up, they retained no memory of their ghostly wandering.

“And what made you think it was okay to put me in harm’s way?” You said, quirking an eyebrow.

“Harm? They won’t hurt you. Unless you disturbed them in some way, like I had specifically instructed you not to.”

You mumbled some excuse, but Sebastian was not convinced. What you had not noticed before were the dark circles under his eyes. Fighting off those ghosts was not so terrible, you persuaded yourself, and you had nothing else to do for the next six sleepless hours. It was kind of fun, in a strange way. A far departure from your regular life. And if it all turned out to be a dream, you wanted to see it through till the end.

After a good while of rest, you asked Sebastian to hand over the refueled Poltergust.

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re willing to go back in?”

“You, sir, still need to find me a way home. But until then, I’ll take care of it.”

He thanked you profusely and became quite animated. Upon seeing your shocked face, he pardoned his excitement and returned to his stoic self.

To ease your journey, he replaced the residents’ belongings in your pouch with a master key and a map.

You decided to explore the west wing this time. The first unlocked door revealed a massive library with aisles of bookshelves on two floors.

You’ve come to realize that everything in this mansion was so…grand. No wonder the butler looked tired. If he held sole responsibility for the whole manor’s upkeep, of course he would jump at the opportunity to enlist your help.

Walking by the bookshelves, your bookworm heart could not help but inspect the titles of each aisle. Most of them were written in French, some were in English, and the rest were new to you.

Something skittered down from the ceiling. It was a colony of cotton-like creatures with little bat wings and dotted black eyes. You waved the tube of the Poltergust at them, but they weren't affected by your presence. They seemed harmless. Cute, even.

"There you are, Sebas!" A voice called out behind you.

You tried to turn around, but you could not move, as though you were tied up. "Oh dear, you're not Sebastian at all." The voice lilted, sounding amused rather than disappointed.

"Let me go!" You wiggled as hard as you could. As you did, the invisible rope around you took shape as two tweed-covered arms.

"Easy there, dove. It wouldn't do for a pretty bird to injure itself in its haste."

You pushed your elbows as far back as you could; you just needed to reach the switch on the machine.

"Where are my manners? The name's Arthur, mystery writer at your service, but you can call me anytime." He winked.

Another writer, another clown. But some things were better left unsaid, you reminded yourself. You implored him again to release you.

“Humor me, why don’t you? I’ve been deprived of good company for so long.” You could practically see his pouty lips and puppy-dog eyes matching his tone. “Oh, I’ve got it! Let’s play a game, shall we?”

He let you go. Just as before, when you reached for the doorknob, it was locked. You readied your Poltergust 1899, bracing yourself for whatever he may throw at you.

When you turned back around, there were three of him. Three separate, identical copies of him. They all wore the same blue three-piece suit with a loose tie, just as they all wore the same cheeky grin.

“Turning your back in a duel may prove a fatal mistake, my dear,” said one of them. “But I am nothing if not a gentle-ghost. Here’s how this game works: Only one of us is the real Arthur. If you can catch the real me, you win. If you catch one of my clones, we get to play again.”

A one-in-three shot at nabbing the right one. Not the worst odds, you reckon, but choose incorrectly and you may find yourself stuck here way longer than your patience would allow. You had no negotiation power in the matter.

“Fine, I’ll play your little game.”

The three ghosts beamed excitedly, zipping around with incredible speed. They roamed freely in and out of the bookshelves. Every now and then, they would look back at you, like puppies making sure their master was still playing along.

It was one thing to play spot-the-difference when hovered side-by-side, it was another thing entirely when they were zooming around like children riding out a sugar rush. There must be some way to slow them down, you thought.

Your first attempt was to brute force it—aim at the nearest one and see what happens. You caught one on his path out of a bookshelf, but a well-timed levitating book took the hit and blocked the vacuum tube, allowing him to escape. It was a copy of ‘A Study in Scarlet’.

“Cheeky,” he lilted. “But I won’t go easy on you. Unless you could offer me something enticing in return.”

With every word he uttered, your desire to put him in his place only rose.

More books were pulled out of their stations to shield the frivolous phantoms. You tried to move them out of the way, similar to how you did with the violins, but these books were too light and stuck to your tube instantly. There was not enough resistance to redirect their course.

You needed a way to shoot them far enough to secure a capture.

You leaned against a bookshelf between the aisles to catch your breath. You had been running around with little success. Seeing you dispirited, the flirtatious triplets hovered around you, leaning out of the bookshelves with arms crossed.

“Well, this is no fun,” said the first in front of you.

“How about a hint?” said the second to your right.

“And a prize for your efforts!” said the third to your left.

While they chatted over ‘prize’ ideas, you look at each one properly. There actually were some differences between them. One of them, floating in front of you, pushed up his square-frame glasses, and you wondered if it had always been there. The one to your left wore a golden earring at the top of his right ear. It did not seem incorporeal like the rest of him. Like he wore it specifically for the occasion. The last one wore gloves of midnight black.

The earring bearer spoke next, “I can confidently tell you that I’m not the real Arthur.”

The one wearing gloves added, “In fact, he’s the real Arthur.” He pointed at the glasses-wearing ghost.

“Me?!” The accused shot back. “I say that’s a bold-faced lie!”

“And the best part,” said the third. “Only one of us is telling the truth. Good luck!”

And they were back to their zooming selves. The machine weighed you down the longer it remained on your back. It’s low rumble went from soothing to distracting as you tried to think.

If the second one is telling the truth…then the first one is lying. 

There was also the issue of the troublesome books that each one kept near and dear. You kept trying anyway. Each book that you caught was replaced by another. Half of the bookshelves were emptied by now. You wondered if there was a limit to their range. All the while, the frivolous phantoms observed your strategy with intrigue.

But if the first is lying, then there would be two real Arthurs. A contradiction.

The glasses-wearing one had a tendency to loop like an infinite symbol, like his course was predefined. The earring bearer always stayed in your vision, but just out of reach.

On the other hand, if the second is lying… then the glasses-wearer was telling the truth.

Another book obscured your aim. A copy of Bram Stoker’s ‘Dracula’. In your frustration, you reversed the strength dial a little too far, and it shot the book up onto the second floor of the library.

And if that’s the case, then the first is lying, too. It’s worth a shot.

“Hey! That was one of my favorites,” said the earring-bearing ghost. He turned to fly after it, and that’s when your opportunity arose.  

It must be you!

With a strong conviction, you cranked up the strength of the Poltergust and aimed at the retreating ghost.

“Looks like turning your back was your fatal mistake, sir.”

As soon as his tail was caught in the machine, the other two phantoms vanished in a show of smoke.

You heard something clank against the floor. It was the golden earring, and beside it was a little treasure chest. Inside it was a brilliant blue gem, and a message saying, ‘Best two out of three?’

You rolled your eyes, trying your best to push down the smile that made your cheeks hurt. The click of the library door signaled that it was unlocked again. You sighed with relief and made your way down the hall to the next target with Sebastian’s map as your guide.   

~*~

Tagging: @starlitmanor-network

Back to Masterlist

[alice-revolution]

Merry Christmas!

Official art by Shiro Yamada-sensei ❤️

[otomefoxystar]

Duty of a Princess - Chapter 3

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Pairing : Aruthur X MC

Genre : Angst/ Fluff

TW: None

It was mid-morning when hooves and men chattering outside woke you up. Opening your heavy eyes, you went to the balcony to see men unloading a carriage when a tall man stepped out. You took a deep breath and turned to go back inside, feeling as though sleep had all but abandoned you since ending things with Arthur. You walked swiftly through the castle halls until you reached the training room where all your father's knights trained. Luckily, it was still early enough that no one was there. You had changed into pants and a loose-fitted shirt. An outfit for a man, but you couldn't very well swing a wooden sword in a dress. 

You had begun training since the split with Arthur. Nothing was more painful than seeing the man you love in the halls of your home and being unable to embrace him, so instead, both of you would cast your eyes away from the other or turn to walk in a different direction. You were definitely avoiding each other. Training helped clear your head of him and helped you focus on something else. It was something even Arthur himself noticed you started doing. It was either training or riding that consumed your days. When you rode, you often slowed by your old meeting spot, hoping Arthur would be there and you could feel his arms wrapping you again. You always came to your senses, though, and you would race past it with tears in your eyes. You knew you had to put him behind you, but the heart wants what the heart wants. You swung at the dummies in the training room, striking them and twirling around as you did so.

Sebastian walked into the training room with a somber look on his face. It was almost as if he knew what you were going through. Maybe everyone knew. It seemed that way, at least. "Your parents are asking for you. Your Highness." He said with a bow. You struck the dummy again, harder this time. You put the sword away, huffing from the exertion of training. "You may want to get cleaned up; your betrothed is with them, along with all the necessary people to discuss the matter of your marriage.

" He took a breath and gave you a severe look, "In other words, the scribe will be there." Your eyes widened, "you knew it was him. You knew all along, didn't you?" You clenched her teeth, "It is my job to know." You were frustrated with your feelings and lashed out before you could control your temper. "And yet you didn't tell anyone. You didn't stop me you didn't stop him. You allowed it, and because of that, we fell in love; now look at my situation! In love with one man and being forced to marry another, and Arthur. Arthur has to watch me marry someone else, write wedding invitations, and do whatever else my dear parents order him to do. He can't stop it, he can't voice his opinion, he has to go along with it."

"You're hurting, and Arthur is hurting. I can see that plain as day. I allowed it to happen because I have always been on your side, Princess. I know you don't know that, but I am, and Arthur is my friend. I wanted you both to be happy, and you both were. I didn't anticipate this to happen, so you have my apologies. As second in line, I thought you wouldn't be required to marry into nobility, but I was wrong. I am sorry, Princess." Sebastion bowed again profoundly.

Tears fell, and you sniffled. "I can't, Sebastian. I can't walk into a room where my heart is so divided. I haven't seen Arthur since we split, and I don't think I can walk into a place where the man I want to be with and the man who will marry me are in the same room." Sebastian lifted her chin.

"You are the Princess. You can do anything, so perk up. Hold your head up high and dry those tears. Show them what you are made of." You nodded your head and wiped your tears away. Your heart was pounding from nervousness, but Sebastian was right. You are the Princess and had to do this for the country. You had united with him to make allies, or so you were told. 

"Come, Your Highness, get cleaned up and accompany me to the throne room." Walking scared but determined, you took a deep breath and entered the throne room. You arrived before your suitor came. "Come here, my daughter." You spotted Arthur sitting not far away, his face sullen. Was he perhaps as miserable as you were? No matter, you had to go forward with this marriage. "We are waiting on your suitor, Prince Theodorus. We are going to discuss the terms of your marriage. "Yes, father" 

"Why so formal, my dear?" He asked, concerned, "You must still be angry." He shook his head. "It is irrelevant. You must do your duty to the family, to the country." Arthur looked at the King and wanted to run away. He had to be in the same room with the man who was taking his love away forever, and all he could do was sit there and watch. "I am glad you have accepted that you must do this." The King looked up and saw the Prince walking into the throne room. "here he comes." The King said as Theodorus walked majestically into the room. "Prince Theodorus, I am so happy that you've arrived. Please come forth and meet your betrothed. Arthur saw you flinch at the word, but he knew you were just as powerless as he was in the situation. 

Theodorus kneeled, bowing his head. "Your Majesty, I hope the Princess and I can have a long and happy marriage." Both of your parents were beaming, obviously pleased with this Prince. All while you were internally rolling your eyes, Sebastion whispered in your ear. "Behave yourself." You inhaled and stepped forward, avoiding eye contact with Arthur. It stung, but he knew that things couldn't be like before, with stolen glances and a blush rising to your cheeks. 

You had to focus on the man in front of you from now on. You were over, but seeing you allow this other man, this Prince, to kiss your hand made him boil with a kind of frustration and jealousy he'd never felt before. He wanted to run up to you and steal you away, kissing you like you've never been kissed before. "Arthur, are you alright?" Sebastian whispered, knowing that he, in fact, was not okay, but it didn't change the fact that he was concerned for his friend. 

Arthur sat up straight, "yeah," he cleared his throat, "yeah, I'm just hot." Sebastian looked at him with skepticism. The King put his hand out, summoning his daughter to come to him. With your family's scrutinizing eye burning into you, you had no choice but to take your father's hand. The King stood up with his daughter's hand in his. "I present to you my daughter Princess _ _ _. The Queen and I give her to you willing to unite our countries." You curtsied low, showing the Prince respect. "Prince Theodorus." As she rose, he smiled, "Please call me Theo." The King laughed. "The wedding shall take place five days from now." The King turned to Arthur, who was busy writing down the details of what the King was saying. "Arthur, please write out the invitations and get them to the guests." Arthur bowed his head. "Yes, your Majesty," He said, trying to keep to business, pushing his feelings down. 

Hearing Arthur's voice for the first time in days was like a vise grip on your heart. If only you could run to him and take him into your arms. "This meeting is adjourned, oh and Sebastian have a seamstress come by. The Queen has requested the Princess be fitted for her wedding gown." As everyone left, you bowed your head, trying to keep your weeping heart silent. You slowly exited the throne room, and Arthur watched as you ran outside, desperate for air. You felt like you were suffocating. He leaned against the window, watching you run to the stables and, moments later, dash out the castle gates on your horse.

He knew your relationship with that horse and how the outdoors brought you solace. "Damnit, why'd I have to fall for the bloody Princess?" He stormed off to start wedding invitations, how he wanted to refuse to do it at all, but. Like you, he had his part to play in this. At least he didn't have to marry someone he didn't know. As horrible as he felt, he knew you probably felt a hundred times worse. He had no idea what you were feeling, which was driving him mad.

When the sun had finally started to set, you made your way back to the castle grounds, and Illuminated in the light was the Prince walking with your sister. Trying not to be found out, you made your way to the stable as quietly as possible. Stealthily, you sneak back into the castle and into your bedroom. You plopped into the plush bedding, holding up a dove necklace Arthur had given you a while back. The purple gems it was made of twinkled in the moonlight. A tear you tried to push back escaped your eye. You were getting so sick of always crying. Your door suddenly burst open. Looking at who had entered, you grunted, "Go away, Emile." She raised her eyebrow.

"You can't tell me to go away. Look at you! You're a mess! Why won't you talk to Theo? He is charming and not to mention handsome." You rolled your eyes. "I know you were with someone else before. Just get over it." You put the necklace on your bedside table and sat up, glaring at your older sister. "If you like him so much, why don't you marry him?!" You growled with a bit more aggression than you meant to. "Why are you like this? Are you so spoiled that you can't do this one thing for our family? For the country?" You stood up from the bed 

"One thing? I have to spend the rest of my life with him, someone I don't know or love. Why can't anyone see my side of things? You know what? Screw duty, screw the country, and most of all, screw you!" You tried leaving the room angrily, but your sister grabbed your arm. "You little brat! I am the future Queen, and you will listen to me. If not as your sister, then I am forced to order you to stay. In. This. Room. If you even so much as think about leaving, I will have you thrown into the dungeons. So help me, God, you will do what you are told!" She left, slamming the door. 

"What could you possibly accomplish by keeping her locked away?" Her mother said, having heard the whole encounter, while passing by.

"She can't run away before she marries Prince Theo. I spoke with him earlier while she went on her escapade, and he says he'd like to at least talk with her. So I tried to intervene, but she's so stubborn." They continued to talk as they walked.

"She has to marry him regardless," her mother said as they walked away.

[chevlvrs]

This genre of men

[arthurs-puppygirl]

gonna dream about Arthie 💙

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡⋅☾⋅☁️ ˚₊‧‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡⋅☾⋅☁️ ˚₊‧‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡⋅☾⋅☁️ ˚

[namine-somebodies-nobody]

MC: The floor is lava!

Vincent: *helps MC onto the counter*

Theo: *kicks Arthur off the sofa*

Arthur: *lays on the floor*

MC: ...Are you okay?

Arthur: No.

[ikevamp-twitter]

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Ikevamp Manga Preview

Ikemen Vampire Chapter 13 (Arthur)

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[valkyyriia]

A Study in Green

Words: 2915

CW: Fingering, Artistic Liberties with History | NSFW

Pairing: Arthur Conan Doyle / Female-Bodied Reader

Prompt: Abandoned Mansion (caution!)

Notes: This is I think the third time I've ever written smut, so please bear with me. I also thought the title was rather cliche, but I liked it, so... I also think I got a little carried away. Whoops. And Mo, if you read this - I remembered that comment I left you on your fic about the Paris Green and MC freaking out and it immediately came to mind when I rolled this prompt with my dice.

Crossposted on Ao3 here.

Banners/dividers by @natimiles.

For @xxsycamore's event, Sexy Ikemen Summer!

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” You asked, eyeing the abandoned building with suspicion. It appeared to have been an older, late-eighteenth century mansion. Ivy crept up the crumbling mortar like grasping tendrils, giving it a foreboding look. 

“It’ll be fine, luv,” Arthur said, a cheeky grin on his face. “A little urban exploration never hurt anyone.” 

“I would like to see the evidence to back up that stateme-” You were cut off by Arthur tugging you close and kissing you sweetly.

“Come now. I swore to protect you, didn’t I?” He tapped your nose with a gloved finger. “That includes the dangers of uninhabited, derelict places and all the things that go bump in the dark. You have absolutely nothing to fear as long as I am here with you, okay?” 

You exhaled shakily and offered a weak smile. “Okay.” 

“Besides,” Arthur added. “You do make a rather adorable damsel in distress.” 

You stuck your tongue out at him, and he laughed, taking your hand and leading you inside. 

One thing you had never quite gotten used to in this era was the sticky heat and lack of air conditioning. Even though the climate wasn’t too different from what you were used to, the fashion of the day was much more stifling. The summer sun was currently high in the air, beating oppressive rays down on the building. Fortunately, the mansion was still in reasonably good repair; the roof was intact everywhere except the far left wing, where the walls had collapsed in on themselves. It offered some protection from the heat, paltry though it was.

Arthur had, true to his word, faithfully stuck by your side. The vampire hardly even let go of your hand, giving you something to anchor yourself to. You were grateful for his considerate nature. 

The sunlight shining through the cracked stained glass windows cast glittering constellations on the dusty wood of the parlor floor. Furniture draped in age-stained cream cloth was positioned in key places around the room. If it weren’t for the thick layer of dust and the obvious smell of decaying wood, you would almost think the owners were just out on vacation. 

Arthur had done some amount of research on the building before bringing you here, aided by le Comte and his connections. As it turns out, the owners of this mansion had fled to America twenty or so odd years ago due to some sort of legal trouble. The Crown had seized the mansion to repay the family’s debts and it had remained uninhabited since. According to Comte, the left wing collapse happened a few months after the Crown took over the property, and they hadn’t tried to renovate or rebuild the structure. Ultimately, other than the left side, the mansion should have been perfectly safe - within reason for an abandoned building - for a first-time urban explorer. 

He grinned. “Look at this,” Arthur said, using your joined hands to point at the desk in the corner of the room. It was neatly organized, a couple of books stacked on the side. A half-written letter lay on the workspace. A quill pen sat in a long-since-dried inkwell, the bottom of it stained black with India ink. “They really were in a hurry,” Arthur commented, pulling his tortoiseshell glasses from his pocket and setting them on his nose. “Let’s see…”

He blew gently on the surface, scattering the dust. Your eyes watered and you cough into your elbow. “Sorry,” Arthur murmured, rubbing your back lightly as he looked at the letter. 

“To my love,

“I hope the day comes when I can see you again. Father says we must leave in order to stay out of prison, and I dread leaving you behind. I had desperately dreamed of the day I would make you my wife, but I fear we must place those plans on hold for now. Wait for me, my love. I will return for you.

“Forever yours,”

And then nothing. There was no signature. You frowned. “The poor dears.. I hope he was able to stay in contact. Or at least let her know what happened.” 

Arthur studied the paper intensely for a moment, before looking at the books next to it. “I can’t imagine she wouldn’t know what happened. These kinds of things are rather big gossip in the upper echelons of society.” The hand on your back moved to your waist and pulled you closer to him. “Her family likely refused any further contact with him or his family after they left. Even if he continued to write to her, she probably never saw any of those letters.” 

“That’s so sad,” you said, leaning into him. “It sounds like he really loved her.” 

“If he loved her half as much as I love you, he must have loved her a lot,” Arthur replied, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “If you would like, luv, we can maybe try to deliver this letter to its intended recipient. There’s probably some other correspondence between the two stashed somewhere here, if we look for it.”

You looked up at him in surprise. He had a kind smile on his lips, but his eyes were serious. If it were something you wished to do, he would make it happen somehow. “I would, but,” you started to say. “What if it opens up old wounds? What if she’s moved on and this just brings it back up?” You sighed and laid your head against Arthur’s shoulder once more. He ran his thumb up and down your waist in soothing motions. “I don’t want to make things worse.” 

“Even if she has moved on, it could give her closure,” Arthur pointed out. “But you are right; it could cause more trouble for them. Maybe we should leave it here?”

You mulled it over for a moment. “If I were in her shoes.. And you had moved away for some reason against your will, I don’t think I could really move on. Even if I was forced to marry someone else. I love you too much to ever forget you.” 

Arthur was silent for a moment. “Then we should do everything we can to make sure it’s delivered. Even if it is twenty-something years late,” he said, voice quiet and somewhat choked. You went to move away and look up at him, but Arthur’s hand kept your head against his neck. His free arm wrapped around you and he held you firmly to his body. You gave up fighting him, and just locked your arms around his neck. “Thank you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

Arthur finally let go and stepped away from you, looking around the room once more. “Let’s see if we can find out who the lucky lady is, yeah? The game, my dear, is on!” 

The two of you went looking around the parlor for any other correspondence between the pair. Coming up empty handed there, you moved to other rooms. Normally Arthur would have been able to make an educated deduction on which room likely belonged to the author, but with the state of disrepair the house was in it was much more difficult. Or at least, that’s what Arthur said - but you suspected he just wanted an excuse to lead you around the house by the hand for a little longer. Not that you’d complain about that.

The two of you looked inside a bedroom suite on the second floor. The door creaked open, revealing a lavish room, covered in linens matching those in the parlor. A thick layer of dust coated the room as it did everywhere else in the house. You carefully stepped over to another desk, this one facing the window that overlooked the long-overgrown lawn. Spread across it were several letters in varying states of completion. Some were well-worn, clearly having been read over multiple times. Those ones appeared to have a different author than the one found downstairs. 

“Alyssa Bloodwell,” Arthur murmured. “That name doesn’t ring any bells for me, but Daddy Dearest knows just about everyone worth knowing among Europe’s elite. We can ask him when we get back. For now, though…” Arthur turned to you, a devilish smile on his lips.

“Arthur,” you warned him to no avail. He quickly stepped forward and grabbed you by the hips. Your arms snaked around his neck automatically. 

He grinned. “What is it, oh darling love of mine?” He gave you an innocent peck on the lips. 

“Oh, don’t even start, Arthur,” you protested, but made no motion to step out of his embrace. His lips moved to the side of your face and you reflexively tilted your head to give him access. “We can’t - not here.” 

“Says who?” Arthur murmured seductively, nibbling at the shell of your ear. “It’s not like there’s anyone here to stop us.” He walked you backwards to a sturdy chest of draws against the far wall, and easily lifted you up onto it. “You’ve been looking positively delectable all day. I can’t help myself from wanting a taste.” He leaned in and kissed you more insistently, his fingers dancing around the ribbon at the collar of your blouse. 

“You are incorrigible,” You responded weakly, already returning his kiss. 

“But you like it, don’t you?” Arthur replied, grazing your earlobe with his fangs. “You dirty little thing.” He ghosted his lips down the side of your neck, pressing a kiss right over your pulse point, before mouthing the spot and sucking hard. You cried out at the sharp pain of it. 

Arthur ran his thumb over the red blooming there. “Beautiful,” he said. “I would bite you, but then I’d have to carry you back to grab a carriage.” He ran his tongue down the column of your throat, his fingers gently setting the ribbon to the side and dragging the top of your blouse down. His other hand slid up your skirt, the thumb running back and forth over the flesh of your inner thigh. “And I really don’t want to have to explain that one to the constable,” Arthur whispered, his breath coming out in puffs against your collarbone.

The drag of his sharp fangs against the skin of your chest combined with Arthur’s fingers moving higher underneath your skirt caused your breath to hitch. His gloved hand pressed gently against your clothed sex, applying a small bit of pressure through your underwear. You let out a soft whine at the contact. He rubbed his fingers back and forth between your thighs while leaving love bites all over your exposed chest. 

His lips kissed back up your throat, and he pulled away to look at you. Smirking, he pulled his hand from between your thighs and took the glove in between his teeth. Arthur slowly, teasingly, pulled it off of his hand, the now bare appendage returning to its former place between your legs.

“Arthur,” you whimpered as he slid the material of your panties aside. He dragged his fingers back and forth through the wetness gathering there, circling the sensitive nub at the apex of your thighs. 

You threw your head back, a low keening sound escaping your lips as he continued to swirl his fingers between your legs. Arthur shot out his other hand to catch the back of your head.

“Look at me,” he murmured. You bit your lip but did as he asked, and he smiled. “Good girl.” 

Arthur’s thumb brushed against your lips and then he leaned in for a deep kiss. “You’re so cute when you come undone under my fingers like this,” he purred. “You’re normally so put together.” You probably were a sight to behold right now - skirt hiked up to your hips, blouse untied and loosely draped under your cleavage, chest heaving  - you were the very image of debauchery. 

Arthur leaned back in for another kiss, his tongue moving against yours in time with his fingers as they pushed inside of you. 

Your gaze drifted up, suddenly settling on the walls of the room. Your eyes widened and you broke the kiss. “Arthur,” you breathed, voice scratchy. “Is it just me or is that wallpaper green?” 

Arthur groaned and he pulled away with a discontent sigh, his lips forming a frown. “It is, and quite a lovely shade of it. But I don’t see how the color of the wallpaper is more important than my hand.” His fingers deftly continued their work, and you bit back a groan. “Unless you are unsatisfied, and want something more?”

“Because,” you breathed, trying to ignore Arthur’s actions and failing miserably. “Green pigments from around this time period are made of arsenic. It’s poison.” Your thighs trembled as he pleasured you. You were so close-

-and then Arthur suddenly stopped and looked at you, bewildered. You whined at the loss of stimulation. “Really?” He looked away from you, his gaze flitting all around the room that was blanketed in peeling green wallpaper. Arthur’s cobalt gaze met yours again, a light panic to his eyes. “And they didn’t know this?” 

“No! The paint was invented sometime in the early nineteenth century and fell out of use during the mid nineteenth century because people were getting sick,” you sighed, the ache in your belly slowly subsiding, leaving you feeling uncomfortable and wanting for more. “It was later used as a pesticide, until they realized that was dangerous, too.” You were somewhat regretting your choice to stop Arthur at this moment. Curse your brain for being safety-conscious even with an incredibly attractive man between your legs, who wanted nothing more than to bring you pleasure.

Arthur sighed, pressing a kiss to your lips. “We should probably continue this elsewhere, then,” he conceded, removing his hands from your thighs. You shuddered at the loss of contact and watched as he lifted his slick-covered hand to his mouth, sucking on the fingers. The lewd sight sent another flare of smoldering heat right to your belly. “When we get back home, you’re going to have to make up for leaving me hanging like this. I hope you’re ready for the consequences of your actions.”

Bonus:

After speaking with Comte about what you discovered while exploring (trespassing), you and Arthur found yourselves standing outside of a beautiful, well-kept mansion in the Parisian countryside. As you approached the gate, a butler, who was trimming roses nearby, placed his garden shears down and stepped over.

“Bonjour, Mademoiselle, Monsieur,” he greeted. “How can I help you?” 

“Is there an Alyssa Bloodwell at this residence?” You asked.

The butler frowned. “Madame Bloodwell does live here, yes, but we were not advised of any visitors today. Was she expecting you?”

“Not exactly,” you replied. Arthur then pulled a time-worn letter out of his pocket and showed it to the butler, explaining, “I shan’t go into the specifics on how, but we came across this letter and believe its intended recipient is your mistress. We simply wish it to go where it belongs.” 

The butler looked at the letter for a moment before nodding. “If you will, follow me,” he said and led you both into the mansion’s entryway, and from there to the parlor. “Please wait here, mademoiselle, monsieur. I will inform Madame Bloodwell of your visit and we shall proceed from there.” 

After a few minutes of waiting, you looked up to see a woman in her late thirties descending the stairwell. “I am Madame Alyssa Bloodwell. I was informed you had correspondence intended for me?” she asked. 

You curtsied and Arthur handed over the letter. She took it, eyeing it, and her hand dropped to her chest. “Where did you get this?” she said, breathless. 

“We recently came into possession of it,” Arthur said, smoothly avoiding giving the details. “We did some detective work, and determined you were the recipient.” 

Lady Bloodwell walked over to an armchair on uncertain legs and sunk down into it. “Louis,” she murmured. “I haven’t heard from him in twenty four years.” Her fingers caressed the fraying edges of the paper. “His family had been found to be embezzling money from one of the royal artisans and was disgraced. They fled Paris in the middle of the night and caught a ship to America. My parents forbade mention of him and the betrothal was called off. I ended up marrying a local lord, but.. I never did stop wondering what happened to him.” 

You smiled sadly at her. “I’m sorry that we didn’t come bearing current news, but I’m glad we could at least bring you the letter. It’s obvious how much he loved you.” 

“Thank you, cherie,” she said. “Please, is there anything I can do to repay you for doing me this kindness?” 

You began to decline, but Arthur cut in. “If you don’t mind, could you answer a question for us as payment?“

She inclined her head. 

“Did you ever move on?” Arthur asked, a serious look on his face. 

Madame Bloodwell shook her head. “I love my husband,” she began. “But no. Louis was - is - special to me. I never stopped loving him, and I doubt I will stop until the last breath leaves my lungs.” She looked between you and Arthur, a content smile on her face. “I see such a resemblance between you two and myself and Louis. Monsieur, whatever you do, don’t ever lose her.”

Arthur looked straight at you and squeezed your hand. “I won’t.” 

Taglist: @natimiles

[dododrawsstuff]

Congrats on your milestone 🥳 your art is lovely btw (like the Clavis ones? 😍 ahhh)

If you’re feeling up for it, I’d like to request F2 for Arthur 🥹👉👈

Thank you so much!! I'm really happy you like my art! Especially my Clavis pieces, I love drawing him so much 😭

Yes, of course! Thank you for requesting this beautiful vampire hoe (affectionate). Hope you like him!!

Requests for expressions are closed

[haruhar-u]

Hear me out

[crimsonchili]

Will you flush him, or spare him? The decision is yours...

[haaymah]

cute