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robin-the-enby · 9 months ago

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Hi! Can I get an angst/comfort fic of Arthur with a female s/o who is depressed and suicidal? Like he walks in on his s/o c*tting while having a mental breakdown? Or he just notices the cuts/scars? Or he walks in on his s/o bl33ding out?? Idk you can get creative with it I’ve just been having an extremely rough couple months. If this makes you uncomfortable then you can just ignore this request, but thanks anyways! I hope you have a great day/night!! <3

It's my problem if I feel the need to hide

Pairing: Arthur x f!reader

Summary: You feel under the weather, but decide not to tell anyone. As your condition only worsens, your friends start to worry about you. It's when you decide to let everything go your knight with blue eyes and a cheeky smile comes to the rescue.

Warnings: depression, suicidal ideation, not being able to care for oneself (containing lack of hygiene and proper meals), mentions of vomit(ing) (3), negative self talk, dark thoughts

A/N: I am so sorry for the delay of this fic, I hope it will be of use to you still. I haven't written for this fandom in a long while, so getting back to it was a little hard, though I enjoyed it none the less. I tried not to use any (Y/N)s and make it as racially neutral as possible, as well as appearance-neutral (Arthur carries reader 1 time, but he's stronger than a regular human, and y'all deserve it ladies, no matter your size). If anyone wants to talk about anything at all, my dms are open, as well as my ask box. Take care of yourselves and stay safe!

The human mind is possibly nature's greatest invention. The complexity with which all its components interact to keep the body functioning is nothing short of phenomenal. And not only that, but it is aware of itself, encasing its own conscience inside a safe vessel, built and evolved specifically to protect it. And as time progressed, and all the basic needs of the body were cared for, there came a need to create. The body could easily be fed, but the conscience needed a different type of sustenance.

The human mind is capable of incredible things. It can set goals for itself as well as achieve them. It shaped the entire world to its liking, for better or for worse. The human mind is the reason why we live the lives we do today. It is the thing that keeps us alive and sane.

It's funny how drastically that can change.

If you'd ask any of the men residing in the mansion on who the worst enemy of humans is, you're sure all of them would at least mention the human conscience, if not directly choose it. After all, their lives have been woven through with the thread of sorrow, the perpetrator being none other than the human mind- theirs or someone else's.

At this point, you feel like you've at least got a peek at the complex inner worlds of history's greatest minds. Some you knew better than others, but you've been le Comte's servant for long enough to consider all the mansion's residents at least friends.

It was evident to anyone who has been in the mansion for at least a month that all of the people (and vampires) residing in it had some sort of baggage, wearing them down even in their second undead life. Some were better at hiding it than others, some just felt more comfortable keeping their troubles to themselves, while others' emotions and traumas were sometimes too great, too overwhelming to be kept locked inside their bodies.

You've tried your best to help those who needed it, both physically and mentally. It helped a few to open up to you at least a little and as time went on, with your hard work, you've earned respect for yourself even amongst the toughest nuts in the mansion. Poking through others' personal affairs and traumas carried along numerous fights as well as apologies and in the end just served to strengthen the bond between you and the residents. And yet, at times like these...you couldn' help but feel alone.

Like all the others, you had to shoulder the burden of traumas, insecurities and unpleasant experiences collected unwillingly throughout your life. You suspected the others knew of this, or at least had a hunch that you, like all of them, haven't had the pleasure of living a carefree life.

They saw you as an independent, strong and courageous woman, resilient and kind in any situation. And if you were in the right state of mind, you would agree. But lately, you began to doubt these traits of yours, the ones you valued so much and were valued for.

You weren't a stranger to struggling and you knew that anyone in need of help deserved to receive it and should not be scared to ask for it.

So why did the thought of asking for help make your stomach churn?

You've been pondering that question for a few days now. Lately, your entire reality seemed to have shifted. At first, you didn't think anything was wrong, a simple bad day, or a bad week wasn't anything to be too worried about. Nothing a nice, relaxing weekend couldn't fix, right? And yet, when you had tasks to complete, you felt agitated and annoyed, but when you had nothing to do, you were antsy and restless. Always feeling like something should be happening, like you should be doing something. For some reason, you couldn't make yourself to do the things you felt you should be doing.

Soon everything has become a bother. Tasks you could usually do with one hand were suddenly so hard that by the end of the day, the thought of bathing or changing into clean clothes made you want to scream until your throat was sore. And so you chipped away at your routine that you so painstainkingly built when you appeared in this time, until the only remaining activities in your days were your work and some basic necessities.

You knew it was getting bad. And it constantly created an almost numbing whirlwind of emotions you really didn't need right now. Why was this happening? What brought it on? Why now?? Is it going to get worse? All these questions and none you had an answer to. You had guesses and various techniques you learnt here and there back in your time, but...you couldn't bring yourself to do anything.

You were trapped. At least it felt like it. Trapped inside yourself, inside your mind. You knew you should tell someone, that if you let it go on, it would sooner or later consume you. But you couldn't do anything. It was as if your body didn't listen to you.

It seemed the residents were starting to get suspicious of your strange mood as of late. There were times when one of them would approach you and carefully ask about your wellbeing, and as much as you wanted to say something, you never did. You logically knew that the first step would be the one to break through the loop, the one that would make all the others just a little bit easier until you felt normal again. But anytime you tried to break through the selfdestructive habits you had fallen into, a wave of such tirednes, nausea and shame overcame you, that you simply caved to your mind's twisted whispers.

You concluded that your best option at this moment was to lay low and let it pass. Your days have become a steady routine of wake up, work, go to bed. And repeat. It was manageable, at first, even with the onslaught of thoughts your mind was conjuring, managing to come up with more and more ways to taunt you with. But as days and then weeks passed, your energy slowly seeped away from your body and it retaliated by shutting off and out anything unnecessary to save as much of what was remaining.

These things included mostly socialising. You became less talkative, while you would usually enthusiastically engage in conversations, if not outright start them, lately you would not speak unles directly spoken to. It has taken a toll on your concentration as well. Many times when someone would try to strike up a conversation with you, they'd have to repeat their question or even call out your name mid-conversation, because mentally you just weren't there. These things not only started to worry Sebastian, your biggest constant in your new life, given that you worked alongside him every day, but also the other residents. You knew of this, as out of it as you might have seemed and/or have been these past few weeks, you knew that they noticed, because you knew them. But what started as a simple snowball had alrady turned into an avalanche and you had to admit that you were no longer in control.

Not that you really cared. You knew you should care, should be trying harder than ever to break out of this spell, but you couldn't. And every time you might have felt strong enough to confess how you were feeling, to lean on someone, to get the help you knew you needed, a sudden pang of fear pierced your chest and you shrivelled back, back into your own small shell that was your skull.

Trying to find a reason for this foolish anxiety proved not so easy, when your mind would make up about five reasons why you should keep your mouth shut every time you even dared to ask yourself such a question.

What if they didn't believe you?

What if it wasn't not that bad?

What if you were just making it up? Making it seem bigger than it is?

These people have gone through so much. They've seen war, witnessed and felt abuse and probably had been through things you couldn't even imagine. Why should they help you, when they're the ones who needed help?

You were not worthy.

Such comparisons were something you chastised anyone who would confess experiencing them for. And yet, when it came to you, it felt like a holy truth. Something that could not and should not be questioned. Because you don't want to be selfish, do you?

You've dealt with this by yourself before, surely you could do it again and not drag down others with you. These and many others became your daily mantras. Lay low, hide, be small, don't make a noise. Survive. But was that really how you wanted to live? If you could even call that a living. You were surviving, yes, but at what cost? For a promise of a period of time where you wouldn't feel like the world is made out of cardboard? A period of time where you wouldn't feel like screaming and crying every second of every day? And how long would that last? A few months, a year maybe? Was it really worth the struggle?

You blinked yourself out of your thoughts when someone vigorously snapped in front of your eyes. Looking around in slight daze, your eyes fall upon a smiling face. "There you are! Theo says he's just waiting for you to walk face first into a wall!" Arthur says cheerily, showing you his signature smirk. "I, like the good friend I am, keep defending you of course. But it's hard when your mind seems to get further and further away from us every day. At this rate, you'll wander off into Seine soon. And we wouldn't want that, would we?" he playfully jabbed at you.

You could feel yourself shaking your head, but the only thing you could focus on was how nice it acually seemed, the cold water seeping through clothes and circling your limbs, the undercurrents keeping you down, where nothing could get you, laying you down onto the riverbed, weighed by the water in your lungs... "So, what's going on in that noggin of yours, hm?"

Arthur was, besides Sebastian, the closest person to you out of all the others. You enjoyed his easygoing demeanor and his jokes never failed to make you laugh. He was a terrible flirt though, and someties could be pretty pushy with his advances as you've realised over the time you two spent together. Luckilly, after a firm conversation backed up by Theo, he had calmed down significantly towards you. The writer still heavily complimented you, always putting that silver tongue of his to use, but you thought nothing of it. He was like that with everyone, even some of the other residents, so the possibility of it ever meaning anything more than banter or a simple compliment never even crossed your mind.

"You're doing it again." the man in question sighed. You blinked at him with confusion. As if reading your thoughts, Arthur clarified "You're in your head again. It must be something really interesting in there to make you so distracted." he joked again, but his expression turned serious "But honestly, what's going on? You haven't been yourself for quite a while now and everyone's getting worried. Even Wolf asked me if I knew what was up with you the other day!" the writer looked at you intently "You know that we're here for you, right? Even if you feel like it's stupid, if you need anything, you can tell us."

You averted your eyes from Arthur' piercing gaze. You knew his words were sincere and it made your chest squeeze uncomfortably. Looking straight ahead, in the direction which you were going, you answered, trying to make your voice as leveled as you could "Thank you for worrying Arthur, but I'm alright, really. I've been thinking of asking le Comte for a break. It would be nice to have some off time." This wasn't a complete lie, since having some down time, where you could pretend time has stopped really did sound appealing, but now you'd have to actually go and ask the good count, which you really didn't want to. Not because you were worried you wouldn't be given a break, but because it was another plan to be made and you barely had enough energy to last you until the end of the day, much less go somewhere out of your own volition.

Arthur knew that you were lying, or at least not telling him everything, so he grinned at you again and spoke confidently "Alright, love, the game is on! I gave you a chance to explain youself, but it seems I'll have to solve this mystery myself." he winked at you and you expected him to take his leave. But Arthur softly grabbed your arm and stopped you in the middle of the halway you were in. Turning to face him in his hold you looked at him questioningly. His smile is much softer now, and if you could focus properly, you would see worry glinting in his eyes "If you ever change your mind, you can stop by. Day, night, doen't matter. We're here for you, love. I'm here for you. Just as much as you're here for us." and as soon as he finished speakig, he was gone. Down the hallway, in the direction of his room. You quietly turned around, trying to process the strange encounter while you went your way.

Your mind was surprisingly quiet for a few hours after that.

You eventually did end up in le Comte's study. Nerves were wracking your body and mind the entire day and when you finally did enter the dreaded room, after all your chores were done for the day, you felt like you would start crying at any moment. For some reason, you felt awful for doing this. You didn't need the break. You didn't need off time to get better physically or because you had too many chores. Why did you want a break, besides Arthur catching on that there was, indeed, something wrong? The only thing you had planned for this break of yours was rotting away in your bed and doing as little as humanely possible. Maybe fate would be so kind and take you away in your sleep. Let you wither away like an overwatered flower.

You tried to make the discussion as quick as possible. Fortunately, the count didn't ask too many questions about your wellbeing and the reason for taking a break, remembering well that you haven't had one in a good while. He did ask if you consulted Sebas about it and you forced down a shudder at the mention of your good friend's name. Not because the butler was opposed to you taking a break, he actually kindly insisted you take one, revealing that he also noticed your mental absence in the past weeks, which could be almost counted as a month now. The worry and confusion in his tone as well as his expression made you wish he told you to stay, to help him, anything to try and convince you to not do what you were about to.

Why were you so worried? There wasn't a reason you should feel bad about taking a break. Even if you physically were just as spry as a grasshopper, taking a break for the sake of mental health was just as important. But deep down, you coudn't lie to yourself. Deep down you knew you were going to give up completely. Either for someone to find you, or to be left to rot. And right now, you hoped for the latter, even if it was still scary to admit.

After Comte gave you a week off, asking if it was enough time for you, which you hastily confirmed, feeling bile rise up your throat and wishing for the comfines of your room, your shaky legs and hazy mind managed to carry you to your room. After spending some time emptying the contents of your stomach, which were absolutely too small you would bet, you nothing but collapsed onto your bed. Mouth unrinsed, hair oily and ruffled, it had finally dawned on you how much of a mess you must have loked like. This realisation finally seemed to open the dam that was holding back everything you were feeling. The disgust, the shame, the fear, the anxiety the heavines, the loneliness, but most importnatly the longing.

Fast, salty tears carried all of that out of your body, leaving your face a puffy, sticky mess. Suddenly, you felt rage boil inside of your chest, sprading quickly to your head. Why didn't you say anything? You were so worried and because of what? Your own mind? Could you be any more stupid? The very same mind that put you through absolute hell this past month was now angry at itself, at its own actions. Why did the world have to be this cruel? Why couldn't it grant you the simple request of a mind that would not try to sabotage itself? And now it was too late.

Yo chose this, you thought to yourself. You chose this and these were the consequences of your actions. As if the tears have released all your pent up frustration in your body, all that it left was numbness. A kind of numbness that made your eyelids heavy, making them gravitate towards each other and pulling you into a deep, calm slumber. The kind of slumber you have not been able to achieve for more than the month you've been actively suffering. But also the kind of slumber that would not bring you closer to salvation.

You woke up, not knowing the time and not really finding yourself caring either. You felt strangely...calm. There was no hunger, no thirst, nothing. Only suffocating quiet, the likes of which you would feel in the deep blue of the ocean. You laid stil for what felt like hours, but could have also been minutes, before you succumbed to unconsciousness again.

This has gone on for a few days of your week long break. At one point you felt the pang of hunger, yet you had no will to satiate it. You only rose from your bed late into the night, when the squeezing walls of your stomach, at this point surely eating itself, threatened to spill nothing but its own acid. You tiptoed as quietly as your stiff muscles could into the kitchen, and after munching on some bread and water, because even though you got up, you still didn't feel like cooking, or that you deserved anything more than the simplest of dishes, you quietly stalked the halls back into your room. You fell asleep again, your stomach satisfied, or maybe convinced into satisfaction by your mind, the last thing you heard was the faint sound of Mozart's piano in the dead of the night.

This cycle had repeated for another few days. Your days were interrupted by quiet knocking that would wake you from your slow decline, and sometimes joined by murmurs behind the door. You couldn't find it in you to care. The door wasn't locked. At one point, you could swear you saw a shadow in your window, but it was gone too soon for your slowed mind to focus on it.

One morning, somewhere at the end of your break, not that you were keeping track of time, your door opened. A gust of fresh air was the first thing that barged its way into your room, chasing out the old and musty, albeit warm air from it. You shivered and wiggled deeper under your covers, grumbling hoarsely in protest. Your half asleep mind registered someone slowly walking into your room, as if they were scared to find out what was in it. You kept your eyes closed.

Arthur knelt down beside your bed, looking at your sickly, worn out face. Carefully sneaking his arm under your blanket, his hand searched for yours until it could take it into its own. Caressing your knuckles with his thumb, he cooed softly "Oh, love. I am so sorry. I am so sorry we let this get so far." You didn't respond. What was there to say? "It isn't your fault" you croaked out quietly, not having enough energy to say it loudly and fearing your voice wouldn't work.

"Why did you hide from us? We would've helped..." the writer almost whined, and you could feel the guilt and worry radiating from him. You wanted so desperately to answer, to give him a good reason for how foolish you were acting, but you couldn't. There was nothing that would excuse you. Nothing.

Seeing your slightly open eyes well up with tears, Arthur rushed closer to comfort you. Shushing and soothing you like a small child after a booster shot, he held you close and you tried not to weep hader. "It's alright, love, everything is alright. I've got you. I've got you now, it's good. You're alright."

After you calmed down slightly, you wanted nothing more than to shoo him away, close yourself off again an bury yourself into your bed to get away from the immense shame you felt. But Arthur seemed to be having none of that. He softly but insistently reached under you and helped you sit up with one arm, holding your hand with the other still. you couldn't bring yourslf to look him in the eye and yet his tone never changed from the soft lull he comforted you with. "Come on now, darling. Let's get you cleaned up."

Your mind wanted desperately to push back at him, scream and yell and fight, but you almost limply let him straighten you up and help you walk over to the bathroom. The writer's heart nearly broke in two as he saw you in the same clothes you were in when he last spoke to you. The image of you suffering in silence for so long made him nearly tear up as well, but he held himself back, focusing on you being his biggest priority.

He ran a bath for you, helped you out of your clothes, his gaze never cascading from your face, looking for any signs of overstepping any boundaries and when he found none, he helped you into the bathtub, first washing your hair and then your body, asking if you could and wanted to handle your private parts yourself. You whispered out a small yes, feeling somewhat ashamed still and wanting to make his efforts a bit easier. Letting you soak in the blissfully warm water, a question appeared in your mind "Arthur..." you called out quietly "Were you the one knocking at my door?" you asked timidly, not knowing fully if it wasn't some kind of delirium your mind put you through. The writer's face became solemn as you took a peek at his face and he spoke, his words and tone equally heavy "Everyone did. We were worried about you. After we heard about your break, we thought it might do you well. Everyone noticed that you weren't quite yourself. But after the first few days, when no one ever saw you leave the mansion, let alone your room, our worries doubled. Wolf said he noticed you walking to the kitchen at night, but Sebas only noticed small portions of bread disappearing from the kitchen, so we wanted to check up on you. We tried knocking at your door, not wanting to disturb you if you really were physically ill, but that didn't do anything." "And the window?" you interrupted him, casting your eyes downward again at the rude gesture. But Arthur continued, with no offense taken "That was Dazai. He was checking up on you a lot. In his own way." Arthur smiled sadly "Today, I had enough. Something was telling me you needed help. And I'm glad I listened to my instinct." he smiled at you and you felt your dry lips lift up ever so slightly. You were found when you needed it the most, it seemed.

After Arthur dried you off and helped you put on fresh clothes, he told you Sebas made a nutritious meal for you that wouldn't upset your stomach. He also suggested it would do you good to get out of your room for at least a little while and eat it in the kitchen. Seeing the panic in your eyes, he rushed to assure you "You don't have to talk to anyone if you don't want to." And so you nodded.

The mansion seemed awfully quiet. There was no one in the halls, no sounds from either corner of the building. On your slow trek to the kitchen, you passed Mozart. The musician didn't say anything, but his lips melted from their usual stern frown to a warm smile and you couldn't help but to start crying again. Athur sat down with you on the cold ground of the hallway, pulling you onto his lap and rocking you back and forth until you felt good enough to walk again. Mozart was nowhere in sight.

You found out that Sebas made you a delicious soup, one with enough vegetables and some meat, the broth strong enough to get you up on your feet in no time. You ate slowly and savoured every spoonful. You suddenly realised how much you've missed eating good food. After your meal was done and Arthur washed your bowl and spoon in silence, he slowly sat down next to you. "How are you feeling?" he asked carefully, knowing that you were nowhere near out of the deep end yet, but desperately hoping his efforts weren't for naught. "Better. Fuller." you answered simply. After another beat of comfortable silence, where you soaked up the sun pouring in through the windows, the writer asked again "Would you like to go back to your room?" You pursed your lips. Suddenly, the idea of your bed and the stuffy room you hid yourself away in sounded horrible. But he comfortable, fluffy clothes and full stomach were pullig at your eyelids again, sleep threatening to take over. "My room it is, then?"

Arthur piped up and you nodded. Before you knew it, you were scooped up bridal style by the vampire, feeling his soft lips on your hairline "Rest, love. I've got you." Soon, you were in a room that smelled of coffe and cologne with a hint of ink. Once again, you wriggled under the covers, these ones feeling much fresher than yours, as you succumbed to sleep once again. But this time, you weren't alone.

#requested #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp arthur x reader #ikevamp arthur x you #x reader #tw depression #tw suicidality #fem!reader #hurt/comfort #tw emetophobia

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oigimi · 1 year ago

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. warm drinks .

. arthur x reader . 1k words . day 1 of 12 days of arthur .

I sighed and flopped down on the couch by the fireplace. A hard day’s work had gotten to me, and my body physically couldn’t support itself any longer. Cleaning after ten vampires was not for the faint of heart. I closed my eyes for a moment, not because I was particularly sleepy, moreso due to fatigue. My eyelids couldn’t remain up anymore, and as they got heavier, I started to succumb to the spell over me. Just a few more moments…

“Ah, there you are, bird,” a familiar voice chimed. I didn’t open my eyes, but my other senses quickly registered who it was: The mansion flirt and prolific mystery author Arthur Conan Doyle. I sat up and stretched, taking a sharp inhale.

“What do you want?”

“What do I want? I don’t know if you’d like the true answer,” Arthur chuckled. “Well it’s quite late and we haven’t seen you in hours.”

I blinked. “What do you mean? It’s only nine o’clock.”

“I disagree. The clock does too,” Arthur mused, pointing to the clock on the wall.

“Jesus, it’s two-?! I didn’t even realize, I just wanted to rest for a sec.” I rubbed my head and stood up. “No wonder I’m aching so badly. Jeez, my back hurts so bad.”

Arthur laughed a little bit. “Poor thing. If you’d fallen asleep in my bed I think you would have had a much better time.” Satisfied with the pout on my face, he looked around the room. “Alright, alright. Come on, I know what’ll make you feel better.”

“Oh really? And what’s that gonna be? A full body massage or something?”

“Don’t give me ideas! No, you’ll like this.” He led me through the dark hallway, almost reaching for my hand at one point before remembering we knew where we were. I couldn’t help but smile. Arthur was a lot of things. He was flirty, he was smart, he was determined, he was sometimes annoying, but deep down inside, he had a heart too big for him to know what to do with it. I could tell how much he cared for the other residents. He teased Isaac because he liked spending time with him. He was always around Theo despite his rough exterior because he understood him like no one other than Vincent. He was grateful for Comte and Sebastian. He coated his true feelings in a thick layer of frivolousness, refusing to let anybody peel it back. That was why he was leading me down this hallway. That was why he cared enough to look for me. And that was why I needed to begin trying to peel as much as I could until I got to the center one day.

“Okay, tell the truth. What’s happening?”

“Nothing! Nothing. You’re so abrasive, love. Here.” He entered the kitchen and turned the lights on. “Let’s get you to bed soon, but first…” With a few swift motions, he got out some milk and dark chocolate out. “I figured you’d need something to drink.”

I once again blinked quickly, and felt a swift, sharp pang in my chest. He was making hot chocolate for me? Really…? I had completed my psychoanalysis earlier, but it was still hard to fathom someone like him doing something so nice for me specifically. A man treating me sweetly, who ever could’ve thought? “Ah… thank you. Here!” I got on my toes and opened the cabinet, grabbing two china cups and a shaker of nutmeg. “Let’s drink it out of these. And it tastes better when you add nutmeg than sugar, in my opinion.”

“Nutmeg? Alright then. Are you sure we should drink out of those? You’re pulling out all the stops for me, I’m flattered. I hardly see you and Sebas using them. They must be for special occasions. Do you consider this a special occasion, (Y/N)?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know, really.” We heated up the chocolate and watched it boil. It wasn’t the only thing warming up; I felt my cheeks and ears slowly becoming pink as I became more aware of the intimacy of such a domestic situation. I turned my head to try and steal a glance at Arthur, who looked away from me. Apparently he was attempting to do the same. But why wasn’t he performing his usual schtick?

“The chocolate is done,” he hummed, going to take it off the heat. Arthur poured it into the two cups, and added some warmed milk and nutmeg into both of them. “I hope you’re right about the nutmeg. I can’t say I’ve ever tried it with chocolate before.”

“Really? It seems so popular though!”

“Indeed it is, but I’m not a trend follower, am I?”

“Uh huh.” I laughed and sat down at the table, feeling some of the tension leave my body. “Alright, bottoms up.”

We each took a sip of the chocolate, and let out our own satisfied sounds in perfect sync.

Arthur looked down at his cup and took another sip. “Mm, I daresay this is the best chocolate I’ve ever had. Perhaps it’s your nutmeg, perhaps it’s because you’re with me.”

“I might be able to say the same, really. Thanks, Arthur.”

“Oh? And why are you thanking me?” He rested his head on his hand, smiling a little bit. “For our time together?”

I nodded, huffing a little bit. “Yeah, I am! It means a lot to me, you know. Seeking me out so late and making something nice for me… It’s small but it really means something, you know. I think you’re a lot more genuine of a guy than you let on.”

He stared at me for a moment, a little stunned. “Well, if that’s how you feel.” Grinning again, he wrapped an arm around me and gently rested my head on his shoulder. I sighed again, this time, a little bit more peacefully. He smelled like fresh parchment and ink. I could’ve just basked in it forever, paired with his cologne and strong shoulders… My eyelids grew even heavier, and before I knew it I was asleep again.

Arthur kissed the top of my head, rubbing my side gently. “Goodnight…”

#12 days of arthur #ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp arthur #ikemen vampire arthur #ikevamp arthur x reader #ikemen vampire arthur x reader #ikevamp x reader #ikemen vampire x reader

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niphredil-14 · 9 months ago

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I’m reentering my Ikevamp phase. Send me the links to your favorite ikevamp fics!!

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alby-rei · 8 months ago

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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

#ikevamp arthur #ikevamp arthur x reader #ikemen vampire #ikevamp fanfiction #ikemen vampire arthur conan doyle #ikevamp writing #arthur x reader #arthur x mc #arthur x you #starlitmanornetwork #alby rei #ghost mansion au #luigi's mansion au #ghostbuster mc #spooky scary sparkly vamps

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syneilesis · 1 year ago

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[fic] A Victorious Conquest

A Victorious Conquest

Ikemen Vampire | Arthur Conan Doyle x f!Reader | G | 499 words ao3 link (later)

You're alone in a pub, and a gorgeous man approaches you.

A/N: Another one for @cy-inky's one week challenge! This time the prompt is "Gosh, you are so beautiful." It's a detective AU; dunno whether this is modern setting or canon setting though, you decide! :D

Divider by @/saradika.

The dim lighting of the pub invites mystery and danger, and you're used to the cozy glow of coffee shops and libraries, where there is less noise, just soft murmurs enclosed in each table. The barman slams the mug in front of you, the beer sloshing inside, almost spilling, and you snatch your arms away from the counter. When it settles, you place your arms back, one hand tracing the mug handle, lost in thought.

Behind you: raucous conversations and ribald singing that have you chuckling to yourself with the absolute knowledge that you're out of place. To commemorate, you lift your mug and down your beer in one long gulp.

A body sidles up to your right, perching on a stool next to you.

“A gorgeous lady like you drinking like that ...” a flirty, masculine voice begins, “it catches attention, you know?”

The beer is half empty when you put it back on the table. In your periphery: crystal teal hair wisping around a fist against a cheek. You turn towards the source of the voice.

A beautiful man with a cheeky smile welcomes your sight.

“Whose attention?” you ask.

The man looks around as if gesturing at the entire pub. “What's your purpose coming here?”

“I wanted to meet someone.”

His expression grows intrigued. “Oh? A fantastical night, perhaps?”

You smile faintly. “Something like that.”

“And you're alone right now? How brave.”

“Is there something wrong with that?”

“Definitely.” He dips his head closer to yours, as if sharing a secret. When he speaks again, his breath tickles your ear. “Did you know that there have been a string of murders lately? I just worry for a lovely lady alone at a pub in the middle of the night. If you want, I can offer you protection...?”

A tempting offer, really. Amused, you turn your head slightly in his direction, lips an inch away from his. You hear his breath catch. “Gosh, you are so beautiful, you know?” you whisper back. “That's nice of you, truly, but you shouldn't scare somebody with that kind of rumor.”

He leans back, an inchoate grin in place. “It's all true. In fact, I'm a consulting detective for these cases.”

“Oh my.”

“So take my word for it when I say Paris has become dangerous lately. You never know ...” Then his demeanor suddenly shifts, sharpening. Darkening. “Unless you have a reason to remain confident of your safety?”

Ah. The smile that stretches your mouth is now indulgent, and the man narrows his gaze.

“Don't worry, sir—”

“Arthur.”

“Don't worry, Sir Arthur. You needn't concern yourself with me. Now then, it's time for me to leave—” You push yourself off your seat, nodding at him, and go on your way. “Thank you for the warning, Sir Arthur.”

Behind you Arthur calls out, “I never got your name, darling.”

You stop, turn back to him, and smile your most coquettish smile.

“Ah, yes. You may call me Lady Moriarty.”

#and then arthur becomes obsessed with you #because you're the criminal mastermind behind the murders #and that you're using the name of his character #basically i'm pulling a moriarty the patriot lmao #1WEEKCHL #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp arthur fic #ikevamp arthur x reader #fic #my fic

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ikewhores · 1 year ago

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☆.｡.:* welcome to our blog! here are the rules and our self intos, this blog is run by 3 people. by reading our work and interacting with us we assume you’re aware of this and have read our rules/introduction <3

@ajaxsbeloved (navy) name; lee pronouns; any favorite characters; shakespeare, napoleon, mozart etc; dms are always open <3!!

@scarasweetheart (purple) name; aurelius (lius) pronouns; he/it/moon favorites; mozart, comte, vincent etc; literary genius but god nerfed me w all kinds of creative blocks

@riviifetish (icey blue) name; stanford (ford) pronouns; they/he/vex/mx. favorites; leonardo, dazai, vlad, napoleon etc; surprisingly a lesbian

rules; - all ikevamp suitors are available for requests! we write them all but some more than others due to personal bias and/or lack of knowledge on characters - character x reader only - smut + nsfw 100% allowed and encouraged - angst + fluff also allowed - no pedophillia, necrophillia, incest, lolitcon/shotacon, etc - no vore or extremely violent acts (especially in nsfw work) - please let us know if you want a specific author to write your request! - nonrequest in inbox is welcomed and encouraged

before you follow; - we will 100% be inconsistent with our writing and may even leave the blog untouched for numerous days/weeks/months -because there are 3 of us, our writing styles WILL be different but you will be able to see who has written what based on our signature colors :) - lee is the blog owner so lius and ford may not get to your ask/request right away! if lee sees your ask/request in the inbox they’ll inform the others so that there’s no cross-answering

*･῾ ᵎ⌇✧.* thank you for taking the time to read our introduction and rules! please dm us or send us an ask if you have any questions <3

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natimiles · 9 months ago

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I'm blaming you for making me want to read a Comte fanfic @koco-coko

If you like Le Comte and sexy times and you have yet to read "It Started with a Dream" on ao3, please go indulge in this top tier masterpiece.

#saving for later #ikevamp fanfics #ikevamp comte #ikevamp #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp comte x reader #ikevamp arthur x reader #ikevamp arthur x reader x comte

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cloudcountry · 11 months ago

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SUMMARY: you tell them you burnt your tongue and ask them to kiss it better.

WARNINGS: arthur makes a suggestive comment because he's arthur.

COMMENTS: this was partly inspired by a conversation i had with @yanderepuck and the cat cafe au so if you want to think of them as catboys in this you can???

mozart blushes, tearing his gaze away from you. you’re pouting, a cup of tea in your hands as you stare at him. “no.” he says flatly, hiding his face behind his teacup. he takes a sip to distract himself and jolts back at the sheer heat of the drink. “i’ll kiss you better then!” you beam, and he tries to push the thoughts of getting arthur away from you in the future out of his mind.

arthur blinks before bursting into laughter. “are you certain that’s what you want, love?” he asks, challenging you. you meet his challenge with an adamant nod, your teacup still in hand. “well,” arthur hums, getting up from his seat and offering you his hand, “how about we go somewhere more...private?”

isaac nearly chokes on his pastry when those words leave your mouth, his eyes wide and cheeks flushed. “i...i’m sorry, what did you just say?” he gasps for air, eyes searching your pouting face for answers. “i burnt my mouth,” you repeat, pointing to your lips, “can you kiss it better?” isaac flushes even brighter and fumbles for a napkin, passing it off to you with a dazed mumble of “maybe that will help instead!”

vincent’s eyes go wide and he blushes, blinking dumbly at you as if staring will change what you said. “are...are you sure that would help?” he asks softly, wetting his lips as his eyes dart to yours, “because um...i, well...i wouldn’t be against the idea.”

sebastian raises an inquisitive eyebrow, looking as composed as usual. “well, that’s awfully inconvenient. however will you taste your pastry now?” you see exactly what he’s planning as he reaches across the table, and you snatch the pastry away from him before he can grab it. sebastian chuckles, still leaning in. “well, if i can’t have your pastry, can i have something sweeter?”

will doesn’t seem phased at all. at first, you wonder if he even heard you right. but once he chuckles, dabbing his mouth with a napkin, you catch the sinister gleam in his eyes. “is that truly what you desire?” he asks, narrowing his gaze as you shudder with anticipation in your seat, “if my love requests that from me, i am in no position to refuse.”

charles immediately jumps out of his seat and runs to your side, sliding into the seat next to you at rapid speed. he leans in real close, eyes shimmering with excitement. ��do you really?” he beams, breath fanning over your lips, “because i can kiss you as many times as you want, til you’re allllll better.”

#auburn talks ikevamp <3 #auburn's fics <3 #ikevamp mozart #ikevamp mozart x reader #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp arthur x reader #ikevamp isaac #ikevamp isaac x reader #ikevamp vincent #ikevemp vincent x reader #ikevamp sebastian #ikevamp sebastian x reader #ikevamp shakespeare #ikevamp shakespeare x reader #ikevamp charles #ikevamp charles x reader

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natimiles · 5 months ago

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Here I am

Once again

Requesting Arthur and Forehead, please :) relationship or pre-relationship is fine, so long as there is FEELING

(once more! with feeling!)

I’m still laughing about the “with feeling”. Traumatized Vic is traumatized, UIASHEIUSAHESA.

Arthur + Forehead

Words: 433

Tags: new relationship; with feeling!; Arthur calls you luv; no pronouns for reader.

Having banquets to celebrate living in the mansion isn’t a new thing anymore. After all this time, you’re used to it. What is new this time is that you and Arthur are still awake even after everyone else has gone to sleep or passed out in the parlor. You’re chatting and enjoying each other’s company when he thinks it’s a good idea to dance.

“There’s no music. Mozart already went back to his room,” you say, raising an eyebrow at him.

“That’s fine, we don’t need it.” He extends a hand to help you up, and you know you can’t say no to those puppy eyes and that smile.

“Alright,” you say with a laugh. “But I’ll let you know that I still don’t know the dances from this century. I will step on your feet.”

“Don’t worry, luv. I’ll lead,” he says with a grin.

You grab his hand, and he pulls you to your feet. You begin to sway, and it’s almost like watching newlyweds waltzing; his face close, looking at you with such love in his eyes that it makes your heart skip a beat.

Arthur is confident in his moves, one arm holding you close by the waist while his hand holds yours. You thought you’d already be used to him, but it’s so different having him near as a close friend and now as your boyfriend. His flirting never stops, and he’s always finding ways to hold your hand, touch you, and be near you. And you can’t say you don’t like it — you love how he never tires of showering you with love.

He spins you around, and you giggle, making him feel like the whole world is alight. For him, it’s the most beautiful sound in the world, one he hopes to hear forever. Arthur pulls you back into his arms, holding you tight to support you and keep you balanced.

Looking at you, he feels his heart beat fast and a warm, pleasant feeling in his chest. He kisses your forehead and hugs you with both arms, keeping you as close as he can. After months of flirting, exchanging furtive glances, and trying to prove to you that he really loved you and it wasn’t just teasing, he finally has you in his arms, just as he always wanted — a dream come true.

Arthur gives you another kiss on the forehead, pulls your head to his chest, and places his cheek on the top of your head. You stay there, just enjoying being in each other’s arms, softly swaying to the music of your hearts.

Taglist: @specters0rd @bicayaya @koco-coko @yamarireads @judejazza

• @echoes-in-the-forest @inkys-garden @fang-and-feather

• @sh0jun @scummy-writes @leia-skywalker-organa

Beneath The Milky Twilight ♥ Event Masterlist

#beneath the milky twilight event #ikemen vampire #ikevamp writing #ikevamp fanfics #ikevamp scenarios #ikevamp #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp x reader #ikemen vampire x reader #ikevamp arthur x reader

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oigimi · 1 year ago

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. performances .

. arthur x reader . entry for day 2 of 12 days of arthur .

“Is he here yet?” I murmured to myself, trying to get a good look of the crowd from backstage. I had to do my best to not be seen, but god I wished I could get a good look at everyone present. It was closing night of our show. Six days of mayhem, six days of putting myself out there for everyone to see, six days of makeup that could make my skin break out like I’d never known before, and six days of hoping he’d show up. Any show came with aggressive advertising, and practically begging my friends to come see it, usually with some success. I’d seen my friends Theo and his brother Vincent, Isaac, Sebastian (who came multiple times), Leo, Napo, and everyone else in my circle. It was validating, having people come up to me and give me a big hug, couples with choruses of “You were amazing!” and “You were my favorite character!”

But none of it really mattered if he wasn’t there.

Arthur was the one I really wanted to see in the crowd. He was someone I’d only known for a few years, but I’d developed the biggest crush on him. His accent, his kindness, his talent, and his general sharpness encapsulated me. He was the kind of guy that someone can only dream of. Like a character in a story. He wrote a lot of those, too. His stories were so vivid, with imagery that was brewed in my mind like a stew with the finest ingredients. The characters, the settings, the emotions they felt drew me in so deeply I’d lose myself in them and blur the lines in my psyche to the point where I’d forget where I was at the end. And the most amazing part: He did all this while working his way into med school.

Poor guy had been so busy the last few weeks, but he said over the course of two weeks that he’d try his best to make it. With a confident smile and a twinkle in his eye, his promises eased my heart. But as each day came and went, as I came out for every curtain call, I hadn’t seen him. His sapphire eyes, the color and shine unlike those of anyone else in the world, were nowhere to be found. His smile was not in the sea of people rewarding our efforts with a standing ovation. “Don’t worry, he’ll be there next time,” I’d keep telling myself. But every time I didn’t see him was another crack in my lovestruck hopes that he’d be there. That hurt me more than anything, as I remembered his confident words of assurance.

As I retreated from my viewpoint, I came face to face with Will, who was performing in the show with me. He had a forlorn expression, making my heart pound a little harder. What was wrong? Was a light not working? Did someone get sick?

“We have sold all the tickets,” he murmured to me, and nothing more.

Will had known of my infatuation for months now, and he knew how excited I was about the idea of Arthur bearing witness to the show we had worked so hard to put on. He’d heard every time I gushed about him, every story I’d told about him and myself, every scenario in my mind where he would react to the show in different ways. And that’s why he had such a heavy expression, that only deepened as he witnessed the tears pooling up in my eyes.

“We are? But I don’t see him!” I whispered, so as to not echo my voice into the crowd. “He’s not here! Will!” I hugged myself and looked down, trying not to mess up my makeup I’d worked so hard on. A weep escaped me, I just couldn't help it. It felt stupid, especially because my other friends already came. It felt like I was being ungrateful, but through my rationale was the flood of emotions that I’d been hiding from Arthur the whole time. If he didn’t come to the show, it was like he didn’t return my feelings. It stopped being about the show a long time ago. I knew he was probably busy, but he’d promised. He promised me a sliver of his time. Honestly if he’d just said outright that he likely wasn’t going to be able to come, I’d probably have been spared a lot of heartache.

But the reality was that seats were filled, and Arthur wasn’t one of the people filling. The show must go on.

My presence in the wings wasn’t my presence backstage. As I stood waiting for my entrance, I did everything I could to suppress my feelings. I gulped, I sighed, I shook it all out, but it only worked a little bit. If I was being honest, nothing was really going to stop how I felt, but I could stop how I presented myself. I put my brave face on, swallowed my hopeless feelings, and stepped onto the stage with all the swagger I’d possessed before.

I did one last scan of the crowd, as a Hail Mary that maybe something would work out. Maybe the stars aligned and things would go my way. He’d be there. He’d be there just like he promised.

And what I saw startled me to the extent that I almost broke character. Sitting in the front row was none other than Arthur Conan Doyle, with the most focused expression I’d ever seen him bear. He was taking in every bit of what we were doing, eyeing the intricate set and the handmade costumes from our costumer Mitsuki. This changed everything. This absolutely changed everything!

All it took was one moment for everything bad I’d ever felt to evaporate. The rejuvenation was unlike anything I’d ever felt, like I had been born again. My lines became coated with a sort of vigor I hadn’t had until that moment. They came from the chest, louder and stronger than before. My triumphs, my losses, my highest and my lowest were all more pronounced than they had ever been. All thanks to the presence of the one I cared about the most. I had to do my best for him! I just had to perform like everything was at stake!

Like every show, it had to come to an end. The cast and I came out, hand in hand, to take our final bows. Our farewell to the months we’d spent crafting a play all of us were passionate about. One last hurrah before we parted forever. And as my gaze shifted back to the crowd, I could only focus on the blue-haired man who was the first to get on his feet. His confident grin wasn’t that anymore: It was a radiant, delighted smile that reached his eyes. His beautiful, brilliant blue eyes. This was it. This was the happiest I’d ever been post-show.

“You did positively fantastic, bird!” he laughed, scooping me up in a hug once we were able to meet in the theatre lobby. “I was starting to wonder if it was truly you, you are just wonderful at playing someone wholly different! I think you’d even be able to fool me one of those days with those acting skills of yours.”

“Oh no, I’m not that good!” I replied, hugging him back with all the force my body could muster. “I think you think too highly of me.”

“Nonsense, I don’t extend that praise to just anybody. You shone so brightly, even next to your co-stars.” He pulled away to get a good look at my face. “You’re quite red. Could it be that your performance was motivated by something else? Fueled with… Hm, I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

I gulped, trying to hide the growing redness that apparently bled through my makeup. “N-no, I always perform that way! What are you trying to get at here?” Through my defense, I anticipated another teasing jab from Arthur. Was he catching on? Or worse, had he caught on long ago? Oh god, the thought was starting to make me dizzy.

“Well you were simply the best on that stage,” he hummed. “No one else had that sort of passion you did. And it was only when we made eye contact that this all seemed to kick in. It seems my presence boosted your performance. And that, coupled with your flushed little face seems to imply… love, perhaps?”

I stood, completely at a loss as to what to say. He’d cracked the case, like he always did. Digging my hole even further wasn’t going to help me in the long run. I sighed the heaviest sigh and nodded. “Yeah, maybe a little bit.”

“Just a little bit? That disappoints me. I must say that I feel very similarly about you. You’re quite cute when you’re embarrassed, you know.”

“Hey, I’m not- What?! What did you say?!”

Arthur chuckled, relaxing a bit. “I return your feelings, love. The passion you feel for me, I feel it for you too. How could I not? So you don’t have to worry. You don’t have to be embarrassed any longer. I’m truly in love with you.”

I soaked in every word he said, still wondering if I was in a dream. It seemed too good to be true. Well, whether or not I was in a dream, I knew I had to act. I stepped forward and hugged Arthur again, mashing my lips against his, to which he returned the favor.

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp arthur #ikemen vampire arthur #ikevamp arthur x mc #ikevamp arthur x reader #ikevamp x reader #otome game

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nuttytani · 1 year ago

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Would you love me if I were a worm? Featuring ikemen vampire cast. (With gender neutral reader)

(a/n: when you have too much free time and need your hands to be occupied. Some random bullshit begins to form on your notes)

Napoleon

He finds it funny, why would you turn into a worm?

After seeing your frown tho, he says ok ok yes I will love you

Mozart

Makes a disgusted face and turns you down

First of all, you won't turn into a worm. So why should he answer?

"if people can turn into vampires, why can't I turn into a worm?"

He kicks you out of his piano room

Dude has some thoughts to organise

Leonardo

Laughs at you and says, "what will you do if I say no?"

Pretends to forget about it but after some hours, he comes back to you

"no matter how and what you are or will turn into, I'll still love you"

Arthur

"is this some sort of trick question? Well the answer is obviously yes, my love!"

Vincent

Thinks deeply about it and smiles at you

"of course, I'll still love you. I think you'd make a cute worm too."

Theodorus

Scoffs at you and calls you an idiot

Why would you turn into a worm?

And by chance, you DID turn into one, how was he going to take care of you? There's so many worms out there in the world. What if you get lost and he gets some random worm instead and you, are lost and out in the cold, ready to be squashed by big feet.

Dazai

Uno reverses you instead

Now you're trapped

Would you love him if he was a worm?

Gets sad if you don't answer quickly enough

Sebastian

"I am not doing this right now. If you're free, wash those potatoes instead. I'm already busy as it is"

Stays silent for a while and then sighs

"no matter what, I'd love you always and forever"

Comte

Chuckles a bit at the thought and immediately replies yes

He'd give you a good environment to live in. Some really nutritious soil and compost. Maybe a tiny rock for you to play with

"Comte, you just need to say yes... No need to.... Elaborate on what else you'd do"

"Alright. Well, would you love me if I were a worm?"

Shakespeare

Is fascinated that you even came up with such a question

His answer is yes

But at the same time, he's coming up with scripts that include a dramatic romance between worms. For his own pleasure

Vlad

Says yes immediately.

Thinks you'd look like a cute worm

Maybe he'd put roses next to your habitat or in it.

Charles

"of course! In fact, we can both be worms together! We'll be a happy worm couple"

He's actually taking the idea too seriously and goes ahead making worm habitats and gets a book on "how to raise a worm"

Faust

"I'm not sure. Though I suppose researching on a worm wouldn't be that bad"

Seeing you look unimpressed, he just chuckles while patting your head

"I'm only joking. Of course I'd love you"

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp theodorus #ikevamp shakespeare #ikevamp mozart #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp napoleon #ikevamp leonardo #ikevamp comte #ikevamp faust #ikevamp vlad #ikevamp charles #ikevamp vincent #ikevamp dazai #ikemen vampire x reader #ikevamp sebastian

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gunraekae · 9 months ago

Text

having an off day

Ophelia by Friedrich Heyser

>ikemen vampire

>mansion residents x reader

>a/n: so sorry for the weird formatting in advance. i hope it makes sense. enjoy!

>part 2: how your evening and night went

You woke up with the weight of an oppressive dread. A black hole in you seemed to suck the vitality out of you. Usually your spirit was at least alive and willing to get you out of bed, but this morning, it was only dead static in your chest. You could chalk it up to feeling homesick or hopelessness with your predicament, but nonetheless, you were not up to it at all today.

Still, you willed yourself out of bed, afraid to let Sebastian and the residents down (though you knew they wouldn’t fault you for being off, you still felt the obligation because Le Comte is letting you stay for free, after all.)

On that note, the residents would fs feel a disturbance in the force if you weren’t out in the mansion today. You not being there would set off a chain reaction and have them be grumpy and having off days too.

While setting up breakfast with Sebastian, you asked for the cleaning tasks for the rest of the day. You loved the residents but unfortunately could muster up no energy to talk to anyone today. Sebastian's obviously the first to catch on, and as the mansion’s biggest gossip, will spread this notion to any and every vampire he encounters. Thankfully, he didn't question it and hesitantly granted you permission. He usually doesn’t give you the heavier tasks like cleaning, but seeing your dour mood, he caught on that you wanted the solitude.

While passing out breakfast for the morning vampires (Arthur, Vincent, Theo, Dazai, Isaac, Mozart, Comte) you were unusually quiet. Usually, you would bashfully respond to Arthur’s flirty remarks or retaliate to Theo’s teasing, but today you only acknowledged everyone with a slight (and very forced) smile.

Dazai Osamu

I'm of the belief that Dazai has a sadness antenna that catches on to everyone’s emotions as soon as they feel them. So best believe that as soon as you woke up, he could already sense a disturbance in the force.

So when you very quietly poured tea for him, he placed a gentle hand on your arm and gave you a silent “are you ok?” look. He could tell that you didn’t want to bring attention to yourself, but also didn’t want to leave you like this.

The deal he made with you when you first arrived came to mind. He proposed that whenever you felt even the slightest inclination of sadness, that you came to him to confide in (because you know he gets it fs).

You acknowledged it with a solemn nod, wanting to communicate that you remembered the promise but couldn’t do it just yet. Dazai pursed his lips in quiet uncertainty, but allowed you to continue your chores.

Later in the afternoon, while tending to the gardens outside, Dazai nonchalantly sat by your working figure. He settled for watching you work before piping up, “how fortunate the flowers are to be cared for by you.” You may have jumped a little bit, having been lost in your thoughts.

Dazai’s gentle smile seemed more genuine this time; not quite the clownish mask he usually wore. “Unfortunately for you, I may be the only one who understands your predicament the most.” He walked next to you, a serene silence in the air.

You confess as much of your melancholy as you could put into words while Dazai remained contemplative and respectfully quiet. Whether it was your mental wellness being disturbed, thoughts of home, or even just a broad exhaustion, Dazai will listen and understand. Sometime during your tirade, tears seeped out from your eyes unnoticed, except by his golden eyes. He softly cupped your cheek and wiped your tears away; his touch never more than gentle.

At that moment, Dazai touched your face as if it was a delicate flower petal about to fall to its demise. His heart clenched in both tender affection at your vulnerability around him, and deep anguish that it was you who suffered and he couldn’t take that burden instead. How was it that a beautiful angel like you was tormented at this moment and not him, the sinful monster who was deserving of your burden and more. Still, he kept those demeaning thoughts quiet and yearned that his love could be felt in his gentle touches to your cheek.

Dazai is the most sensitive to others’ emotions and will be the first to catch on to any of your mood changes. He'd rather die than leave you toiling in your own sadness, so he’ll follow you around until you confide in him. As tragic as it is, it’s his responsibility to make sure no one else, and especially not someone he cares about so deeply like you, feels the same torture he does.

Arthur Conan Doyle

The writers are perceptive and sensitive to people’s emotions and characters, and usually you love them for that. Today, it made you the slightest bit frustrated. With only a meek “thank you” to Arthur’s compliment of, “your beautiful face is the perfect start to this day, love” he knew something was wrong.

You poured his coffee quietly, hoping no one would pay attention to you. Arthur placed a soft hand against your back and asked lowly, “are you alright? Did something happen?” you shook your head and gave him an appreciative smile.

You moved to pour Theo’s drink next, but Arthur’s arm wrapped around your waist. He motioned for you to come closer and so you leaned down.

“I've got to run errands in town today, but I'll find you once I get back. Do you think you can talk to me then?” he whispered.

“I'm not sure.”

“I hate to leave you like this, love, really. At least promise me you can hold out until later and you can take all your frustration out on me, yes?” you find yourself laughing a little at his suggestion. He smiled in victory and gave your waist a small squeeze before letting you go.

Once Arthur returns from his errands, it’s just nearing lunch. True to his word, he finds you in the mansion (good luck evading his genius mind) and vows to take you out for a meal. You can refuse all you want, but it truly does wound him seeing you the slightest bit upset. Maybe his past influences that, but nonetheless, he wants to make you happy.

He’ll do everything in his power to make you laugh, and if that doesn’t work, he’ll try and pester you so that you take your anger out on him.

He treats you like a princess during the date, hooking his arm under yours, pushing your chair in, paying for everything, and if you were up to it, taking you shopping afterwards.

He’ll try and seek out a case nearby as those tend to cheer you up and serve as a welcome distraction.

Whether you choose to confide in him or not, he might have already caught on to what made you upset and will subtly offer a word of advice or comfort, depending on whichever you needed. And he’s perceptive enough to catch on to what you need.

Nevertheless, the author’s darling attempts of alleviating your mood will likely be a success. Arthur is one of the tragic ones who would rather suffer than even endure the thought of his cared ones being upset. And you’re the one who brought new light into his revived life, so admittedly, he enjoys being there for you. If you allow him past your walls, Arthur would do just about everything to prove it was worth doing so. His care may be hidden under layers of deceptive and cliché flirtation, but a little unravelling shows just how tenderly he cares for you. So while his attempts do reflect that playboy life, the warm hand on your back proves there is no one in this new life he treasures more than yourself.

Theodorus van Gogh

Still feeling Arthur’s and Dazai’s worried looks on your back, you moved on to Theo, who was unfortunately, less perceptive than the two.

“Took you long enough, hondje. Dogs aren’t known to be so slow.” he huffed, having already placed a generous amount of sugar in his cup. You could barely register the small, “sche uit, Theo,” from Vincent. Still, his comment served to sour your mood even further, a sinking feeling in your heart suddenly blurring your eyes.

Your spatial awareness being off, you almost overfilled Theo’s cup. This time, he took notice of your shaky and meek manner. He was about to complain, but when you turned to him to apologise, he saw your teary eyes.

“You hurt? What happened? Who hurt you?” Theo immediately asked in concern. You shook your head in alarm. His handsome face scrunched in concern, and he reached out to seize your arm to steady its shaking. He set down the coffee pot and checked if your arm got burnt.

he gruffly passed the coffee pot to his brother, and when he was faced with questioning looks from the rest of the table he simply said, “you pour your own damn coffee.” He motioned for you to leave, wanting to relieve you of your duties for this morning as a small mercy.

Theo is unfortunately one of the busier men of the mansion, so he can’t do much until the evening when he returns. So despite the tense morning, there’s no resolution until after supper. what his words can’t deliver though, his actions do.

Regardless of how many residents have comforted you, you remained silent and thoughtful. Their efforts were greatly appreciated, but your energy was still depleted.

Theo catches you right after cleaning up with Sebastian. He hid a large box behind his broad back, strangely timid from his usual bold character. He cleared his throat, “hondje, I brought you something home from work. you told me you liked this last time I took you out for a walk.”

He stepped aside to show you the large and very sweetly decorated cake in the box. you knew how expensive it was, and for a man like Theo, who was quite savvy with money, you felt a tinge of guilt for making him waste money on you.

“Theo, thank you. I don't know what to say, you really didn’t have to.”

“Hush hondje. A master’s supposed to take care of his puppy. And you’ve been working hard lately—you deserve a little treat.”

Of course, Theo indulges in the dessert with you, he may have bought it partly for himself too. But when he saw you enjoying something he gave you, it warmed his heart. Perhaps your smile is sweeter than any dessert he’s had before—and he’s got quite a sweet tooth.

Theo can be brash, and not nearly as emotionally perceptive as the others. So initially, he’ll be his usual gruff and teasing self. But he’s a good man (savannah), and will always serve you, regardless of the master-puppy dynamic he’s got going on. He’s weak to you, and would hand you the world just to get a glimpse of your sweet smile again. He can’t have his pretty girl sad, that makes him a terrible master.

Vincent van Gogh

You shook your head, insisting that you stay to help Sebastian. Theo disapprovingly shook his head and tried to stop you from doing more work, but you’d already moved to Vincent’s side.

Vincent already caught on as soon as Theo asked if you were okay. He poured his coffee himself, so you passed him the small bowl of butter and served a plate of sliced fruit to help. Vincent gently stroked your back, “Schatje, we’re just fine here, you can sit down. Have you had breakfast yourself yet?” knowing you never liked to put yourself first.

“I'm just fine, Vincent. thank you.” you stuttered out. He hummed in concern, “Sebas told me you were doing laundry outside today. I'll come help you, if that’s alright?” you shook your head, touched at his kind offer, but dreadful over having a companion. As sweet as Vincent was, you were afraid of being too brash with him, with how short your patience was today.

“We don't have to talk or anything, I'm offering because I want to, mc. please?” Vincent’s pleading eyes were too precious, so you gave him a hesitant nod.

Vincent brightened up, his angelic smile lifting your spirits up slightly. with a warm day like today, he usually painted outside anyway. at least you wouldn’t have to be with him the whole time.

He gave your arm an appreciative squeeze before you left. you weren’t sure how to thank him exactly.

True to his word, the moment you stepped foot outside, you were greeted with his “could heal any and every problem in the world” smile. He was extra handsome wearing his simple, white, button-up shirt with his sleeves rolled up.

You gave him an appreciative nod, a bit flustered with having someone help you with such a simple task. Still, Vincent pleasantly hummed with no complaints, hanging the clothes you washed.

It’s true that his hands were blessed by god, but his somewhat clumsy work with clipping the clothes on the line was a contrast to his paintings. Still, his determined expression dispelled any frustration you had, with how hardworking and adorable he was.

With Vincent’s help (and the soft melody of Mozart's distant piano playing), the laundry was hung in sufficient time. other than having tea with Comte, you really didn’t have much left to do this early afternoon. Vincent cutely tilted his head in curiosity at your zoned out face.

When he giggled, you snapped out of your stupor and glanced questioningly at him. “sorry! you’re just so cute staring into space like that.” Flustered, you faced away from him.

“Don’t just say things like that Vincent. you’ll give me the wrong idea.”

“I mean it though. you’re adorable even just breathing.” He was doing that thing where he innocently compliments you, but just like his brother, actually wants to see you flustered.

“Vincent!”

“and now you’re even lovelier when you’re all embarrassed!” Vincent chuckled, finally relenting when your hands fully covered your burning face.

“Sorry for teasing you. I was just hoping I could make you smile. I know I'm not nearly as funny as Napoleon, or as dependable as Leonardo, but it hurts me to see you in pain, mc.” Vincent gently pried your hands away, holding them in his bigger and warmer ones. He stroked your palms in gentle circles.

Really, he wanted to just wrap you in an embrace and hoped that you would let out your emotions to him. But he knew you needed time and patience before confiding in him. If you allowed it, he would stay all-day with you, just comforting and listening to any of your vulnerable confessions you chose to indulge him to.

Eventually, you did relent to receiving a warm hug from him. you couldn’t see his face, but he was overjoyed you felt safe enough with him to do so.

Angelic Vincent wishes he could take any and every pain you feel and take it all himself. It truly breaks his heart seeing your usually bright spirit so down, so he’ll do everything he can to comfort you. He’s patient and gentle; never crossing any of your boundaries and allowing you to take whatever you need and however long it takes you to find that out. He’ll help you with your work, sing you to sleep, feed you treats (that you hope he didn’t make), and give you as much or as little as you need. He cares about you deeply and only hopes he can be enough to cure at least a little bit of the pain you feel.

Comte de Saint-Germain

Comte's face was already scrunched in worry from the moment you entered the dining hall. his calm and elegant demeanour belied it, but he was eager to finally talk to you. Once you reached his side, you swore you could almost hear the sigh of relief.

“I speak for everyone when I say that no one can start their day right without seeing your face, chérie.” Ever the romantic, Comte wants to reassure you that you’re wanted (needed actually), and that he appreciates your being there.

You’d be hard-pressed not to feel flustered by his words. “You’re exaggerating, Comte, but thank you.” Your usual routine consisted of having tea with Comte in the early afternoon, but you weren’t sure you’d make good company. “about later today comte—“

“I'll have the tea and desserts set up. i’ve found this new patisserie in the city—“

“comte, i’m really sorry—“

“You don’t have to do any work, mc. I want you to take a break.” He was clearly well-intentioned and the break did sound tempting. so with much hesitation, you relented to comte’s demands.

Perhaps a little part of you dreaded it, knowing how protective Comte was over you. He’ll pry, and if he found out that it was another person’s doing that caused your mood, he’ll cause a riot (gracefully and elegantly, mind you). He was already waiting at the garden’s gazebo, a spread of various sweet pastries and steaming tea set up for you.

He perked up upon seeing you, pushing your chair in as you sat down. He poured you tea and placed one of each pastry on your plate while you hopelessly tried to stop him.

“I'm simply ecstatic you could join me today, ma chérie.” he hummed, sipping his tea.

“It's not anyone’s fault, it’s just me.” You wanted to clear up what you knew he was itching to find out. his shoulders sagged down in relief for a brief moment before settling back into his perfect posture.

“That's a relief, but I still want to make sure you’re okay, mc. Come, have some tea.”

You could feel Comte’s golden eyes watching your every move, but otherwise, the tea was excellent and he was certainly generous with all the pastries.

The real surprise was later in the night, after dinner, when comte asked you to meet him in his office. He was on the balcony, gazing out to the Parisian landscape (he would have been smoking then, but he tries not to).

“You called for me, comte?”

“Ah yes. mc.” The way he said your name was admittedly a bit seductive when accompanied by his golden eyes. he had this excited air about him, unknown if it was for innocent or more sinful reasons. He motioned towards a concerningly large box on his table. you opened it, and to your surprise (not really let’s bfr), there was a beautiful silk dress in your favourite colour.

Comte moved close from behind you, and with a quiet “may i?” he delicately put a necklace on your neck, the light brush of his fingers dizzying.

He trailed his hands down to your shoulders and squeezed them, before descending to your arms. “ma chérie, i want to make you feel better. how can i do that for you?” he rubbed your arms up and down before wrapping around your body altogether.

In this position, you could cry in peace, ramble in frustration, or be silent and enjoy his embrace without fear of judgement. He couldn’t see your expression, to save any embarrassment on your end, but he’s still there.

Comte will definitely be protective and try and figure out if it was anyone made you upset. He would commit a murder to whoever did, but if there wasn’t anyone, he’d focus on making you feel better. His love language is gifts, quite obviously, but I also like to believe that he’s an acts of service guy who’d want to make things at least a little easier for you, like giving you a break. He'd want to reward you with gifts, expensive, but the kind that he knows you like. and if that doesn’t show you he cares about you, he’ll stay long enough to help you recover; in a way, he feels proudly possessive, knowing you could show your vulnerability to only him.

Napoleon Bonaparte

As one of the late risers, you were tasked with waking him up in the morning. you did your usual routine of ripping the blankets off him and blocking his kiss with your hand. this time though, you left the former emperor be, once you caught sight of his half-opened eyes.

He took a minute to catch on to your disappearance (forgive him, he’s half-awake) but as soon as it registered in his sleepy brain, he zoomed out of his room to catch your retreating figure.

You knew he was one of the persistent men of the mansion, unable to leave you alone even when you weren’t upset. so this time around, he was hellbent on following you until you’d answer his inquiries.

“Nunuche? what’s gotten into you?” he would quickly catch up to you and grip your arm until you show him your teary face. And only then would he relent and hold your hand instead.

You could confide in him and tell him about all your problems, because after all, he was the man who saved you and vowed to protect you all this time. However, even if you didn’t at that moment, nothing would stop Napoleon from making you feel better.

He would briefly venture into town to absolve him of any of his guard duties so he could remain at your side the entire day. Perhaps a bit of an overreaction on his part, but owing his new life to you, he wanted to prioritise you above all else.

Unlike a certain lazy Italian, this Italian will politely request that you be relieved of your tasks, and though you insisted on at least completing the laundry with Vincent and having tea with Comte, you relented to his demands.

His usual routine was to take you to the stables and run as far as you can on his horse. It was often what helped him dispel the ghosts from his past; the coolness of the afternoon wind was a soothing balm to your face that was drenched with hot tears. He would childishly ignite a race between the two of you through the vast woods surrounding Comte’s mansion, if only to ease your heavy mind with a far less laborious task.

He’d lead you to a small meadow on the outskirts of the fields, far from prying eyes and ears. There you can let any emotion out: whether that was a yell of frustration, a scream of rage, or harsh sobs, Napoleon will do it first, if it removes any embarrassment on your end.

Whether you choose to confide in him or not, (which you likely would, considering how unyieldingly supportive and protective Napoleon had been for you thus far) Napoleon will willingly listen to anything you say. You could wax cheesy poetry, ponder about the origins of the universe, or just recall mundane moments in the mansion, but Napoleon will respond in kind to any silly statement you make.

Napoleon of all people wouldn’t be opposed to having a nap on the soft, dewy grass, under the blanket of the warm setting sun. Once it gets cold though, he’d take you back to the mansion.

If you still felt overwhelmed, he would bring you up to the attic that overlooked the Paris skyline.

Napoleon, as he hopes that you consider him one of your closest companions, would do everything in his power to ease your pain. He’d begin by alleviating your work for the day, and whether that entailed him undertaking those chores or simply helping you with them, he’d do anything. Then, he might try what works best for him when he has his off days, usually in regard to the past, but allow you to dictate what he can or can’t do. Really, he hopes that whatever he does dispels those clouds of anguish and replaces it with some good old Napoleon humour. As the evening closes in, he’d take you to the attic. With only the stars and the moon as your witness, Napoleon would do everything in his power to bring you comfort.

sorry that i wasn't able to write for everyone in this post, but I'll feature the rest (Leonardo, Isaac, Mozart, Jean, and a few bonus characters) on the next post. i just wanted to get some content out now.

if you made it this far, thank you so much for spending your time on my writing. lmk if you enjoyed it (or didn't, but pls be nice abt it I'm sensitive). have a great day, my dear <3

#ikemen series #cybird ikemen #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen vampire arthur #ikemen vampire napoleon #ikemen vampire x reader #ikevamp x reader #ikemen vampire comte #ikemen vampire vincent #ikemen vampire theo #ikemen vampire dazai #ikevamp theo #ikevamp comte #ikevamp vincent #ikevamp napoleon #ikevamp arthur

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violettduchess · 10 months ago

Text

A/N: Because he didn't have one yet 💜

WC: ~600

He tastes like coffee and wonder, like fudge and fervor.

The minutes leading up to this moment, this embrace in the depth of night, began with you coming back through the mansion door just as the clock struck the midnight hour, one hand pushing back the rich hood of your cloak, revealing cheeks flushed from the cold and eyes bright as sunlight winking off a morning’s frost. Your smile was wide and warm and open as you stepped into the parlor, searching for him. Arthur took one look at you, threw down his hand of cards and with a light smile and breezy valediction, took your hand and took his leave, pulling you along with him, away from the knowing glances of the others.

Up the wide staircase you go, down the carpeted hallway with its arched windows letting in pale slants of moonlight. Your room is much too far away and his may as well be on the moon.

He needs you now.

And so he pulls you into a shadowy alcove, pulls you against his lean body. You’re laughing softly, breathless, murmuring something about still wearing your cloak and boots and-

“As if that matters, luv.”

And then his lips are on yours and you realize, no, no it doesn’t matter at all. Although eager, his kiss begins soft, one hand sliding up, across the plane of your cheek, thumb stroking smooth skin. His lips leave yours to roam the line of your jaw, to prowl the sensitive place below your ear. You tilt your head back and allow him access to the slope of your neck, expecting him to sink his sharp fangs in immediately, unable to resist the feeling of lawless pleasure.

He does not.

Instead, kiss after kiss decorates your skin, as if you are a blank page and he is the writer, jotting formless words of desire and devotion, of tenderness and aching affection along your throat, your collarbone, your shoulder.

No one before you has ever mattered. You are the beginning of his greatest story.

His name is a sigh whispered into the shadows, your fingers catching his chin and lifting his head back up so you can kiss his mouth, the romance of the moment draped around you like silken cords. His hands slide under your cloak, untuck your blouse from your skirt and slide underneath, palms pressing against the bare skin of your back. Up they slide, along your spine, then back down the lines of your torso. You are softer than vellum, his fingertips curling and tracing a filigree along your waist. They feel feather-light, like ink trails across your skin.

“I need you,” he breathes against your lips, sincere and honest, his heart a fragile thing you hold in your hands. And you smile, clutching the nape of his neck. “I need you too.”

He lifts you into his arms, kissing you once more, this time harder, a kiss edged with the promise of what is to come. You curl against him, soft and boneless as his long legs carry you down the hall, towards your room. You close your eyes, nuzzling into his neck, dropping kisses like tiny sparks against his skin.

His heart thunders in his chest at your touch and he knows, with every fiber of his being, that you love him, as he is. You, who pulled his gaze away from the regrets of his past and helped him close the chapters on the trauma that had haunted him for far too long. Your love cradles him and keeps him safe, a cover to his fragile pages and a promise for all that is still unwritten.

Tagging: @xbalayage @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @olivermorningstar @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary @namine-somebodies-nobody @greatstarlightstarfish @cellophanediamond @whatever-fanfics @justpeachyteastea @chirp-a-chirp @got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine @mastering-procrastinating @portrait-ninja @fang-and-feather @bubblexly @ozalysss @kiki-tties

#ikemen series #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp arthur #ikemen arthur #arthur conan doyle #kiss fic #arthur x reader #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #otome fanfic #violettwrites

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etheries1015 · 1 year ago

Note

As long as you don't mind, maybe Theo, Arthur, Charles and Shakespeare comforting a fem! S/O going through a emotional flashback?(where you feel the old emotions, but it doesn't feel like you're there there; I know for me I get really dissociated during/after and stim nonstop while blasting music to help ground). Only if you're up for it of course and it's something you'd feel comfy writing ❤️ Thank you so much lovely!

Oh my gosh slay my first ikevamp request thank you this is such a good idea!! I hope you don't mind I implemented a scenario I feel would be a relatable emotional experience: somebody brings up your family, friends, or past loved ones, and you can't help but think back at your life before and begin to spiral and question your choices.

Ikemen Vampire x reader - How they comfort you

Featuring: Theo, Arthur, Shakespeare, Charles

TW: Descriptions of disassociation and (very mild) panic attacks.

General warnings: Fem pronouns, not too in-depth but I hope it's still okay!

Theo:

Theo I would say is not particularly the best at comforting, and does it in more of a round about way. However he can't help but need to do something....you're far too distracted while on the job. He had you come along with a few business deals with artists and nobles, and one specific thing a noble had said to you made you begin to think.

"Ah! Theo, and the lovely lady (y/n)! I've heard you have been established as a couple now, correct? Great for you! I'm sure your family must be happy you're with someone as stand up as good old theodorus here, huh?" One of the artists you had the pleasure of meeting blurted out. He hadnt meant anything by it and you knew this, however this was the start of you spiraling. The remaining amount of time you spent out and about with theo involved your eyes wandering to the ground, barely blinking while he led you by holding your hand. Your strides were slow and sluggish, and you had barely spoken a word ever since that incident. Finally you returned back to the mansion after he had finally called it a day, theo practically dragging you to his bedroom.

"What's going on with you hondje?" His eyebrows furrowed, "you've been weird ever since-" he stopped short of his sentence when he noticed tears filling your eyes which were colorless, your body slumping on the bed while you tried to distract yourself from the tears by picking at your nails. You simply shook your head, the words unable to form into coherent sentences thus silence was the best option for you. Theo didnt hesitate to wrap his strong arms around you and immediately begin to rub circles on your back, not pushing you any further to share what was going on.

He was content in the silence with you, he was a patient enough man to allow you to return to yourself in your own terms. Although he was gruff and often seen as outwardly brash and rough, however he knows when to hold back his often difficult attitude. Thus the next hour was him simply holding you in his arms, your light sobs soon evening out as you drifted into a slumber within his strong grasp. After laying you gently upon the bed, Theo made sure to take the following day off, for he knew he must dedicate that time to you.

Arthur:

You had began to make preparations for your wedding with Arthur, one of those things of course being a wedding dress. There were so many to choose from, and on top of being stressed about the whole ordeal and your anxiety creeping in, one of the tailors who were measuring you had nonchalantly said, "Oh dear, your parents must be ecstatic! Now tell me, where are they now? Shouldn't your mother at least be here for you while finding a dress for her precious daughters wedding?" You hesitated before gently responding to her that your mother lived abroad and you communicated by letter, and the woman quickly dropped the topic with a quick apology. The room suddenly felt thick and heavy, your chest tightened as you forced the tears that brimmed your eyes back. It wasn't until you stepped into the mansion after your dress endeavors, quickly rushing past any of the residents without so much as a "Hello." Its not as if you really noticed anyone anyways, your peripheral vision blurred and you felt numb. Any voices you heard drowened out, your mind wandering elsewhere. You wanted to be alone, you wanted to burry your face into your knees and try to cry, to forget the world exists, and fade away. you didnt feel real right now, you didnt feel like...you.

"Love!" You heard a familiar voice break you out or your trance, and panic began to set in.

Oh no.

You began to walk faster, 'don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry,' you kept telling yourself, 'If I see him, I will definitely cry.' And just as you had suspected, Arthur quickly caught up to you and grabbed your arm gently, a look of concern in his deep blue eyes. Your walls had cracked and the floodgates poured. He immediately pulled you into a tight embrace, swaying with you in his arms from side to side as you sobbed into his chest. Before long he was pulling you into his bedroom, instructing you to lay on his bed. He covered you gently with blankets and had gotten you water (and himself some coffee, of course.) He tried to get you to tell him what was wrong but knows better than to force you to talk. So, instead, he will lie down next to you caressing your hair. Your breathing began to even out, the repeated feeling of his gentle touch had calmed you down. You then spend the next few hours talking out your issues while Arthur peppered your face and jawline with kisses and continued to give you as much support as he possibly could.

Shakespeare:

"Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name. Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love and I'll no longer be a Capulet!"

The familiar line rang in your ears as the play went on, yet another rendition of your boyfriends ever so popular "Romeo and Juliet." However, this time, the words drowned out and you found yourself staring blankly at the stage. You could see blurred lines moving around in act, and words that were being called out as the play continued forward. Yet you were not listening to any of it. Memories of the past had bubbled up into your mind instead, memories of reading Romeo and Juliet for the first time, perhaps studying Shakespeare with your classmates in school, plays that would take place in your world, and faces of people you were once familar with playing those roles. You began to feel numb, devoid of emotions, living in the past without noticing Shakespeare had lay his hand upon your own in obvious concern.

"(Y/n)," he whispered into your ear, "what ails you, my love? Be not afraid to confide in me, let free that in which plagues thy mind," he coaxed. You let out a trembling sigh and simply shook your head in an indication that you had no intention to explain it right now, it wasn't the time or place, nor were you in the right headspace. He let out a slight sigh and rubbed his thumb loving over your knuckles whilst resuming his gaze on the stage, your mind wandering off once again in those memories now turned sour.

Once you had returned home to the villa, Shakespeare attempting to speak to you in the carriage left him feeling uneasy. You seemed far off, looking out of the window while responding in small one-word increments that left him mildly frustrated. Finally unable to contain the annoyance of being brushed off and failing to get you to speak to him, he had decided to grab your wrists and pin you to the bed, his eyes staring into your own with a hint of annoyance along with the overwhelming concern in his furrowed brows. he was about to demand you tell him what was possibly going on, however sudden movement caused you to finally break down, the tears that had been building up poured over and you began to sob. Any sign of annoyance was quickly replaced by pure panic and love, he removed his hands from your wrists immediately and pressed you into his chest. While smoothing your hair down he spoke poems into your ears, trying his best to distract you from whatever was bothering you. An hour went by and he had recited many of the lines from his plays, not even noticing you had ended up falling asleep within his arms... When you awoke you would find yourself comfortably tucked into bed, a cup of tea and little desserts awaiting you with your lover sitting and reading over a script. He wasn't particularly a patient one...however for you, he was willing to do anything to make it all better.

Charles:

You weren't into it this time, the kisses he places along your jawline and hands lovingly caressing your sides didn't leave you shivering in pleasure per usual. You were staring up at the ceiling, eyes void and staring out into space, laying still while your boyfriend halted his sensual advances. He furrowed his eyebrows in concern and lifted his head to reach your gaze as he hovered over you.

"(Y/n)?" Charles asked with a tremble in his voice, "are you...okay? Am I not doing a good job? I'm sorry I-" you interrupted him with a sigh and a shaking hand pressing up against his chest, pushing him gently enough for him to understand to remove himself from on top of you. You sat up with your shoulders slumped over and your hair obscuring your peripheral vision and staring down at your hands.

"I just..." You choked out, "just...remembering some stuff," you said, "don't wanna talk about it..." Your voice was barely above a whisper, yet the lack of animation in your movements and tone had strongly caused Charles to worry. He planted a kiss on the top of your head before removing himself from the bed, putting his shirt back on and buttoning it up.

"Well...then you just rest for now, and I will be back with some food! Food always makes things better," He said with attempted enthusiasm. You had not replied. With a sad smile, Charles kissed your forehead once more before leaving you to your own devices, understanding that you may need some space in order to collect your thoughts and feelings. When he had returned, you had covered yourself with blankets. He tried to resist the urge to set down anything and everything and bombard you with a tight squeeze, instead, he gently lay the food upon the tablet in the room, taking a seat next to you as your light sobs were not gone unnoticed by his ears. Charles removed the blanket from the top of your head, cooing in your ear, "I have food here for you, and tea made fresh by yours truly...would you try it, please?" He asked, puppy eyes to try and lure you out. You simply shook your head. With a defeated sigh Charles resorted to humming a tune and drawing circles on your back, he felt your trembling begin to come to a halt and your breathing evening out.

He knew when you were ready and able to confide in him, he was going to smother you with as much of his love as he possibly could. Perhaps together you could learn to forget both of your worries of the past for a little while...

Bonus: Imagine Mozart just playing piano for you. you're crying softly but he doesn't mind, he just continues to play until it eventually lulls you into a gentle sleep. He isn't good at comforting, but his music can convey how he feels about you.

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