#ikevamp mozart fanfic

[xxsycamore]

❝ 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬? ❞

╰┈➤ ⁉️ Everyone is acting so strange today, and Sebastian seems to be the only one noticing it.

Sebastian, Comte, Napoleon, Theodorus, Vincent, Mozart, Jean, Arthur, Isaac, Leonardo, Dazai • rating: G • tags: April Fools' Day; Pranks and Practical Jokes; poor sebas; Humor; Crack • wordcount: 1,682 • masterlist

a/n: HAPPY APRIL FOOLS! After Dazai pranking everyone and then everyone pranking Dazai, it seems like this year's target is Sebas…

It's not every day that Sebastian allows himself the indulgence of enjoying a drink with his masters, even when they so generously invite him to the table in the game room. The events of last night are but a blur in his memory now, as he's not the best at holding his liquor and neither has their immunity to hangovers. But a butler must be prim and proper at all times! While he's on duty, that's it. So that's why he allowed himself the fun of last night, but is readily up and out of his bed early in the morning today.

He enters the kitchen, humming the tune to Mozart's Turkish March in this tranquil moment of being the only soul awake in the whole mansion, on his way to begin preparing breakfast-

"Oh, good morning Sebas. I'm already done with some things here, figured I might help you."

"My! What a nice surprise Monsieur Napoleon, thank you."

Huh.

"M-M-M-Monsieur Napoleon what are you doing here????"

"Helping you with breakfast."

"No, gods, I was wondering why are you awake at such an early hour-"

Napoleon looks at him dumbfounded. And so does Sebas, mirroring him. Granted, there are dark circles under his eyes but that hardly does anything about the vigor with which he moves the frying pan and multitasks with the preparation of another ingredient at the same time.

"Is it that strange that I felt like waking up earlier today?"

Well, yes it is! That's what Sebastian wants to shout at the top of his lungs, but he can only blink mesmerized instead. Fearing that he might offend him in some way if he keeps this up, he saves his confusion to himself and gets back on track with his task.

The breakfast preparation goes on swimmingly with Napoleon's help, even if he strangely seems to have forgotten how to cook all of a sudden so he needs some serious memory refreshment... Sebastian blames it on his lack of sleep, of course that would be the reason.

Soon the dining room begins filling with the real early-bird residents that pose no surprises for Sebastian, and the plates are already waiting in front of them like clockwork.

"Pancakes again? I'm starting to get tired of this. You got something else for me, Sebastian?"

The sound of pots and pans falling to the floor greatly concerns the van Gogh brothers at the table after the younger one's question, but soon after the butler emerges from the kitchen with a haphazardly pieced-together English breakfast. He places it in front of Theodorus who asked for the change, waiting. Waiting to see if he's going to eat it at all.

"Here you go, master Theodorus. Do you need extra jam, or-"

"No need, looks more than enough to me. Why are you staring at me like that? Is it poisonous?"

"Gods, no, how could it be! I'm merely...surprised is all."

Vincent chuckles a little at the exchange, preparing to dig in on his portion of...pancakes, fortunately. But he pauses.

"Theo, would you hand me the syrup? I feel like eating something sweeter today!"

"Stand up and take it yourself."

Sebastian's eyes are about to pop out of his eye sockets.

"Messieurs, is everything alright with-"

The door opens with a bang that belongs to no gentlemen living in this household.

And certainly not to Le Comte de Saint-Germain.

"'morning."

"M-monsieur le Comte, what are you wearing?"

Comte's casual walk to his place at the head of the table with hands in his pockets is rivaled only by the even more casual look he sports today, with a halfway-open shirt and a pair of checkered trousers that don't really match. To finish off the look, his hair is a mess. He lands with a thud on his chair, raising his feet to rest crossed on the table.

"What am I wearing? Since when did you start asking so many questions?"

"I'm terribly sorry."

Comte sighs and snaps his fingers repeatedly in the air. "Coffee. Now."

"I already brew a pot of your preferred morning tea-"

"Don't make me repeat myself, butler."

"I got it."

On his way to the kitchen, Sebastian overhears Comte slamming his fist on the table telling everyone that from now on, they'll be paying rent.

Sebastian must be sleeping. This has to be some kind of nightmare. There's no other logical explanation.

When he returns to the dining room the door opens to welcome another couple of residents - Jean and Mozart.

"Good morning Herr Mozart. Good morning to you too, Monsieur Jean, what a surprise!"

Mozart and Jean both turn to Sebastian...and they give him their brightest smiles. Imaginary flowers bloom in the air around them. They greet in a cheerful voice together as one, and it's the most beautiful melody. "Good morning, Sebastian!"

"We decided to grab a bite before our trip to town today."

"Your... your what?"

"That's right, I'll be taking Jean in town with me. The carriage is already waiting at the gate."

Mozart going to...town?? With a carriage?? With Jean??

"Aha! The trace of this bloody delicious smell seems to have led me to this dining room!"

Now what? Sebastian turns in the direction of Arthur's voice albeit it sounds a little different than usual, as if he's playing a role... and there he is, having just entered the dining room... with a looking glass in his hand and a pipe in his mouth.

"Good morning, Master Arthur. Your observation skills are on point as always. What's with the curious accessories?"

Sebastian doesn't know why he asks anymore.

"Why, I'll be going on a Sherlock Homles book fair later today! You know it's all the hype these days, I figured it's the best place to learn something about my beloved character that I don't know. You know my methods, Watson. Haha!"

Thank god, Sebastian is not the only one about to faint right now. Given how normal everything else was taken by his housemates. Theo says the one thing Sebastian couldn't bring himself to say.

"This idiot has reached rock bottom in his search for skirts he hasn't yet fooled around with."

Arthur looks...grossed out. As if he's been made fun of by Dazai, or something similar. Actually, there haven't been a great deal of chances to see Arthur sporting this expression. It's definitely strange.

"Theo, could you not be so foul-mounted, please? You know I hold no interest in the fair sex."

"A-Are you feeling well, Master Arthur? Maybe when you drink your coffee-"

"Ah no please, tea it is for me!"

"Are you feeling well, Master Arthur?????"

"Sebastian seems really uptight today. Are YOU feeling well, Sebastian? Why don't you sit with us for a while?" Jean smiles at him again. It's a smile Sebastian wants to protect. It should be automatically making him feel better but it only serves to increase his confusion. He even sat next to Comte. Comte doesn't deserve this! At least not with his current behavior. Oh how strange of a thought that is.

"I appreciate your concern, but, I just need to know what is happening with all of you today. I can't be calm until I ensure that you, my masters, are alright, and I demand you tell me what is happening this instant!"

A near dozen pairs of eyes blink at Sebastian as if he's indeed the crazy one. He sits down on the offered chair, then quickly stands up again. "No, please tell me what is-"

The door opens yet again and this time it's Leonardo and Isaac who enter. Sebastian paces left and right, trying to spot empty plates to take to the kitchen before he can witness anything weird again-

"Isaac, mio amico, can you please not smoke in here? You know I can't stand the smell..."

"AAAAAAAGH!" Sebastian yells, breaking his professional image and running straight towards the door. He can't do this. It doesn't matter if he escapes now. It's just a nightmare. Just a nightmare-

He nearly crashes into the person entering at the same time.

"Hello Sebas-kun~"

Through the DOOR?

Sebastian breaks. Like a stone statue slammed by the pressure of a cataclysm despite the decades of stoicism, even if he thought he'd seen everything...

He falls to his knees in defeat.

...

...

"APRIL FOOLS'!"

Before he has a chance to remove his hands from his eyes where he tried to block the world, a wave of residents quite literally falls over him, each embracing him and laughing.

Okay, NOW he's confused.

"April fools? But- But my calendar said it's-"

"Someone had a little too much to drink last night and had to be carried to his room... let's say we meddled a little with it. Sorry, Sebas." Napoleon pats his shoulder. "Okay, can I go to sleep now?"

Sebastian laughs, and despite what he predicted for himself just a minute ago, it's not out of descending to madness. It's a genuine laughter, one he hasn't had in a while.

"I would never guess you could be capable of doing such a thing! Every one of you! My god, you got me quite well."

"Heh, guess you don't know us well enough then, eh? Remember this well, some of those guys are going to remember it for the rest of their second lives." Leonardo says, finally lighting that cigarillo. Good thing they didn't have to put on the act for longer than that.

"Indeed. I hope we weren't too harsh on you, Sebastian. My residents are always such naughty boys." Comte consoles, suspiciously looking as if it was his idea all along.

Sebastian chuckles some more, then he stands to his feet, dusting off his uniform and letting out a small cough behind his fist.

"My masters, that was indeed too naughty of you! I appreciate seeing you have fun, and I have to admit, you got me well. But that doesn't mean I won't find it fitting to flick some foreheads."

"Sebaaas, can we please have our usual breakfast now?"

"Why yes, coming right away!"

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran    @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @kimmy-banana @devonares @galaxyprison @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @lordsister @ikemen-banshou   @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning ​ @ikemenlover24 @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @shrimpy-kitsune @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @lucyw260 @kittygrimm88 @lokis-laugh @judejazza Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[natimiles]

What is that? (a tattooed reader)

Summary: You tied your hair in a high ponytail that morning, and it was enough for the tip of your tattoo to be visible. You've had it for so long that you're used to it, and sometimes you forget it's there — plus, you forgot that they've never seen it before.

Words: 1716

Tags: reader have tattoos; platonic relationships; more like friendships; no pronouns for reader, but you wear a dress and have sort of long hair.

Can you tell I have favorites? Only Isaac, Mozart, Jean, Arhur, Vincent, Theo, Napoleon and Sebastian show up. Le Comte is vaguely mentioned.

If you're curious to see the tattoos, I linked their images in their respective descriptions throughout the fanfic.

“What is that, mademoiselle?” 

You're helping Sebastian with breakfast, moving around the dining room, but you’ve been feeling a strong stare for a while. You're already accustomed to everyone, so you don't mind. You knew that if it was Isaac trying to muster the courage to ask you something, he would eventually do it. But it’s Jean’s voice, and it catches your attention because he usually eats in silence; and he sounds unsure and curious.

You set Arthur’s coffee in front of him while you glance at the table and everything you and Sebastian made. Perhaps there's something he doesn't know, like when you baked him macarons, but today's menu is the same as usual.

“What is what?”

“That thing,” he points in your direction. 

Isaac, Mozart, Vincent, and Theo are already having breakfast too, but they pause to glance at you, curious about what Jean is talking about. You feel a bit self-conscious and briefly inspect your clothes. Did you spill something? Fortunately, no. 

“I don’t follow, Jean.”

“That thing you have here,” he points at his own back. “I’ve seen it since I sat here to eat, but I can’t understand.”

You raise an eyebrow at him and look over your shoulder, Arthur takes advantage that you’re still by his side to lean backwards on his chair and measure you up and down — and definitely stare at your ass.

“Stop it, perv,” you playfully spat the writer’s arm, earning a chuckle from him. 

“Ah, I think Master Jean is talking about your tattoo,” Sebastian tries to help, pointing at his own nape.

Realization finally hits you. Since arriving at the mansion, you've been exclusively wearing long clothes that cover almost your entire body. However, summer started a few weeks ago, and you've been feeling the full force of the heat. It's scorching every day, and at times, you wake up covered in sweat. You've been yearning for an air conditioner or even just a simple fan. So you bought lighter clothes recently — aka Comte bought you a whole summer wardrobe as a gift. What you're wearing today is just an off-the-shoulder dress, so the front and back necklines are a bit lower than usual, but not by much. However, you tied your hair in a high ponytail that morning, and it was enough for the tip of your tattoo to be visible. You've had it for so long that you're used to it, and sometimes you forget it's there — plus, you forgot that they've never seen it before.

“What is that?” Jean is even more curious now, evident from the way he furrows his brow.

“It's a drawing on my body, made with a special kind of paint that never fades. It's a form of art.”

“Really?” You've piqued Theo's interest in art. “And what is it?”

“Music,” and now you’ve piqued Mozart’s interest in music. He doesn’t really show it, but you know him well enough to see when he’s curious. “Well, kinda. It goes a little down my spine, but it’s safe to show. Sebastian, can you help me, please?”

The butler nods and approaches you. You turn your back and move your ponytail to the side for a better view, while Sebastian lowers your neckline slightly so the others can satisfy their curiosity and see it.

It starts just at the end of your nape and goes 5 inches down. It’s an all-black DNA drawing with musical notes on the middle lines, a representation of a metronome pendulum on top, and a treble clef at the bottom. The middle actually has the same number of lines as a music sheet, and the notes can be read as the first five notes of your favorite song.

There’s only silence for a few moments, and as you turn around, you see that they're still staring at you. You think Theo hadn't even blinked until now because he suddenly blinks a lot, and his eyes meet yours.

“It’s pretty!” Vicent smiles like the angel he is. “Is it a real song?”

“It is,” Mozart hums the notes, his eyes conveying that he knows it’s your favorite song.

You've told him once, when you went to the music room to give him an afternoon snack. You were already friends (kind of), so when you saw he wasn't there at the moment, you knew he wouldn't mind if you sat down and softly played it; so you did. The next thing you knew, he was barging into the music room to scold whoever had the audacity to touch his piano, but he stopped when he saw you. He may have asked you to write down the notes so he could play it with you.

“Oh, yeah, you played it for us in the last banquet,” Isaac remembers.

“Does it hurt?” Jean asked, curious again. 

“No, not anymore. It hurt when I was getting it done. Boy, that was one hell of a ride,” you laugh. “But it’s been years, so it’s all healed and okay now.”

“It suits you, hondje. Do you have more?”

“I do!” You beam at them, feeling all bubbly inside. It's lovely how they always show interest in anything about you and remember what you like. “It’s on my thigh.” You use the tip of your toes to put more leverage on your right leg, grabbing a fistful of the skirt of your dress. You lift it to show them your tattoo, but a hand stops you when it's reaching your knee.

“Nunuche, what the hell?” 

Napoleon had just woken up and was joining you in the dining room. Did you say something about your thigh? He was still a little sleepy, so he thought he heard you wrong. But then you grabbed your dress… What the fuck do you think you’re doing? He was at your side in the blink of an eye, gripping your wrists tightly and looking at you with a panic expression. It’d certainly be red in a second, if the loud slap sound was any indication. 

And that’s how you make vampires choke on their foods and drinks. You look at them, a confused expression on your face. Isaac spat his tea all over his plate and is now coughing to clear his throat. Jean dropped his fork, frozen in his chair. Mozart is blinking in a frenzy, his mug in such a tight grip on his hand that his knuckles are white. Vincent is blushing furiously, his mouth agape. Theo is actually amused, and you clearly heard Arthur complaining to Napoleon that it was just getting good. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask, startled. 

“MC, just remember we’re not in the 21st century,” Sebastian says, clearly holding a smirk. 

You feel your entire face heat up. Oh my God! That was certainly an uncomfortable situation. But you were so used to them; they made you feel at home, so you didn’t really think about what you were doing.

“Oh, right, sorry,” You chuckle and blush under the intensity of their stares. “But it’s no big deal, really. Sebastian and le Comte have already seen it.”

“Say that again?” Theo asks as his gaze drifts to the butler, just like everyone else's. 

“It’s nothing weird!” You can almost feel the emperor’s grip tightening. Sometimes he was so overprotective — they all were, and it was both endearing and funny. You huff. “We were talking about the 21st century, and I told Sebas that I have tattoos and showed him. Simple as that. Lots of people wear clothes that show a lot of skin in modern days. Do you think I would lift my dress to show the tattoo when I’m right next to Arthur if it wasn’t okay?” You deadpan Napoleon.

“Hey!” The writer complains, but everybody ignores him. You do have a point.

Napoleon frowns, but slowly releases you. You look at the others and just from a look they know you’ll be mad if they freak out again, so they try to act cool. Keyword: try. They’re staring so much you think they’ll open a hole in your thigh, but at least they’re quiet. You lift the dress just a little more and your tattoo is finally showing. It’s colorful and about the same size as the other. There’s white fine lines connecting dots, forming the Leo constellation, with a blue-purple watercolor background.

“Yes, luv! Now that’s a good breakfast,” Arthur smirks and places his elbow on the table to support his head as he looks at you. He’s so glad that Jean started this conversation while you were still beside him. Napoleon purses his lips and glares at the writer, but he knows better than to start a fight. His nunuche wouldn't let him live it down. 

“What the fuck is that?” Theo raises an eyebrow. Don’t get him wrong, he likes the art, but he just doesn’t understand what it’s supposed to be.

“Theo, language,” Vincent scolds his brother. He doesn’t want you to think they don’t like it.

“Is it upside down?” Jean frowns and tilts his head, trying to get a different angle, but it doesn’t make a difference.

"It's the Leo constellation," you chuckle and glance at Isaac, knowing he would understand. He enjoyed stargazing and always invited you to join him, especially after discovering your shared interest — then he started rambling about physics and astronomy, and you were lost.

“Oh, the stars,” Vincent says.

"So," Theo begins, and you can tell from his amused tone that he's about to say something to make you blush, "you have one that resembles Mozart and another that resembles Isaac."

“No, no. It’d have to be an apple for Newt,” Arthur grins when the poor physicist blushes as red as… the mentioned fruit.

“You’re the worst,” Isaac mumbles under his breath.

You chuckle at their banter. “So that’s it,” you say, releasing your dress. “We have a lot of things to do. So finish your breakfasts quickly.” You clap your hands twice.

“Indeed,” Sebastian nods in agreement.

You have moments of silence after that and you go back to work, but you feel the stares the whole day. You know they still have so much to say and ask, but they stay quiet.

You have some “not-so-permanent tattoos” now — and they might have helped do some.

I don't have tattoos yet, but I really want it. I'd make the first one, but with colors.

Crossposted on AO3.

Masterlists

[fang-and-feather]

Ikemen Vampire - Mozart x Reader

Written for Day 2 of Visions of Temptation by @xxsycamore

Prompt: Handjobs

NSFW

Words: 899

I finally finished one. Not sure about the ending of this but... And yeah, i recycled last year's banner...

IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist / AO3 Link

“I still can’t believe you agreed to this one.” You told your boyfriend as he helped you into the carriage. “We have quite a trip ahead. Are you sure you will be okay?”

“With you by my side, I will manage.” Wolf kissed the back of your hand before climbing after you.

You smiled. It was sweet that he felt so safe with you, but you were still worried. Even you weren’t sure how you would hold up.

It was a hot summer evening and you would be locked up in this “box” for at least an hour. Twice.

Most of his performances had been in town or close to it. Usually a fifteen to twenty minute ride. This one was… In the next town? You weren’t even sure. But it probably was an extraordinary opportunity if your boyfriend agreed to it despite his fear of carriages.

Or maybe Comte just bribed him again.

Whatever the reason, the start of the trip was like any other. Wolf started off a little nervous, but you held his hand and his attention went entirely to you. You talked about a lot of things, but by now that conversation had died out.

At first the silence was comforting, and you just sat side by side, in as much contact as possible, but after a moment when the carriage jerked violently.

Wolf’s hold on your hand tightened, but his attention was outside in a vain attempt to watch the road.

Sincerely, not even you knew where you were at this point and if the roads were safe, but you had to reassure your boyfriend somehow. You didn’t think something would happen, anyway.

So you also tightened your hold on his hand, and when that didn’t even make him look at you, you kissed his neck, making him jump and finally turn around.

“What was that?”

“Does it bother you?” You asked with a smirk, pulling his hand up and kissing it.

“No. But why?”

“I’m bored, and you need a distraction. And we still have a while here… alone. Well, mostly.” You leaned in and brushed your lips against his, feeling him tense for a moment, then relax.

He started to chase after you when you pulled away, but stopped himself.

“You will ruin your makeup.” He warned.

“This one won’t get out so easily. And even if it did, I could always reapply it.” You kissed him again.

This time, his free hand slipped yo your neck, careful not to mess your hair, and he deepened the kiss.

Your free hand moved to his pants, gently squeezing him through it, feeling how he was starting to come to life already.

“Does the situation please you, or do I really arouse you that easily?” You asked in a whisper.

“You know the answer to that, Meine Liebe.” He replied, stubbornly. “Is your method of distraction just attempting to tease me?”

“Why?” You rubbed him, gaining a low groan. “Did you expect more? In here?” But even as you said that, you put more pressure to your movements and he was hardening under your touch. “Do you think you can stay quiet enough?”

You didn’t wait for an answer, though. His tone was enough approval, and you moved to unbuckle his belt. He helped you remove his pants, refusing to let go of your hand.

“I could always bite you if I feel like I can’t.” Wolf grinned, finally answering you. “That won’t mess up your dress.”

He gulped and his smirk vanished as you wrapped a hand around the base of his cock. He wasn’t fully hard yet, so you lightly dragged your hand up until you could reach to tub your thumb over the head.

His groan was slighter louder, and he bit the inside of his cheek.

“Someone is very sensitive today.” You whispered in his ear. “I wish we were somewhere private, so I could show you what I really can do.”

He grunted back as you gave him a light squeeze, before sliding your hand back down with a light touch, and kept that soft pressure in your following movements.

His hand on your neck pulled you closer again, and he kissed you, muffling a moan.

“How can a sweet lamb like you have so much power over me?”

“Because you belong to me, Wolf. Just like I belong to you.”

You kissed him back, tightening your hold on him and building a new, faster pace, and his hold on you tightened back.

“I never thought not being able to touch you properly would be so difficult. If we were on our way home…”

His words were lost in another groan as you focused your efforts on the leaking head of his cock, rubbing it with the palm of your hand.

“If we were on our way home, I know neither of us would be holding back, except from making more noise.”

Wolf chuckled and kissed your neck.

“If you could keep yourself from making noise.”

“Me?” You gave him a light squeeze. “Are you confident you would fare better if I wasn’t holding back?”

“That depends on what you have to give, Meine Liebe.” His fangs teased your skin.

You mentally cursed this party that had both of you holding back so much, but you tried to focus back. You had a task literally at hand right now.

Tag List:

@tele86, @nightghoul381, @natimiles, @bicayaya

@eventinelysplayground, @queengiuliettafirstlady, @2-lines-and-a-circle

If you want to be tagged/untagged on future writings, you can reply to this post or send me a message

IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist

[tayovampr]

How Gossip Spreads Through The Mansion.

ikemen vampire headcannons

( warnings? ) none. ( notes? ) THIS HEADCANNON CONTAINS MY OC. just a few thoughts about how these vampires are extremely nosy and love to spread false information unknowingly :0

It all begins in the kitchen. As the coffee brews for the mansions residents, our lovely helpers: Sebastian, Mitsuki (Y/n) and Temi seem to be cooking up some trouble…

Mitsuki would unintentionally reveal something that happened thorough out the day. Maybe it was something she overheard while shopping, on the balcony or watching Napoleon and Jean spar. She always tells Sebastian and Temi what she hears about the residents—since Sebastian has that interesting hobby of his.

“Hey Sebastian, Temi?” Mitsuki calls out to the two as they washed the dishes. Sebastian was scrubbing, Temi was rinsing, and Mitsuki was drying and polishing.

The two turned their heads to look at their friend, wondering what was the matter.

“I was in Comte room earlier helping him open up some letters, and that’s when I came across this one letter. Now mind you, it was scented, had a very prestigious emblem on the wax and included a dried rose in it.” Mitsuki began.

“Le Comte gets letters like that all the time.” Sebastian responded. “Was there something special about it?”

“Well, it clearly came from a girl. And when Comte read it, he was so happy! I mean I never saw him like this before, but it makes me think if he has a secret lover—” Before Mitsuki could finish her sentence, she was interrupted by Temi, who had accidentally dropped a plate into the sink, causing the water to splash up at her.

“Secret lover?!” She exclaimed in disbelief. “What makes it worse is that it’s believable…”

“What if she’s a vampire bombshell who was childhood friends with him and lives in a gothic castle lavished in red and riches? I can’t compete in that race…” Temi grumbled afterwards. Sebastian however looked at the two thoughtfully.

“Well, we’ll do no good sitting here pondering. At dinner let’s go ask Le Comte ourselves.”

Most of the times, it’s something tame. No big deal, and not needing of attention. But as always, if your trying to keep a secret in a mansion full of nosy vampires with supersonic hearing—you better believe this game of telephone will spiral out of control.

Isaac, surprisingly, is the main catalyst for this disaster. Jean coming in a close second. ( I mean, you can see it in some events when it’s almost always these two mishearing something (*´▽`*) )

But it would always be unintentional! Isaac would just walk past an open door and when he heard something shocking, he couldn’t help to stop and get a closer ear. Jean on the other hand wouldn’t stop. He would take the bits and pieces he heard and formulate them in his mind, completing the story for himself.

‘Comte has a lover?’ Isaac thought to himself as he listened in to the conversation. ‘Why has he been hiding it from us all this time? Well—I could understand. I hope he introduces us to her…’

‘That rascal!’ Jean grit his teeth when he heard the news. Although heard would be a stretch. ‘Playing with Temi and Mitsuki’s heart even though he has a women of his own. I will get him to confess…’

And now we have three stories. The truth, an assumption, and a incomplete statement. Which one will travel throughout the mansion quicker?

Jean obviously tells Napoleon and Mozart. It slips out during their sparring lessons, and he tells Mozart on a whim—since they’re friends.

“Wait so—Comte is married?” Napoleon exclaims, as he puts his sword back into its hilt. Jean nods, sitting down of the ground to catch his breathe.

“He has refused to tell us about his secret lover for this long. It makes you wonder what else he has been keeping from us…” Napoleon loosely claims, wiping the sweat that adorned his forehead.

Jean however was thinking in his head, that he was right all along not to trust him. “That shady man…”

With Mozart, he looked a bit confused. “There is just no way Comte is married Jean, did he tell you himself?”

Then for Isaac, the words accidentally slip when he was getting teased by Arthur and Dazai. Of course, these were the worse people to tell out of everyone in the mansion.

Arthur applauded Comte on his fruitfulness. Claiming that it takes skill to hid a lover for so long. While Dazai takes this information with interest. It just so happened when he was scaling the windows, he overheard Mozart and Jean’s discussion.

For Dazai, he didn’t really believe this. As he saw in the music room, Jean wasn’t sure who he heard this information from. But being chaotic as Dazai is, he naturally wanted to be included in the fun. So he often changes up the story.

“How sly of Comte, it seems that he has not only hid his secret wife, but the fact that she will be moving in to live with us soon. Isn’t that great Ai-kun? Lovers reunited at last.” With these words Dazai left, not daring to explain anything.

“Move in with us? By Jove, you would think that old man would tell us before making the decision?” Arthur comments with a sigh.

Dazai doesn’t tell anyone else after that. He is more interested in seeing how this spreads and which one would reach Comte’s ear first. Arthur however tells his best buddy Theo. Theo tells Vincent and Vincent tells Shakespeare. By now the rumor has morphed into something unbelievable.

“Comte is a pathological liar who is hiding his wife from the residents and is planning to make her move in with them because she is expecting soon.” Don’t ask how.

Leonardo hears about this from Temi, who asks if Comte had a lover. Leonardo laughs and answers not anymore—wondering why she was asking.

“Are ya worried about “Comte’s” love life cara mia?” Leonardo jokingly asks.

Although he was joking in that moment, it just confirmed his suspicions that something was spreading in the mansion. Throughout the whole day Leonardo was hearing bits and pieces of a story that including Comte—so it was time he saw the truth for himself.

When he gets to Comte’s room he wastes no time to ask him about it.

“Have you just been in your room all day? Looks like you don’t know what’s happening outside.” Comte looks up from the papers he was sorting at Leonardo, a confused look on his eyes.

“Outside?” He asks, to which Leonardo takes out a cigarillo and begins to light it.

“Yeah…something about you being a compulsive liar who is hiding his pregnant wife from us—it gets a bit tricky because half are saying she’s gonna move in with us, and half are saying your gonna move in with her.”

Comte is just astounded. He just stares blankly at Leonardo…an awkward laugh sounding from his throat. “…Really?” Is all he could muster, as Leonardo begins to laugh.

“See I knew it wasn’t true. But you know might as well confirm before I do damage control right?”

Comte was still shocked. After all he’s done from the residents, was this how easy it was for their views to change—and when did he get a pregnant wife?

“For these being the great men I choose to revive…I wonder how great their intuition really is…” Comte mumbles to himself.

“Well, let’s go straight if things out. I’m fairly certain I know who started this.” Leonardo claims, laughing to himself. “I want to know where the story changed too.”

The residents were all gathered for dinner, the main goal being to clear up the misconceptions. Each person was made to go around and tell what they heard and what they believed, and from there they traced it down to Mitsuki, Isaac and Jean.

Mitsuki explains her thinking to Comte, I’m which he clarifies that he has no secret lover and that the letter was just from an old friend he saved years ago.

Everyone breathes out a sigh of relief. It looked like none of them were ready for a new arrival. And some, specifically Mozart, wasn’t particularly fond on a baby crying and running around…

[ikeromantic]

Ikevamp Boys React to Tattooed MC pt 2

Theo, Vincent, and Mozart!

Theo

Theo grabs your arm as you set down a frame in the small gallery where the next art show will be hosted. His grip is firm and insistent.

"What?" You raise an eyebrow, more curious than annoyed.

His other hand tips your chin to the left so that he can examine the side of your head and that's when you realize. He's noticed your tattoo. "Hondje, what did you do?" His voice is lethally soft, ungentle and demanding.

"I've had that since before I met you." You pull from his grip. "Anyway, it's none of your business."

"Everything about you is my business." He catches your hand in his and pulls you close. "Tell me."

You sigh. "Fine. I wanted a tattoo when I decided to go straight to work instead of college. Something to show I trusted myself. So . . . I got that star. Because I am my own guide and I choose things for myself."

Theo's severe expression doesn't shift as he tucks your hair back to get a better look at it. His breath tickles your skin. "Mmm. Fits you. Stubborn girl. Never listen to anybody."

"Hey!" You smack his shoulder. "I do when the advice is worth my time."

He laughs. "Is that so?"

"It is! Hey! Why are you still laughing?"

"Give me a kiss, then, Hondje." He points to his lips, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

Vincent

You disrobe, preparing to model for Vincent. It's the first time you've sat for him without being fully clothed, and you're a bit nervous. The vining flowers on your leg are not discreet and this will be the first time he's seen your whole leg without the cover of skirt and hose.

Vincent's eyes are immediately drawn to the colorful tattoo. His eyes go wide and before you can take a breath to say anything, he's kneeling beside you, fingers tracing the delicate lines and curls of ink.

"Ummm. Vincent?" You look down at him, feeling a bit flustered. His smile is angelic but the way he touches you is . . . not. And you aren't sure what to think.

"This is gorgeous. The colors. How did they get this shade? Here?" He is so close to your calf now that you can almost feel the motion of his lips, the flutter of his lashes.

"I - I don't know. You'd have to ask the shop." You give a self-conscious laugh. "Is it going to be a problem? I understand if you don't want -"

He looks up at you, his big, blue eyes as wide and endless as the open sky. "It's beautiful. You are beautiful. But I am going to have to figure out how to mix that color before we start." His smile is full of anticipation and excitement. "Do you have any more of these?"

Vincent reaches to push aside the modest robe you are wearing.

"N-no!" Your face is completely flushed now and your heart is racing.

He drops his hands, his expression going still and flat. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

You feel immediately terrible for disappointing an angel. "It's ok. I just didn't expect you to be so interested."

His smile returns, tentative and shy. "I am interested in everything about you." He presses his cheek to your tattooed skin. The gesture feels intimate, precious. When he lets go to mix his paints, you can still feel the ghost of his touch.

Mozart

You notice Mozart giving you an odd look. Something between bafflement and horror. "Do I have something on my face?" You self-consciously wipe across your nose and cheeks.

He shakes his head and stands, lips pressed together in a pale line. His hand goes to your arm, drawing a line up from your wrist to your bared shoulder. "This, fraulein. What is it?"

That's when you realize, you've never shown him your bare shoulder, where your colorful little tattoo is etched. The rose and thorns are easy to cover, though you don't mind showing them off. "It's a tattoo. Surely you've seen one before?"

Mozart opens his mouth and then closes it again. It takes him several breaths to get there. "You let someone put needles beneath your skin? Someone who touched you? Who marked you?"

"Erm, yes? I mean, that's how you make a tattoo."

He crosses his arms and walks to the window, chin jutting out.

"What's wrong?" You go to stand beside him, but he won't make eye contact with you. He's grinding his teeth and just staring out at the garden as if he wanted to see it burn. "Do you . . . hate it so much?"

You didn't want him to hate the tattoo. It was part of you, and seeing him like this was making your heart ache.

"No," he grumbled finally. "It's . . . it's very beautiful. I just . . ." He let out a long, slow breath.

"You what?" You prompt him to speak after several silent minutes pass.

"I don't like the idea of someone else touching you like that. On your bare skin. Holding you." He frowns.

You wrap an arm around him and lean your head on his shoulder. "Wolf, you are adorable when you're jealous. You know that?"

"I'm not - I mean, I -" He huffs, trying to excuse himself without admitting the truth. Then he sighs. "It's fine. I'll just mark you in my own way." He turns his head and you can see a dangerous, hungry smile on those delicate lips.

[koco-coko]

Sleepy Comforts | OC x Mozart

word count: 788

CW: slight meowzart

tags: fluff, pre-established relationship, sleeping in the same bed, cuddles

authors note: the voices told me to do it. Also yay my first fic with tchai!!!! :3

people: @natimiles @olivermorningstar @lorei-writes (tagging b/c oc and i know they like ocs if you want/dont want to be tagged tell me hehe i promise i'll make a tag post soon)

Some days were a bit harder than others. Almost everyone could attest to that fact, and that was his only comfort to such weakness. For Mozart, it meant days where he had to interact with those rude and uptight nobles for just a bit too long, where he was stuck on a particular verse for hours at a time, or simply having a bad, annoying day. Maybe Arthur spoke too loud or Comte asked if he would attend another ball… Whatever it was, by the evening, he was ready to collapse and sleep for days.

But he had something– someone to look forward to. A certain girl with baby pink hair in two long braids was reading on his bed, resting her legs after a long day of helping the local ballet company rehearse. Just thinking about it, Mozart felt proud. They both still had a long way to go when it came to learning what the word ‘break’ meant, or… self-care… but Tchai was far more receptive than she was before they started dating. Now, even though she'll be aching and clinging to a florally decorated cane or wheelchair, at least she wasn’t hunched over the floor, strumming a cello or viola or other. 

His feet dragged across the floor. He was thankful the rest of the mansion was asleep this late (or out drinking). He wouldn’t want to be caught dead in such a sorry state, especially in front of those teasing authors!

All thought of other men left his mind as he crossed the threshold to his bedroom and locked the door. Mozart was throwing his layers off as fast as possible, kicking off his shoes by the bedside. He was in such a hurry to disrobe he almost forget to notice the girl laying on the bed.

“Good evening, дорогая,” Tchai said, closing her novel and placing it on the bedside. She held a gentle smile as she crawled beside him, resting her head on the familiar nook between his neck and shoulder. She pecked his neck absentmindedly. 

Mozart gazed solely at his partner while he placed his coat on the bedpost beside him. “Why aren’t you asleep?” he whispered, his concern barely concealed under weak annoyance, “It’s late.” Even still, he gently tilted her chin for easier access to a romantic kiss. Tchai slowly wrapped her arms around his shoulders. It wasn’t rushed nor forced, but neither diluted any passion and lust they held for the other.

Tchai giggled between breaths. Mozart could feel her smile against his lips. “I could say the same thing, Wolfy.” Mozart huffed, only to cause Tchai to chuckle more. “And it’s hard to sleep without you. You know that…”

Mozart stilled suddenly, pulling back to look into the lavender eyes of his lover. She watched his violet ones in turn. Maybe it was cliche or lovesick, but the idea of someone waiting for him was far too appealing to a tired mind. Suddenly, the composer melted into his partner’s embrace, his weight entirely on her chest. She accepted him readily. The scent of flowers overwhelmed him in seconds, soothingly so.

“You really are like a little котенок sometimes,” she said. Delicately, she petted every hair in his head, taking extra care with the baby hairs on his neck. She even scratched him in specific spots, the ones she had learned he responded well, too. When he exhaled deeply and hummed, she knew she had done well. 

“Mein liebe,” he murmured into her. Quietly, they both fell back to the mattress and adjusted appropriately, snuggling into each other in such a manner that only experience with the other’s imperfections and curves could teach. “I love you.” Mozart spoke those words like a prayer before he kissed and nipped at her neck. The fellow composer welcomed every devoted and soft lick and pressed against her, cradling him even tighter. The only time her arms and legs untangled from his was to click off the lamp on the bedside. She returned as fast as she could.

Tchai smiled when she heard Mozart’s breathing slow even more, his lashes tickling against the nape of her neck. While she loved the overprotective, jealous, practically needy Mozart during the day, there was something oddly comforting about times like this. When all he craved was her touch and comfort, or he only got by with the idea that she was waiting. It was an ego boost, of course, but after a lifetime of underestimation, it was rewarding to have someone rely on her for once. “I love you, too.” Tchai nuzzled into him one final time, a desperate attempt to be with more of her partner, then closed her eyes while her cheek squished against the top of his head.

[eventinelysplayground]

A Short Symphony of Blood.

Kinktober Day 7: Size Kink/Blood Play

Pairing: Mozart x Reader

This day was hard for me. I wasn't really having good ideas for either prompt but then I got some inspiration for this fic and it's very short compared to the others I've written. CW: mentions/ minor descriptions of blood and blood drinking. WC approx 560.

As the rain softly fell against the window pane its sound added to the song forming within your room.

“Wolf…”

Mozart looked into your eyes silently telling you how much he loves you before his fangs pierced your skin once again. Another wave of heat washed over you as pleasure coursed through your veins and your body arched. He pulled back letting your blood trickle down your skin before he drew his tongue along it. Everywhere his tongue touched your skin felt electrified and you gripped the sheets.

“Meine Liebe.”

His voice was tender and his lips soft as he kissed you. His tongue danced with yours bringing with it the now familiar taste of your own blood. You could hear your heart beginning to slow down again and Mozart pulled away from your lips kissing towards your neck then sinking his fangs in once more when he reached it.

“Ahhh!”

Once again your body arched under him as his fangs gave you what the rest of him had been denying you. This bite bled more than the others and your blood felt warm and slick as it trailed down your neck to your collarbone.

“Ngh.”

The constant ripples of pleasure emanating from his bite marks were making your head spin and you bit your lip.

“I want to hear more of your voice.”

His lips closed around your nipple followed by his fangs. Your mind had been hazy for awhile now but on some level you were aware you couldn't take much more stimulation before it crossed the line from pleasure into pain.

“Wolf…please I can't…ahhh!”

“I know meine liebe.”

With one swift guided motion Mozart was inside you. You were so sensitive you felt every vein, every twitch as he thrusted hard and deep inside you. You cried out whether from pleasure or from pain you weren't even sure at this point only able to focus on the way he filled you up. As you were losing yourself in the feel of his cock inside you you became aware of his hand gripping yours and pulling it from the sheets. He brought it up between the two of you kissing your palm before moving down to your wrist where his fangs sank in a final time. This time he drank deeply from you and you felt the way your blood pumped through your veins as he did.

“Wolf!!”

You felt your walls tighten around his cock and your body buck as yet another climax hit you and you fell unconscious.

Mozart stared down at your naked body as he tucked the blanket in around you. He wasn't sure when it was he had become so addicted to your blood but he knew he could no longer live without it. It's smell, it's taste, the way it looked against your skin, the way you moaned and writhed when he lapped it off you. He placed a kiss to the bite mark on your wrist before gently laying your hand down and going to sit at his desk.

As he sat there he replayed everything that had happened in his mind. Every look, every movement, every moan and cry, even the sound of the rain upon the window and they all came together flowing out of him and onto the music sheets into an intimate symphony.

[damekathearasi]

Ikemen Vampire - Mozart x Reader

Prompt Day 7: Sex in a Vehicle

Word count: 559

NSFW - MDNI

Warnings/Tags: Sex in a carriage, AFAB reader, Mention of possessiveness, Historically appropriate undergarments (open drawers)

Author's Note: Prompt from Visions of Temptation 2023, hosted by @xxsycamore. I don't write much or have much time to, so YOLO posting it before I can chicken out.

It was only about an hour and a half into a 5 hour carriage ride and you sighed because Mozart was practically losing his mind. The current section of road was not as well maintained as the roads near the city.

Mozart had asked you to come to help keep him calm during the carriage ride and distract him but everything you tried was to no avail.

After another 20 minutes of Mozart's fretting, you realized something that would absolutely be distracting if nothing else.

You began to rub him through his trousers. Gentle movements keeping a steady rhythm. "You can't be serious this isn't the time or place."

"I think this is the perfect time and place, besides didn't you say you wanted a distraction?" You slip your hand under his clothes to start stroking him directly, a moan escaping your lips when you feel how warm and hard his cock is already.

"This is hardly enough to be a distraction in my book." He pouts despite the flushing of his cheeks giving away his enjoyment.

You turn around and move to straddle his lap as you free his cock from the pants it threatens to tear. "I think you'll find plenty of distraction to be had here."

After giving him a few more strokes, you lift your skirts and petticoats as you move closer. You are for once thankful for 19th century open drawers and there open crotch design as you line him up with your entrance. Peeking at him through your lashes, you see the dawning realization on his face right before you slowly lower yourself taking him centimeter by centimeter.

The moan that comes out of you when he is fully sheathed inside you sounds so perverse and so divine all at once, making him twitch inside you.

You begin to move up and down with each bump. Letting the rocky road determine the pace at which you ride him. Slow first, then faster.

"Mmm… I could get used to this." He moans in your ear as he starts to navigate around your various layers and underthings to pinch and pull on your nipples.

As he works on your breasts with his hands, he kisses you with such a passion that you feel as though you might forget to breathe. As time goes on though, the bumps in the road have become intermittent. The drop in your pace as you mirrored the carriage's now less bumpy path, is just not enough for him though. "I want all of you and right now."

He flips the both of you around. Now you are lying on the seat as best as possible and Mozart was above you. He thrusts into you at a steady pace. His sense of rhythm never fails to take your breath away.

As he continued, it was like he was just pulling earth shattering orgasms from deep inside you. Telling you how good you are and how you are all his as he fucks you into the carriage seat.

You lose count of how many times you came, but when as you start to become exhausted, he bites your shoulder drowning you even more ecstasy as he came deep inside you.

"If this is how you'd like to distract me from now on, I might start to hate these carriage rides a bit less."

[alby-rei]

The Paranormal Performer (IkeVamp; Luigi's Mansion AU, Part 2)

a/n: Decided to get this one out soon since Part 1 was more of a prologue. When your curiosity leads you to pulling a musician out of his muse, how will you survive his harmonic wrath? Happy reading! ✨

Series: Comte's Ghost Mansion Tags: Humor, Crack treated seriously, Luigi's Mansion AU, Spooky scary spectral vampires, Ghostbuster MC WordCount: ~1200 words Characters: You, Mozart Previous: Part 1 Next: Part 3

~*~

You lifted the oil lamp given to you by Sebastian to fight off the cold gloom of the mansion, shielding you with a warm, orange barrier. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness eventually. Trotting up the stairs, you opted to explore the east wing first.

A long hallway stretched before you, similar to the one you woke up in, if not the same one. Framed pictures hung against the wall that you passed by. Most of them were generic landscape paintings. You stopped at one that had a name engraved under it.

'Le Comte de Saint-Germain.'

It was terribly dusty. Curious, you removed the dust with the vacuum.

The force of its suction was much stronger than you expected. It latched onto the painting so hard you feared it would crumble and tear.

You, being an amateur at this, could not escape the dust storm that ensued from prying the vacuum off, sending you into a sneezing fit. You stumbled, crashing into something with your elbow. The crash of something fragile froze you in place. It sounded like porcelain.

Little embers illuminated the crime scene. You vacuumed the floor as well as you could, but the larger pieces remained as incriminating evidence. You pushed them under a chair, your sole witness, and hurried along. 

“What Sebastian doesn’t know won’t hurt me,” you convinced yourself.

You peeked behind you, discerning if it was hidden enough from a distance. The darkness helped. For now. 

Turning the corner, you slowed down to catch your breath. Oddly enough, lively piano music could be heard at the end of this new hallway. It was a catchy melody, one that had you walking in step with the tempo. It was hypnotizing in the way it made you forget what happened earlier. You followed the sound to its source, opening every door on the way. They were all locked.

“Aha!” Right outside where the music was loudest, the click of the doorknob meant you could go through.

You were met with a lone fortepiano in the middle of a pristine white room. Along one wall were instrument cases, probably for violins or violas. You struggled to tell them apart. From an arched window, moonlight peeked between the clouds, reflecting off the white keys in a heavenly glow. Little wispy particles danced in the air as the piano keys played themselves.

You stepped closer, mesmerized by the music, cheerful and uplifting. Familiar, the kind of merry tune that gathers dancing folk at a festival. The day before you visited the Louvre museum, you attended an orchestra concert celebrating Mozart’s 268th birthday. That must be where you heard it.

The piano played its last chord, drawing out its sound until it faded naturally. Scribbles appeared on sheet music paper leaning against the piano's rack, transcribed by a floating ink-stained quill. You blinked and tilted your head around the empty seat. Out of curiosity, you pressed some of the keys.

SLAM!

You jumped back and recoiled your hand, for a couple of reasons. One, the piano was out to get you for using it without permission. Two, there was now a fuming phantom-like figure sitting at the piano. His entire form was wrapped in an ethereal light, and you could see through him at certain angles. 

“You dare interrupt my creative process?” His voice echoed in the room. “Have you no respect for a musician’s craft?!” 

A gentleman, around the same height as Sebastian, stood up (he had no legs, you noted, so perhaps “floated up” may be more apt) and fixed a glare upon you. His white hair reached past his ears with a fringe swept in an arc, partially obscuring his striking lilac eyes. But it could not conceal the ire behind them. His figure towered over you as he drew near. If he was not about to kill you, you may have called him handsome.

“Hey, let’s talk about this,” you stalled as you fumbled to get your vacuum back on. “What you played was beautiful, I just didn’t notice that you were there.”

You could say he lacked stage presence, but you kept that to yourself.

He narrowed his eyes, keeping his distance from you. “That machine… Hmph, I won’t let you capture me that easily.” The instrument cases unzipped themselves, releasing floating violins from their sleep. They hovered beside the paranormal performer, who blocked your path to the exit. The violin strings acted as a crossbow for violin bows that materialized from thin air. They followed your every move.

You ducked just in time, and a violin bow zipped past you and shattered against the wall into a thousand sparks.

This ghost was not messing around!

At last, the vacuum whirred to life. It vibrated incessantly against your back, like a massage chair. Dodging with the machine proved difficult. You used the piano in the center as a shield, but you knew you had to confront the phantom eventually.

Your aim was shaky, but you managed to redirect the violins away from you. They took time to aim each shot. Once you figured out the rhythm of the attacks, you leveraged the downtime between each one to target the paranormal performer.

The tube latched onto his cravat, bending his figure like a boomerang. He flailed and stretched his arms beyond human proportions in search of an anchor. Struggling against his resistance, you cranked up the strength with an unsteady hand.

Stumbling around the room, you strained to keep the tube locked on its target. Try as he might to wiggle his way out, the paranormal performer proved no match against the Poltergust’s power. His shrieks filled the room, oddly melodic like he was singing his last goodbye to the world. Once he was fully captured, only the blare of the vacuum remained.

You breathed heavily, whirling around expecting more ghosts to pop up. Your whole body shook. You blamed the machine’s vibrations against your back. Seeing no further threats, you switched it off. The shaking didn’t stop.  

“So,” you said. “Sebastian really was a ghostbuster, then.” And now, so were you.

You picked up the ink-tipped quill that the paranormal performer held. Beside it was a key. You twirled both items between your fingers. Normal to the touch, nothing magical about them.

“Was that one of the ‘esteemed guests’ I was supposed to avoid disturbing?” You scoffed. “Maybe he shouldn’t have disturbed me first!”

Feeling justified in your self-defense, you grabbed the sheet music and the quill and threw them into your item pouch. They seemed ‘of interest’ enough by your standards to return to the butler. At the very least, you had more questions for him. You kept the key in hand, maybe it would unlock one of the doors you passed by.

Stepping out of the room, you walked with a spring in your step. You just faced a ghost! And lived to tell the tale! Now knowing what you were up against, you kept your eyes peeled for any more irregular movements.

After reaching a dead end, you walked back by the broken porcelain in the first hallway. The painting of ‘Le Comte de Saint-Germain’ was still intact. You sighed in relief, and you could actually observe the painting properly.

The subject of the portrait gazed at you with mysterious amber eyes. There was wisdom behind his gaze, like that of a timeworn tome, and a touch of melancholy. His smile was warm and inviting but didn’t quite reach those eyes. Illuminated by the lamp, recognition washed over you. You’ve seen that same sweeping blond hair and tailored suit before.

It was the same man who you met at the Louvre!

~*~

Back to Masterlist

[violettduchess]

A/N: Since I was not able to complete all the fic requests for the Fall Fluff Autumn Angst Content Creation Challenge, I thought I could still do the ones I had left as headcanons 🌟

I did them for Ikepri here, now its time for vamp!

Napoleon, Mozart, Leonardo x reader

Word Count: 1853

Ikemen Vampire Fall Fluff Headcanons 🍂

Napoleon - Hot Apple Cider 🍎

It is the middle of the night, an hour when everyone should be warm and snug in their beds, lost in the garden of their dreams. You should also be curled against the warm body of the man you love but said body is….not there. Your stretched out hand searches the bed but finds nothing. You wiggle closer to his side, still feeling around and still all you touch are cool, empty sheets. With a groan, you push yourself up, rubbing sleepily at your eyes. Napoleon is not in bed and you know exactly where he is.

When the kitchen door opens, you are greeted by the heavenly scent of warm apple cider. Allspice and cinnamon drift dreamily up from the pot that the man you love is stirring. He glances at you over his shoulder with a sheepish grin on his handsome face.

“I couldn’t help it, Nunuche. I had to.” The conversation you had in this very kitchen, not six hours ago, replays itself in your mind. He was determined to treat everyone to hot apple cider tomorrow. But as he made it, something……something was missing. And despite your insistence that it was perfect, you knew by the glint in those eyes, bright as peacock feathers, that he didn’t agree. And because he is who he is, wanting to do his absolute best at anything he undertakes, he snuck back to the kitchen to make it just right.

You sigh, the sound warm with equal parts affection and exasperation as you walk over to him, sliding one arm around his waist as you eye the dark orange liquid. “And?”

His smile could illuminate the darkest of nights as he reaches for another, smaller spoon and carefully dips it into the cider. He raises it to his lips, blowing softly until he is certain it won’t be too hot for you to sip and then leans close. You drink the warm cider from the spoon and the expression on your face tells him he was right.

“That….is amazing. Even better than earlier. What did you add?” When he holds up the small bowl with the magic ingredient, you don’t recognize it until you bring it closer to your nose. “Cardamom?” He nods, pleased you recognized it. “Oui. Now it is perfect.”

You slide your arms around his waist, expression soft. “Does this mean you are now coming to bed?” You reach up, running a hand over the soft strands of his hair. Napoleon wraps his arms around you, nodding as he drops a gentle kiss to your lips. “I will clean up here,” he murmurs, his voice soft and alluring, “And then….” He kisses you once more. “Nothing…..” Another kiss, this time one that lingers, full of tantalizing promise, “Absolutely nothing will stand in the way of my joining you.”

Mozart - Hot Apple Cider 🍎

The wet, chill fall weather has struck again, making you late to dinner. You had stepped out of the mansion to run an errand, but just before you left the bookstore, the gray clouds decided it was the perfect time to unleash a cold, lashing rain that would have had you soaked to the skin within minutes of walking through it.

Sebastian meets you at the door, taking your hurried explanation with a head shake and a smile. He helps you out of your coat and then directs you to the dining room where several of the men are gathered, playing cards. 

What greets you is the following scene: Arthur, Theodorus, Napoleon and Dazai playing some card game that moves too fast for you and has them all intently focused. Leonardo is literally asleep in the corner of the room, not bothered by the light or the noise. And there at the end of the table is Mozart, watching the others with a smile on his face, cheeks flushed. When he spots you, he beams. You know that face, that look in his eyes.

“Hallo, meine Liebe! I have missed you so.” He makes this announcement in a very loud, very not-sober Mozart voice and you put a hand on your hip as you saunter over to the card sharks. “Ok who did this?” You gesture to the man you love and the smile still plastered on his face. Arthur shakes his head, blue eyes bright as summer. “I swear, luv, I had nothing to do with it!” Theo looks annoyed you’ve interrupted their game. But Dazai’s golden eyes are bright as coins. Suspiciously so. “Dazai……” And then you notice all the mugs of cider. You glance at Mozart who is indeed drinking the last drops from his and already reaching for the jug with more. 

You quickly go to him, gently taking the mug from his hand, lifting it to your nose before you set it back down on the table. He blinks his beautiful violet eyes at you. “I’m thirsty.” You wrap your arm around his narrow waist, giving him a placating smile. “We can drink something upstairs. Come.” Mozart is not used to alcohol and you know if he keeps drinking, he will be cursing the cider, and Dazai’s generous and likely sneaky addition of bourbon. Together you navigate the steps and hallway until you reach his bedroom.

He humors you, allowing you to help him out of his waistcoat and vest. Your fingers undo the soft cravat at his throat. You’re about to suggest he lay down when his hands come up, catching yours. The spiked cider has melted any sign of his usually icy facade, any cool awkwardness he may still struggle with when he is alone with you. Now his expression is warm, inviting. His pale skin is flush with color, his eyes brilliant amethysts caught in sunlight. “I missed you,” he says simply, honestly. 

Those words are rays of sunshine, warming you as you squeeze his hands in response. “I’m here now.” He smiles earnestly and some part of you thinks it is for the best he doesn’t smile at you like this often. You would never be able to leave his side if he did. “Come,” you say for the second time that night. And this time you fall onto his soft bed together, Mozart’s arms wrapped around you. As his mouth finds yours and you taste the lingering flavor of apple cider on his lips and tongue, a small part of you smiles. You’ll have to tell Napoleon how good it tastes.

…….in the morning.

Leonardo - Cozy Sweater 🧶

Leonardo walks into his own bedroom with no idea what is awaiting him. You’re standing in the middle of the room, half undressed. He blinks, taking in the sight of you in your long skirts and only your thin chemise on top. “If I had known you were waiting…like this…, I would have come much sooner.” 

The expression on your face shrivels all the sensual ideas in his head before they even have a chance to blossom. You look….miserable. “Cara mia,” he says, voice now colored with concern as he reaches you, one warm hand touching the bare skin of your upper arm. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s silly….” but he can see it is anything but. “Tell me,” he says encouragingly, still rubbing your bare skin. You sigh, making a gesture toward the bed where he notices the soft, caramel-colored sweater you love wearing. “I was helping Sebastian trim some of the hedges and…” You walk over, lifting the sweater from the bed and offer it to him. He sees the problem. Along the shoulder, there is an ugly, jagged tear, right along the seam. He can also see that you have tried to mend it yourself, but the material is very tricky. It’s a stretchy, knit fabric. One that made it a very comfortable sweater and unfortunately, very difficult to fix.

You shake your head. “I tried to fix it but pulling or tugging causes it to keep puckering and it also just keeps clumping up where I need it to lay flat and why didn’t I think to change before going outside?” You look crestfallen and it tugs on his heartstrings, awakening the burning need to make you smile again. “Should I go and take a sword to the evil hedge that attacked you? Make it pay for what it has done?”

That gets a laugh. It’s a small one but it still counts. You sigh, turning away from him and open the wardrobe, reaching for a dark red blouse. He comes over, taking over the buttoning for you and then cups your face in his hand. “I’m sorry, tesoro.” You offer him a shrug and a small smile, half as bright as usual. “Thank you. Now I have to get over this and go with Sebastian and do the grocery shopping for this week. I’ll see you later.” You kiss him, a soft thank you on the plane of his cheek, and head out. It seems like such a small thing to be upset about, but it would be a lie if you tried to pretend you weren’t.

A few hours later, you make your way up the stairs toward the bedrooms, feeling better. The food stalls and vendors had helped you forget your torn sweater, distracting you with their vibrant wares and charming stories. You open the door to Leonardo’s bedroom, fully expecting to find him catnapping on the bed. He isn’t there, but what you find stops you in your tracks. Your sweater, your beautiful, soft, cozy sweater is folded neatly on the bed. You make your way over, lifting it up, your motion slow with the weight of shock. Sure enough, the ugly tear in the shoulder has been expertly mended.

“Welcome back.” You turn to find him leaning against the doorframe, his mouth curved in a satisfied grin. You look back down at the sweater. The kind of double stitching he did you’ve only ever seen done by a sewing machine, which certainly does not exist. “How….did you did this?” He offers you a nonchalant shrug. “You know me, cara mia. I sleep and I fix things. It’s what I do.”

You carefully set the sweater down on the desk chair, keeping it off the bed, before you cross the room to where he is standing. The look on your face has him straightening up, reaching back to close the door behind him, his own grin slowly growing. You lean against him, stretching up to lock your hands behind his neck as he slides his hands down over your hips. Oh he likes where this is going.

“So my knight in shining armor lifted a sewing needle instead of a sword and saved the day,” you murmur, your gaze bright and inviting. “How ever can I repay you for your kindness, cavaliere?” The Italian word for ‘knight’ falling from your lips nearly sends him over the edge of reason right then and there. 

“I have a few ideas,” he answers, voice husky with anticipation. And then he has you in his arms, his kiss claiming you as wholly and utterly his.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @atelieredux @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesroseforclavis @somekidnamedkai @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @ikehoe @redheadkittys @themysticalbeing @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @leotoru @ariamichel @kpop-and-otome

[xxsycamore]

Can you do Mozart & wet dreams?

Träumerei

╰┈➤ Mozart has never allowed himself as much as to think of her romantically. Strangely, his most recent dreams are all but lascivious, and twice as confusing. träumerei [noun, german] - dreaming

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart x MC • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Wet Dream; Mutual Pining; Feelings Realization; Denial of Feelings; Love Confessions; Miscommunication; Fainting; Hand & Finger Kink; Vanilla; Dream Sex; Ambiguous/Open Ending • wordcount: 1,104 • masterlist

• Welcome to my personal kinktober challenge, Visions of Temptation 2022 - that’s right, 2022. You can find the new one, Visions of Temptation 2023, here. DAY 3: WET DREAM

"Mozart… Mozart, touch me more with your hands, please…!"

It would be too easy, the composer muses in his thoughts, but he can't find it in himself to deny and tease her anymore. It warms him from the inside when she craves him so, his hands, his touch, so much that she's writhing underneath him. But when she lets out these beautiful moans, the spark of warmth blooms into a consuming fire.

"You love it so much when I touch you. You don't need to beg me. If you want me to touch you, then undress and show me where you need to be touched."

***

"No, that's all wrong. Did you not pay attention when I showed you? Here. Look."

Deft fingers dancing on the piano keys, Mozart repeats the chords with ease in yet another demonstration. His gaze moves on her even before the last notes can fill the air, making sure she's paying attention this time.

Even if it does things to his head, being this close to her.

Given that she was in his dreams just last night. Dreams that were not so innocent...

"I did, it's just… it seems like I was watching you play the piano, and not the notes you play. Tehee…"

His hands. He's not the type to seek eye contact, but more often than he catches her looking back, he catches her looking at his hands.

***

"I want more…I need more, please…please, Wolf!"

It catches him by surprise, how naturally it came out of her mouth. In contrast, her face is burning, gaze not as bold as her tongue, making him want to rain kisses on her hot cheeks. She needs to understand how happy she just made him.

He keeps moving inside her, gently removing the hands she tries to hide her face with. He needs to make love to her more, to give her more until she's pliant and spent and satisfied in his arms.

"You finally said my name." Betraying his own wishes, Mozart finds more appealing spots to press his lips against other than her face. Her neck, where her blood pumps in a rhythmic pulse; the metronome telling him to play her like a melody; to eat her one fang-filled bite at a time. "Keep saying it. I want to hear you say it more."

***

"Where do you want me to put those, Wolf?--Oh! I m-mean, Mozart! I'm so sorry. I didn’t mean to sound disrespectful! It just slipped out and-"

Something he didn't expect to hear outside those dreams that haunt him. Just an accident. Merely a slip of the tongue.

"That's fine, don't apologize. Are you okay? You're shaking."

She puts down the folded sheets where Mozart points her to, hurrying to find anything else to keep her hands busy with and mask some of that trembling. While nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she unknowingly barrens her nape for Mozart's gaze.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I just…couldn't sleep well last night."

"Me too. Be careful not to overwork yourself."

***

"Wolf… I actually… have feelings for you-…No that's awful! Too straight to the point. Ugh. Wolf, I…."

Listening in disbelief, Mozart is overtaken by all sorts of emotions. Her confession came out of nowhere. But she's so finicky about getting it right, she just keeps saying it again and again.

"The truth is, ever since I came to the mansion, I found myself attracted to you and before I knew it… I was truly in love. I grew up with your music, and hearing it has always soothed me in times of- Nonono, what am I thinking? I grew up with it? I'm definitely not saying that part!"

And from finding himself embarrassed, Mozart now finds himself letting out chuckles he can't control, so much unlike him. His heart feels so light, glowing with the newly discovered reciprocation of his feelings.

"I knew that already… you were being pretty obvious, you know. To think that I doubted it still… Hurry up and settle on your confession so I could make mine, would you?"

***

Today she's nowhere to be seen, and for good. Downing another cup of coffee, Mozart hopes he could drown those pestering, illogical feelings in the bitter liquid along with what remains of his sleepiness. Concentrating on his work has never been this hard and he hates it; the sound of ruckus coming from downstairs joining in the cacophony of distractions until he gets up from his desk and goes to check it for himself.

He sees her then, unconscious in the arms of another man who luckily broke her fall. Somebody answers Mozart's horrified gaze with a brief reassurance that she'd most likely overworked herself and it's nothing any more serious than that. The residents are shocked when it's none other than the composer himself who insists he'll take care of her and carry her to her room.

It's maybe on the way there when he realizes, or maybe it's when he finds himself tucking her in under the covers.

Her room, that is adjacent to his.

Her bed, which is positioned in a way that is mirrored to his own, with only a thin wall separating the headboards.

His keen ear as a composer. One thin wall…

"M-Mozart…"

Her glossy eyes stare at him under heavy lids, gradually widening as if in disbelief.

"Idiot, you're going to work yourself to death. How long has it been since you last had an adequate amount of sleep?"

He's no good scolding for this with those most likely noticeable dark circles under his eyes, alas.

"Alright, alright, I'll rest! I'm closing my eyes the second you go through that door! Jeez…Hey Mozart?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for— Are you okay? Your face is red…"

It's funny how fast the tables turn when her hand touches his forehead in an utmost caring manner, and Mozart has to remind that she might be too warm herself to accurately check for him. And judging by the way she has the energy to frown and bark at him, it must be okay now for him to take his leave.

"I'm right nextdoor if you need anything."

"I know where your room is, Mozart…!"

"And one more thing." He keeps his hand on the doorknob, turning his head to look her in the eye one more time. "Next time you have trouble sleeping because there's something on your mind, just come see me."

The only answer he gets is a shy nod that comes after a rather long pause. And it's satisfying enough of an answer.

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran    @pumpumnnnp @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @kimmy-banana @devonares @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @lordsister @ikemen-banshou   @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @aquagirl1978 ​ @ikemenlover24 @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @shrimpy-kitsune @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @lucyw260 @kittygrimm88 @lokis-laugh @ndoandou Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[natimiles]

As per our email correspondence..........

Oeoeoenirwola I am requesting Hips with my dearest love, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart please and thank you ❤️

My newfound love for ikevamp is ENTIRELY your doing

Here you come sounding formal, UIHASEUISHA.

I’ll proudly take the blame for this! He is adorable, and he deserves love!

Mozart + Hips

Words: 479

Tags: established relationship; jealous Mozart (as usual); no pronouns for reader.

Too close!

It’s the first thing Mozart thinks when he sees you in the kitchen, with Arthur right next to you. His arm is brushing against yours while you’re brewing coffee, using that flirtatious tone he always talks to you, and it drives the musician crazy. Yes, there are more people around; all the caffeine addicts are lurking, waiting to drink the delicious coffee you’re making. But Arthur...

Too damn close!

Mozart stands at the door frame, intently staring at your backs, throwing daggers at the scoundrel.

“Meine Liebe,” he calls to you, and with a few quick strides, he stands by your other side. “I smelled coffee.”

“Hi, Wolf!” you beam at him. “I’m almost done, and I was going to bring it to you with some chocolates.”

“I’ll wait here so we can go together,” he replies, putting his arm around your shoulders. He knows by Arthur’s smirking that he is just teasing and having a good laugh at his jealousy, but he can’t help it.

When you finally finish and everyone gets their share, dispersing throughout the mansion again, Mozart doesn’t even wait for you to get the tray. He grabs it himself with one hand, takes your hand with the other, and drags you to his bedroom. You don’t even question why you’re not going to his music room; you already know the answer to that.

Placing the tray on his desk, he guides you to sit on his bed. Before you can share the chocolate and the delicious coffee you always make, he needs reassurance. He sits down beside you, circles his arms around your middle, and then falls backward, pulling you with him. He stays like that for a while, his eyes closed and his hug tight, and you let out a soft laugh.

“What are you laughing at?” he pouts, a faint red painting his cheeks. He shoves his face into the crook of your neck to hide it, but to no avail since you already saw it.

“Nothing much. Just thinking about how lovely my boyfriend is,” you smile, reaching for his bangs and brushing them back so you can take a better look at his face. “Can I get us the coffee before it gets cold?”

He opens his arms to let you go, and you sit up with the intention of getting up to fetch the tray. Mozart looks at you from his lying position one more time, and the next second he hugs you again. You don’t have time to say anything; you just feel him pressing his lips hard against your hips, tickling you slightly. You look down at him, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“You’re mein Schatz,” he whispers, a soft pout still on his lips.

“Always, Wolf,” you say, reaching to caress his cheeks.

He responds with another kiss on your hips. Just to make sure.

Taglist: @bicayaya @koco-coko @yamarireads @judejazza @echoes-in-the-forest

• @chandeliermichel @fang-and-feather @sh0jun @scummy-writes

Beneath The Milky Twilight ♥ Event Masterlist

[fang-and-feather]

Ikemen Vampire - Mozart x Reader - Family fic

Happy Birthday Wolf!! 🥳🎉

Words: 1,185

Summary: Despite a sudden cold had ruined all your plans for Mozart’s birthday, you were determined to keep your plans for dinner at least and you get surprising help for it.

A big thanks to @eventinelysplayground for helping me find inspiration for this!! 🥰💖

IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist / AO3 Link

Sometimes you were just amazed by the mansion’s library and what you could find there. Various books in various subjects, some very unexpected, from handwritten books on alchemy to a variety of cooking books, and even a few books that weren’t published yet - at least you had found one of Dazai’s books once.

But having such a big library sometimes meant climbing around to find what you wanted, which you probably shouldn’t be doing, but this was something you didn’t want to get help for.

You were determined to do this, at least. This sudden cold had ruined all your plans for Mozart’s birthday, even if these plans were to stay home already. But now that you were feeling better, you wanted to keep your plans for dinner.

Mozart would probably complain about you getting out of bed, climbing things, and cooking, but your fever had gone down, and you felt strong enough to move around.

So you tiptoed down the hall, a couple of books clutched to your chest, listening to the sounds from the music room. They didn’t stop, and you let out a relieved sigh when you were far enough away and nobody else had stopped you.

And your luck probably had changed, because you didn’t even find Sebastian in the kitchen. He would also probably scold you for being up and working and try to keep you from the kitchen. At least if he came in while you were already working, he couldn’t stop you.

You had barely started working when you heard pairs of feet scurrying down the hall. Footsteps too light for you not to know who they were from.

You sighed. Had Mozart already found you out and sent them out to check on you?

“What are you two doing, running in the hallways?” You asked in a louder tone for them to hear.

The steps stopped for a moment, then started again, not as loud as before, but you could still hear them, until a pair of silver-haired heads peeked through the open door.

“So?” You pressed them in a softer tone.

“Sorry Mama.” The twins replied in unison before walking into the kitchen.

“Are you feeling better, Mama?” The little girl asked, pulling a stool to your side and climbing on it. “Papa told us to be quiet because you were resting.”

“Yes, I’m feeling a lot better now, dear.” You ruffled her hair.

“What are you doing?” The little boy also found something to climb on by your other side. “Can we help?”

“Well…” You thought for a moment. They were a little too young to do much in the kitchen. But they were the ones offering to help. It should be safe to give them some basic tasks and let them watch, right? “I’m making dinner for your papa’s birthday. You can help if you behave.”

Not that you usually had to worry much about their behaving, but you never had them in the kitchen before.

But you should have known. They were as organized as their father, if a little too excitedly, giving space for a few accidents, but nothing like you expected of two kids. They listen to instructions attently, and watch you the rest of the time with curiosity.

You never thought it could have been such a fun experience, but maybe you could make a tradition out of it.

The house was too quiet.

Mozart had told his kids to stay quiet and let you rest, but at first they kept coming in and out of the music room, or he could hear them through the hallway. But it had been a while since he couldn’t.

He had to check on you first, but he went praying the children were anywhere that wasn’t with Arthur or Dazai. He loathed leaving them unsupervised in these two’s company.

But the moment he stepped back in his room and found the bed made and you nowhere in sight, he knew where to look first.

He walked into the dining room just as you left the kitchen, the two kids in tow.

“Papa!” His son saw him first, running up to him. “Look what we helped Mama make!”

“Mama should be resting, not cooking.” He said firmly, staring at you. “But you did a good job helping her.”

“I helped too!” His little girl declared, proudly, running up to him and raising her arms for him to pick her up. He did and kissed her forehead before approaching you.

“Now you…”

“I made dinner.” You interrupted him. “I wanted us to have at least this for your birthday. I’m fine. I promise.”

But not only you had said that, you turned to walk back into the kitchen and staggered.

Supporting his daughter in one arm, he reached his other hand to support you and make you sit down.

“Mama!” Both children cried, worriedly.

“Do you want to reconsider that statement?” He asked, trying to sound serious, despite being equally worried.

“I’m fine. I just haven’t eaten much of anything all day.” You tried to stand up, but he held you.

“Then you should eat and I’ll get you back to bed.” He felt your temperature but, to his relief, you at least didn’t have a fever anymore. Then he brushed a bit of flour from your hair, to which you blushed upon realizing it was there.

“There are still things cooking. I should go look.”

“I’ll go.” He said firmly, transferring the little girl in his arms to your lap. “You two watch your mother. She tends to push herself when nobody is looking.”

“I just wanted to make this a surprise.”

“I would rather not be surprised by finding you passed out on the floor because you didn’t take care of yourself.” He kissed your forehead before heading into the kitchen.

Mozart was more than happy seeing what you made, though. Food that reminded him of the good things of the past. Of his former home.

It was still part of his culture, no matter how removed from it he was now. And an indirect part of his children’s heritage, despite them having been born in this country. He was glad you were keeping it alive.

Except for dessert. The chocolate scent was hard to resist to already try it, but he heard hurried footsteps and his son showed on the door, as if it was a warning. You probably had sent him.

He swallowed the lump of emotions forming inside him, and the temptation before returning yo the dining room with the rest of the food, the kids helping him set the table so you could have a special family dinner.

“Happy birthday, Wolf.” You kissed him as soon as he settled by your side to eat.

“Thank you.” He kissed you back, then looked at the kids sitting each besides one of you. “To all of you, meine Schätze.”

He never expected to have this wonderful family in his new life, but now he couldn’t imagine a birthday that wasn’t like this. The four of you, doing something as a family.

Tag List: @tele86, @nightghoul381, @natimiles, @bicayaya, @eventinelysplayground

If you want to be tagged/untagged on future writings, you can reply to this post or send me a message

IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist

[clavissionary-position]

ɪ ᴋ ᴇ ᴍ ᴇ ɴ ᴠ ᴀ ᴍ ᴘ ɪ ʀ ᴇ 😱🌙 Night of the Living Maroron 🌙😱

STARRING the silly little residents of Comte's silly little mansion

(a crack fic I wrote a year ago based on a prompt from a friend (and spiritually combined with a prompt from a different crack fic that I received from someone else), neither of which I've ever posted before)

"Okay, Brush, you're good to go." Vincent fixes the cap on his pet raccoon's head and then gives him a little kiss right on the Pizza Hut logo. "Remember to drive within the speed-limit."

You stand next to Vincent and thread your hands with his as you watch the rodent shyly hop onto the driver's seat of the carriage. He adjusts his seat and starts up the horses before peeking out through the window and presenting an affluent little smile.

Vincent sheds a few happy tears as Brush drives off. "I'm so proud of him."

You give Vincent a powerful, soul-crushing side-hug and massage his painterly shoulder muscles. "You did good, Vin. You did good."

He wipes his snot on his sleeves. "We just got really lucky that Jean was willing to teach him how to drive a carriage."

You blink a few times. "Sorry, who taught Brush how to...?"

"Jean was really generous. I should finish that painting he commissioned of the macarons wearing lingerie."

You try to process the vowels and bullshit coming out of Vincent's innocent mouth. "Vincent. Jean doesn't know how to drive."

"Hmm? He doesn't?"

You shake your head. "No! He doesn't! We have to stop Brush before-"

- - -

"You were run over by a raccoon driving a carriage?"

"Insofar as a raccoon posed on top of a carriage with a tiny rapier pointed forward in menace can be said to be 'driving,' yes." Shakespeare frowns. "Am I going to die?"

Charles puts his medical equipment back into his bag and takes out a single band-aid with Vlad's face on it. "Just put this where it hurts and you should be okay."

"Aren't you going to apply it for me at least?"

"I would but your insurance doesn't cover it." He rises to his feet. "But it does cover this." He gives Shakespeare three pats on the head. "Good night, Sweet Prince."

"It's afternoon."

"It's night somewhere." And with a terrifyingly innocent laugh, Charles gets into this carriage to return to his master's castle.

- - -

Napoleon sets up a command center in the dining room. Theo makes calls to all of his connections. Isaac bites his lip with nerdy concern.

"My sources say that a rogue raccoon was spotted here, here, and..." Theo sets down the last pancake. "Here."

"Theo, I can't see anything on the map. Please move your pancakes."

"You've got glasses, Arthur. Use them."

"Oh right. I keep forgetting my glasses have the unique ability to see through breakfast foods. Why didn't I think of that? Silly me. Such a novel invention is wasted on one of mininiscule intelligence such as I." Arthur puts on his glasses. "By Jove, it's as if I can see not simply through pancakes, but through the whole of the universe. Everything is at my fingertips now. Reality is mine to command. What will become of me now that I have unlocked such horrifying potential? How will the annals of space and time shift under the sway of my weighty influence?"

"...."

Arthur takes his glasses off. "I'm serious, I think I just became a god. Look." He points at Comte's baguette and an invisible force of energy ripples out from the tip of his finger, making the baguette scream as it jumps out of Comte's embrace, grabs Dazai's hand and pulls him out of the room.

Napoleon and Theo stare at each other. "....What the.... fuck... just happened?"

Arthur looks down at his quivering hands. "I am a monster."

- - -

Sebastian tackles Jean into the water. "BATH TIME MONSIEUR D'ARC."

"Sebas!? What are you doing?!"

"You are under bath-arrest for attempting to teach a raccoon how to drive."

Jean freezes. "Wait, that thing was a raccoon?"

"INDEED IT WAS." Sebastian releases several rubber ducks into the water. "Strawberry or coconut-lime body wash?"

"Maroron."

"That is not a flavor."

"No, there's a maroron standing behind you."

"Standing? How can a maroron possibly be standing-"

- - -

Leonardo awakens from his nap to the sound of a sentient baguette pulling Dazai into the library.

"Good morning." Dazai waves with his free hand. "Have you met my new wife? What's that, darling? You don't want me flaunting our relationship in public? It makes you shy? I have crumbs on my face from kissing you?"

Leonardo turns around and goes back to sleep.

- - -

"Why did you point at the macoron?!" You stare at Arthur in disbelief.

Arthur shrugs. "I wanted to double-check my powers! Like Vlad!"

Comte picks himself up from being slapped by a sentient maroron. "Are ya winnin' son?"

- - -

Vlad climbs in through your window just as the sun begins to set. Faust climbs in after him.

"I told you once, Faust. I can't give you any blood samples today because I didn't eat any strawberries today." Vlad throws himself on your bed and pulls out a paperback driving manual. "Interesting... it says that driving with a rapier can help with drag forces..."

Faust stands beside the bed and prepares his syringe anyway. "Science can't wait for you to consume strawberries."

"And neither can I."

"Right, neither can this fully-sentient maca... Oh shi-- NO NONONONO--"

- - -

Mozart shuts his piano down with the tell-tale Windows Sound. "Good work today, Wolf. You still got it. Masterpieces out the ass like a fart at Thanksgiving." He chuckles at his own lewd joke, for his enjoyment only.

Then exits into the hallway where his chuckle dies in his throat.

The tiny maroron rolls to a stop in front of his boot.

Mozart screams.

- - -

Brush returns home after his first day as a pizza delivery pet to the mansion completely abandoned, save for a single ominous note scrawled on a crepe: "God Have Mercy on Our"

"Oh, mad libs is fun," says Brush, as he completes the sentence with the word 'Testicles.'

[ikeromantic]

Hiiii, sorry to bug you but can you do a Mozart x f reader angst where MC has pretty low self esteem, but has SUPER bad coping mechanisms and Mozart tries to get MC help but she's very stubborn about not getting it, kinda like Tracy and Mel in thirteen. (if you've seen it ofc) Have a great rest of your day/night😁

I have not seen Thirteen (Reasons Why)! But it is on my watch list ^_^ I have to carefully measure out how much drama and angst I take in or it will eat up my writing! Approx. 1100 words of hurt, self harm, and comfort.

Mozart saw the changes in her as if he were reading notes on a page. The self-deprecating twist to her lips, the way she began avoiding everyone when she wasn’t working. Avoiding him. At first, he tried to pretend not to care. When she brought him his meals in the music room, he gave her exactly what she gave him.

Disinterest. 

They sparred with cruel words and cold looks, and every encounter left Mozart’s heart bruised. He did not understand what he’d done wrong. They’d been growing close - close enough that he held her hand. Shared a glass of wine. Told each other secrets never shared with another. And then after one recital at a noble estate, she’d gone dark on him. Dark and distant as a new moon. 

He remembered the night, if only because he’d found her in the gardens, crying. And she wouldn’t say why. He’d been surprised at her reticence then. Now, he felt it was the first shiver of this shift into a woman he felt he barely knew. There were only sparse moments, unguarded, when he could see his darling looking out her hooded eyes. 

Mozart wanted more than anything to bridge the gap between them. To understand why she was so angry, and what pain lay under that rage. He made a plan, as carefully as he drafted his compositions. The chorus was simple - ask and learn what lurked in her shadowed heart. But the melody . . . what note to begin? What key? What tempo?

He waited until she was in her room one evening, and fetched a few of her favorite things. Tea with a dollop of honey. Ginger cookies. A strawberry candy. Then he made his way there, tray in hand. Mozart considered knocking, but she might tell him to go away. That would ruin the whole plan. So he quietly opened the door, thankful it was unlocked. 

The sight within froze him midstep. She sat crosslegged on the floor in front of a candle. Her forearm was held above the hungry flame, blistering her flesh in a scarlet welt. Worse was her expression. Pained, of course, because the fire burned. But satisfied. As if she deserved what she gave herself. And disgust, a hatred for her own weakness.

Mozart recognized it, because he felt something akin to it as well. In his endless disappointments, his pathetic fears, his failures. He dropped the tray and lurched toward her, unsure what he would do but feeling he must do something. The door swung shut behind him, the tea spilled across the carpet, and the treats scattered over the floor.

She looked up, her face going slack with surprise. “What-” Her words cut short as he extinguished the candle and kicked it out of the way. Despite his smallish frame, Mozart had the strength of a vampire. And he used it now to haul her to her feet and into his arms. 

He did not realize he was crying. Nor did he see her face crumple at this sudden, unexpected embrace. “What are you doing, meine liebe? Your arm!” He gently touched the length of it, running his fingertips over half-healed burns and the scabs of old cuts. 

His words seemed to remind her that she should be angry at his invasion. She struggled to push him away, slapping at his chest and hands. “Let me go! What the fuck, Wolf?”

“No,” he replied, his voice soft but full of an inner steel. 

She slapped him. Hard. For a moment, Mozart saw white, nothing but an explosion of pain as his jaw slipped out of true, straining the tendons and ligaments in his neck and face. If he were a normal man, it would have broken. He’d have a bruise. But his flesh set to repairing itself almost as soon as the injury took place. 

He did not let go. “Meine engel, stop fighting me. Tell me what this is? What have you done? Why . . .” He jerked her arm straight, displaying the injuries for them both. 

“Why do you care,” she spat. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, hot and angry. She pushed against him again. “Just - just let go, damn it! Get out!” The last word was more a howl than language, the sound of a soul in agony. 

Mozart could no more let go than he could cut off his own arm. He pulled her close instead, enduring the scrape of her sharp little nails, the hardness of her elbows and knees. She fought him with everything she had, until she exhausted herself and there were only tears left. 

When she collapsed against him in defeat, he held her. Silent but for her crying. What could he say? He did not know what words could set this right. Could not understand what drove her to this - this mutilation of her precious flesh. The harm to her body and soul, both of which he had come to love so much. 

“Just leave.” Her voice shook, tired and full to the brim with emotion. 

“I won’t. I can’t.” He pressed his forehead to her cheek, frustrated.

“Why not? Wh-why?” 

Mozart swallowed his own pride, his fear of rejection, and replied. “I love you. You are so - so very precious to me.” He kissed her cheek. The line of her jaw. The crook of her neck. “I love you so much I am mad with it. I’ve missed you so, these last weeks.”

“You don’t.” She turned her face from him. “You - you love music. I’m just . . . stupid. Useless. Pathetic.” Her hands clenched, white-knuckled, driving her nails into her palms. 

He lifted the fist to his lips and kissed each finger, slowly prying them loose until he could see her palm. Scored with little angry red crescents. He kissed those too. “You are none of those things. You are so strong, to come here and make a life for yourself. Far from everything you know. So smart, to learn so many new skills . . . my sweet. Meine liebling. Meine perle.”  

She gave a snort of disgust, pain still bright in her eyes. “I distract you. You’re b-better off -”

Mozart put a finger to her lips. “No. Never. I did not realize I was missing something, until you.”

Her eyes searched his face, hope and uncertainty wedded in that gaze. After a long silent moment, she laid her head on his shoulder and clung to him. 

There was nothing for him to do but hold her, and so he did. He sat with her on his lap, stroking her back in careful circles. He spoke too, words of love, endearments from his heart. Things he had never been able to speak until this night, until he realized how close he’d come to losing her to herself.

[aquagirl1978]

Mozart + touches #4

(can honestly see him blushing as he does this lol 🤭)

Thank you for this request, anon. Happy Birthday Mozart - hope you enjoy this one!

Relax and Unwind - Mozart x Reader (Ikemen Vampire)

A/N: Part of my New Year, New Celebration event

Pairing: Mozart x Reader

Prompt: patting the other’s head

Tags: fluff

“I can finish up in here,” Sebastian offered with a smile. “You should go be with Mozart tonight.”

You put away the freshly washed glass that was in your hand and thanked Sebastian for his kindness. Today was Mozart’s birthday and you had planned on visiting him after you were done cleaning up after dinner. Now you could surprise him earlier.

“I think he is in the parlor with Arthur and Dazai,” Sebastian called out, innocently enough, as you put your apron away and headed towards the parlor.

The sounds of riotous laughter grew louder as you approached the parlor doors. With a bright smile, ready to surprise your boyfriend, you opened the door and your smile quickly faded.

“Hi! I wasn’t expecting to see you yet.” Mozart waved wildly to you, smiling.

Oh no, he’s drunk.

You glanced at the table and saw a number of glasses containing varying amounts of amber liquor and a near-empty decanter. 

“Hey luv, you’re just in time for the party!” Arthur greeted you cheerfully, holding out a glass for you. 

“What did you two do?” you hissed, arms crossed as you stared down the pair of writers scornfully.

“It’s his birthday, Toshiko-san!” Dazai replied, leaning back in his chair. “Let him relax. Unwind.”

Mozart tugged on your sleeve and looked up at you, a silly grin plastered on his face. “You’re looking very pretty tonight.”

“You two out. Now. Or I’ll tell Comte you were busy playing in his liquor cabinet.” You uttered the one name that brought fear to them both; the two scurried away like mice, out of the parlor in a mad dash.

“Mozart, can you take my hand? Let’s go sit on the settee.”

He took your hand, his silly grin almost unsettling. He was a bit wobbly, but somehow, after a few trips, you both managed to make it to the nearby seat. Hands on his shoulders, you guided him into the seat. Once he was settled, you flopped into the seat next to him.

“Excuse me,” Mozart said, averting your gaze and he lifted a delicate hand to cover his mouth.

After hiccupping, he looked at you with a crooked grin, a slight blush coloring the apples of his pale cheeks. He leaned his head towards yours like he was looking for a kiss. But instead, his fluffy head drifted like a snowflake onto your shoulder, his cheek resting on the soft curve, his eyes closing shut. 

Lifting your hand, you gently patted his head, his hair soft and silky. “What am I going to do with you?” you asked yourself quietly as you pulled the blanket around you both, knowing this couch would be your bed tonight.

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