#it was just gonna be Arthur singing but it just kept...growing rudfgbrjdfg

[emeraldtawny]

IkeVam Headcanons: Singing to MC/MC singing to them

ITS FRIDAY, TIME FOR FLOOF!!!! Enjoy some scenarios of the boyos either serenading you or you serenading them uwu~

Napo: MC singing to them

You walk into his room and he’s dead to the world, completely asleep and unresponsive. Your usual routine of waking him up is stopped as you look at his sleeping face.

You decide to sit next to him instead of ripping the covers off him as you normally do. You stroke his hair and he will subconsciously turn his head to kiss your hand, his sleep habit eliciting a giggle from you.

You then suddenly remember a French nursery rhyme from his action and begin to sing softly as you gaze down at him.

“♫ Entrez dans la danse, voyez comme on danse. Sautez, dansez, embrassez qui vous voudrez. ♫”

“Snrk!”

You feel the bed shake beneath you from his laughter as he cracks open one eye to meet your own astonished gaze.

“Embrassez qui vous voudrez…” He repeats the words back to you, “‘Kiss whoever you want’. I quite like the sound of that.”

“Wah?!”

There’s nothing you can do to stop him reaching out to pull you under the covers with him, nor can you stop him from pressing a sweet yet firm kiss upon your lips, the kiss lingering as he parts before you pull him back for more.

A wonderful way to wake up, indeed.

Mozart: Singing to MC

It’s hard to ignore the way the beautiful piano melody filling the air abruptly crashes down...especially since it’s happened four times now. You knock tentatively on the music room door and step in quietly, eyeing Mozart with his fists clenched resting on the piano keys.

“Are you alright, Mozart?”

He sighs. Heavily. “If I was alright, I wouldn’t be abusing my piano, would I?”

His eyes immediately widen as he turns to look at you before he sheepishly averts his gaze. “Sorry, I shouldn’t chastise you when it’s clear you’re only trying to help.”

You only smile at his sweet gesture. He shuffles over on his piano bench so you have room to sit beside him.

“Maybe it would help if you hum the melody out loud. Some things magically align to make sense if you just hear it from yourself.”

“___...I’ve been listening to it repeatedly as I’ve been playing it.”

“Oh, just humour me, will you?”

He looks at you as if you have two heads, but complies. Closing his eyes, he hums the very same measure his fingers brought to life moments before. You can only gaze at him with awe, his voice light yet concise with each note; as expected of the perfectionist virtuoso. 

You don’t even register the silence when he stops humming, only coming to when he softly pinches your cheek. The awestruck look on your face is quickly replaced with red-cheeked embarrassment, to which Mozart grins cheekily at.

“Don’t make such a cute face when I’m trying to concentrate. You’ll only make me think of another symphony that’s all too easy to compose...and from my favourite instrument too.”

He gets a slap for that one, even with the beatific smile on his face.

Leonardo: MC singing to them

On a calm night, you knock on Leonardo’s door, a bottle of Rouge in hand. You step inside at his prompting and after manoeuvring through the minefield that is his bedroom floor, you sit on his bed and wait. 

 He’s on the floor at his bedside, fiddling with some new contraption while he hums, the sound flowing and decadent like a caramel river. Only the sounds of metallic clinking and his low humming filled the room. 

“You have such a nice voice, Leonardo.”

He immediately re-emerges into reality at your voice, turning to meet your eye. 

“Never really thought about it. But if you like it, cara mia, that’s all that matters.”

You smile at his words until you see that familiar glint in his twilight eyes; the eyes of a man planning something. 

“Why don’t you sing for me?”

“M-me? But, I’m not that good at it.”

“I never said to sing well. Just thought it’d be nice to hear your singing voice since you’re always hearing mine.”

He stands only to sit next to you on the bed, taking the bottle of Rouge from your hand and replacing it with his, his thumb tracing the contours of your knuckles. 

That gentle encouragement and his charming gaze have you yielding to his request, as you also often do. You decide to play it safe and simply hum his melody back to him, your pitch higher and less natural as it flows, but still you sing. 

 As you finish, you meet his eyes with a hint of apprehension only to find a warm gaze and a happy smile. He squeezes your hand. 

“How you make everything so beautiful is one thing I will never know.” He grins, his other hand lifting to stroke your cheek, “But, I can’t deny your singing beneath the sheets is much more rapturous.”

 “Leonardo!!”

Arthur: Singing to MC

It’ll be after a roll in the hay (because of COURSE, it’s Arthur we’re talking about here). You’re laying in bed, roused from sleep by him stroking your hair but not alluding to the fact that you’re awake.

(Here it comes…)

He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear and begins to sing.

“♫ Rock-a-bye baby, on the treetop. When the wind blows, the cradle will rock. ♫”

His voice is soft, an edge of hoarseness lingering on the ends of his words. But the pure affection laced throughout his serenade will warm you through all over again.

“♫ When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall. And down will come baby, cradle and all. ♫”

“...But don’t you worry, my darling ___. I’ll always catch you if you fall. I will always be there…”

You consider revealing that you’re awake - like you’ve done the other handful of times he has sung to you - but this is a secret best kept that way, you ultimately decide.

You snuggle against his tender caress, a blissful smile on your lips, almost certain that his expression mirrors your own.

Vincent: Singing to MC

You’re in the garden, simply enjoying the sunshine and the fresh air. You’ve been feeling homesick all day and hoped a garden stroll would remedy it, but to no avail.

As you sigh, you hear a bright, pure voice call your name. You turn your head to see Vincent walking towards you, his face beaming with a smile. 

“There you are, ___. I was looking for you.”

“You were? What for?”

His smile turns sheepish as he reaches out to caress your cheek. “Everyone has been saying that you look rather sad today. Now I see that they’re right.”

Your eyes widen but you can’t find your words to deny him, too lost in the swirling blue of his eyes. Vincent steps closer to press his brow to yours. 

“Is there anything I can do to help, ___? Anything at all?”

You wrack your brain for a moment before you sigh and you lean your head down to nestle against his collarbone. 

“...Sing for me?”

You feel embarrassed by your childish request, unable to admit that you’re missing home. You feel his laugh before you hear it; its sound holding no judgment, only love. Without a word, he wraps an arm around your waist, the other moving from your face to comb his fingers through your hair. 

“♫ Hmm hmmmm hm hmmm, hmm hmmmm hm-hm hmmmm~ ♫”

He hums a delicate melody, like a flower unfurling its flowers as dawn rises, the lack of words no deterrent to its beauty. He moves to press a kiss to your hair as he hums, the vibrations from his lips only stopping to let his kiss be audible before he begins again. 

Your hands on his chest clench his shirt in their grip and you close your eyes, letting both Vincent’s warmth and his soothing melody chase away your anxiety.

Theo: MC singing to them

You sit by the fountain, enjoying the peace and quiet before oddly heavy footsteps draw your attention. You quirk an eyebrow at Theo’s lethargic form moving towards you, your confusion only heightened as he sits next to you and immediately seeks your shoulder to rest his head upon, all without a word.

“Theo? Are you alright?”

“In all honesty, I’ve been better.” His voice is loose, less harsh than its usual biting tone. You rest your hand atop his own and squeeze it and Theo sighs in response.

“Hey, hondje.”

“Yes?”

“Get rid of this splitting headache for me, will you? I don’t care how, just...do it.”

As demanding as ever yet oddly docile, you can’t help but accept. After a moment of thought, you thread your fingers through his own and begin to hum. It isn’t any particular song, it’s just whatever springs to mind; the melody forming as you make it.

After who knows how long, you shift your head to look at Theo, your lips fighting back a grin at his sleeping face, his eyebrows scrunched yet his face oddly innocent.

“Welterusten, Theo.” You whisper as you lean your head against his own and close your eyes, his even breaths pulling you into an accompanying daylight slumber.

Dazai: Singing to MC

As the wind blows its soft gales, you hang the bedsheets on the line, the crisp scent of its cleanliness whipping into your nostrils. You’re too focused to notice the pair of eyes watching you intently, and the accompanying warm smile on his lips.

You hear him before you see him, a breezy harmony hummed softly, the wind carrying his sweet symphony to your ears. Surrounded by sheets, all that guides you is the sweet sound of his hummed melody.

The sheets flutter with the wind and you catch a glimpse of his feet on the other side of the sheet. But as you duck under the sheet, he’s nowhere to be found.

“Ah!”

His arms loop around your middle from behind, his head cradling itself comfortably in the crook of your neck and his lips press against your ear as he continues to hum, the sweet vibrations flowing into you and making you shiver.

“♫ Hm hmmm hm hmm, hmmmm hm hmm hm-hm hmmm~ ♫”

You reach up to cup his cheek, a smile playing on your lips. “Are you enjoying yourself there?”

“Why, very much so, Toshiko-san. Seeing you sparked some much-needed inspiration; so much so, that I couldn’t help but sing.”

You giggle at his words, your smile widening as he presses his lips reservedly against your cheek in a brief kiss, and you cherish the way his arms wrap further around you as the sheets surrounding you block out anyone who would dare see you.

Isaac: Singing to MC

Thunder booms loudly overhead and you toss and turn in bed despite your best attempts to ignore it. Too uneasy to even feign sleep, you open your eyes to stare at Isaac hunched over his desk with only the soft lowlight of a nearby candle as his light source.

Another crack of thunder causes you to whimper in silent fear and any hopes you had that he didn’t hear you are dashed as he turns to face you, an eyebrow cocked.

“Are you alright, ___?”

“Mm, y-yeah! Perfectly fine! Don’t mind m-AH!”

Your eyes shut on impulse with your shriek. You pull the covers over your head to hide your burning face, slightly ashamed of your fear of the storm outside. You hear Isaac’s soft sigh before you hear the creaking of the wooden chair and then the feeling of the bed sinking as he sits beside you.

He doesn’t say a word, the only sound being the rain berating the roof. Then, he very tentatively places his hand on your leg over the covers and very awkwardly clears his throat.

“♫ I see the moon, the moon sees me. God bless the moon, and God bless me. ♫”

You still, taken aback by the almost vulnerable quality in his soft, shaky voice. Whilst far from perfect, you can hear the effort behind his breathy singing.

When the thunder booms again and your body tenses, you feel his hand squeeze your leg.

“♫ I know an angel watches over me. God bless my angel, and God bless me. ♫”

You gasp, the sounds of the thunder suddenly distant and muted. When you dare to peek out from behind the covers, you meet Isaac’s eye.

The both of you immediately turn your gazes away, but his hand remains on your leg and you can’t fight back the happy, embarrassed smile on your lips.

Sleep comes much easier with Isaac’s sweet voice and comforting presence guarding you.

Jean: MC singing to them

You’re on your way to the mansion’s library after having been in town, a light spring in your step and a tune humming sweetly from your lips, the same one you heard the children singing.

“♫ Au clair de la lune, on n'y voit qu'un peu. On chercha la plume, on chercha du feu. ♫”

(In the light of the moon, you can barely see anything. Someone looked for a pen, someone looked for a flame.)

“Mademoiselle?”

“Ah, Jean! Bonjour.”

He eyes you quizzically, his amethyst eye focused solely on you, the action making you shrink back subconsciously.

“That song…”

“Do you know it? I heard the children singing it when I was in town. I guess it got stuck in my head.”

He shakes his head. “No. It is much ahead of my time.” But then he pauses. “Are there...more lyrics?”

“Yes, there is! I’m on the final part now.”

Despite your efforts, your voice shakes as you sing, a result of performance anxiety coupled with Jean’s never-wavering gaze.

“♫ En cherchant d'la sorte, je ne sais ce qu'on trouva. Mais je sais que la porte, sur eux se ferma. ♫”

You don’t catch the subtle hitch of his breath or the imperceptible widening of his eye, but you do catch the way his cheeks flare up with heat. Before you can ask, he turns away to hide from your eyes.

“Children sing that?” He mutters softly, “Those are rather...indecent lyrics for small children.”

(In all of that looking, I don’t know what was found. But I do know that those two shut the door behind them.)

Shakespeare: MC singing to them

Shakespeare did not originally plan on visiting the mansion today, but he knew better than to ignore a direct request from Le Comte. 

As he walks leisurely through the halls, his feet still as he nears the dining room, the door slightly ajar. He stands by the door frame and peeks through the gap to see what treasures the room holds.

You’re setting the table, a spring in your step as you place the extra plate down with a smile. You hum a genial tune, devoid of melancholy or tragedy; all whilst being completely unaware of the mismatched eyes watching you through the door with silent interest.

(Ah, the fair lady knoweth of my staying for dinner. I cannot help but wonder, doest she smile so sweetly for me? If it be true, verily that maketh me joyous.)

He leans back against the wall, his eyes on the ceiling as he takes in your performance. Whilst flawed, Shakespeare cannot help but find it beautiful and he seems almost unaware of the smile on his lips, it’s expression border lining serene. 

He stays outside the dining room for as long as he is able before he leaves, ready to apologise to Le Comte for his tardiness. But he doth not regret his decision and your simple melody teeming with goodwill replays in his head.

Even after dinner and as he returns to his home in the city, he finds himself humming that very same tune, his voice doing the melody no justice compared to your own, he thinks to himself.

Le Comte: Singing to MC

You knock on Le Comte’s door and enter when he invites you in. Greeting you with his usual warm smile, you offer one in kind. 

“___. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I was hoping to ask you something, Comte.”

“Bien sûr. Anything for you.”

You smile at his ineffable kindness. “Do you know of any nursery rhymes from older times? I promised the children in town to teach them some new songs, but I don’t think I can risk teaching them anything that hasn’t been made yet.”

His eyes seem to gleam at the kindness of your request and he reaches towards you to sweep your hand up in a way too suave to be called gentlemanly. 

“It would be my pleasure to serenade you, ma chérie. But I ask for one thing in exchange.”

“Wh-what?” You chide yourself for being too distracted by the warmth of his hand to articulate a proper response. His smile simply widens. 

“That you sing for me songs from your time. While I may have heard them, I imagine hearing them from you will be infinitely more lovely.”

You curl your lips into your mouth in embarrassment, a healthy blush dusting your cheeks. With a chuckle, Comte begins to sing, the song’s tempo and melody foreign to you but gorgeous all the same. His voice is as warm and enveloping as his speaking voice, but a rough quality on the lower notes adds a certain gruffness that is attractive in its own right. 

As he finishes, he prompts you to sing. The afternoon is spent with you both singing the songs of your times to each other, still standing hand in hand. 

Sebastian: MC singing to them

Another day of maintaining the mansion’s cleanliness. Sebastian makes his way back to the kitchen to check on your progress of polishing the silverware. 

He goes to walk into the kitchen but stops dead in the doorway at the sight before him. 

Your back is to him as you polish the last of the spoons to perfection, lost in your own little world as you sing in an upbeat tone. Sebastian recognises the beat but cannot pinpoint where he knows it - is it a modern song lost within the depths of his mind? Or maybe a song he heard in passing whilst running errands in the city?

He could not say but he can’t help but grin watching you, your hips swaying slightly as you move to your own beat. 

His grin only widens and a mischievous twinkle lights up his grey eyes. He stepped quietly out of the room and retraces his steps further back down the hall where he was rearranging the flower vases, making sure he can still hear your singing. 

Picking up a vase, he sets it back down on the pedestal with some vigour and listens carefully. Sure enough, you immediately stop singing and he can’t help the grin splitting his lips. 

(I have a feeling I was not meant to hear that. But what one doesn’t know doesn’t hurt them...and I quite like the idea of knowing something about you that no one else does.)

He returns to the kitchen and you greet him with a smile, yourself completely unaware of the little secret Sebastian has tucked away into a special corner of his heart.