#man every time i go back to ikevamp its like the first time

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

I need to scream about this event (Friends Like These) because I truly was just. Not expecting the impact it would have--I don't remember if I read this one in Japanese???

I've only gotten the first two stories so far but I just.

Jeanne and Mozart are of course, as adorable as ever; there's no question about that. But Jeanne dropping this line:

"It galls me to sound so much like le Comte, but I am grateful to God that I met you."

I. [prolonged error 404 sounds]. I'm not sure there are words to convey the simultaneous endless wheezing laughter but also AWWWWWWWW energy that consumed me in milliseconds. Wildly oscillating between "LMFAO ah yes, sentimentality? Disgusting I'll drink to that (blasts Bring Me To Life)" and "BECAUSE YOU LOVE HIM DEEP DOWN AND HE LOVES YOU WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH."

I just can't get over how Jeanne says exactly one thing about liking another person and he's like, 'ew dad gave me cooties >:///// how dare he subject me to the mortifying ordeal of hope.' Jeanne I love you. Jeanne I would die for you. Middle schooler with well-meaning stepfather who begrudgingly accepts his kindness and grows for the better, but would rather perish than admit it. I never knew I needed this found family dynamic so freaking bad until I started playing this game. 11/10 I could watch this forever

More Shenanigans below the cut, + the Shakespeare and Comte Event Story:

Also a sidebar because I just can't help myself, I know I've talked about it before but: Mozart and Jeanne's friendship is so endlessly precious to me????? I love how Mozart is so NO I'M NOT NICE REEEEE (turtles) and Jeanne is like :> bestie. It's so damn cute watching Mozart squirm at being exposed for being sweet and Jeanne just truly grateful someone cares about him?????? How much Jeanne and MC dote on Mozart despite being together, how it only strengthens their friendship? Literally I'm over the moon, nobody touch me I'm tender!!! Jeanne deserves to live peacefully without being a tool of the state/bad actors!!!! Mozart deserves to be loved and happy without being defined by his musical success!!!!!

LIKE. Not to be dramatic but I could watch an entire saga of these two being friends and being adorable. Fresh serotonin every single time. Did I know Jeanne was going to share his food? Absolutely. Did I expect MC to think ahead and pack two lunches? Absolutely not. Was I delighted both times? Beyond what you can imagine!!!!!!!

I'm going to stop here at the risk of repeating myself over and over but wow. Jeanne's capacity to see to the very core of people, for better and worse, and how it lets Mozart be meaningfully seen. Mozart's recognition that Jeanne can mean well to a fault, worried that he might be taken advantage of--and how Jeanne can build trust with someone for the first time without being afraid. Can you hear me wailing and bawling

Naturally, I acquired the Comte and Shakespeare one next. Now, I'm gonna be honest, I saw their names together and went "oh dear God. What am I walking into. Why do I hear boss music????" But I gathered my courage (more like I'm just too feral not to gather info abt Comte, but I digress) and experienced something that left me literally on the floor because I just. Did Not Remotely Expect This Series of Events.

So like. It starts off by being pretty normal and cute and I'm like awwww baby boy (oh he's a little fked up actually) giving gifts to dad. I'm sensing an ulterior motive but right now just let me have this. Also adorable that Comte is struck dumb by it, that's really cute I'm taking notes. And then. I was hit with the veritable ANVIL that was these next few lines:

deep breath Okay. Where to begin.

I LOST IT at the implication that Will was like. Holding back from ending Comte's entire life with mere words. WILL????? WILL P L S??????? (lowkey wanted to hear the roast snickers) Why am I sensing a pattern that Comte loves spicy people??? Love this for me

I also started losing my shit the second MC was mentioned and you could just hear the record scratch/kill bill sirens. Comte really out here like "son say WHAT about MC." I can't get over how he's always so ready to throw down for both MC and Sebas at any moment. Anywho, naturally I come to the conclusion that Will was just trying to one-up Comte to mess with him by giving MC gifts. It was the one thing I did anticipate--and, fool that I was--thought it rendered me safe from what happens next.

DEAR READER. DEAR READER I WAS SO WRONG. I WAS SO TERRIBLY WRONG.

BABY GIRL. BABY GIRL ON WHAT LEVEL IS THIS NORMAL BEHAVIOR. I'M LITERALLY CRYING RN?????? THE FACT THAT I CAN'T TELL IF HE'S JUST BEING SILLY GOOFY OR HE LEGITIMATELY MEANS IT OR SOME COMBINATION OF THE TWO????????

Mans out here like "I lost everything in the war (literally) let me spoil my girlboss dream gf in peace. Vlad took everything in the divorce let me have this pls." I just. The mental image of him chasing Will around the house. The potential implications of him doing this to protect them both (I love you Will but you have. Problems). The HILARIOUS AND DUBIOUS qualifier when he says "dressing up MC is nearly my entire reason for living." Comte I love you more than life itself but that does not make this any more normal. What are you doing my beloved vampire jkhlhalfdhjfg 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Also an honorable mention moment, because it was endearing:

Just the img of him wandering around with sparkly eyes and toting home little trinkets for everyone??????? He's so cute, that's the most grandpa behavior I've ever seen. I was chortling when Will was like "sir you made me sit in that cluttered carriage followed by another carriage full of stuff all the way home IT'S TIME FOR REVENGE (affectionate)."

I also love how Comte is like "Do I have a problem? Maybe. Will that stop me? Only when the sun cataclysmically swallows the earth."

Literally half of the members of the house are like "why are you like this" and he just heeheehoos his way out of it. How does he keep getting away with it. Can you tell I love him. Dazai isn't the only clown in this house honks Comte's nose

[annicaax]

Le Comte said the same Le Comte said the same... OOC But if you love Comte and ikevamp like me you'll love falko, please try this game!

Le Comte said the same... LE COMTE DID THE SAME. That's all I can think when I see FALKO saying these lines, His overall behaviour too, including how he treats mc, holds his feelings in and keeps that bright exterior are all oh so similar to Le Comte aka my (our) beloved Abel... THEY ARE SO SIMILAR, THE BAGGAGE too. Falko is a prince while Comte is the vampire elite. Eitherway I JUST FEEL SO NOSTALGIC..., and yes back then often I opened ikevamp app way too late into the night and saw Comte saying the same, with the voice I love so much. "Can't sleep? I will join you for a stroll, ma Cherie. Only until you feel sleepy though."

Oh yes the time travel aspect is there too. MC is modern women who travels 17th century maybe!? Yes, I speak about the man in the screenshot and the game that I am currently so much invested in, the Princess in the mirror by voltage inc.

I was playing ikevamp from its release until Comte route (he was the first man I had my eye on from the prologue and I shamelessly simped him right until his route. Yep lots of posts on him are on my blog) and after that it just fizzled out and it didn't help that he's my OTP... I found my closure despite liking vlad. That said I am very much invested in the storylines and the characters of every otome I play. With falko refreshing those memories I gotta go back to ikevamp and follow the stories and the new guys, yes before that I gotta let my insomniac self get some sleep

[thedivinetarot-2]

Ikevamp Napoleon Cottagecore aesthetic 🦋🤍

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I know y'all get bored from this idea but I have actually more detailed life with my man Napoleon.

Also this Idea belongs to @xxsycamore and here's the original post feel free to read it before you start reading mine❤.

~°•°~°•°~°•°~°•°~°•°~°•°~°•°~°•°~°•°~°•°~

After 9 months from your relationship with Napoleon, you and him decided to move for some privacy and to start a new life together.

It was an exciting idea since Napoleon told you that he's ready to settle down and start a new job.

You wouldn't complain him because you know that some privacy is important for your relationship with him.

He found a beautiful home 5 km away from the mansion.

The house have two floors, with a special view to the garden.

Hand in hand you walked side by side with Napoleon and he was fairly happy with a warm smile on his face.

Carrying you into the house while kissing you at the entrance.

"Welcome to your house nunuche"

Smiling at each other you know that your life with Napoleon start now.

Every morning when the sun shines and its rays inter from the window of your bedroom, you wake up next to your lover Napoleon.

You yawn "Leon wake up, Baby, honey, dear" shaking his shoulder.

"Hmm" he turned to face you "Come here"

Pulling you closer to him,"Kiss me now my beautiful girl".

"Put you should wak-" and he pressed his lips against yours.

"You're so sweet baby" looking at his eyes, "No You're the one who's sweet Leon".

You decided to make the backyard as a garden, so you can have a nice view for a tea party there.

Swimming in the lake that is near to your house in the summer so you both don't get hot.

Having fun there would be a thing too.

You climbed on Napoleon's back closing your thighs around his waist with a childish laughter you hold him tightly. "Hold me tight nunuche, we're going to fly" and then he step back a few steps and then he run towards the lake and with a high jump you splashes the water all, "Are you okay?" He asked "I've never been more happier than this moment" you answered. Grabbing him by his hair "I love you Napoleon, I adore you so much" you said "Me t-" you grabbed him with a passionate kiss on his lips "Hmm" you moaned in his mouth. Your nails digging in his back you broke the kiss. " When did you become so bold nunuche?" He wrapped his arms around your waist "Since our first night together" you said "hmm let me tell you how much I do love you" cupping your face and then he pressed his lips against yours all over again.

If you know how to cook Napoleon would find it quite helpful.

And if you don't you'll probably wash the dishes after every dinner you eat together.

It's fair that Napoleon loves to share household chores with you.

He'll chop the woods every winter.

I can see him loves to cuddle beside the fireplace in the winter with a cup of hot chocolate next to you both.

He is very understanding man who need honest and strong girl to handle his new life with him.

I see that he loves to hear how was your life before you traveled across that door.

He'll discuss every single topic with you no matter what it is.

You like arts? He's already now a couple of things about this stuff.

Poetry? Books? He already have readed a lot of books to discuss with you.

Social matters? Yes he is a big fan of helping people and he know well what are their problems and pain.

The only thing that would really annoy you if you wants to live with Napoleon is his firmness.

He loves everything to be tidy and clean 24/7, who knows that the emperor of Europe has such a firm lifestyle.

Expect his sleeping habits, you'll have the best man when it comes to keeping up with every day tasks.

And he isn't ashamed of helping you with house chores like cooking, cleaning and shopping for food.

And he started to have his own work to earn money.

He will help with washing clothes and it would be a funny time.

You sat on a small chair in front of Napoleon, A big bowl and the wash board was ready near the soap so you can wash clothes. You bring up the bottom of you dress to above your thighs revealing its soft flesh. Napoleon were taken by the sight of them but you wouldn't mind anyway and he started to tease you with that. "Are you trying to seduce me! Aren't you?" He teased "Napoleon please we have clothes to wash here, please think of them not me" you said "mmm you want me to think of those clothes instead of you nunuche? Well I don't mind that but my eyes literally eating those thighs of your" and he attempt to touch them "Hey you stop now, your hands are wet and full of soap, h-hey that tickles stop, Napoleon".

Napoleon have never ever felt the peace before your presence and now you're around him, he is happy and at ease.

How you chuckles when he tease you.

And how you smile when you woke up in the morning with him asleep next to you side-by-side.

He got this life and don't want to lose it.

Also I can say that reading under a tree beside the, him cuddling you to his chest with a book in your hand.

He smiles and kiss your head whenever he felt like he is in a mood to tease you.

He'll say that your voice is beautiful and you're really vocal especially during your intimate relationship.

And you would close his mouth with a kiss telling him that you're ready for him whenever he want to do the do with you.

At night he love nothing but his nunuche in his arms in front of the fireplace with a soft melody from the gramophone that playing around.

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A/N:

▪︎I hope you enjoyed reading my headcanons, also feel free to contact me if you want such as this headcanons for any specific suitor.

▪︎Also I don't own the idea or the characters in the game, I'm just rewriting it.

▪︎ Have a nice day🤍🦋.

* Follow me for more

M 🤎

[yanderepuck]

Ikevamp heat cycle

Wow you’re all horny

So @lulu-the-smol-floof and I believe that purebloods have a heat cycle like animals.  It happens every 4-5 years and can last from 2 weeks to a month and goddamn these bitches get horny.

But for all you horny bitches sake @shenevertricks1831 I will also write some head canons for the lessers as well.

@judgemental-seal @delicateikemenmemes @lulu-the-smol-floof @nafeary @bierunderdbeeren

First off.  Let me tell you that you do NOT want to be in the Castle when Vlad is in heat.  He mainly fucks Charles senseless, but sometimes you have to give that boy a break.  He might be kinky as fuck but he only has so much stamina. Faust locks himself in his lab.  He doesn’t want to deal with Vlad’s horny bullshit, but ends up having to anyway

BUT.  The mansion is a different story.  Luckily Leonardo’s and Comte’s have synced up after being with each other for so long, but for a while they weren’t.  But even if they both are in head at the same time, sometimes they want something different.

Leonardo will often go to Theo since he found out he likes him back.  He wondered why Leonardo was all over him all of a sudden.  Comte will sometimes go to Sebastian.  He doesn’t like to admit it, but he has gone to Arthur once or twice.

Getting like this also makes purebloods very territorial.  Meaning Leonardo gets even more over protective of Comte.  Vlad doesn’t have a chance getting around Comte when they’re like this.

Now lets act as if Lesser can also get this way.  It doesn’t last nearly as long two and a half weeks on average.  But poor MC

It didn’t kick in for anyone until after being a vampire for a year, even then they still weren’t at the same time.  Napoleon can barely handle himself around you as it is.  You’ve been wondering why he’s been a little rougher lately, trying to pull you into his bed even though you say you have things to do, because its the middle of the day.

Mozart hates feeling this way, but he knows there’s only one way to make it go away.  Luckily he doesn’t have that high of a sex drive as it is, so just a little bit here and there can get him through those few weeks.  But when he can’t handle it any longer you better be willing to go all night, because there’s no way he’s letting you go once he gives in.

Would Arthur really be any different?  Yes actually.  Instead of simply flirting he comes up behind you and starts kissing your neck, giving you little nibbles no matter where you are.  The two of you could be out and he’s asking for a quickie.  Which yes that’ll work for now, but don’t you think for a moment that it’s over.  He’ll pull you into his bedroom and just begin stripping you.

Poor Isaac.  He’s just trying to figure out a way to prevent this from happening.  It sorta makes him feel ashamed.  He has such a big bloodlust as it is, and now he just wants lust.  He’d try to distance himself from you because he knows that once he’s close to you he won’t be able to control it.  But you don’t know what’s going on, so when you go to check up on him he already has you pressed up against the wall, his lips on your neck and pressing himself against your body.  There’s no way he’s going to be gentle with you, he’s already been in heat for five days and hasn’t been able to touch you.

Vincent doesn’t understand what he’s feeling at first until he spots you.  That’s when he makes the connection.  He thinks he’s going to hurt you, and since all he has is a couch, it’s not too easy.  He probably ended up coming into your room and before you could say anything he shut the door behind him while kissing you. His hands were already under your clothes, he could barely control himself, and that’s exactly how you like to see him.

Theo thinks there’s something wrong with him when he starts feeling incredibly horny, and it will not go away.  He tries to just ignore it, but half way through the second day he can’t.  And when he sees you.  Well.  He’s ready to put you on a leash and tie you up so you can’t go anywhere.  He doesn’t want to stop touching you.  He gets very territorial over you, even towards Vincent.  He doesn’t want you near another guy.

Jean is just screaming.  He didn’t want to be a vampire and now he has to deal with this.  Well it may not be all bad.  Wither this is the first time or not, you’ll be able to show Jean some things. With how he’s acting you can tell and decide to help him out.  You start out topping him, but that doesn’t last long.  Once Jean figures out how good it feels and relieves some of the tension he’s taking over and taking you to pound town.

 Will tries to be a gentleman the best he can.  But on a normal day he has a hard time taking his eyes off you.  But during these few weeks?  He’s a little nervous for you to be in his presence.  He is rough with you has it is, and even though he knows you like it that way, he’s worried about going too far.  But you do come over and almost immediately you end up stripped and on his couch, kissing him with your hands bound.

Now with Dazai he tries to hide this feeling.  He feels like it isn’t right to feel this horny.  But it doesn’t take him long to realize what is going on.  This is a normal type of horny.  He goes in the thermae to relax but little did he know you were coming in too.  It had been a long day and you wanted to unwind, and you saw your man in there as well.  Perfect time to catch up with him.  Dazai attempted to keep a bit of a distance, but you assumed he was just playing hard to get and accidentally ended up corning him.  He couldn’t take it anymore and switched spots with you, putting you in the corner and kissing you, his hands went around to grab your ass, lifting you up a bit, pressing himself against your body.  Not what you were expecting, but you don’t object.

Even being a man of science Faust wasn’t sure what was going on the first time.  Yes he gets horny from time to time, but not like how he is now.  He tried to tell you he was doing something important and to leave him alone in his lab for a while, but did you listen?  No.  You wanted to bring him something to eat.  He’s been working hard.  You didn’t plan on staying since you didn’t want to bother him, but he said he was at a breaking point.  He ignored the food and lifted you up onto his table, pressing himself against you.  You hadn’t known what got into him, and before you could even say anything his lips were on yours and his hand was on your heat.

Charles can be horny as it is.  He’s very needy and that comes with it.  But he’s felt excessively horny for the past day.  He didn’t think much of it but the more he was around you the stronger it got.  At one point he even bared his fangs at Vlad for getting too close to you.  He hadn’t even realized he had done it.  But after that interaction he wanted to make sure Vlad’s touch on you didn’t linger.  His hands and lips were all over your body.  You try asking what has gotten into him all of a sudden, but he take your hand and puts it to his crotch and he starts leaving marks all over your neck.

~~

Leonardo won’t let you leave.  You might as well get comfy.  He can go all night as it is, but now he’s like this everyday for a month.  He ends up telling you about it a few days in and you just look at him and think about how sore you’re going to be and how much you’re going to love it. Of course Leonardo would never make you if you didn’t want to.  The aftercare is just as great. He’ll leave and come back with some of your favorite snacks.  For the most part you stick with being in your room or his room, but that doesn’t mean nothing has happened int he library.

Comte just wants to lock you in his room and not let you near any of the others.  He can’t stand to see you with someone else at this time.  The great thing with Comte is that he’s also one hell of a bottom, so you get to switch it up quite frequently.  For your sake you better not go around anyone else, especially Arthur.  The moment Comte hears another guy talking to you, he will sweep you off your feet and take you back to his room.

Vlad might actually lock you in his room.  You would have everything you need, but he might actually lock you in.  The thought of Charles being near you makes his blood boil, more than it does on a normal day.  He doesn’t even want Marshmallow to be getting any attention from you.   He is to have you all to himself.

Masterlist

[ikevamp-shrine]

Hmm so i just had this idea, can i please request a drabble when when mc and dazai had their 'first time' ?? Naturally it would be a smut lol but i'd really appreciate it if you throw in some fluffs too, because i think making love with dazai is more goofy than a serious one! Thank you so much if you do this :)

Author: @ikevamp-shrine​

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Character(s): Dazai, MC

Pairing: Dazai x MC

Words: 2072

Warnings: nsfw, vaginal penetration, Dazai being Dazai

Notes: So since this request says mc I’m gonna assume its referring to the in game female MC. Anyways, thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy and forgive me for just now answering your ask. (please don’t think I’m ignoring any request that has been sent in, I just haven’t gotten around to them- they will be done at some point.)

Preview: 

He traced his thumb over her bottom lip, rounding over the dip, pulling the plush pad of pink down from between her teeth. He glances up; the playful gaze gone from his eyes, instead replaced with the low burning of sizzling embers and wanton lust. He breathed in quick; her scent invaded his senses making him high on her. “Giving in to our most carnal desires, my dear.”

She swallowed thickly forcing his eyes to follow the movement of her throat. He smirked tensely. The tip of pulsating fangs caught the light as they slid from his gums. Dazai laughed lowly, his fingers wrapping around the exposed skin of her neck.

“Do you have any- “his yellowed eyes met hers, and suddenly he was all she could see- “idea... what I want to do to you?”

She opened her mouth to respond only to be cut off by a voice she had never heard the man before her use. Dangerous, lethal, lustful- a trickster warning those of his true power. “Do you have any clue to how hard it is to restrain myself from piercing your skin right now and claiming you as mine?”

“Dazai.”

He hums in response to her shaky voice, completely captivated by the parting of her lips as his face reveals nothing but an internal battle within himself. She gasped when his fingers find purchase on the soft curve of her hips, bringing their bodies flush together with a tug.

“What are we doing?” A bite of her lip has Dazai trembling.

He traced his thumb over her bottom lip, rounding over the dip, pulling the plush pad of pink down from between her teeth. He glances up; the playful gaze gone from his eyes, instead replaced with the low burning of sizzling embers and wanton lust. He breathed in quick; her scent invaded his senses making him high on her. “Giving in to our most carnal desires, my dear.”

She swallowed thickly forcing his eyes to follow the movement of her throat. He smirked tensely. The tip of pulsating fangs caught the light as they slid from his gums. Dazai laughed lowly, his fingers wrapping around the exposed skin of her neck.

“Do you have any- “his yellowed eyes met hers, and suddenly he was all she could see- “idea... what I want to do to you?”

She opened her mouth to respond only to be cut off by a voice she had never heard the man before her use. Dangerous, lethal, lustful- a trickster warning those of his true power. “Do you have any clue to how hard it is to restrain myself from piercing your skin right now and claiming you as mine?”

“I-.” She furrowed her brows, completely at lost as to what to say.

His grip on her throat tightened as Dazai loomed over her form, his wispy breaths of whispers tickling her ear like a lonely breeze. “I want you. All of you.”

He rested his cheek on her shoulder, glancing up at her wavering eyes with need, continuing, appearing vulnerable and innocent, “you want me to... don’t you?”

She nodded, not trusting her words.

Dazai pulled away, completely ridding the girl of his touch as her hand twitched, raising to grab at the thick fabric of his clothing. He grabbed her hand, tsking while murmuring, “I’m going to need a verbal consent to be sure you understand what you’re getting yourself into.”

She panted, her eyes pleading and hands shaking. “Please Dazai. I need you.” His jaw clenched. “Did you know I’m a selfish man, my dear? I will not share.”

She pulled him to her. His silken hair dangled in the air, his hands slammed on either side of her head against the wall she was pressed to, steadying himself. Their foreheads touching, breaths mingling, and hearts yearning.

She gasped for air, her want building to unimaginable heights, “be selfish then. Take me and keep me as your own.”

Dazai stilled, his face dropping and tone depressed. “That’s unfair. You know I can’t resist when you say things like that.” He shook his head, a devilish smile appearing, his features morphing into fox like proportions.

“Ask and you shall receive, my dear,” he paused his words to lift the woman up, turning towards the bed, her legs wrapping tightly around his waist, “after all- “he laid her down on his sheets, gently tracing the buttons on her blouse, popping one open at a time- “I am nothing more than a poor writer pleased to be a servant to someone as radiant as you.”

Dazai’s lips caressed the soft skin of her exposed stomach. Chills rose along her flesh as his finger ran over the curve of her thigh, his body moving over her, his kisses leaving a burning path down her body. His hand wrapped under her knee, kneading slowly. Pushing her leg in the air, Dazai watched as her skirt slipped down the limb. His other hand gripped her hip. His face went blank. His glowing, yellow eyes observed the flush of her skin, the reddening marks he left on her stomach, the heave of her breasts that began to spill out of the cups of her bra, the plush of her lips, and the blatant need in her eyes. His head tilted. Silky bangs hiding one side of his face. He whispered, “say my name.”

She shivered when his tongue met the sensitive expanse of her calf, lapping slowly up to her ankle. “Dazai.”

His fangs nibbled at her toes; her shoes previously discarded on the floor. MC gasped, her leg jerking at the ticklish sensation.

“Who do you belong to?” Dazai growled lowly, his eyes flashing.

MC moaned as his teeth dug into the front of her ankle. “You, you- only you.”

Dazai hummed, his eyes drifting closed as he opened himself to the intense emotions and rising tension. Muscles twitched under his mouth as he tracked back down her leg, his hand sliding from her hip to the waist band of her skirt, tugging the fabric off and tossing it to the floor. Opening his eyes, lids hooded with lust, the writer inhaled sharply at the spread of her hips before him. Her hands gripped at his sheets when he descended upon the growing wet spot on her panties.

She stopped breathing, her breath catching in her throat, when the male flattened his tongue over her clothed entrance; his moan vibrating through her at the taste. Her knees bent over his broad shoulders- broader that what they appeared. She felt his muscles tense and ripple as he sucked and licked at her through her underwear, his saliva mixing with her damp want. Her legs began to tremble when sharp teeth bit the cloth of her panties; her heart fluttered dangerously as Dazai pulled them off with his lips.

He looked utterly feral as he rose above her, regal even. Majestic, powerful. Like a snake slithering around its prey, soon to wrap around its form and swallow the defenseless creature whole. Dazai flicked his tongue out to lick over the glimmering points of his fangs, still tasting MC on his lips. His skin appeared to shimmer in the candle light, his pupils dilating and nostrils flaring as he nuzzled his face into her inner thigh. His breath fanned over the apex of her thighs, his low laugh shifting through the air when he saw her clench with excitement.

“Look at how obedient you are being. Spreading yourself just for me… I might just give you a reward.” They met gazes; she felt dizzy.

Dazai’s fingers dipped into her, coating the digit as she groaned. He curled inside of her, his jaw clicking at the tightness. He already knew he would struggle with not being completely consumed by the thought of her. He pumped slowly, building her up only to push himself knuckles deep, adding another finger. She moaned louder at the sudden stretch.

Dazai’s brows furrowed with concentration and MC barely heard him speak.

“I hope the walls are thick.”

She panted, confused. “W-what?”

He glanced back up at her reddened face, murmuring, “I hope the walls are thick or our neighbors will hear every pretty moan of yours.”

Her eyes widened when he reached above her head, knocking on the wall, mind blanking as she watched the writer smile expectantly at the barrier behind her. Another knock sounded back making her blood run cold.

Dazai shifted his gaze back down at her, smirking flippantly at her baffled expression. “Not so thick after all, I guess.”

MC blushes, opening her mouth, huffing embarrassingly.

Dazai shifts, leaning back on his haunches, knees bent under him. He brings MC with him, pulling her to straddle his lap. His hands rests on her lower back as he watches her, amused at how desperately she tries to untie his clothing, her embarrassment forgotten.

Her hands shake, her whine tumbling past her teeth when the knot tightens instead of coming apart.

Dazai rubs his hands around the globe of her bottom, soothing her. The knot finally comes undone and MC slips her hands under his clothing, pushing the fabric back, relishing in the smoothness of his skin beneath her finger tips. His clothing pools on the bed, catching at his elbows making him appear as if he was a fertility god ripe for the taking.

With tensing muscles and sweat damp skin, Dazai crashes his lips onto hers, their tongues fighting for dominance. His fingers flex against her skin, his form flinching when he feels MC grip the heavy weight of his cock between her palm, pumping and squeezing. A breathless moan follows and Dazai’s head falls limp between the junction of MC’s shoulder as she jerks his manhood; her thumb rubbing over the sensitive slit, smearing what seeps out along the smoothness of his skin.  

His stomach tenses, his mouth pulled into a grimace. Dazai grips MC’s wrists, stopping her, whispering shakily, “easy. I want to make this last.”

He takes a nipple within his mouth. It pebbles between his teeth, darkening as she throws her head back, scratching her nails against his scalp. He reaches between them to rub the swollen head of his cock against her clit. Her wetness drips down her thigh, dampening the cloth still trapped around Dazai’s thighs.

“Damn it, stop teasing me,” MC groans out, frustrated and impatient.

“The best things come to those who wait,” Dazai grins.

She digs her nails into his nape in warning, forcing a hiss from the writer. He glanced up at her heated eyes, smirking impishly around her nipple.

He snorts. “Ok, ok. Stop abusing this poor man.”

She breathes heavily, his tongue lapping at her chest, moving up her collar bone; he sucks at the pulse of her neck as he pushes the tip of his cock into her sopping heat. MC whimpers.

Dazai’s arm cages her, wrapping around her middle, holding her still as he slips deep within her.

“Ah! Dazai...” MC mewls, hugging his shoulder as they begin to rock together.

The writer whines at the heat gripping his cock. They lose each other in themselves. Clawing at the other’s skin in hopes of leaving a mark. They become one; feeling their bodies slide against each other, their minds fuzzy and hearts entwining.

“My dear,” Dazai growls, his fangs dropping further than they had before, his throat screaming with the need for it to be cooled by the one he craves, “I need... please, let me.”

His head is pushed back into the curve of MC’s neck as she nods at his begging, knowing and willing for him to take what he wants.

Dazai places his lips loosely over her skin, lightly brushing her with his lips, kissing delicate flesh stained with effects of his actions. Allowing his teeth to scrape against her, his eyes shoot open when she moans out.

“-close,” she mumbles, her body tensing and back arching.

He feels the tight fluttering of her walls around him as he sinks his fangs deep within her skin, holding her tight so she doesn’t rip his fangs through her flesh while she bucks wildly; waves of pleasure crashing over her, overwhelming her, dragging her down the river of ecstasy. Dazai grunts sharply, pulling himself out of her warmth to spurt thick ropes of white along the quivering planes of her stomach. Rolling his hips in the air, Dazai’s illuminated eyes grow blurry; his mind suffocating with the pleasure and the taste of his lover.

He sucks once roughly, his brows pinching together, face pained. Slowly removing his long canines from MC when she stills; her back shivered, rising and falling quickly.

She exhales when his tongue, slick with her blood, laps weakly at the puncture wounds upon her neck, helping it to heal. Exhaustion seeps deep within her bones as they bask in the aftershocks of their love making, holding each other close, her head on his chest listening to the steady thumps of his heart.

“Still with me?” Dazai questions. Euphoria makes his voice heavy and lazy.

She nods.

Dazai uses his sleeve to wipe his cum from her skin, pressing their cheeks together. He tenderly strokes her spine as he takes in the warmth of her companionship. “Stay?”

MC falls back dragging Dazai with her. They both laugh as she digs her nose into the crease of his breasts. He kisses the top of her head when she responds, her voice thick with the need for rest, their legs tangling as they slowly drift off to sleep, “always.”

Tagging @dazaiswindow @alby-rei @gallifreysperfectrose @nishtharya @robin-the-enby for saying yes on my previous post

SHOTS MATERLISTS

MASTERLIST

ABCs SMUT MASTERLIST

[nad-zeta]

Hide and seek!

Fandom: Ikevamp

Pairings: Leonardo x Reader

Genre: Fluffffff

Words: 800+

Comments: Eeeeep so ill let yall guess who this is for hehe! Eeeek so excited! Whooop Whooop! //dances around ❤❤ ❤😳🥺! 🥺😳❤🌈

.*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。��� .*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’･ﾟ｡.*:・’ﾟ: ｡.*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:

Memories of the past flooded your mind and warmed your heart, leaving you with a bright smile painted over your face.

You hide—quite as a mouse in the walk-in wardrobe— evil plan forming in your mind.

Leonardo da Vinci the infuriating tease, indescribable slob and your beloved boyfriend. Your relationship started off somewhat rocky with the whole fake lover's trope, but sure enough, as the story goes, the more time that was spent together, the deeper and more hopelessly in love you fell.

You had to chuckle at the memories of your past time, you, attempting to hide from him at every twist and turn—it was like a game of chase, you would run, and he would find.

It was funny how in recent years, not much had changed, not really, the two of you still engaged in this silly game of hide and seek. The only change being intention, before you truly wanted to avoid, but now, now the little game has changed into a fun challenge. The goal? To get the upper hand and give the man a fright— or should I rather say attempt to give the man a fright. For, every ploy you made resulted in failure, with you being the one that was frightened by his sudden appearance behind you— how he would manage to sneak so close undetected— heaven only knows.

But I digress. Today was different! Today would be the day! The day you would finally one-up the jack of all trades.

You were supposed to be getting ready for your birthday ball—which of course, Comte insisted on throwing— but instead, you scurried to the farthest corner of the closet at the first sounds of life approaching your room.

You burrowed— like a little rabbit— deeper into the racks hiding behind the protective barrier of silk and gems. You smiled to yourself, holding your breath— not even daring to make a single sound when you heard the closet door handle slowly turning. The door let go of its trademark creek as it slowly swung open, finally signalling the arrival of your target— your lover.

"Cara mia," Leonardo's low voice bellowed through the room as a familiar scent of his cigarillos filled the air. You dared not move a muscle, waiting for your opportunity to pounce. With eyes peeking between the fabrics, you watched him pass right by you, unsuspectingly— unknowingly— it almost made you release a premature victory laugh.

Before you could jump out, before you could even make a move, your attention was stolen by another wandering soul— Lumiere. You watched the cat confidently stride into the room, tail swishing in the air as his little nose sniffed about.

You cursed under your breath, narrowing your eyes at the cat, wishing you had the powers of telepathy; however that didn't stop you from trying — your mind was practically screaming at the midnight cat to pretend he had not seen you. His green eyes gleaming in delight, he took a few calculated moves towards you, head tilting to the side as if to try and understand the silent message you were sending to him.

Panicking, you glanced over to where Leo last was, only to find that spot, barren? Where the hell did he disappear to? Damn Lumier for distracting you from your target!

You squinted your eyes, daring to move an inch to the right, to get a better view of the closet, hoping, nay praying, to catch sight of Leo.

"Who are we stalking, Cara mia?" Came the hushed voice startling your senses and sending a shiver down your spine. You fell back in shock, a high pitched squeal leaving your mouth while eyes widened at the sudden appearance of the Italian beside you.

"W-when, h-how!" you stuttered out, bringing your hand over your heart racing at the speed of light.

Leonardo threw his head back, letting go of a huffed laugh in amusement, pointing his finger towards the onyx cat, "while you were distracted by my little decoy."

Your lips fostered a pout as your arms came up to cross over your chest. That would be, 100 Leo to 0 you, dammit, you should have jumped out earlier.

Leonardo reached over to poke one of your puffed-out cheeks, golden eyes full of affection. "You are too cute, Cara mia," he said, full of adoration before swiftly standing up and offering you a helping hand.

"Next time, I swear!" you threatened playfully, unable to keep the smile from blooming across your face. You placed your hand in his, allowing yourself to be pulled up and tugged into a warm embrace.

He stroked your hair lovingly before placing a kiss atop your head. "Now we better get going, yeah? Else we will never hear the end of it from Comte," he said, slipping his fingers between yours interlocking them. With a happy smile and squeeze of the hand, the two of you made your way to the birthday banquet to enjoy a night filled with excitement and laughter.

[chocolate-parfait]

Yay, askbox is open! I hope that means requests too, if not please ignore this and sorry. But could I request another angst? Could I please ask for headcannons for Dazai (and the others could be either Theo, Vincent, Leo, Comte, Will or Arthot, you can choose two, 'cause I can't XD) who find their S/Os suicide note? You can take it wherever you want from there. Thank you so much, love your works <3 Have a grwat day!

Hi @robin-the-enby !! I'm happy to see you in my inbox again, and although this took me embarrassingly long (my procrastination tendencies and school got the better of me :,)), I'm more than happy to provide something that will help with your coping! Despite it all, I hope that you'll get better soon and hang on a while longer. I'm sure this prolonged pandemic has had negative effects on most people's mental health, but remember that we'll get through this in one way or the other! Stay strong and keep fighting, if it gets too much don't hesitate to take a break and go easy on yourself❤

Halfway through I realized I was writing scenarios instead of simple headcanons ,, I was too engrossed in writing to realize it oops 🧍‍♀️ 🧍‍♀️ 🧍‍♀️

Finding MC'S suicide note - Ikevamp headcanons (Dazai, Arthur & Leonardo)

(TW; suicide / mentions of self-harm / major character death / blood)

(CW; slight and inaccurate spoilers for Dazai's past)

For those who'd like to avoid specific contents, this is what I wrote for each suitor:

Dazai - MC is unconscious and bleeding, I didn't specify whether they survive or not

Arthur - MC is stopped before they can do anything, survives

Leonardo - MC isn't stopped in time, dies

Dazai

It was as if history was repeating itself. The message, the bloodied sheets and the unconscious body. The only different thing was perhaps.... him. It was a him that had experienced true happiness, a him that had learned forgiveness, a him that knew better than retort to suicide as a way of repentance. And yet... was it not enough? Dazai's mind swirled with the pungent thoughts of his own fate as he ran with your body in his arms. He ran, and ran, and ran, passing by a seemingly endless succession of hallways and wooden doors.

Never before did he wish your room was closer to Arthur's, as he felt your body grow colder and his clothes dampen with blood with each step forward. And yet the stars that were now adorning the night sky's black cape, seemed to be offering their compassion to him, for when Dazai burst into the writer's room he saw him sitting at his desk, completely sober and still functioning in the middle of the night.

Arthur slightly turned in his chair, and as he was about to comment with displeasure how rude it was of the man to come into his room completely unannounced, his mouth was left agape and eyes wide open, wordlessly staring at your limp and seemingly unmoving body as the smell of blood hit his nostrils in mere seconds.

"What in the Heavens happened-?!" Arthur abruptly stood up, leaving his half-finished manuscript forgotten on the table, rushing closer to check your pulse. The two novelists had never liked each other, a difference in life choices maybe, but it surely was not a hate that could surpass even the most perilous of situations, particularly because you were an outsider to their rivalry. As such, Arthur did not hesitate to put to good use all his medical knowledge, carefully rushing through every step to avoid the worst.

Seconds slowly transformed into hours, although Dazai was convinced time had stopped ever since the moment he had found you on your bed, utterly frozen in a state of unconsciousness with a crumpled letter of apologies laying on the bloodied sheets. The only thing that perhaps gave him the slightest hint to time’s passing was the way he could feel the blood on his chest and hands grow drier as the night morphed into the day.

As the first rays of light poked from behind the thick curtain of the doctor’s room, Dazai sat by his bed, right next to you, silent and outwardly calm, although dazed in the raging storm inside his heart.

Perhaps this was what Destiny itself had decided for him. Perhaps it was wrong of him to blame casualty instead of himself. His old, stupid self, who hadn’t learnt a single thing from past mistakes. But as his fellow vampire’s warm hand came to rest on his shoulder, Dazai decided to delay all judgment about his negligence until the Gods determined your fate.

Arthur

Staring at the familiar handwriting, Arthur felt his whole body grow numb, as if someone had thrown him in the darkest depths of the ocean, leaving him to suffocate under the overwhelming weight of the waters above.

He had noticed the worsening of your symptoms, but he had never imagined you'd go to these lengths. He had gravely underestimated your condition, and he could already hear the old ghosts of his past laughing at him, pointing their fingers while mocking him. But now, he had no time to worry about his own lack of foresight; his priority was getting to you in time, so that all could be fixed, hopefully.

Scanning the writing on your tear-stained note, his brain started listing all the possible places where you could've gone with a speed that would leave speechless even Sherlock Holmes himself. The writing was hurried and scrambled, meaning that it was a sudden decision. The city was too far away and bustling with people that could interfere, so it was an unlikely location. As he was running around the mansion in search of you, he passed in front of the terrace on the last floor; there, he saw your clothes swirling in the wind, and your figure standing on the stone railing.

He almost crashed against the glass door as he launched himself forward with extreme speed. You were there, looking down and slightly trembling. You were scared, as it was normal, but if death frightened you so, then what pain would be so strong to push you in its embrace? To drive you away from his warm arms and into the eternal darkness? Was such a painful experience worth the possible relief?

"MC!!!" Arthur shouted out of instinct with his whole lungs, like a volcano erupting in all its fury. A few steps later and you were falling backwards, your back colliding with his chest as he harshly pulled you to him. It all happened so fast that you didn't even have the time to turn your head and look at him. Now that you were on the ground, safely locked in his embrace, everything slowly sank in.

His voice came out choked and trembling. "W-what were you thinking-?!" He was trying so hard to hold everything back; the tears, the sobs, the anger in his voice. He was angry at himself, and you were not the target of his resentment, but he realized that it could be easily misunderstood by someone in your situation. Taking a deep breath and turning you around, he stared deeply into your pained eyes, softening his iron-like grip on your forearms.

His voice now steadier yet gentle with affection and worry added:"Love, I'm sorry for not noticing all of this sooner. I'm sorry for not helping you enough. Still, I want to be of some use to you, I want to be there for you.” A sharp breath interrupted his speech, maybe from him, you or perhaps both of you. “…So please, please rely on me; whenever you feel like you can't do it anymore, whenever you feel like you have enough of life, give me the chance to help you."

Seconds later, you burst into tears, sobbing confused "I'm sorry"s in the crook of his neck. Arthur slowly caressed your hair soothingly, as his heart continued to painfully hammer against his chest. He knew this was not going to be an easy nor a short journey; it was going to take time, and it would be hard, but he wouldn't give up on you no matter what. Through thick and thin, the way you did for him, he was going to support you the whole way.

"I love you more than anything in the world, MC." he added at last, hugging you tightly.

Leonardo

The deafening sound of crickets did not reach the man’s ears. He couldn’t hear anything but the fast pumping of his own blood in his veins. A heartbeat that had never and would never stop; stronger than anyone else’s, but also alone. The sound of his heart was utterly lonely, the only one under the white gazebo, now shrouded in the darkness of the night.

How much he would give not to hear it anymore, to put an end to it right then and there. But he couldn’t. And as Fate loved torturing him endlessly, he was now once more deprived of a person he loved. But this time was different than the countless others before. He thought he had gotten used to the company offered by Death herself, and it had been long ever since tears burned within his eyes, as if made of fire.

Between his arms laid a lifeless body, utterly still and deprived of any warmth. It seemed like mere moments had passed when Leonardo was contentedly caressing your hair as a tired yet relaxed sigh fell from a pair crimson lips, which whispered some loving words before blooming into a smile. Now, they were pale and slightly agape, a cold frown sculpted onto the body’s face. Perhaps he had gotten so used to the passage of time that he did not pay it more mind. Perhaps all his memories took place too long ago, and perhaps things had changed considerably from those happy moments you shared.

Leonardo’s expression subconsciously mimicked your own, one that would remain in his mind for who knows how long, and he did not dare to move away, sitting there with you for the very last moments of his eternally long life. He tried not to think about the way his heart lurched in his chest like a ship at sea during a storm when he found your note. Your handwriting, calm and precise as if it was a decision you had made long ago; where was his mind wandering off to while you were deciding to seal your own fate?

Silently strangling all those whirling thoughts in his head until they died down, leaving him in a deathly silence, he lovingly bid you farewell with a final kiss to your lips.

“Hopefully, we’ll meet in another life.”

“Next time, I won’t let this happen again”

Suffering was human, but he had learnt all too well how contagious pain could be. And yet, he now found himself isolated in his grievance, for you weren’t with him anymore.

[nuttytani]

Just like a movie

fandom: ikevamp

pairing: vlad x gn!reader 

words: 2000+

warnings: mentions of food and that's pretty much it

a/n- this was my secret santa gift for my dear friend: @jiyuu-chan ! + if you enjoyed it; feedback is highly appreciated!

People say that you are meant to meet a special someone in your life. Someone who would change everything, who would complete you like a piece of a puzzle- someone you are destined to be with from the moment you are born, a string of fate tying you closer.

Soulmates have a special bond with each other; a red string that is attached to their pinky- which can only be seen by them. Such is drilled into every child’s brain from a young age.

When you were younger, your father would always tell you stories of how he had met his soulmate, his wife...your mother. It was otherworldly he said, like nothing else- an indescribable moment, and he wanted you to just know when you had met yours.  

“One day, you’ll also meet your one and only, sweetheart!”

“Really? But…. how will I know?”

“Really! It’s simple. You’ll see a red-,” your dad said- looking a little too excited.

“DARLING- STOP! DIDN’T WE DISCUSS THIS!?? Don’t annoy the poor child…,” your mother screeched from the kitchen as she stormed to your place- giving her husband a sharp look before turning to look at you,  “sweety- you’ll know when that day comes, alright? Why don’t you go play, hmm?”

You only nodded meekly, and rushed upstairs- glad to have your dad stop talking. Your parents’ banter was now muffled, but your mind was clouded with thoughts of what your father was about to say. Perhaps your mother was right...it’s better not to know to keep the moment special.

As you grew up, from kindergarten, primary school to highschool and finally college; you stood by and watched most of your friends find their other half- until you were the only one left. You’d always feel a dull pang in your heart...what if you were destined to be alone for life? When were you going to meet your soulmate? Will people keep on taunting you? These thoughts would lurk in your head, until you couldn’t think anymore. But now you were older and more carefree than before, such thoughts didn’t bother you any longer- at least not completely.

Every once in a while, your family and friends would dreamily tell you about their experience, while you’d just listen and nod. An exhausting cycle, where all your concerns would come rushing back to you. Then, of course, they’d never forget to ask about your nonexistent love life... It wasn’t fun to watch them shoot you a sympathetic smile and say “don’t worry, your time will come soon!”

Truly, having a soulmate or not didn’t matter to you, at least that’s what you think. It wasn’t uncommon for few people to be ‘alone’ although that was quite rare and an unfortunate occurrence. Why was it so hard for people to leave you alone? Real life isn't a romantic movie, like everyone would depict it as.

“There we go! I think that’s it now,” the strawberry brunette sighed as he placed the vase of wildflowers on the coffee table. 

“Finally! I’m so tired,” you groaned, slipping to the floor as your back pushed against the couch.

Fumbling with the book in your hands, you motioned the man to sit beside you- not too long after, he too sat lamely next to you on the cold hardwood. Exactly five hours passed since you and your friend Charles began organizing your new house. The two of you were working nonstop- tirelessly to get the place looking more liveable and comfortable. It was a struggle, but the effort was worth it.

“You know...you owe me for this big time,” Charles announced cheekily.

“Spill it. What do you want Charlot?” Brows shot up your forehead, you knew that smile all too well.

“First of all...stop calling me ‘Charlot’ it’s weird! Only Faust calls me that. And to answer your question- I would like to eat your pancakes.” He flashed you a toothy grin.

“Sure whatever you say Charlot,” you snickered, “with coffee?”

“Uh-huh!”

With a roll of your eyes, you stood up and threw the book on the couch before heading to the kitchen. Straight away- you pulled out the mixing bowl and sieved the dry ingredients, while humming to a tune that was stuck in your head.

About a week had passed since you moved into your new house, it was a decent place and safe neighbourhood. But the best part about it was the fact that your house was a five minute walk from town. That meant no more lazy drives to the market, quite the bonus actually.

Remembering a task- you shouted to Charles, “Can you be a sweetheart and do me a favour?”

“Ask away child, your wish is my command,” he said with a flourish of his hands.

“Haha very funny- go get the mail”

“No no no- you’re forgetting something. What’s the magic word~” he sang in a high pitch.

“...Monsieur Charlie, can you please get the mail,” you huffed in annoyance.

Sounds of pancake sizzling and boiling of the kettle filled the kitchen, you were too busy flipping the pancake to notice Charles' presence back in the living room. His eyes were squinting hard at the brown box and some mail sitting snugly between his arms. He looked back and forth between the parcel and your back before he cleared his throat, capturing your attention.

“Hey uhh...is your home address 216b?”

“No. It’s 215b- why do you ask?”

“Are you sure? Because your mail says-”

Before the man could complete his sentence; you snatched the package from him- your eyes widening momentarily.

“I suppose the addresses got mixed up…” Charles muttered

“Yea looks like it…”

The two of you just stared at the package, not knowing what to do. Your first thought was to drop it off at the right address. The house was just in front of yours, it shouldn’t be a problem and maybe you could introduce yourself to your neighbour at the same time.

A smoky scent filled the living, interrupting your train of thoughts; your nose scrunching up in disgust- “What’s that smell?”

The two of you stared at each other quizzically before exclaiming at the same time “THE PANCAKES!!”

[Unfortunately, it took a great deal of time trying to scrape the burnt pancake off your pan and clean it. The unknown package was the last thing on your mind.]

“Thanks for the help Charles, I appreciate it.” You smiled at him.

“No problem, after all, I got to eat a good meal in turn,” he gave you a wink before bidding his byes.

The sky lost its pale blue colour and was now transformed into soft red and violet, all blending in to create a beautiful gradient with specks of white clouds adorning like freckles. A mop of unfamiliar silvery hair passed by your peripheral as you stared up the sky, taking a shy glance towards the man.

You stared at his back discreetly as he fumbled with the keys before opening the entrance to his house. 

‘216b’ the golden letters glistened. 

Huh. So that’s your neighbour! Maybe now’s the time you give him back the parcel, and that’s what you did.

You knocked thrice on the emerald green door, while balancing the huge brown box on your other arm- waiting patiently while you internally panicked. Your hands started to sweat and the box started to slip. Rushed footsteps echoed from the other side before halting suddenly, the green door opened with a start; giving you a little shock.

Once again, you were met with the silvery haired man; his garnet red eyes flickered to yours and at that moment- you felt as if everything froze around you. Your heart started to beat way too fast, and your breathing became shallow- it felt as if you were underwater. A tingling sensation ran up your left hand, your eyes flashed down to see whatever the problem was- only to be met with a scarlet thread wrapped around your pinky. You looked at the man in clear surprise and he too- looked very taken aback as he followed your eyes.

The silence stretched far too long for your liking, with a clear of your throat- you introduced yourself to the perplexed man and spoke

“...I’m the new neighbour”

“Bonjour, how can I help you?” He stared at you with wide eyes.

“So err- the package— I mean...I-I believe this is your mail?” You motioned to the box in your arms, “Looks like the mailman mixed up our home addresses.” You swallowed the lump in your throat.

“Ahh! Why yes- actually I have yours as well- the mail I mean,” his eyes softened in understanding, “Please! Come inside.” He invited you in as he took the parcel from your hands.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude.” You shook your head meekly, still recovering from your speeding heartbeat.

“Not at all! Come in, please,” he insisted with shining eyes.

The house was similar to yours, the same white walls with wooden floors and fixtures- it had a relaxing ambience. You spotted several plants and flowers decorating the house, giving the place a much more peaceful vibe, you were too busy admiring the place to notice your neighbour returning.

He placed two plates of strawberries and tea on the coffee table which caught your attention.

“You have a lovely home uhh…”

“Vlad. I’m Vlad- my apologies, I completely forgot to introduce myself. How rude of me,” Vlad said with a slight smile.

When you turned up his doorsteps, you had no idea of what was to come- you definitely didn’t expect to finally meet your soulmate after all these years and in such a way. Now you understood what people meant by ‘feeling butterflies’

“No, it’s quite alright,” you chuckled while calming your jittery hands.

Vlad took a seat on the couch and pat the place next to him for you to sit. He elegantly picked the teacup and blew softly on it.

“So, how long have you been here?” he asked.

“Not too long actually, been just a week. I’ve finally finished organizing today,” you said while taking a bite into the deep red strawberry- the sweet juiciness making you sigh in delight.

“These strawberries are particularly my favourite- in fact, these were in the parcel you brought,” Vlad said with a deep laugh.

You gave an awkward ‘oh’ as you took a sip from your cup.

Not too long after, the awkwardness disappeared as you two got lost in conversation after conversation and more endless conversation, and a few giggles in between. It was quite easy to trust Vlad- he had a calming and serene aura and had you feeling comfortable in no time, perhaps too comfortable that you didn’t realize how late it was until you glanced at your wristwatch.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry- I lost track of time…”

Vlad gave a hum of acknowledgement as he eyed the wall clock, “It’s not that late.” He looked at you with twinkling eyes, ”Why don’t you stay for dinner? I’d like some company.”

“Hmm I don't know… I’ve overstayed my welcome,” You said with furrowed brows.

“Well I for sure know you haven’t —as I’ve said—I enjoyed your company.”

“Ahh fine! You’re good at tempting people you know?” With a grin, you folded your arms which earned a hearty chuckle from Vlad.

Dinner went smoothly as you two chattered on and on. The two of you stalled your return home but stayed in each other’s presence by washing dishes, eating dessert, extra dessert, and washing dishes yet again until there was nothing left to do.

Once again, you stood at Vlad’s doorstep with a meek smile.

“I had fun, thanks for having me”

“Me too- and it’s not often to find that your neighbour is your soulmate,” Vlad gave you an impish smile.

“Yea— it was, just like—”

“Just like a movie?”

“You stole my words, monsieur.”

“Perhaps this is our movie,” he said while tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

*

*

a/n: if you enjoyed reading this, please don't forget to leave a like and/or reblog. feed back is always appreciated. + join my taglist here

[op-peccatori]

per sempre tuo (M) | IkeVamp Leonardo

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Pairing: Leonardo da Vinci/Fem!Reader 

Rating: Explicit/18+/NSFW

Word Count: 4400

Summary: Your lover has many different sides, and you adore every single one of them.

per sempre tuo: forever yours

a/n: Finally. This is just some unnecessarily long fluffy smut to cope with finishing his route. Yes, I did listen to Italian music for this and yes, I did cry at some of the lyrics. I recommend the first 2 (A Te and Magnolia) if you wanna give it a listen~ AND, for Thirst Purposes, I’ve installed a reading nook in Leonardo’s room.

I had a tough time with the title, trying to pick which was more appropriate, per sempre tuo or tuo per sempre, but I went with the former...

(warnings/tags under the cut)

Warnings/Tags: explicit sexual content, vaginal sex, no plot, extreme cheesiness, some minor spoilers for Leo’s route

You’re not sure what wakes you–the gentle thrum of the rain outside the windows, or the familiar, sweet scent wafting over to you.

Slipping out from underneath the comforting mantle of slumber, you shiver and curl up sleepily.  

Or maybe it was the cold, the hint of autumn chill brushing warm skin as you turn over with a groan to find your usual bedmate missing. With a quick search of the disorderly room, you blink at the way your head throbs and squint at Leonardo. He’s curled up in his little reading nook, with the window cracked open, and you watch as he–cigarillo held between sanguine smudged fingers–sucks in a mouthful of smoke. It spills from his lips in slow, curling wisps after a few seconds. 

Further inspection reveals a notebook resting on his lap, an unbuttoned shirt, and chestnut strands pulled back into a short, messy ponytail that does unfair things to your libido. You don’t sit up just yet, content to let your eyes run over him as you try to recall the events of last night. 

Dinner had, as always, been a warm, chaotic affair. You remember being unable–and unwilling because it had been a while since you had indulged–to turn down Comte’s offer of wine. You remember the slow buzz creeping through your veins as you laughed at Arthur and Theo’s bickering, the droopy look on Sebastian’s face as it snuck up on him too, and the endearing flush on Isaac’s cheeks, unsure if it was wine-induced or if it was the result of Dazai’s teasing. 

A flush fills your own cheeks as you remember Leonardo’s warm gaze and soft lips, telling you to have fun as he left to have a quick chat with his old friend.

You remember accepting another glassful of the beverage, and you remember Sebas walking you to your room–which doesn’t explain why you’re in Leonardo’s bed instead of your own. It’s a bit like staring into murky water, trying to identify what lurks beneath the surface, and it slipping away just when you’re on the verge of discovery.

You refocus on his still figure.

Leonardo is, at his core, a man of action. With an eager mind, hands that itch to reach for something or the other–a book, drawing tools, things to repair, and ever since you came into his life, you. 

Jack of all trades, master of nearly all. 

Watching him at any time is fascinating; it’s hard to take your eyes off of him, you’re always eager to watch him in motion. And then there are the times where he’s quiet.

You hadn’t realized it at first, but it’s clearer right now as you observe him silently. He’s more subdued when it rains. It had been different when the two of you had been caught out in that sudden shower, but even now, the restlessness seems to have withdrawn, leaving placidity in its wake. 

He loves his naps, but the way he’s curled up next to the window, listless, eyes unfocused–he looks almost lonely. 

“Buongiorno.” Your startled gaze meets his, the cool gold of his eyes heating as they catch you staring. He turns his head to face you, his upturned mouth and the little crinkles in the corner of his eyes sending warmth fluttering through you even from across the room. “Slept well?” 

“Mm, I think so.” A yawn catches you off guard, quickly covered up by the back of your hand. You stretch languidly, feeling your muscles release, before you sit up, reaching for the top of your head to pat down flyaways. Your dress from the previous day is draped over the back of a chair, prompting a quick startled glance down at your body. You’re in one of Leonardo’s shirts; with a grateful sigh, you reach for the glass of water he somehow managed to make space for on his crowded bedside table. “I feel like I did.”

With the way he perks up, you wonder if he’s been waiting for you to wake up and play with him. The thought amuses you for a moment; sometimes, he really does act like a cat. You meet his eyes again, and he looks curious, putting out his cigarillo in a little ashtray on the windowsill. He’s always curious about what’s going through your head. 

“I hope you do. You were out cold,” Leonardo replies after a moment’s pause, before something sly crawls into his tone, the mischief glittering in his eyes putting you on guard. “I’d say you slept like the dead, but your snoring could’ve actually woken them up instead.” 

You barely avoid choking on the cool drink, gulping down a mouthful of it as you glare at him as dangerously as you can. It only serves to widen his smile. 

“Lies.”

“Nope. It was cute, though. I like it when you snore.” 

“When I-how often do I do it?” Your voice is shriller than you would like, and he, being the infuriating man that he is, starts laughing. 

“No need to get so worked up, cara mia,” he soothes, closing his notebook and placing it on a shelf behind him. He reaches for a damp cloth, wiping his hands clean, and closes the window.  “Come here, you look cold over there.” He looks colder. 

“I am cold,” you mumble, embarrassment still hot on your skin, but you can’t resist his beckoning fingers and climb out of bed quickly, the hem of his shirt falling to the middle of your bare thighs. Picking your way across the room as deftly as you can, a low hiss escapes you as you end up stepping on what looks like a puzzle piece. 

He reaches for you with a sheepish smile, gathering you up in his arms before settling back against the wall, reaching down to rub the sole of your foot tenderly. 

“Sorry about that,” he murmurs, his calm voice warm, raspy gravel, reaching down to the very depths of you; wrapped up in his embrace, his heat seeping through the layers of cloth between your skin, you can’t help but melt into him with a soft hum. With your head cradled against his chest, you peer out the window. The skies are a solemn grey, but the flowers are there to make up for it, looking brighter in the light shower as they reach toward the heavy clouds.

You mull over his words for a moment, worry filling your heart, pressing your lips to the side of his neck before tilting your head back to look at him. “Is that why you were awake? You couldn’t sleep because of me?” 

At your words, he looks close to laughter, the corners of his lips quirked, but he fails miserably and presses it to your scrunched up brow. “I’ve slept through a lot worse, so no.” 

You study his expression for a moment longer, gauging the sincerity in his eyes, before you nod. Wondering what kind of stories are behind those soft words. “Oh. Also, did I pass out at the dining table? Because I don’t remember getting back to your room…”

“No, you didn’t. Last I saw you there, you were wide awake, and I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh that loudly. But by the time I got back, you’d already gone up to your room. ” Confusion creeps in, and Leonardo chases it away with a swift peck to your scrunched nose. “We should get you drunk more often.”  

You think back to dinner, and while it’s all a bit blurry you do remember having fun.

“So, I didn’t do anything embarrassing?” His fingers skim down your arm to tangle with your fingers, bringing them up so he can press his lips to the back of your hand. 

“Hmm. I think we have different opinions on what makes something ‘embarrassing’.” You stare at him until he grins again, sudden and wicked. “Don’t you remember singing for us?”

You resist the urge to jump out the window. “Oh no.”

“It was lovely,” he insists, chuckling when you swat him. 

“I can barely sing when I’m sober, and my drunken version has been likened to the screeching of a cat.”

“I don’t agree at all. I enjoyed it quite a bit.” 

“Of course you enjoyed it.” Feeling quite faint from the force of your despair, you attempt to escape his hold only for him to tighten it, pressing you back into him. You pull, he pushes. He pulls, you push. Your brief tussle ends with you sitting back against his chest, curled up between his legs, and a shiver running up your spine when you feel his lips on your neck.

“I did. Let’s see–I loved how free you looked, the way your hair escaped your neat little braid, the way you throw your head back when your laughter seizes you. The way you smiled at me, with your flushed cheeks and smiling eyes, reaching for me as if you never wish to be parted from me again. I loved it all.” His breath falls hotly on your skin and you’re frozen in his embrace, your heart holding onto every word that rolls off his silver tongue. “There was just one little problem.”

Your first attempt to speak dies in your throat. You wet your lips and try again, eyes sliding shut as he presses a burning, open-mouthed kiss beneath your jaw. “What was it?” 

Leonardo hums, lips forging a path up to your ear. “I wasn’t the only one to see all of that.” 

Fingers trace the jut of your collarbone, slow and inquisitive, as you work through the implications of his words. “I doubt anyone would see it the way you do.” 

“In this, cuore mio, you’re completely wrong. Not only do they see what I do, they covet. They envy. I don’t blame them for it, you’re a blessing one can only dream to have, but it still…” 

“But still?” 

He nips at the shell of your ear, hand smoothing across your abdomen, and your breath grows heavy. 

“It makes a part of me want to hide you away, away from their longing eyes. I would never do that, but a man still feels the need to stake his claim, yeah?” His hand dips under your shirt, tracing incomprehensible patterns on your skin, the calloused pads of his fingers skimming the skin beneath your breasts. “The entire time I was speaking with ‘Comte’ I was thinking of what beautiful side of you would be revealed next.” 

Your next words are carried on a breathless whisper.

“What did you do?” And you feel the way his lips, pressed to your temple, curl up. “What happened after that?” 

“Heh. Nothing.” He bites at the plump flesh of your cheek, light and playful even as his hand drifts up to cup one breast. Something is lodged in your throat and it feels like it might be your heart. “You did all the work for me.” 

It must’ve been something embarrassing, because you know the way he tugs at a nipple, rolling it between nimble fingers, is more of a distraction. The knowledge doesn’t stop your stomach from clenching with anticipation. “What did I do?”

“Nothing as bad as you’re imagining. I went looking for you, you see,” Leonardo licks up the length of your neck, kissing his way across your skin. Your fingers dig into the firm flesh of his thigh, holding onto the cloth as he sucks red, blooming marks. “But you weren’t in your room. Gave me quite a fright. I found you soon enough, though; stumbling through the halls, trying to find your way to your darling Leo’s room.” 

“I don’t remember that at all…”

His other hand cups your sex, heel pressing in with purpose as your head tips back, lips parting. “Don’t think anybody’s ever been that happy to see me. It was quite a kiss. Did I mention I had a few of the others looking for you too?” 

Leonardo’s palm slips further down, caressing the soft skin of your inner thigh, his cheek brushing yours when you try to look at him. He helps you turn around, leaving you kneeling between his legs, his fingers brushing your cheeks before he cups them and pulls you into a sweet kiss. The taste of his thin cigar spills rich on your tongue, the proof of his arousal brushing against your knee, but he seems content to just kiss you, tongue curling around yours, making a satisfied little sound low in his throat.

Desire burns low in your belly and you pull away with a gasp, forehead dipping to press against his.

With eyes dancing with fervour, he doesn’t look so lonely anymore. You worry, sometimes, that you won’t be able to reach him, that your worlds are too different. He’s a living legend who seems so out of everyone’s league it’s almost funny. 

But he’s also Leo: easygoing and warm, when all he wants is to curl up in your arms, to kiss you, and run his hands all over you, a dragon curling and rubbing itself all over its greatest treasure. When he just soaks up every bit of affection you offer him like a starving sponge.

The flat of his palm meets the soft flesh of your rear with a low smack, pulling you out of your musing. 

“I think that’s really e-embarrassing.” 

Such a demanding old cat, you think. Always wanting to hoard your attention. You should save that one; he gets, quite subtly, but adorably huffy when you say that. You’ve seen his quiet, simmering anger over the big things, but it brings you an odd sort of joy when he gets playfully mad at you over the little things. When instead of shrugging it off, he pouts until you’ve peppered enough kisses all over his face. 

He pinches your stinging flesh.

“Don’t agree. Story’s not over, though. So, then I brought you back here, but you decided to be a bad girl and torture your helpless compagno.” His hands slip up your shirt to cup your breasts, your back arching when his thumbs brush over tightening nipples.

“I’m not sure h-helpless is a word I would ever use to de-describe you.” Desire begins to pool between your legs, your head dropping back when he rolls the peaks between his forefingers and thumbs. You slip the shirt over your head, much to his approval and he doesn’t hesitate before leaning in for a taste, his next words spoken into your skin.

“No, you wouldn’t, would you? But when the love of your life kisses you so sweetly, tasting like rich wine, with her hand on your cock–” He sucks a taut nipple into his mouth, working his mouth roughly as you moan and weave trembling fingers through his hair. “And you have to tuck her into bed because she’s drunk, and spend the rest of the night trying to think of the most disgusting things you’ve seen in your life? One can only wonder what circle of hell invented this.” 

“I-“ your skin burns at the thought of you trying to drunkenly seduce him, and you sit back on your heels with ears burning hotly. “I’m sorry.” 

“Me too. You put up a real tough fight, nearly convinced me…the places my mind went…” Leonardo sighs and slips a leg between your thighs, laughing when you squirm at the firm muscle of his thigh pressing into your sex. “Yeah? You wanna know?” 

“Did I really do that?” It comes to you in one single sentence, and the memory of Leonardo’s body pinned beneath you. 

“I just want to feel you. Please?”

Strong hands grip your hips and pull you forward, the friction robbing you of all coherence for a second. “I very nearly prayed.” 

You can’t help but laugh at that, planting soft kisses on both his cheeks, reaching for the collar of his shirt to pull him closer. “I’m really sorry.”

“Mm.” The pleased possessiveness in his eyes always takes your breath away, and the way he sighs and relaxes at your touch makes your heart thump in delight. It always ends up this way; a quiet moment spent with hands running over warm skin, the muscles of his chest firm under your fingers, your spine stretching as his palm slides along the length of it. “I’ll allow you to make up for it.”

“Yeah?” Your lips brush over his, and you breathe in the sweet scent lingering in his breath. Your hand slides down his solid abdomen, coming to rest on the waistband of his pants. “What do you need me to do?” 

With a small hum, his darkened eyes fixated on yours, clever fingers brush your breasts, your sex, and in a move that makes your breath hitch in your throat, they wander over to your rear, between plump flesh–and you immediately consider if what you’ll need is available or if you’ll have to run down to the kitchen. 

Leonardo kisses his way across your cheek, soft and sweet, lips warming your ear. “Smile for me.”

You blink as he pulls back to grin boyishly at you, feeling your brow twitch as your head drops to his shoulder. “You make me feel like a horny pervert.”

“Aren’t you?”

The sound you make is childish, near whiny in tone as you attempt to jump off his lap and flee to the safety of his bed. An admirable attempt, but one that is foiled right away by his arms wrapping around you. “Hey, don’t run from me.” 

“Leave me to my shame, Leo.” He pulls you close, chest pressing to chest, and your lips quiver at the feeling of your breasts against his muscle, and the way he tries to look stern but his affection just softens it until you want to eat him up. 

“You’re so pretty, Leo. Sometimes I wanna just eat you up.”

Dear Lord. Drunk you is shameless. 

“No shame in wanting your lover, cara mia,” Leonardo coos, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I want you just as badly, in every single way, all the time. Il mio cuore è tutto per te,” he murmurs, pulling your hips down to meet his, your mouth watering at the hard ridge of his erection. 

“I don’t see you making a fool of yourself,” you breathe, rolling your hips into his, thrill unfurling within you when he growls throatily. 

“If you saw what goes on in my head, you would run.” His voice is a power unto itself, growing deeper, going straight to your pussy. You reach for the fly of his pants, unbuttoning it swiftly and tugging at them until he lifts his hips with a thick chuckle. 

“Never. I’m far braver than that, and much too in love,” you declare, yanking the fabric down his thighs, taking a moment to admire the thick muscle defining them. 

“And you say I’m the smooth talker.” You crawl up the length of his long legs, his keen eyes raking over you, swaying breasts calling his hands to them like fleshy magnets. “Come to me, cara mia. I’ve been waiting too long to get my hands on you.” 

The head of his hard cock pokes at your thigh when you settle over his lap, his legs spread out. It begins to leak with a few pumps from you, and your eyes flit between the beads of his precome and the way his lashes flutter with each movement of your hand. 

“I don’t think I can wait too long,” he groans. “I was hard most of the night. Wanted you so bad.” 

“Sorry, baby.” You press your lips to his chastely, again and again until his other hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, keeping you there. Rough fingers reach your entrance, collecting drops of your arousal before pushing in. A wicked grin stretches across your mouth, matching his own. 

“Ah, I don’t think you’re up for waiting either.” Shuffling on your knees, you guide the head of his cock to your entrance, slack-jawed as you sink onto it. 

“...Fuck, Leo.” 

Leonardo draws you into another kiss, teeth sinking into your lip when you clench him tightly. His hands squeeze your thighs and, in a display of strength that honest to god has your pussy fluttering, he lifts onto his knees with ease, your legs coming to wrap around his hips. With his tongue still licking into your mouth, he pulls you half off his cock before jerking you back down and slamming his hips into yours. He swallows every moan, every cry, every wrecked sound that climbs up your throat. 

“You feel so good, cara mia. So perfect. And you’re all mine,” he growls into your skin, his thrusts relentless, intent on taking you apart. He presses you back into the bookshelf, and your heart pounds in your chest when he adjusts his grip on your thighs, pushing them back and hooking your calves over his broad shoulders.

The next, merciless slide of his length into you has your eyes rolling back. It’s only in this, when it comes to sex and your pleasure that Leonardo can push you in different, filthy ways until you’re left shaking. Your voice climbs in pitch with every rough thrust, your hands scrambling for purchase on a shelf behind you. 

“There, oh, there, please, k-keep doing that,” you sob, blinking back tears as you look up at him pleadingly, burning hotter at the sharp, consuming desire you see. He presses what feels like impossibly closer, the burning in your thighs strong but the drag of his skin against your bundle of nerves overwhelming. 

“Come for me, ___,” he groans, a wicked smile ghosting across his lips, allowing you a glimpse of fanged teeth and you see stars. Your back arches, head thumping against wood; your walls clamp down, and a hiss leaves his lips as you break in his arms. He slows his pace, fucking you through it, lips chasing away the tears spilling over. 

Forehead pressed to his shoulder, chest heaving, mind and body more jelly than flesh–his cock is still heavy in you, and an involuntary whimper sounds deep in your throat when you look up at him. He kisses you gently.

And with all his gentle affection, he pulls you off of his length and sets you down in front of the window, back arched and ass out, the glass cool against your sweaty cheek. You hiss softly when he slides in again, your breath fogging up the glass, his front curled over your back. Brushing away damp strands, he plants open-mouthed kisses on the nape of your neck, your shoulders. Twining your hair around his fist, other hand steady on your hip–he angles his hips and thrusts deep. 

You had been sure you didn’t have it in you to make even the slightest noise, but your body disagrees in the form of a low keen, your aching cunt swallowing him greedily. 

“That’s my good girl,” Leonardo exhales, his pace turning swifter and harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin providing an erotic contrast to the soothing rain. “Sorry for being so greedy but…” His fingers find your swollen clit and heat coils in your belly. “...I want one more.”

Denying him, your own pleasure at that, is not something within your capacity.

He muffles a guttural groan in your skin, nearly rutting into you as you wail, loud and wanton, unravelling once more. His pace stutters and liquid heat fills you in thick spurts. You turn your head, weak but wanting, to welcome his lips on yours.

Cracking the window open once more, you curl up against his body, his heat more than enough to shield you from the cold. You brush his hair away from his face, his having slipped free in the frenzy of desire. He rubs your lower back gently, covering you with his still-warm shirt, reclining against the bookshelf; you think you almost hear him purr his contentment. 

“Wait, where’s Lumière?” You’ve seen no sign of him, and the thought relieves you a little.

“Following Sebas around, last I saw him,” he mumbles, nosing at the skin behind your ear. You’re both so sweaty, but you wonder if you can make it to Le Thermae without running into any curious residents. “Also, cara mia, there was something I wanted to ask you.” 

“Mm?”

“I talked to Comte about it, and he’s agreed so you don’t need to worry about that. If you’re okay with it, I wanted to take a little trip.” You look at him and he pokes your cheek, but there’s no missing the hopeful look in those eyes. 

“Just us?”

“Just us. I want you all to myself,” he tells you, smug smirk and cockiness, before it softens into a tiny smile. “I had some work, back in Italy. Thought I could take you, show you around since we’d have the chance. Only if you’d like to, of course.”

“I’d love to.” Your immediate response is, quite embarrassingly, teary eyes and an enthusiastic kiss. Pulling back, you raise a brow. “Only if I’d like to? You mean you wouldn’t have wrapped me up in my sleep and taken me along anyway?”

“As you cute as you look when you’re grumpy,” he laughs at the narrowing of your glittering eyes, “the journey would be far more pleasant if you’re happy, no?”

“But I’m always happy when I’m with you,” you point out, foxy smile in place. The fuzzy feeling in your heart feels close to spilling over when he hugs you closer, but you still catch the way the tips of his ears flush. He holds you close as if wanting to imprint the feeling of your body against his, to sear your love onto his heart, to inhale the scent of you and trap it in his lungs–before the day comes when he will no longer have the chance to.

You turn away from the sadness and bury your face in his chest.

“Y-yeah, well. It’s time you got to eat some of the best food in the world.”

Now is the time for love, and you plan to give him so much, to paint him in the colours of your adoration, devotion and passion–that loneliness will not dare touch him for a long, long time.

Thank you for reading~ 

Translation:

il mio cuore è tutto per te: my heart is all for you

cuore mio: my heart 

per sempre tuo: forever yours (tuo is masculine singular possessive, tua is feminine singular possessive)  

[scummy-writes]

Offset Beginnings

Throughout his life, Arthur had believed that there had to be at least some strain of truth when it came to the occult, whether through a vague promise of ‘magic’ or trying to find whatever possible science it boiled down into. That being said, he’d never thought he would get such an up close and personal taste of its existence. 

     Slowly, he touched the pads of his fingers to his face, tracing the curve of his cheek. Seeing was believing, yet his mind still couldn’t process the youthful body he had just recently been blessed with. Despite standing in front of the immaculately polished mirror left in his room, Arthur found himself gripping the vanity in disbelief, breath shallowing.

Of course. Being born anew had to have some sort of catch, didn’t it? Unless this was a new form of lucid nightmare, his deathbed granting a new experience to torture him even through his last breath. But…

That coppery taste on his tongue still lingered. Despite past dreams, Arthur was never one to have a sense of taste within them. And the pain when Le Comte had bitten him…

He dropped his head, poorly attempting to switch his focus onto his lungs as his nails found purchase in the wood.

Moments ago he had finished meeting the other residents of the mansion, faces completely new to him yet the names he had heard brought more fear into the possibility of this all being another trick of the mind. 

A deep inhale, and he made up his mind, shoving himself away from the mirror to numbly grasp his coat and head back out the door. If his mind was set on plaguing him with bastardized ‘blessings’, then he was determined to fight back by drowning in his sorrows. 

---------

The grooves in the counter were surely etching themselves into his skin, but Arthur couldn’t be bothered to care, mind elsewhere as his eyes barely focused on the glass in front of him. If he squints, he can make out a face under the mess of hair in the warped reflection, and he groans, turning to thump his head against his forearm. He’s sure he hears a muffled question, the tap of a glass by his head. He can’t bring himself to attempt deciphering whatever was said.

He inhales, his chest feeling a steady burn as he shakily sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. Staying firm in the present is harder with alcohol muddling his reason, though that’s his own fault, isn’t it? Every drink he slugged back in hopes of forgetting his earlier woes pit against him, memories playing back as he remembers his reflection, the same face that haunted him late at night.

There’s another voice, deeper this time, that accompanies a weight on Arthur’s shoulder. Curious, given the lack of sensation in his arms or fingers at the moment. He attempts to shrug it off, a flash of annoyance going through him.

“Tch. Trying to help you, you...” 

The voice muffles as Arthur finally turns to face it, some curse slipping out before he recognizes the flash of brown fabric, his own hand reaching out to grasp without much thought following. 

There’s a pisspoor attempt to say Theo’s name, the sound coming out slurred even to Arthur’s ears. A groan slips out next, his arm dropping as his grip slacks.

Despite the clear inability to verbally communicate, Theo still seems to recognize what he was getting at; sitting down on the stool beside him with a grumble.

“Just how much did you drink?”

He wants to laugh at the worried question, how it doesn’t match the man’s expression, how it's the first time in years anyone has asked him that. He supposes some sort of dopey smile crosses his face at the scoff Theo gives him.

When was the last time someone showed him an ounce of pity? Le Comte didn’t count, given he was nearly convinced the man was reviving them out of a sense of misplaced guilt, nor was Arthur ever deserving of it, not since…

There’s a grumble that comes out as his world begins to spin. He catches how Theo’s eyes widen before Arthur closes his eyes, feeling his body tip into something softer than the counter. Was it Theo? There’s a gruff mumble coming after him as someone attempts to right him, but Arthur’s well past the point to move without stumbling over immediately.

The thought to apologize comes along as he says something, the words mingling with memories of Trevor and the others catching up to him. For Theo’s sake he does try to stay lucid a moment longer, just to ease the weight he’s pushing onto the man, but the next breath he gives seems to drain him, sending him tumbling into unconsciousness.

---------

Ugh. 

As soon as he registers warmth creeping along his face, the sharp stab of a headache follows immediately, forcing a groan out as he pats around him blindly. He fumbles with the blanket he’s wound up in, finding a way to tug it over his head to block out the sunlight filtering in through his window.

It takes him a moment to open his eyes, feeling the spinning from last night trying to return along with his coherency.

Who in the hell pushed open the curtains? He was positive that they were shut when he left…

Arthur’s brows furrow as last night starts to come back to him, piecing together the flashes of brown fabric he had seen along with the gruff voice of-

“Theo,” The name comes out as a curse, “You bloody devil.” 

-------

It takes him longer than he likes to withstand the small act of just getting up, head pounding all the while. He manages to stumble over to his window and tug the curtains closed, allowing himself to prop up against the vanity, eyes avoiding the mirror attached as he plots the day ahead with a firm plan to steer clear of Theo; else who knew what embarrassing conversation that would spark.

But God’s always been a right bastard, hasn’t he? Once he peels off yesterday’s clothes and steps into a cleaner set, he’s out the door, only to nearly smack right into the man.

“Ah…”

Damn and blast.

Their eyes meet for just a moment, before Arthur’s running a hand through his hair and dodging Theo’s gaze.

“Listen, about last night…”

His unspoken beg to spare him the details of his foolishness seems to come true, as Theo interrupts him with a scoff.

“There’s nothing about last night.”

“Huh?”

“What? You think I remember any of the nonsense you spouted? I was too busy deciding to bring you back here or to toss you into the Seine.” Arthur bites back a quipp, and all Theo does is check his watch with a tsk, echoing the one out of many from the night before. “I have to go to the gallery, I don’t have the time to spare for this.”

When he walks past in a determined tread, Arthur half expects the man to bump into him in annoyance. He’d certainly deserve it and more, knowing fully well what a mess he had to have been to drag back here. 

He huffs out a self-deprecating laugh at the fact that someone so brusque was willing to spare a sorry sap like him. And for what reason? Perhaps the new lad to the mansion always went through this, and Arthur was just being given the easy treatment for now, until his feet- or fangs -settled.

With another scoff towards himself, he turns off towards the direction of the kitchen, planning for a cup of coffee and, admittedly, a way to offer buying a round for Theo- without getting the drink thrown back in his face.

-------

This. Has been a draft since July, so if anything sounds off I'm sorry haha

The second half of this pulls from that Drunk from your Love(?) Collection event, where theres a brief story about Theo finding the thot conked out at the bar, thought it seemed fitting to change that to the first night Arthur was brought back and Suffering at the age he was made to look like. (Even thought canon says otherwise haha)

Masterlist | Writing Server | Isaac Week | Ikevamp Server

[lordsisterxotome]

Ikevamp Boys Reacting to an MC with Selective Mutism (Part 2)

Link to part 1 --> Part 1 (Napoleon, Mozart, Leonardo)

Theo, Jean, and Shakespeare in the next part!

Arthur:

He likes his control, he likes to watch others squirm in a game of cards while he plays circles around them. If he can act lighthearted and easygoing during the most dire of situations, then he can protect himself better, use his intellect to its greatest potential.

So to have the person he cares about most struggle with this every day of their life and be powerless to help? It makes Arthur’s heart heavy in a way he didn’t know possible, in a way he’s only experienced concerning her.

He’s serious when she tells him about her mutism, not the slightest tease to his words as he responds, and MC looks surprised when he takes her hands into his own, running his thumb softly over her knuckles. The blush that crosses her cheeks is more lovely than anything he’s ever seen before as he promises his understanding and his support. He means each syllable earnestly, but the depth of conviction behind them still surprises him, and he can feel his own cheeks warming in turn.

Arthur’s more observant than anyone in the mansion, especially when it comes to MC, so he notices the slightest tensing of her body when he’s in town with her one day, off on another odd job. Once he learns to read her body language, it's fairly easy for him to pick up on when she has her bouts.

As soon as he sees it take hold, he springs into action. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he tucks her against his side, safe and sound. His heart breaks a little when he feels a shiver wrack her form, fingers reaching for his jacket as she keeps her eyes lowered.

A smile meant to cut crosses his face, aimed at whoever made her uncomfortable. It doesn’t matter if they hadn’t meant to, if their intentions were completely innocent, they’ve incurred his wrath and they’re going to get a proper tongue lashing full of pointed comments and sarcasm.

With an insistent tug at his jacket, his attention is completely on her, on making her feel comfortable again. Arthur forgets sometimes that it makes her feel guilty when he reprimands whoever made her feel bad, but he can’t help himself. There’s already so little he can do to help her and sometimes the quietly simmering frustration left by that wound to his pride boils over, fast and uncontrollable.

He wants nothing more but to wrap himself around her and protect her from everything, but he has to settle for pulling her into a carriage headed back to the mansion, the sounds of the outside world muffled as the wheels clattered over the cobblestones.

Resting her face against his shoulder, he runs his fingers through her hair, leaving kisses to the locks every now and then as he does his best to soothe her. He talks about familiar things, of things he wants to do with her in the future, trying to distract her from whatever feelings she must be experiencing.

Arthur can’t imagine what she’s struggled through, what she will continue to struggle through, and he knows how strong she is, but he wants to carry some of that burden too. He hopes she’ll trust him enough to lean on him more, to be her strength as she was his.

When MC giggles in response to his teasing, he finally allows himself to breathe a sigh of relief, tugging her closer as he attacks her neck with tickling kisses and draws more of those delightful giggles from her.

Vincent:

The sweetest, most understanding angel, he’s ready to do everything in his power to help her.

Vincent’s presence alone is so soothing he becomes unknowingly adept at comforting her through her muteness.

The first time it happens, he freaks out a little bit. It’s just so worrying to him, asking what he can do to help and receiving no response except nervous eyes fluttering away from his. The poor boy is unsure of what else to do besides wrap her in a hug. Then he worries MC has a fever because her cheeks turn a bright red color that seems to worsen when he presses his forehead against hers to check.

His arms are still around her long after it passes. It’s unclear whether it’s for her comfort or his, but Vincent feels better when she’s in his arms, the skies more blue and the seas calmer.

He can understand the cause behind her mutism and doesn’t feel any kind of annoyance or anger, only sadness, that she’s had to deal with this. He hopes that she had people to support her in the past, people who understood and didn’t blame her for it, and he’s more than willing to take up that position himself now.

If it happens when he’s not around, she knows to come straight to him, no matter where he may be or what he might be doing.

One time MC came to him while he was in the middle of painting a piece, and without a second thought, covered in paint, Vincent gathered her up and fell on the couch with her, kissing her knuckles and filling the silence with his gentle voice.

As someone who regularly underestimates himself, he can’t know what effect he has on her.

Vincent may be new to love, but he makes her feel more treasured than she knew possible. He accepts every part of her without a second thought, but doesn’t take anything lightly. There’s a force behind every word and gesture, a weight of something serious and real and tangible and lasting.

He wraps her in sunshine and warmth, filling her days with color, until she nearly forgets about her mutism, the bouts shorter after falling in love with him.

MC couldn’t keep away from him if she tried, and he her. 

Isaac:

“Wha-What are you…? What’s…? I don’t-” The sweet, tsundere apple boy’s a stuttering mess when it first happens. He doesn’t want to say the wrong thing, but he doesn’t know what to say either.

Isaac can sympathize with the cause behind her mutism as someone who’s often been made uncomfortable by others himself, but his attempts to help are still awkward.

If he can, he’ll take MC’s hand and run away from whatever situation had caused her silence. He would sweep her away more gracefully if he could, but he’s never been one for grand displays. He wishes he was, for her, but he just isn’t, and unknown to him, she wouldn’t have him any other way.

After his initial shock over finding out about her condition, Isaac slowly becomes more and more skilled at helping her.

He finds it difficult sometimes, to express his affection through gestures. He’s never been in love before, and sometimes the sheer volume of his adoration is nearly overwhelming, making his hands tremble as he holds her.

When MC has her bouts, he does what he thinks would help him if he had to deal with the same struggle.

Depending on where they are when it happens, Isaac takes her someplace quiet and warm, someplace familiar. If they’re close to the mansion, he takes her to his room. If they’re at the university, he takes her to his office. If they’re out in town, he takes her to the park.

He himself prefers the safety and solitude of his room to cuddle her in bed or lay her head on his lap while he fiddles with some new mechanism, running his fingers idly through her hair as he thinks.

Isaac keenly remembers his struggles with socializing as a child, his mother’s abandonment leaving a gaping hole in his confidence. He hadn’t suffered MC’s mutism, but he remembers how hard it was to look anyone in the eye, the annoyance he evoked when he stuttered or simply refused to speak to strangers.

All too easily, he can imagine what she must have had to go through as a child, unable to enunciate what was wrong. Was she treated as he was? Spurned and punished for her silence? He’s afraid to ask it, to make her uncomfortable and bring up bad memories, so he’ll wait until she’s ready to tell him herself.

All he knows is that he wants to be the best man he can be for her.

[carnelianns]

hey i really enjoyed your hc awhile back about ikesen mc who struggled with eating and fear of gaining weight could you possibly do it with the ikevamp boys? like le comte, leo, theo, arthur and nepo please? i’m recovering from an ed and your writing have really helped me alot but i totally understand if it’s too touchy ily and stay safe

it’s such an honor to hear my writing has helped u! i hope you recover well, n please know that i support u & everyone else struggling from this. the boys do as well uwu

tw: starvation

Napoleon Bonaparte

Napoleon isn’t very observant, much less at the dining table wherein he eats his meals for a solid 15 minutes tops before he’s retiring to the comforts of his room once again.

But it doesn’t even take observation skills to see how you barely eat at times, how the most you’d do is shove a spoon of food, maybe two, into your mouth, hastily swallowing it down as if you’re being forced to.

So then he asks. Plain and simple, tilting his head and furrowing his brows as his arms wrap around your waist, your paced breathing the only sound resonating through his room. 

“Why don’t you eat that much?”

Napoleon feels the way you tense up underneath his strong arms, hears how your breathing seems to quicken. In an instant, you’re wriggling yourself out of his grasp, he propping himself up on his elbows to stare at you and the sudden distance between the two of you in confusion.

“Nunuche, did I say something wrong? I’m sorry if—”

“It’s fine, Napoleon.” Your voice is all sorts of tiny and wavering, unable to look him in the eye as you fidget with your fingers — the sight only causing his heart to clench. “It’s just… I, uh, don’t like gaining weight. I want to be, uh, thin — perfect, if you will.”

You don’t look up. You couldn’t. If you did, you would have seen how the past Emperor of France — no, not even — how the man who loves you and only you breaks, cerulean eyes glossing over and a lump forming in his throat.

And he says, plain and simple, tilting his head and furrowing his brows as his hand reaches out to caress the warm skin of your cheek.

“But.. you’re already perfect. Maybe not to yourself, but to me. And… you’re all I need, in all honesty.”

It’s too much, you think. Being loved like this. Because that’s all it took for something inside you to snap, for you to start sobbing, Napoleon pulling you into his arms as he rakes lithe fingers gently through your hair, pampering the crown of your head with light kisses and sweet nothings.

He holds you like that all until you fall asleep, and even after.

Ever since then, Napoleon had taken it upon himself to dine with you, waiting patiently for you to finish your food before even thinking of going anywhere.

It’s slightly embarrassing, how he watches you with such a proud smile on his face, one he denies having whenever you point it out.

Leonardo da Vinci

The first time Leonardo finds you asleep when he gets back to his room, he simply brushes it off as exhaustion from your many chores.

And he’s not fully wrong, just has a full chunk missing. He happens to find said chunk out when you proceed to collapse in his sturdy arms, wearily mumbling for him to carry you back to the bedroom. 

When he finally sets you down into a comfortable position, sitting down beside you on the bed, Leonardo’s simply staring at you, a frown on his face and creases forming on his forehead, yet remaining silent.

“... Aren’t you gonna ask me why?” Your voice is small, unable to meet his gaze.

He speaks slowly, brushing stray strands of hair out of your face, “You’ll tell me if you want to, cara mia.”

And god, how blessed you are to have such an understanding man. It takes a while before you finally say, “I just… don’t want to gain weight. Every time I look in the mirror, I loathe what I see.”

It’s momentarily silent, though his fingers never cease moving around your face. Then, finally, with his gruff voice the softest you’ve ever heard, he sighs.

“You know, cara mia, I look at you, I see beauty.” Before your mouth is opening, ready to spew denials, he continues, tilting your head to his. “Not just in your face, or your body, but in your soul as well.”

Leaning in closer, inches away from your face, you can only hold your breath. Then, he smiles — a real, genuine smile that only makes your heart melt. 

“And I know you might not believe it, but I have all the time in the world to show you what I mean, don’t I?”

He helps you through any and every challenge the both of you face — because it’s not just your struggle anymore, it’s his as well; you are the one he loves, after all.

Most definitely spoon feeds you with that teasing smirk of his at times. It’s enjoyable for him, really, but you have to stop yourself from slapping that damned smirk off his face.

Arthur Conan Doyle

It’s no secret that Arthur was a rotten flirt before your relationship, or that women practically fling themselves onto his arms even after you two had gotten together.

You can’t help but to think each and every girl that tries to hit your lovely boyfriend up seems to be getting prettier and prettier, thinner and thinner. Of course, Arthur politely pushes them away to link himself back to you, but that doesn’t stop your thoughts from running wild all the way back to the mansion.

Try as you might, you’re unable to hide anything from a writer — and not just any writer, the famed writer of Sherlock Holmes who just so happens to be the one you’ve shared yourself with over and over again. 

So when you find yourselves back in his room after a long day, resting quietly on his soft bed, it’s no surprise when you feel his hot breath on your cheek, or the slight creak of the bed under his added weight. Your eyes crack open to Arthur’s face inches away from yours in a position you’re well-acquainted to, though the expression on his face differs.

Worry gleams in those normally jovial eyes of his, unthwarted even when you run your fingers through his hair soothingly, just the way he likes it.

“What were the thoughts going through that pretty little head of yours earlier?”

His voice is hushed, though clear as day in the empty room. The question has you pausing momentarily, before dropping the hand previously lost in his messy locks.

You hum, caressing his face, though a faraway look sets itself in your eyes, “Those girls are really pretty. And they’re so thin. Should I lose some more weight? Sleep in tomorrow to miss breakfast? I absolutely hate my bo—mmph!”

Your words were muffled when Arthur’s lips crash onto yours, silencing you in mere seconds. When he pulls away only leaving the both of you breathless, you almost wish his face wasn’t so close — the pain etched in every line of his face was horrible. 

Wordlessly, he kisses every part of your skin, intent on leaving nothing untouched, slight tingles following in its trail. As if saying “I love this, I love you.”

He had never really been good with words when it came to his own emotions, and yet that night had him repeating three simple words over and over, as if saying a prayer he wished to ingrain into your heart and mind. 

Arthur proceeds to act like an overexcited puppy with you, bringing you any and every type of food he thinks you’d like. 

You never have the heart to say no, especially when his chest puffs out in pride after you take a bite.

Theodorus van Gogh

You estimated that it would take about a week or two for someone to notice your regressing eating habits. But having Theo as a lover pulled your estimations way back.

So here you are, awkwardly staring at the man, his eyebrows raised and the words he’d previously uttered racing through your mind. 

“Do you think I wouldn’t notice how you’re barely chomping anything down anymore?”

Your actions are stiff, fidgeting with your fingers while you avert your gaze. “I.. thought you’d be busy, is all.”

“Busy enough to ignore the fact that the one I love is starving?” You wince at the edge in his tone, one he notices, only causing him to sigh. 

Covering the distance between you two, Theo gently pushes your chin up to meet his gaze, all sorts of worry clear in his bright eyes. With pink tinging his ears, his tone softens, not once breaking the eye contact.

“I care about you, schatje. You’re the only one I can ever love. Remember that, yeah? So I don’t have to keep repeating it…” He trails off, cheeks flushed a hot red and bottom lip caught in between his teeth in a way that only induces a watery chuckle from you. 

Theo never forces you to eat anything you don’t want to, but he serves as your cheerleader — more like drill sergeant, in actuality. He always finds subtle ways to get you to eat a bit more, bringing you home some food he deems healthy whenever he goes out.

Though he doesn’t comment on it, he’s extremely happy whenever he sees you eating more than usual, desperately trying to hide the smile on his face from you. 

He offers you some of his pancakes at times — he doesn’t even offer them to Vincent. It’s a heartwarming gesture coming from the tsundere. 

Comte de Saint-Germain

Do not underestimate this man — Comte is far more observant than he lets on, so the very moment you decide to revert back into your starvation habits, he’s immediately right behind you. 

He, however, is also very understanding, and it takes him a good portion of the day to conjure up a way to tackle the situation.

Finally, when you’re languidly running a brush through your hair, Comte takes it upon himself to snake up behind you, pressing his warm body against your back. 

“I’ve noticed how you haven’t been eating as much.”

His voice has no trace of accusation — only a simple, no-nonsense statement, bringing you to relax your tense form once more. 

Gauging your reaction, he continues carefully, “Do you mind telling me why?”

“It might sound silly but… I’m afraid you’ll leave me if I gain weight.”

Your soft reply only has his eyes widening, mouth gaping ever-so slightly in a way you thought unfit on his regal face.

Then, gently tilting your head to face him, his golden eyes meet yours, smile not-all that bright — slightly pained, if you will — yet he still tries. 

“Although you might not believe my words now, this heart of mine belongs to you and only you, ma chérie.”

He must have seen the slight hesitancy in your eyes, the thoughts whirling in your head. A gentle smile sets itself unto his face, his large, smooth hand moving to grasp your own. 

“Besides, I have all this time on my hands, and I wouldn’t mind spending it all on you.”

Comte’s with you every step of the way, getting every and anything you need or want   

He also takes it upon himself to cook you some meals as well — ones bordering on the thin line between digestible and inedible; apparently not all immortals have cooking skills — but it’s the thought that counts. 

[ikefool]

Nothing special

Summary: My entry for @delicateikemenmemes​‘ Theo Route Countdown Party D-3: Theo & what breaks his heart.

Rating: Angst, feels. All that pining and raging imposter syndrome that comes with hurting this grumpy man.

Pairing: IkeVamp Theo x Reader

Word Count: 1236

A/N: I queued this for earlier but for some reason only the title got posted? Tumblr get it together.

The paint is not yet dry, but still Theo knows that this will be a masterpiece by the time it is done. That once the thick brushstrokes made by his brother’s hand swirl together into a single image he will be taken into his world once again; where the soft rustle of sun-warmed grass brings with it the scent of bright orange zest, where the sweat that clings to his brow is there because of that afternoon’s games. And soon, when the sun that now sits high in the sky hides behind the wooden houses, it will be time to come home to a crackling fire and a warm, hearty dinner.

He resists, as always, the urge to reach out and touch the splotches of color that hint at bright, blooming flowers. He knows that if he does his hand will come away wet with fresh paint; knows that he will not feel the tickle of grass, and the scent of his childhood will turn to the sharp, warm smell of linseed oil. 

Theo sighs, this has not made things better in the slightest. He had come here to clear his head, to stop the unrelenting rush of thoughts that threaten to turn into a headache. But he can’t seem to get you out of his mind. He pictures you dancing, laughing as the grass tickles your ankles, hem of your dress stained with the soil underfoot. He has to turn away from the canvas.

You’re like the art in front of him. Bright and colorful and new, and Theo dares not touch lest he smudge the smile off your face, the spark form your eyes. He can hardly understand you, and he can understand his need to be near you even less. Your kindness is relentless, infuriating even; your laugh (the real one, devoid of politeness) makes something settle inside of him; you seem to know every part of him, easy as breathing, and in the quiet pauses between one conversion and the next, the sadness that seems to make its home in your eyes makes something strange wrap around his ribcage and squeeze. 

He sighs, hands twisting the fabric of his coat. He already knows what this is, but he cannot bring himself to admit it, even if just to himself. It was only fitting that he would come to feel this for a human, the first shining thing that stepped foot into the mansion and inside his own walls. He’s pathetic, making all kinds of excuses to spend time with you, fighting the crazy urge to stuff you into his coat and protect you from any harm, spending his nights awake and pining like a foolish teenager. And yet, as much as Theo spends thinking about you, he can’t understand why you would want to spend time with him. 

Out of all the people in the mansion, he is the only one without some form of genius. The drive to keep selling his brother’s wonderful art and to discover more talented artists had been great enough that it had brought him back from death, but after that? The only reason he lives in the mansion at all is because Le Comte was a gracious enough host not to separate him from his older brother. He spends his days surrounded by beautiful music that brings the halls to life, discussions of space and engineering that fly right over his head. Even his best friend in the mansion, a flirt and a scoundrel, is a talented enough writer that his work will be alive for centuries to come. It’s easy to forget.

His only talent seems to be that of keeping people away, shaping words into sharpened points and schooling his emotions behind a hard glare. And yet… and yet you’re undeterred. You seek him out, are kind to him without asking for anything in return, even with the barbed wires he has for a personality. He can’t begin to imagine why, but gods damn him, he’s grateful for it. As undeserving as he is of it, Theo still soaks in your presence when you grant him with it, still accepts every smile, every compliment you give him like they deserve to be his. 

“Theo?” At first he thinks he’s imagined the lilt of your voice. He’s spent enough time going back over the sound of it every time you speak for it to finally come haunt him without his permission. But when he turns back there you are, standing hesitantly on the doorway, fingertips touching the frame.

“Oh” your eyes shift from him to the painting at his back. “It’s beautiful.”

Theo crosses his arms and frowns, even as he nods. “It’s not done yet, Hondje, you shouldn’t poke your snout into other people’s businesses so readily.”

To his surprise, you smile. Theo gulps down the urge to press his fingertips to the edges of it, he grips his arms tighter around himself. “I’m sure Vincent would let me see it, but I’m glad to hear you protect your brother’s work so fiercely, even if there’s no need to. I’d never do anything to harm Vincent, or one of his paintings for that matter.” As you speak, you step closer. Theo knows you’re just trying to admire the art up close, but he still shifts nervously to make room for you at his side.

Your words soothe him, even if he had known since the beginning that you posed no threat. The problem is that every time you say something like that it leaves him floundering for his composure, he should’ve just kept his mouth shut.

You hum softly and Theo turns to you as if beckoned, he’s surprised to find you staring at him instead of at the intricately woven colors of the art right in front of you. “Gotcha” you smile, “I knew you didn’t actually hate me.”

Theo’s breath does it’s best to get caught in his throat. He stares at you for a second (at the wisps of hair escaping your hairdo, your candlelit skin, your quirked lips…) before quickly turning forward again. He wants to pull away from you, clear his head. At the same time his fingers ache with the need to pull you closer.

He wants to grab you by the shoulders and shake you, stare into your eyes until they tell him what you see every time you look at him. A failure? A brute? A friend? ...more? Someday, my bright-eyed girl, I’ll tell you I don’t want you and you’ll believe me, I’ll say something that stikes pain like a match stikes fire; or I’ll run out of words, and you’ll realize just how much of a fake I am. 

Instead of speaking again, he just huffs, and prays the single note doesn’t betray what he wants to say. “I’m no good, my love. I will be stubborn and mean and entirely undeserving of you. I will try to tear your gaze away from me, and keep you all to myself. You’re the spring sun of the home I see when I close my eyes. And every time you go down that hallway I’m terrified that you’ll leave me without saying goodbye, that you’ll leave me at all. Please, stay a little while longer, and then some more, and more still…” Theo rolls his eyes at himself, chastising.

“You’re not that bad,” he says instead.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Consider. mayhaps. leaving feedback?

Taglist; @juminly​

[dear-mrs-otome]

Quand on Parle du Loup - Ikevamp (Jean, AU)

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire Pairing: Jean x female MC Warnings: ANGST. Blood, slight gore, horror, character death Summary: When a small village in 18th century France is stalked by a beast, at what price is peace bought? (~4k words, angst, historical/horror AU) Author’s Note: Hey everyone, this was my piece for the @ikevampzine�� - the theme of the zine was ‘mythology’ and so I opted to play around with the idea of the historical folklore surrounding the story of the Beast of Gévaudan. (If you have never heard of it, go google it! It’s a fascinating little interlude in history!) I was nervous because angst isn’t my usual playground but I had a lot of fun with this. I was also blessed enough to collaborate with @beni-draw-ikemen-please​ for some amazing art to go alongside it as well, and I thank her for being such a fantastic inspiration! Please see her full piece in all its glory at the end of this story!!

It slunk between the tables and conversations, stalked on silent paws the wisps of woodsmoke that curled from the blackened fireplace, and growled in the echo of every unsettled laugh that bounced back from the oaken rafters overhead.

Not here, not in the sense that mattered, but omnipresent. On everyone’s lips and hearts and minds.

La Bête

The Beast.

“I heard it took another shepherd last week, ‘round La Besseyre-Saint-Mary,” a snaggle-toothed man said quietly to his benchmate as she walked past, laden down by a heavy tray of food and drink. “Saints preserve us.” He crossed himself, and then spat on the tacky floor as if for good measure. 

“Saints indeed. The Lord knows we need all the help we can get,” his companion agreed with a rueful twist of his lips. “I thought it was gone for sure, after the marquis’ men caught that big ‘un and showed it off. It went quiet for awhile…but the past couple of months haven’t been so quiet, have they? They must have had the wrong wolf.”

“Did you ever notice though…” The first man broke off, casting his eye about suspiciously, before leaning towards his companion conspiratorially, his voice dropping low enough that she struggled to listen in. “Things really only seem bad around the full moon? Unnatural, I tell you. They say it’s just a wolf, but I’m not so sure.”

Shaking her head at their superstition, she breezed past, angling for the darkness of a corner sequestered far from the light and liveliness of the fireplace. The table she finally stopped at was occupied by only one man - unusual at this busy hour, but no matter how many times she’d seen him come in he always sat alone. Perhaps it was the heavy air he gave off, the way his thoughts seemed walled away behind the tooled leather of an eyepatch. Or perhaps it was the gleaming sword strapped to his hip, and the fine cut of clothing above it. Far finer than any rough homespun worn around these parts.

Everyone else had given him a wide berth since he’d rolled into town some six months back in the employ of the Marquis d’Apcher - as some sort of sellsword, they all had assumed. That hadn’t stopped him from coming to the tavern regularly though, despite their disdain, a pattern that screamed of perpetual bachelorhood.

“Monsieur Jean.” She set his usual beer and bowl of stew down in front of him, along with her usual smile.

He offered her his usual reserved reply. “Please. Just Jean is fine.”

“Very well…’Just Jean’.” It was a ridiculous joke, the same exchange they had nearly every evening, and yet she continued to toss it at him because it never failed to bring a spark of something to his dark eyes. Like summer lightning folded deep within bruised thunderheads. A secret swift flash that brought her inordinate pride.

At a nearby table, voices raised again, cursing the evil that stalked their town, and she caught a wince tightening the lines of Jean’s mouth.

“They’re talking about it again. I mean, what else do they ever talk about?” She shifted her weight and leaned a hip against the scarred tabletop so that she could bend enough to keep their conversation close. “Said someone disappeared the next village over. But you’ll find it,” she told him. She was certain that hunting the beast that terrorized their land was the only thing that would bring a man like him to a sleepy village like this - and was certain he was as frustrated as the rest of them with the lack of progress.

“Perhaps.” His soft murmur of agreement barely carried over the din, and she wondered if she had only imagined the thread of melancholy stitched within it.

Unthinking, she laid her hand over his to squeeze it reassuringly, and then froze when she realized what she had done. Waiting for him to pull his own back and brick himself once more behind the bulwark of silence he always sheltered behind. There was a faint flex, the dance of tension in his fingers…but to her utter surprise he didn’t move. He didn’t turn his hand over to receive her gesture - but he didn’t reject it either. 

She looked up from their layered fingers to find his gaze, for once, fixed squarely on hers, and it was dizzying to be the unwavering subject of that midnight intensity.

“Tomorrow is the Sabbath,” he began, almost hesitantly. “After church, are you free?” There was an awkward beat where she wondered what his intentions were exactly in asking, before he seemed to sense her confusion and hastened to fill the loaded silence, slipping his hand from beneath hers to wrap them both around his mug. “I noticed you often walk alone. It’s not safe, least of all now. I thought...perhaps…I could show you a few ways to keep yourself safer.”

“You’d be willing to do that?” She blinked, taken aback by his unexpected offer. 

His gaze shifted back to the ale between his hands, the barest ripple of a shrug moving across his frame. “It was just a thought. You are free to refuse.”

“I’m not saying no,” she hurried to answer. “That’d be very kind of you. To be honest, it is terrifying. But I also wish there was something I could do too, if I came across the beast. I know it’s ridiculous to think that one tavern wench could-”

“I’ve seen stranger things.” His interjection cut her self-depreciation off, and when she searched his face there was no mockery there. Only an earnest, fervent sort of frankness that humbled her. “It takes only a single grain of sand to tip a scale. One soldier to win a war.”

She had to duck her head then, to keep him from seeing the pleased smile that plucked at her lips. “All right, then I accept. Thank you.”

------

The sun had climbed high by the time church let out, pressing down on her shoulders like the weight of a hot heavy hand. Against the golden backdrop of an autumn field, Jean stood dark like a drop of ink, as cool and composed as ever where he leaned against the low stone wall.

“You came again.”

She had to wonder at the way he sounded almost surprised. This was the third week they had met like this now, after his first offer nearly a month ago.  “Of course I came. There’s too much going on for me to just...not.” 

He made a small noncommittal sound and then crossed towards her, his long legs eating up the distance. “Do you remember where we left off last time?” he asked, immediately all business. In his hand was the spear that had rested beside him and he offered it to her, haft first, the keen edge of its spade-tipped head winking coolly in the hot sun. 

She nodded and took it hesitantly, adjusting her grip on the grain of the handle until it felt comfortable in her hand. “I think so.” The spear is the weapon of the humble, he had told her on that first day. It is the great equalizer.

There was a stack of hay nearby and she turned to it, setting her jaw as she ran over their past lessons in her mind, Jean’s calm voice echoing in her recollections.

Set your feet.

Keep your weight toward your toes.

Bend your knees, hands shoulder-width apart. 

She drew a breath that carried the sweet smell of drying grass with it and lashed out with the tip, slicing a few of the nearest blades neatly off.  

“Your balance is good. You’ve been practicing. But -” He stepped behind her, arms braced alongside hers for support, hands resting atop her own until they were cradling the spear in their shared grip. “Always keep your lead arm steady.”

He guided her again into a careful stroke to illustrate, and she was reminded that this was a man who had made a life of war. In the muted strength of his grip, in the tensile musculature of the frame that bracketed her own, was the testament to a body flayed by battle into something pure of purpose. 

Beneath their combined hands, the fluid arc of her swing trimmed another few inches from the hay bales effortlessly.

His tiny grunt of exertion brushed over the sweat-clung curls at the nape of her neck, warm and cool at the same time, and she was abruptly aware of how close they were. The slightest turn of her head brought his face into view, scarcely more than a murmur away from her own, and she froze.

His skin was flawless, almost porcelain in its perfection save for whatever flaw lay behind that eyepatch. His features classic and refined. When she had first seen Jean, in the low light of the tavern, she had mistaken him for a woman - a mistake only corrected when she had heard his mild baritone. 

Yet even under the unflinching midday sun, he was still something undefinable. Beauty freed from the restriction of labels. As transcendent and timeless as the faces of the angels she saw in church every Sunday, carved of marble and of stained glass, perched on windows and above the pews watching over the parishioners. Divine and touched by God.

Her heart forgot how to keep its own time as the dark lashes on his good eye swept up, and the night sky of his gaze warmed ever so slightly as it met hers, like the slow break of dawn.

They both stalled, and the hand curled above the flare of her hip suddenly seemed to burn her through so many layers of cloth as the thought occurred to her that all she had to do was lean and she would finally know what those elegant lips felt like against her own.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked to distract herself from the temptation, her half breathless words giving voice to the question that had plagued her the past few weeks. “Why teach me all this?”

He dropped her hand and took a swift, safe step back, raking unsteady fingers through his long hair. For long moments she thought he wouldn’t answer at all, before he finally spoke. “Have you heard of the loup-garou?”

“A man, that becomes a wolf.” It would have been impossible not to, given the wild stories that passed through the lips of drunken men. “Surely you’re not saying...” She began on a laugh, but it withered away to nothing when his face remained impassive.

“The loup-garou is a scourge. A wolf but not, a man but not. Smarter, stronger, faster than any beast framed by the hand of God. It is the devil’s work.” Jean practically spat the words as he prowled a deliberate step forward, and she had to fight the urge to take an answering one back. His eye fixed on hers, hard and dark and cutting as a flake of obsidian. “A wretched cursed thing, damned to crave flesh. They say -” He broke off, almost as if wrestling with something, before finishing his thought. “They say it kills those it loves first.”

She licked dry lips, and tried to find her voice. “How do you stop it?”

He gestured toward the weapon in her hands with a rueful lilt to his words. “A sharp blade, and a lot of luck.”

“I don’t believe in monsters.” She shook her head vehemently, as if she could wish the idea away if she only denied it hard enough. Wish away all those dark grumblings that swirled around the tavern each night. “A wolf is a wolf is a wolf. God would not be so cruel as to damn a soul like that.”

A smile crossed his face then, quick and fleeting and full of something so akin to despair that it seemed more a grimace to her. “Humor me then, mademoiselle. Believe it or don’t, as you see fit.” He pressed the spear into her lax hands, until she was forced to grip it tighter. Cold and ominous, like a length of ice in her curled fingers. “But let us both agree that God helps those who help themselves.” 

------

The moon hung high when she left the tavern late the following night. Round and pendulous, it stared at her from between the trees as she waved a goodbye to the tavernkeep and tugged on the leather gloves she’d had tucked in a pocket. 

Shadows crawled across the dirt track that led toward her house on the fringe of the small village, in time with the swaying of the trees overhead, and the breeze they danced on waltzed with the ends of her hair as well, loosened by the evening’s toils. As she turned to pick up the stave leaning beside the back door, a far-off owl let out a melancholy trill.

It was all very tranquil, and she felt more than a bit foolish as she walked, armed to the teeth with weapons she scarcely knew how to use and jumping at every sound. 

Then, in the distance - a sound that raked cold claws down her spine.

The cresting ululation of a wolf’s howl.

Even without Jean’s fanciful tales, the sound sank a quarrel of panic into the base part of her brain, the one still firmly rooted in a time where mankind was decidedly prey and not predator. She tightened her grip on the haft she held so that she wouldn’t notice her own trembling fingers, and pressed on.

Then it came again, from the next rise nearer. Echoing down the gully and wood, as if funneled straight to her. 

As if whatever dreadful throat had borne that sound were coming straight toward her.

Her footfalls turned over faster, racing the occasional scudding cloud overhead as fear prodded her on, her heart squeezing out beat after frenzied beat from within the confines of her throat. The leather of her gloves grew slick inside with sweat from her palm, and she switched her grip on the spear to her other hand, flexing away the clammy dampness as best she could. 

Almost home, almost home...she clung to the little litany, as the howling drew closer and underbrush crackled off in the distance.

She saw the eyes first.

Flickering between the bushes like flames, the faint dry-bone rasp of dead brush accompanying it as it paced her effortlessly. A time or two it disappeared and she was left running alone, her heart pounding so hard it scarcely felt as if it had unclenched enough to take another beat - only for those ghastly twin fires to reignite, moments later, on the other side. Back and forth, back and forth, until a sudden realization had the prickles of a cold sweat break out on her back.

Mother of God...it was toying with her. As if it were some great cat rather than a wolf, amusing itself with her attempts to escape. Feeding off her fear as if it were an amuse bouche. The delectable prequel to a feast.

This, more than anything, convinced her that Jean had been right. This…this beast...was no creature of God. 

This was something born of hell. Nature marred by the devil’s own fingerprints.

Maybe that was the realization that finally turned her spine to steel. Jean had been right about the wolf - and that meant perhaps he had been right about her. He knew she could handle herself.

A single grain of sand.

Her feet scuffed lightly on the dirt of the path as she skidded to an abrupt halt, the sound of her own ragged breath the only thing filling her ears. Whatever the creature was, wherever the creature was, it seemed to be content to simply watch. And wait.

"Show yourself." She hated the tiny tremor that wove itself into her voice. Hated more the ridiculous inexplicable feeling that the creature might somehow understand her. 

It came, after a breath held so long her lungs began to ache. Parting the underbrush like a leviathan breaching the sea, black as sin with brimstone eyes. A mouthful of bristling fangs and a growl that scraped painfully deep on the ears, like the slow crumble of a mountain. It paced forward until the watery light shone on it fully, and she couldn’t have stifled the gasp that left her if she tried at the sheer size of it.

Against the inside of her ribs, her heart bruised itself painfully, and the fingers that clutched at her stave gripped it ever tighter, fighting against the terror that numbed them. The first few syllables of a Hail Mary tumbled from her lips, unbidden, to spill between them.

The beast paced the liminal wash of moonlight restlessly, dappled by shadow. A step toward her and then a turn back, pausing on occasion to sway its great shaggy head. The faintest of whines escaped the cage of its teeth, its ears pinned back flat to its skull as it met her eyes and stood, nearly motionless, fine tremors quaking its back as if shaking away the irritation of invisible flies.

She held that monstrous gaze, and it felt like walking into an open flame. Scorching and breathless as if the gates of hell swept themselves open to usher her in.

“What do you want?” she asked. It remained motionless, and the repetition tore itself from her throat, her voice breaking lest her nerve did. “What do you want?!” 

It didn’t answer, of course. The only thing her voice did was to snap whatever indecisive spell it had seemed to linger under. 

In a blink, the wolf leapt, and time seemed to perch on a glassine pedestal. So many things whirling at once until the moment shattered into countless shards, past and present and future all splintered and shuffled, like a broken mirror at her feet. Offering tiny refractions without answers.

The dark shape of the beast, blotting out the moon.

A howl, mournful and defiant, raking ragged claws across her concentration to shred it.

A slavering maw gaping open like the summation of all her misdeeds, snarling and ready to swallow her whole.

Then. 

A hand over her own, firm and steadying.

The sweet hot waft of hay in the sun, and a voice like clover honey in her ear, saying -

Set your feet. Set your feet.

Set your feet.

She did, and the rest of the motion flowed unquestioningly, earned over so many late-summer afternoons. The hard wood biting into her ribcage, nearly knocking the wind out of her as she took the brunt of the beast’s pounce squarely on the point. A strange sort of resistance that shivered up the shaft she held, until it punched through on a sucking, wet-clay sound, grating nauseatingly against bone as it went. Crimson bloomed and ran down the wood onto her arms, dripping from the beast and her own elbow, red-black as the secret heart of an unfurling rose. Splashing and scattering about like crushed petals to pit the dusty ground beneath her feet.

Teeth snapped shut inches from her face, pink and frothed with blood. And above it all, the tip of the spear gleaming proud and defiant, coated in gore and fur where it sprouted from the back of the beast.

With her hands slick, she couldn’t keep her grip against the weight of the wolf, and she and the spear crashed to the ground. She rolled over onto her knees in a rush and found the wolf lying nearby, panting as it strained and thrashed, great claws gouging furrows in the dirt as it fought - for freedom from the weapon that pierced it, perhaps. For purchase, as it still strained towards her. For life, as it railed against the slow dim of that feral light in its eyes.

She watched, transfixed, as its great bulk seemed to fold in on itself. Fangs blunting, claws shrinking, limbs stretching and fur receding until in the road, gasping against a spreading backdrop of scarlet, lay the truth she knew she’d been running from this whole time.

“Thank God. Oh...thank God.” The words left Jean on a broken sigh, soft as the brush of an angel’s pinfeathers.

She crawled to his side, heedless of the pebble strewn dirt that bit savagely into her palms and knees. “Jean, I -”

She what? There were a hundred ways to end that sentence and not a single one managed to rise out of the maelstrom of emotions that gripped her, twisting hot and tight in her chest, surging to beat at the back of her eyes. Her hands fluttered insecurely above him, unsure of where to land or what to do, before she lifted his head onto her lap and brushed sweat-matted strands from his face. 

There were stars in his eyes, she saw, as his gaze struggled to find hers. Not just a reflection of those wheeling overhead, but tiny flecks of pallor in the twilight of them that she had never noticed before - constellations trapped within his unfocused stare. 

“Forgive me.” His voice was the barest tattered thread of sound, and even that small effort set him coughing, blood bubbling around the shaft still impaled in his chest like the ghastliest of blooms. “Forgive me for saying this but...I am so glad it was you. I knew it would be.”

His hand shook and tried to reach for her, falling weakly back against his stomach until she snatched it up and clenched it tight within her grasp. Heedless of the heartsblood that coated it like a glove, far warmer than the chilled flesh beneath.  “How did you know that?”

A full smile graced his lips, the first she had ever seen, achingly beautiful despite the agonized clench of his teeth. “I knew exactly who his prey would be.”

The slick fingers tangled between her own tightened, squeezing meaningfully, though the gasp that tore through him belied how much even that small motion cost - and the pain that lanced her heart at the implication of his words made it feel almost as if it were she that had been run through. 

He shivered, though the night wasn’t cold, and the pulse at his wrist fluttered faster against her fingertips. Erratic, like the shake of a fledgling's wings before flight. “If God is merciful..” His clear eyes slowly clouded. “M-may He grant we meet again.”

Before she could answer, he sighed one more breath - and then stilled.

“No. No, no, no…” But there was no denying the truth, no matter how bitterly it sat on her tongue. Mixing harsh with the salt of the tears that ran down her cheeks. She held a dead man, in wretched mimicry of a lover’s embrace, and wept a pieta over the clay that had bound him to this nightmare - the unblinking moon above the only other witness to just what price his freedom.

[ikevamp-shrine]

First Date

Heyyy may I please request Mc going on her first date with Mozart, theo, and jean if it's not to much ❤

Author: @ikevamp-shrine

Fandom: ikemen vampire

Character(s): Mozart, Theo, Jean

Warnings: none

I might have had a little too much fun with Mozart. Thank you for requesting @crybabyblacktears, I hope it is to your liking. 

Mozart 

“When you suggested you teach me a few songs for our first date I did not expect to get yelled at the majority of the time, Mozart,” MC growled as she tried to worm her way off the piano bench, only to be held still at the hips by Mozart’s long, strong fingers. 

“It is not my fault you are so uneducated and infurating,” Mozart retorted, slightly smiling triupetly when the female stopped struggling to whip around and face the cold composer.

“Really? I’m the infurating one? It's Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and you’re yelling at me as if I have two days to memorize the most difficult piece ever created.”

Mozart sighed dramatically at his date’s display of anger. He knew he had to meet her half way, but honestly... it was just so much work and teasing her was just so entertaining.

“No human could memorize that in two days.” The are-you-kidding- me facial expression the female gave him was honestly hilarious.

After a few moment of a heated staring contest Mozart sighed, covered the ivory keys and shifted to were he was facing MC once more.

“What do you want to do?” Mozart questioned.

“Bake for me.” 

Her flat demand startled him. Mozart, cook? Please. In you’re dreams.

“No.”

“Fine then I’m leaving,” the female growled out as she stumbled trying to get out around the piano bench.

Mozart chuckled a mocking laugh as he teased, “has anyone told you look like a new born deer while mad? So vulnerable, weak, and unthreatening.”

MC face turned red as she shot up off the ground, fisting her skirt in her hands out of anger, and spoke slowly, deeply, terrifyingly, “you know what Mozart? Copin is better than you.”

The slamming of the door finally shocked Mozart out of his trace.

“YOU KNOW WHAT MC??!!! YOU ARE-,”

Within the next few moments the scent of vanilla stuck to Mozart’s after he spilt half the bottle on his coat.

“Screw Copin... copin is nothing more than a GREASY OLD MAN WITH NUBS FOR FINGERS!” Mozart shouted with absolute rage as his whisking turned violent sending batter flying all over the room. 

Over an hour later Mozart knocked on the wooden door hiding MC’s room from the rest of the world, a still warm cake in his hands- a sloppy cake seeing as the icing was dripping down his forearms, but still a cake. 

“MC stop this unnecessary tantrum and let me in! You’re being highly dramatic and extremely annoying.”

“Go away!” She shouted, her voice muffled through the door followed by a yelp and bang, “...oh crap.”

“MC?! I’m coming in.”

“Wait. What? NO!”

Practically kicking open the door Mozart stormed in to find his human halfway off the bed with her silk sheets wrapped hazardously around her ankles. A second passed, two, when Mozart’s musical laughter peppered the air almost dropping the cake in his hands, the icing still dripping, as his stomach began to cramp with pain from laughing. Opening his eyes Mozart froze at the adoring look and smile MC was giving him. Her smile was so warm it almost completely melted the ice surrounding Mozart’s heart.

Matching MC’s expression Mozart put the cake down and gave a hand to his date, pulling her up into his embrace Mozart almost laughed again at the huff she gave.

A mischievous giggle emitted from MC as she glanced at Mozart’s eyes and whispered, “I guess a really did fall for you.”

“....cease that.” 

A blush was forever stained on the composers face that night.

Theo

“Theo, hun, I really do appreciate the thought, but this is not exactly what I had in mind when you said ‘shopping date’,” MC mumbled as she glanced at the two shopping bags hanging from the gruff art dealer’s arm as the strong scent of perfume wafted up her nose. 

Theo looked confused, annoyed even, as MC gently turned down another sales woman trying to get his date to sniff another bottle of way too sweet perfume. 

“What are you yapping about Hondjie? Is this not what all women want? A man to pay for their shopping trip expenses?” Theo huffed out staring at the girl with a blank expression.

MC glanced off to the side, her eyes widening, and whispered, “first to do on list- teach Theo that being a stereotypical jerk will not fly,” she interrupted her rambling to clear her throat, her voice gaining more volume, and stare Theo in the eyes, “no, not all women want that Theo. What I wanted was for us to spend time in each other’s company- not for you to follow me around like a lost puppy, not speaking, as I fend of sales people.”

“What did you have in mind then you ungrateful mutt?”

“Maybe for you to learn some manners,” she once more whispered, “there is a new ice cream parlor down the street... we could go try it out and maybe walk around the Seine and talk, or sit down on a bench?”

Theo thought for a moment, he honestly just wanted to make her happy and wanted this date to go right. Nodding his head, Theo started out the door smirking as his Hondjie scrambled to say thank you to the workers and chase after him.

“Curse you and you’re long legs.”

“Grow then,” Theo bit back at the practically jogging female.

The street was busy but beautiful as they strolled along down the cobble stone pathway, horse hooves clicked against the hard ground, chattering blended together making a mess of words, the breeze gently shifted through the pair’s hair. MC would bump into a stranger every so often causing Theo to growl and throw an arm around her shoulder to mold her body into his own. She couldn’t help but giggle at his protectiveness.

“Here we are,” MC announced as she opened the door, a bell jiggling above their heads.

The scent of the pallor made Theo’s mouth water with anticipation... he already liked this idea better than shopping, “vanilla with extra sugar,” Theo told the man serving the ice cream.

“Theo it’s ice cream... do you know how much sugar is already in there,” MC questioned as she stared a worried glance with the ice cream man.

“Are you judging me?”

MC just shook her head violently at the sharp words and glare slicing through her.

“Strawberry for me please, sir.”

Soon enough the pair were sitting outside on a bench licking their chilly, sweet treat, watching as children played with chalk like tools on the side walk. MC couldn’t stop staring at the way Theo’s jaw tensed and relaxed with each lick. His eyes seemingly lighting up as brightly as when he looks at his brother as each taste of the ice cream spread across his tongue. Theo, feeling her staring, glanced over at her dreamy face. 

“Careful Hondjie, I might get the wrong impression of you with how you’re looking at me,” Theo chuckled huskily causing a burning blush to crawl its way over MC’s cheeks.

“Hush you.”

Jean

“Does it please you mademoiselle?” Jean questioned quietly as he watched his date spin around in circles, gazing at the scenery with overwhelming excitement and adoration. She stopped spinning, giggling slightly at her dizziness, and smiled at Jean with so much happiness and pure bliss he felt dirty just being near her.

“Please me? Jean this is amazing!” She laughed loudly- a sound Jean wished he would never stop hearing. My how greedy he felt.

“Come my lady, sit before you fall.”

Jean took her hand, helping her steady herself and he gently coaxed her body to sit down on the large sheet he had laid out on the glass covered ground.

“You know... I do not think I’ve been out in the woods around the house yet,” MC spoke evenly as she still gazed dreamily at the surrounding sky high trees that swayed lazily in the wind.

Noticing chill bumps rising on her arms Jean unhooked his cape and tied it around the female’s shoulders, his fingers barely grazing the soft skin of her neck.

“Ah, thank you Jean, but will you not be cold?” She asked, concern evident in the tone of her voice.

Jean lightly shook his head and announced, “do not worry for me my lady, I would suffer the freezing winds of the artic as long as the action meant you would be safe and warm.”

The female’s nose scrunched at his proclamation, it felt like ice outside, Jean had to be cold. Watching as the soldier reached for the large basket of food he had prepared himself, MC slowly untied the cape while his back was turned as if she was committing a crime and quietly shifted to where she was right behind his form. As soon as he would turn the girl would make her move. And.... boom. 

Jean turned quickly, a container of strawberries in his hand, freezing in motion as if thrown in a lake of water in the middle of winter when he felt the familiar warmth of his cloak and an unfamiliar warmth of two arms wrapping around his chest. 

Jean choked when he felt the heat of his date’s breath seep into his back, “mademoiselle… I, uh.”

Curse his bastard mouth, was all Jean could think at that moment.

“Easy Jean, it's cold and I felt bad for taking your cloak all because I forgot mine... please allow me to make it up to you,” MC whispered as she rested her cheek against the as still as stone back she was leaning against.

“Anything for you, my lady.”

Jean would never admit it, but his cheeks and ears had burned like a thousand suns that day as the woman he was falling for rested her cheek and chest against his back as he fed her finger foods over his shoulder.

MASTERLIST

[nad-zeta]

Arthur - Drive from hell

Fandom: Ikevamp

Pairings: Arthur x Reader

Genre: Fluffffff

Words: 1600

Warning: Learning to drive.... so yeah

Comments: Eeeeep, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TANIIIII! Hope you have the best day! //dances around ❤❤ ❤Sending ya alll the hugs and yummo birthday cake! 😳🥺! 🥺😳❤🌈 @nuttytani

.*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’ .*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’･ﾟ｡.*:・’ﾟ: ｡.*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:

“You ready, duckling?” Arthur asked, full of beans, climbing from the driver’s seat and doing a light lil ol jogging around the car to open the passenger door for you.

Today was the day! You were now officially legal, and Arthur had taken it upon himself to teach you how to drive. To say you were nervous would be a gross understatement— you had barely, BARELY even passed your learners exam, and now here you were, about to be sat behind the wheel of arguably your greatest challenge yet, a 4x4 Hilux, a beast of a car in its own right.

You had already started regretting your life decisions when Arthur had to give you a hand up to get into the big beast of a car, never mind barely being tall enough to see over the steering wheel.

“Safety first, Luv,” he grinned from the passenger seat, reaching across you to help secure your seatbelt as you acclimated yourself to the change in position. How strange it was to be sitting on the other side, peddles below, massive wheel in front. And not to mention all the switches and buttons— so many little things that you had no idea what they were for or how they worked— and yet all so tempting to press and try out.

You looked over at Arthur, anxiety only growing as you had no idea where to even begin. “Alrighty, let’s get this show on the road,” he clapped his hands together, smiling broadly as he put on a pair of blue polka dot sunglasses.

Truly this man had far too much faith in you.

“Arthur, are you sure about this?” you asked one final time before placing your one foot on the clutch while the other pushed the brake—you know, just in case.

“Of course, what kind of rotten boyfriend would I be if I couldn’t even teach my lovely lady how to drive, now first things first, the safety checklist.”

He held up his gloved hand, counting off all the points to remember when driving, “Number one, make sure the car is in neutral before starting it. Number two, keep your foot on the clutch. Number three, turn the ignition all the way, and once you are ready to rumble, release the handbrake and slowly lift your foot from the clutch as you step on the gas. Got it?”

You nodded, half the instructions going completely over your head— you got this, you got this, you kept repeating to yourself like a mantra.

Your shaky hands reached for the keys, turning them until the car roared to life.

“I did it! I DID IT! Loook Arthur, look! I switched the car on!” you exclaimed, smiling brightly at Arthur, who clapped his hands together in praise.

Next, you slowly release the clutch forgetting all about the petrol and hand brake, causing the car to lurch forward and stall. You let go of a high pitched squeak, eyes going wide and knuckles turning white from gripping the steering wheel.

Clam as ever, Arthur patted you on the head, “Ah, it’s alright, Luv, see nothing to be afraid of; you simply forgot to step on the gas.”

It appeared as though Arthur had nerves of steel talking you through every instruction, patiently teaching you, and frankly, it wasn’t before long; you actually got the car moving. More than moving even, you were DRIVING!, no jerky movements, just girl vs the open road! Oh, the freedom and sense of independence were exhilarating, even at 20km per hour.

Meanwhile, Arthur was having a very different experience from the passenger seat.

Oh Lord Arthur was thankful he had taken you out to an abandoned field to learn how to drive, even more, grateful that you were driving an off-roader and not Vincent’s old fashioned bright yellow beetle, cause heaven knows death would be knocking otherwise.

Yes, despite his calm facade, he was desperately gripping the fear handle— an appropriate name, really, for what he felt in this moment was truly fear. “B-bird d-don’t you think you should slow down a little,” he stammered out; any chance of composure had been long gone as you drove at top speed (40km/h) across the planes of the field, launching the car into the air as you drove over yet another tiny hill.

“By Thunder, please, I beseech thee if there is a god I promise to live a wholesome life from this point onwards, please just spare meeee- ahhh,” he implored, sunglasses now halfway down his nose, revealing his wide shot eyes.

You drove without a care in the world, thoroughly enjoying the whole experience of driving over the small rolling hills. You rolled your eyes, one hand on the steering wheel, the other one giving Arthur’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Come on, Arthur, don’t be so dramatic, ooooh look another dip, hold on tight,” you quickly announced with a delighted squeal navigating the terrain like a self-proclaimed pro.

The car rattled and jerked,” F-f-f-udge,” Arthur yelled out, hand shooting forward to the glove box to steady himself and prepare for the impact.

“Whoooooohooo! This is great! Who knew driving could be this fun,” you exclaimed full of joy, eyes sparkling as you spotted the next mountain to go up and conquer.

Arthur’s panicked eyes followed your line of sight, and it certainly didn’t take a genius to know what you had planned. “My love, my darling, my heart and soul, for all that is good and holy, please I beg of you, please PLEASE STOP THE CAR”, he pleaded and prayed. It was not his birthday, but hells, he was making a birthday wish on your behalf—the wish to see another day.

You looked over at Arthur once more, and upon seeing the distress crossing his feature, you cut your bundu bashing adventure short. Although realization quickly dawned upon you, spending all this time driving across the mountainside, you had not really mastered the art of coming to a smooth stop. So, you did what any new learner would do when someone demands the vehicle to a standstill. Thrust both your feet forward at the same time and pull at the emergency brake.

Arthur launched forward as the car came to a screeching halt, dust being kicked up and settling around the car— the perfect execution of an emergency stop, you mused.

Heart hammering in his ears, Arthur let go of broken laughter, hands feeling himself in disbelief, “I’m alive? I’M ALIVE! GOD, I THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO DIE.”

You rolled your eyes, looking over at him, completely unimpressed, “ohhh, come on, it was not that bad? Was it?”

“I think I might just need a change of underwear after that ‘thrilling experience’,” he exaggerated, throwing the car door open and dramatically flopping onto the ground.

Why he was so happy, he almost kissed the ground. He looked at you from his place on the dirt, “I am going to need a stiff drink. Blimey bird, that was nerve-wracking.”

You turned the car off, hopping from your seat and slinking up to Arthur to offer him a hand up, mischief glowing in your eyes, “I mean, but did you die tho?”

With a shake of the head and another thankful chuckle emanating from his chest, he placed his hand in yours, “And who taught you to be this cheeky, honestly Luv.”

Climbing into the driver seat, Arthur adjusted the mirrors and started the car, his usually charming grin once more gracing to his features. “Shall I show you how it is done,” he bragged, full of confidence, happy to be back in control of the mechanic stallion.

He started the car; however, as the saying goes, ‘pride before the fall’, he failed to give enough gas and stalled the vehicle upon pulling away.

‘Shit’, he thought, sparing you a sheepish glance only for you to burst out into full-blown laughter. “You are going to show me what now; perhaps I should be the one to teach you,” you smacked your knee snorting out.

Arthur pouted, a shade of pink coming to rest upon his cheeks in embarrassment. But before he could even answer, an unimpressed grunt could be heard coming from the back seat, “That’s it, both of you out! NOW!”

Two pairs of eyes snapped back to the source of the voice only to lock onto a very, VERY traumatized and unimpressed looking dutch. He stomped out of the car before dragging Arthur from the driver’s seat.

“That is the last time I EVER let either of you near my car,’ he scowled angrily, turning the ignition and putting the car into gear.

“Hmpf can’t believe I fell for the ‘let’s go and get some birthday pancakes’ trick,” he grumbled under his voice, making his way back to the main road.

“Why old goat, that is an excellent idea!” Arthur chimed in from the backseat, starting a chant that would inevitably lead to getting what he wanted.

You joined in, of course, chanting happily with an equally broad smile littered on your face, “birthday pancakes, birthday pancakes, birthday pancakes.”

With a scoff of irritation, Theo was helpless but to go along with the whims of the day; after all, he did love pancakes, and after that traumatizing experience, he would need some sugar to cleanse his soul.

“Hmpf fine, but only because it is this one’s birthday,” he finally barked out with a roll of the eyes, yet an unmissable smirk of excitement making its way onto his lips.