#noe archiviste x reader

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request Noe and Vanitas with an s/o who will ditch their hugs so they can cuddle cute things like plushies, children, and cats? S/o means no harm, though. If they see something cute, they'll only focus on that one thing

Noé

He can't really argue with them.

Noe has a weakness for cute things as well. Look at who he is courting?

Honestly, they probably would both be enamored with the cuteness (especially cats). So it's not a big hurdle for them.

Buys them all the plushies they gush over if his wallet, and floor space where they are staying, can afford it.

Vanitas

He is…less supportive of their distraction.

We all know that Vanitas has deep seeded abandonment issues. So, he feels like when they “take off” that they are abandoning him.

They always come back but he feels like his attention & company is second.

He also had problems communicating, so he doesn’t express those feelings. Instead he just pouts and, on extreme occasions, scares the cats away.

[aritsukemo]

How they sleep | Various Characters

Characters: Astolfo, Noé, Muichiro, Zenitsu, Nagi, and Kunigami

A/N: This counts as a headcanon, right? It should.. If not, please let me know! 😅

Astolfo sleeps holding onto you like his life depends on it. His head rested on your chest while his arms are wrapped so tightly around you that you fear he may break a bone. It's a suffocating, selfish embrace that purely benefits him and his needs and he won't let up no matter how much you complain.

Noé sleeps like me a wild little kid. You may fall asleep with him in your arms or vice versa but it's only a matter a time before he wakes you up by accidentally kicking you in the face or causing a ruckus by tumbling off the bed.

Muichiro sleeps curled up to your body. His arms are draped around your waist, his head is rested on your chest or shoulder, and his legs are tangled with yours. More times than not, you get woken up by his hair tickling your face.

Zenitsu sleeps clinging to you as if you're his life source or something. His legs and arms trap you and prevent you from escaping and his grip is surprisingly difficult to break out of. He's also a heavy sleeper which makes it hard to wake him up. Good luck trying to go to the bathroom..

Nagi sleeps like the dead. Legs stiffly together and his arms crossed against his chest. Sometimes he'll snake an arm around your waist but most times you're just cuddled up to his side.

Kunigami sleeps embracing you in a protective manner. An arm is limply over the back of your neck while the other is resting on your back or hip. When he's awake, he tends to rub little circles into your back until you both eventually lull off to sleep.

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

[dawn-moths]

“Show Me You Love Me With the Shape of Your Bite”

Noe Archiviste x Female Reader

word count: 4300+

(celebrating two years of this blog, i’m back with a lil one shot for noe because the first fic i ever posted was for him. // A human’s strength is nothing compared to a vampire’s— a fact that’s always concerned Noe when it comes to being with you in such an intimate way. But, unlike how most of your own kind would warn you of, you’ve never had a reason to doubt or fear his intentions with you. Besides, as if letting him bite you on a normal basis wasn’t proof enough, even in the worst case scenario, you’ve already made it clear to Noe that you don’t necessarily mind a little pain if he’s the one causing it.)

content warning/disclaimer: 18+ content! minors dni! smut, vampires, biting/marking, blood/readers blood is drunk, reader is a bit of a masochist while Noe is apprehensive about hurting her too much, rough sex at times, size difference, dickriding, aftercare.

*ao3 mirror*

***

Ribbons of broken, silver moonlight streamed in through the gaps of the curtains, the shadows of dusk dancing across the floors, starbursts of amber and coral shimmering on the polished hardwood from the crackling fire burning low and sultry in its stoney hearth.

In the night, Paris came alive, the city lights sparkling like a sea of stars across the horizon, the constant murmur and buzz of the after-dark crowds humming through the air in a stream of noise and energy, muffled and distant from where you now lay, yet you could still imagine the intensity of it all after growing so used to being a part of the pack yourself.

Ever since meeting Noe, you’d traded rising in the early morning and twilight wind-downs for long, late nights and views of the dawn breaking on the horizon, the first muted shades of lilac and gold signaling your time to rest rather than the plum and navy of night blanketing itself across the sky like most others of your kind followed the consistent rhythm of.

You should’ve guessed after the first few times he’d suggested you meet by moonlight rather than daylight that he was afflicted with the forbidden curse— that he was a vampire— but even back then you wouldn’t have cared.

Because Noe Archiviste was as captivating and handsome as he was charming and sweet, he was gentle and kind and compassionate and everything you’d grown up being told those of his kind were not. Because, to everyone else, vampires were monsters. They were cold and cruel, ruthless and ravenous, and among the worst of them were the wolves in sheep’s clothing, using pretty words and entrancing appearances to lure in their prey before sinking their teeth in deep.

Your Noe was the sun after a summer’s rain, warm and inviting. He was a home to return to after a long day, safe and familiar. He was the first face you looked for in a crowd, his name ready to fall from your lips as those two, lilting phantom syllables rested on your tongue.

Some days, you still found yourself reluctant to call what you two shared love, only for the fact that you’d both been keeping it a secret from everyone outside yourselves. But with all the feelings you held for him on a consistent basis in mind, how could what you felt for him be anything else?

You two were far more bonded than any human couple was. Noe knew the taste of your blood after all, had committed the flavor to memory, could distinguish it by a single drop alone. And you knew the imprint of his teeth just as well, craved the way his sharp incisors found a home in your supple flesh night after night, addicted to the ivory’s sharp and satisfying sting.

“Harder—” you breathed, gently writhing under Noe’s hold on you, though with no real means of escaping him. “Harder, Noe, please—!” You gasped as his bite sunk in a fraction deeper, drawing more rivulets of ruby red from the tender spot on your shoulder, sending a quick shudder down your spine, the sensation creeping vertebrae by vertebrae until it welled into the sticky, fluttering warmth of arousal pooling in your lower belly.

As his tongue lapped at the welling beads of red, slow and gentle to savor the taste of you, you let out a broken moan, body arching to follow the heat of his mouth. Noe was always so afraid to go too far, to lose control and end up hurting you, no matter how many times you assured him you wouldn’t ask for the pain if you didn’t want it. But he also couldn’t help but give in to your requests, even if sometimes it made his stomach twist with guilt.

The moment you started making those succulent, saccharine mewling sounds of pleasure though, it was as if all of his ice-dipped remorse melted away. He could drink down your whines and moans just as easily as he could your blood, meeting your mouth for a languid, tongue-entwined kiss, letting you taste your own blood as you parted your lips to let him in.

You’d asked him before what blood tasted like to vampires, said all you could make out from the coppery flavor was the wince-inducing bitterness that had you resisting the urge to screw up your features and spit it from your mouth. So it was hard to believe him when he described it as sweet— sometimes even sickly so— with a hint of pleasant salt and the lingering undertones of something that could only be compared to addiction.

But your part of this exchange didn’t require you to enjoy the taste. For you, it was the feeling— the completely embodied sensation— of what having your blood drunk by him felt like that urged you to keep seeking out his teeth.

It was heavenly. Pure ecstasy. It made you forget why humans had spent so many centuries fearing vampires, if only for the fact that, if it weren’t for you and Noe’s special bond, he probably could’ve drained you dry and left you for dead like the legends of old warned about.

There were still plenty of vampires lurking the streets and hiding in the shadows whose hunger had gone insatiable, morphing them into greedy, voracious monsters who couldn’t see any innocent life past all that gushing red. But your Noe was different. He’d held onto his morality longer than most of his kind would ever have the will to consider, let alone succeed at, and you guessed you could consider yourself pretty lucky that you’d run into him on that first fateful night rather than someone else more sinister and selfish.

“You ok…?” Noe asked in between shallow, panting breaths, his hands splayed on either side of your head as he gazed down at you, lips stained red and shining with your shared saliva, the tip of his tongue darting out to catch the fading crimson that remained. The next thing you felt was his palm, warm, now that his energy had been replenished from your blood, cradling your cheek. You lay underneath him, back sinking into the mattress and eyes closed as his shadow blanketed over your bare form, allowing yourself to drift off into the serenity that often followed Noe’s feedings.

You felt safe. Held. Comforted by his presence and by the fact that, during this act, you were two becoming one in a way few would ever know or understand.

Letting him drink from you often came after sex. It allowed a euphoric extension on the galaxy of pleasure that Noe’s body could coax from yours. It also ensured that he didn’t have too much strength to unleash upon your fragile human form, his pace slow and sensual as he buried himself deeper and deeper into you. But sometimes, like tonight, when he indulged in a feeding beforehand, well…

You knew you were going to be in for one hell of a ride.

“Maybe I took too much this time…” Noe muttered to himself in a low, worried tone as you felt the bed shift around you, your eyes fluttering open to watch as he changed position, carefully lifting your limp figure up to drape and rest against his chest before leaning back against the barrier of pillows that lined the headboard. He was carding his long fingers through your lightly tousled hair, mumbling sporadic thoughts under his breath under the false pretense that you’d drifted off to sleep. You thought you heard him say something about stopping there for the night, not wanting to push you past your limits.

That was enough to jolt you back to consciousness, just enough to stir in his grasp and breathe out a weak and airy, “Noe…” on account of still recovering from your recent blood loss. You lifted your head slightly to meet his eyes, which had now been leeched of their glowing, crimson color and turned back to calming lavender on account of his appetite being satisfied. You gave him a feeble, tired smile and said, “It’s ok… I’m ok. I can keep going…”

The vampire considered you for a moment. He knew you had a habit of pushing yourself, but before he could think on it too long, you were taking his face in your hands and luring him back to you with one of those adorable, delicate little giggles. “Noe, come on…” you reassured him with a smile, devotion sparkling in your eyes, “You know I trust you more than anyone else. Plus, even if you do hurt me a little bit…” You paused, feeling your cheeks heat before admitting what you were about to next, despite having done it several times to him already. “Even if you do hurt me, I don’t mind. I… like the pain, remember?”

Beckoning him closer to you now, letting him lay his head against your chest and cradling your arms around him like he was the delicate one, like he was the one worth worrying about and protecting, you carded your little fingers through his snowy locks of hair and softly spoke to him, telling him again that you trusted him, how you loved him, and as the words left your mouth you knew them to be true, no hesitation in the confession you’d been so afraid to acknowledge prior.

Noe could’ve sunk so far into the comfort you gave him he would’ve drowned in it, finding he was never as soft and sentimental with anyone else as when he was with you. He never allowed himself to let his guard down to such a level, for a moment forgetting that, outside of this room, you two were widely considered to be enemies— hunter and prey, a monster and a girl.

He sometimes used to wonder if he’d ever find someone he could love who would also love him in return, before meeting you. And what was a luckier, more divine thing than to have your own angel to hold? To have someone who thought and cared about you as much as you thought and cared about them?

“Alright…” Noe mumbled, his cheek pressed to your chest, listening to your beating heart, counting out each gentle drum of the steady rhythm. As he lifted his head to meet your tired, half-lidded gaze, he said, “But I need you to promise me one thing…” Rising further to sit up, the two of you across from one another, bodies bare and on display for each other to see, to have, to hold, Noe’s words dripped with earnesty as he said, “If things start to go too far, I need you to tell me.”

“Noe, I—”

But he cut you off, cupping your cheek in his palm. “I know we’ve talked about this before, but I also know you haven’t always been completely honest with me about it.” You resisted the urge to swallow down the lump of guilt that had curled up in your throat, unable to deny his concerned accusation. Softly stroking his thumb along your jaw, so feathery light you could barely feel it, he set his lilac gaze on your neck where his bite had already begun to bruise and scab over, now a deep shade of wine. He said, “It’s been a while since I— since we’ve done this after a feeding…”

He didn’t need to explain any further. You knew exactly what he was so worried about now— the fact that, last time he drank beforehand and not after, it had resulted in you with tears streaming down your face and several more bites and bruises to paint your skin while he’d been blinded by the carnality of it all. You’d barely been able to walk the next day, feeling like something inside of you had been broken beyond repair, and even though you’d tried to assure him you would be ok, deep down there had been some fear sparked in you.

The pain he’d caused you that night had surpassed the fine line of the sugar-coated, thorny pleasure that you craved and ended up as injury instead.

Noe had said he’d never allow himself to partake in your blood before sex again, though, after months of trying to convince him not every time had to be like that first one and that, while you couldn’t necessarily erase the memory, you could help fix it by replacing it with something better, you’d gotten him to come around.

“I promise,” you told him, reaching forward to take his hand. He laced his fingers with yours, careful even in that act, as if each new touch he bestowed upon you from now until morning held the risk of breaking his own vow. “If it gets to be too much, I’ll tell you.”

You felt relief when his lips twitched into a soft, dreamy grin, the expression there and then gone in an instant, becoming entranced with the way your little hand fit together with his, palms pressed together and creating more shared warmth, Noe able to feel your pulse through your skin and noting the way it was picking up speed a little as he placed his other hand on your knee and gave a gentle squeeze.

It was you who leaned in to kiss him then, catching him off guard for a moment until he followed your cue and allowed himself to melt back into you, the hand on your knee sliding up to rest on your bare thigh, kneading the plush flesh there, slow and savoring, as you combed your fingers through his hair and sighed into his mouth, your core already coiling again in tiny, tight little pulses as his fingers grew closer to brushing up against where you were already slick and waiting.

A tender, broken moan spilled from your mouth as his first finger slipped inside, testing your tightness and comfort before adding in a second and curling at his knuckles, causing you to arch your back and slide further down to lay flat for him, spreading your legs wider as he slowly scissored his digits inside of you, biting back his own moan when he felt your hole clenching around what was inside harder the more he stretched you.

He caught his bottom lip on one of his fangs, vehemently reminding himself to stay in control, don’t go too far, don’t hurt her as his own arousal pulsed thick and eager through his veins, that familiar sharp pang of adrenaline already beginning to surge.

He was starting to remember now— how hard it had been to stop once he’d started— and the thought made his stomach churn for a whole other reason. But you were right. This time didn’t have to be like the last. It wouldn’t be. He’d make sure of it.

Once he’d prepped you enough to take him, Noe began to line himself up with your entrance, feeling his own cock twitch in his hand as he caught sight of the glistening beads that drooled from your cunt, asking you if you were ok before nudging in the tip, pausing when you momentarily winced, only continuing when you nodded at him to signal it was alright for him to keep going.

And, god, you loved how you could feel every single vein and ridge of him as he carved out a home inside of you, the velvety flesh of his cock massaging every part of your insides like it had been designed to do so, both your bodies devoted and destined to learn each other in this way long before you’d even met. The sweet sting of him splitting you in two made your tummy tighten and flutter, your pussy squeezing around the length of him just enough to give a teasing taste of what he already expected was to come.

His breathing was soon beginning to pick up speed, Noe hoping to hide just how much you were affecting him already as he forced out even, shuddering huffs, hunching over you while he tried not to let himself go completely, no matter how badly he wanted to right now.

It made him remember something else he’d almost forgotten about that last time— just how much better you felt when he was inside you after he’d been replenished by your blood, all his senses alive, every nerve alight with the heightened vitality that he gained from a recent feeding. It’s what made this all so dangerous in the first place.

“It’s ok…” you assured him, your own chest moving with the shallow, panting breaths of anticipation as you remedied your prior words with, “I’m ok. I trust you…”

Noe wanted to believe he could trust himself too. And as he felt the animalistic urgency within him simmer a little, he figured it was alright to start moving.

As much as it killed him to go so slow, he forced himself to hold out, gradually rolling his hips to meet yours, your voices moaning in tandem, creating a lilting melody of pleasure with each inch he drove deeper into you and every constricting squeeze of your cunt around his cock.

“Harder—” you were telling him again, the request cracking with a breathy whine as you felt him brush against your cervix, sharp jolts sparking through your abdomen followed by the slow, syrupy drip of pleasure that ran thick through your blood. You felt Noe hesitate for a moment, but when you twisted your fingers through his silky white hair and gave a tug, he snapped his hips forward hard enough to shove you a few inches up the bed. A small yelp emitted from you, clipped with a satisfied mewl, and you loosened your fist in his hair, tenderly stroking the back of his neck, playing with the wispy tufts at the base of his skull as you whispered out, “That’s it… Just like that…”

Noe had to pin your wrists down then, find some way to keep you anchored as he prepared to pound into you harder, though not yet with the rigorous speed you both knew he was capable of. And when you asked him to bite you again, well…

That time, Noe just couldn’t tell you no.

Sinking his teeth into your unmarked shoulder and feeling the skin break, more of your warm, sticky blood flooding into his mouth, Noe drank down gulp after gulp in rapid succession. This made him forget to mind his strength for a moment, and as you fell more slack under his hold, lulled by the euphoria of having your blood drunk by him for the second time that night, he nearly lost you.

He came back to his senses just in time, his saliva filled mouth pulling away from the new bite with a glittering strand of diluted reddish-pink bowing and snapping back onto the crook between your neck and shoulder.

He was partially horrified with himself, and for a moment wondered if he’d finally gone too far, past the point of no return, but was able to exhale a sigh of relief when you fluttered open your tired, bleary eyes and your shallow breathing registered to his sensitive hearing.

“I don’t think I can do this…” the vampire admitted under his breath, sounding disappointed in himself as he pulled out of you and used the pad of his thumb to swipe up a drop of red that was slowly dripping down towards your collar bones, shamelessly licking it away before casting you a quick, guilty glance. “I’m going to hurt you again. I know I am. I—”

Trying to prop yourself up onto your elbows in a way that was less than graceful, to say the least, you blinked the blood loss from your vision until Noe came back into focus. After a few minutes the swaying sensation of lightheadedness abated and you were able to roll yourself over, laying on your stomach as you stared at him sitting on the edge of the bed and looking stressed and conflicted.

You might’ve been able to call it a night, if not for the fact that you were still burning up inside with the need to release all this pent up arousal, so you decided to try approaching things from a different angle.

“Hey…” You lightly ran your fingertips along his spine, watching his back muscles flex as he turned partially to glance over his shoulder at you. “Lay down.”

Noe was already beginning to apologize, though for what exactly, you weren’t sure— as far as you were concerned, he’d done nothing wrong other than stop before letting you come— but you pressed a finger to his lips before he could finish his spoken atonement. 

You had him right where you wanted him— right where you needed him now. “Stop talking,” you said, climbing atop him once he was laying flat on his back, straddling him as you took his face in both your palms, his hands quickly reaching for your hips to help steady you when you began to sway slightly, still not fully recovered from the blood loss.

You were staring at him, desperately searching all that alluring lavender for any sign that he understood, and he was staring back at you as if he were being touched by god, completely enraptured by the gentle light in your eyes alone. “Let me take care of you,” you murmured, the moment of revelation drifting away. “You always do such a good job at taking care of me…” Taking his still hard cock in your hand, a small smirk curving on your lips when you felt him slightly tense beneath you, his stomach flinching, you lined it up with your entrance once more. “It’s my turn now.”

Noe let out a stuttering breath of ecstasy as you sunk down on him, both of you needing less time to catch your breath now but no less urgent in your need for each other. And as you began to grind your hips down on him, your clit rubbing hard against his pelvic bone every time you rolled forward and making your eyes tip to the back of your head, Noe kept a firm grip on your hips, helping to pull you down further onto his cock every time you lifted off again.

The glowing illumination of the midnight moon drenched your silhouette as you rode him, Noe admiring the way the light shone on your dewy skin, pretty tits bouncing as you began to pick up speed, your head thrown back, neck exposed and mouth hanging open with silent ecstasy as you approached closer and closer to the edge.

Noe was close too, beginning to buck his hips up into you to match your rhythm towards the end, still so strong even when he wasn’t trying that hard, making your toes curl as you twisted the bed sheets tight in your fists, hunching over him as your trembling legs felt like they were about to give out, thighs burning from the exertion and sweat gathering in the crooks of your folded knees, a new, high-pitched moan tumbling from your throat with each thrust.

And, god, when you both came at the same time, you swore you saw spots of heaven blinking in your vision, falling forward to drape yourself over him completely, squeezing every last drop from him as his cock spurt thick ropes of cum inside of you, enough to ooze out of your abused little hole and drip in thick, creamy dollops back onto him where you two remained connected until Noe mustered up enough strength to take your limp form in his arms and carefully sit up just enough to pull out of you, keeping you cradled against his warm chest until you actually did doze off.

Gently setting you aside, pulling a sheet across your naked body to shield you from the chill while he went to fetch a damp, warm washcloth to clean you up with, Noe was haunted by the fact that, for as many times as you two had been together before, it had never been quite as good as that.

Haunted, only for the fact that it had still been a dangerous risk to take. Yet still, a risk he had a feeling he’d be unable to talk you out of taking again.

He noted the various bruises speckled about your body as he cleaned you, dark blotches in the shape of his fingertips where they’d dug into your hips, more scattered across your thighs, your wrists, around the bites on both sides of your shoulders and along your neck where he’d branded you with hickies he hadn’t even remembered deciding to mark you with.

After leaving to fix himself up and returning again, Noe checked your pulse, two fingers pressed softly to the side of your neck, just to make sure his worst fear hadn’t come to pass. He flinched minutely when your little hand reached up to cup his, a sated smile spread across your lips, eyes still closed as you muttered out, “See… told you I’d be ok…”

Noe’s grin was a little more incredulous than anything, but as he gently stroked the side of your head, smoothing back some strands of tousled hair from your sweet face he adored gazing upon so much, he was just glad that you were alright this time around.

Curling up beside you, pressing a chaste peck to your forehead, Noe told you he loved you through a tired, dreamy sigh. Only then did you open your eyes, pupils dilated to swallow the color of your irises in the dark, and whispered back to him, like a promise, like a prayer, “I love you too…” After that, all you could remember was the darkness of encroaching unconsciousness and the familiar, comforting heat of his body entangled with yours, asleep and safe in each other’s arms at the end of another unforgettable night.

***

(Hello and thank you so much for reading! I really can’t believe it’s already been two years since I made this blog and started writing/posting fanfiction. Time really flies huh?

Anway, I’d like to take this time to give a big thank you to everyone who follows me, reads my work, and takes the time to leave likes or nice comments. It really makes my day :)

I look forward to being able to share the fics I have in the works going forward with you all. Hope you have a wonderful day and remember to be kind to yourself <3)

[chiliyue-archived]

10 things...

Gender Neutral Reader

- reposted since tumblr queue thing messed this up

Tags; FLUFF, tiny bit suggestive but not really, petnames(beloved, lover), a whole lot of kisses and I love yous, fluff fluff fluff

-

10 paper rings he made with otherwise discarded paper. He teasingly places the crafted jewel to your ring finger as he asks for your hand, all before placing lingering kisses to each pad of your fingers.

9 sweet nothings amongst the heat of the moment. His lips are swollen from feverish kisses, and yet he can't stop himself from kissing you more. His hands are greedy, tugging and pulling your skin, blemished from the slight nibbling of his teeth coaxing muffled mewls as he swallowed you into another kiss. He only pulls away to whisper against your ear, his hot breath pricking your skin and sending goosebumps down your arms. He couldn't stop himself from spilling those sweet words that arose a velvet blush to your cheeks. His mouth was running like a faucet- he wouldn't stop until you know just how much you mean to him, but even words feel feeble in comparison to the feelings he holds.

8 sticky notes on the kitchen counter or bedroom table. Quick little doodles and sweet messages covered the little papers as your lover went on with his day. He despises that he can not spend his morning with you at all times, cuddled up in the comforts of your shared bed, his arms would be wrapped around your waist knowing you were safe. But for now, silly little drawing and messages will suffice as he reminds you to: take care of yourself, to not forget your supplies for the day, to eat and to drink water and of course, his personal favorite; don't forget I love you <3 ٩꒰ ˘ ³˘꒱۶

7 hesitant confessions. Every attempt didn't feel right, perfect - just like you deserved. Before each moment, his face grew uncomfortably hot, the words getting caught in his throat before sputtering a poor excuse and running off, leaving you confused. Note confessions resulted in crumbled papers piling in his trash bin, the sentences not conveying the right things. Asking you on a simple date left him tongue tied, and he ended up asking you for a pencil instead. And he didn't want to get a mutual friend to do it either; he had to be the one to tell you. It will take almost half a dozen attempts until he finally confessed those three simple yet terrifying words; 'I like you'

6 blushing faces as the mere sight of his beloved is enough to make him weak in the knees. He truly finds you to be the most beautiful thing in the world, your smile infectious and filling his chest with warmth and desire to be the best partner he can for you. He finds you mesmerizing in anything you wear; a bland article of clothing instantly has life when on your figure. But he easily buckles to his knees when you dress up pretty/handsome for him for special dates and occasions - you'll have to forgive him. He wouldn't be able to keep his hands to himself. You look so heavenly.

5 more minutes in bed, he would grumble against the crook of your neck. His lips were slightly brushing against the bare skin;even as you shivered and squrim, it only encouraged him to stay longer. His grip was one impossible to escape from, only tightening at the slightest sign of movement, his lips spilling a false promise of 'just one more minute'. A pleasant smile was forming on his features as he drew you closer to him, your back firmly pressed against his. He couldn't ask for a better start of the day, having you engulfed in his loving embrace as he lingered in that spot for a 'couple' of minutes longer.

4 I love yous before he leaves. He was running horribly late by the time he even thought about leaving. Your absence left a void and the time ticked painfully slow till it be filled again. And so he slowly draws himself from you, calling upon any excuse to just linger a second longer. ' I love you' He would mumble against your lips, finally disconnecting his hands from your own. 'I love you' He would say before brushing your hair from your face to get a better look- his heel slightly turning to leave. 'I love you' He would call out as he rushed off to do his work, his voice echoing off the corridors before becoming distant. A couple seconds pass before you feel your phone notification system click off; 1 message -> 'I love you'

3 dozen kisses when you weakly sob into the crook of his shoulder, his hands rubbing comforting circles against the fabrics of your shirt. His lips carry sweet nothings as sorrow drowns out into tranquility. A couple more dozen kisses to your face simply because he feels like it, grasping your chin with care, chuckling softly against your lips as butterflies dance on the surface of his chest. He is addicted to your saccharin lips, his own becoming swollen and painted magenta as he draws himself closer for another round of vehement kisses.

2 squeezes to the palm on your hand, which was interlaced firmly within his own, his thumb drawing lazy circles at the curve of your fingers and knuckles. It was mundane yet so intimate at the same time. A simple thing to do in the gaze of prying eyes as you both stroll in the park, the sun's warm rays, or the moon's cool gaze bathing you in fluorescent hues. Yet it didn't compare to the sensation pulling at his heart when he feels those two gentle squeeze to his hand, a silent agreed upon codeword; 'I love you'

1 diamond ring amongst the eve of the horizon. Yellow streaks paint the sky in an alluring glow, making the moment perfect. His palm is becoming sweaty by the passing moment, and his breath hitches as he props himself down to one knee. The ten paper rings failed at preparing him for this moment as he brought all his courage to ask that one last question, and despite the growing hue on his cheeks, his eyes remained on yours. His lips slightly quivered as he took a deep breath, 'Marry me?'

Heizou, Itto, Kazuha, Childe(?), ACE TRAPPOLA, Riddle Rosehearts, Jamil Viper, Silver, ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA, Noé Archviste, Roland Fortis, Osamu Dazai(?), Tetchō Suehiro, Chūya Nakahara

[fairy-writes]

MORNING ROUTINE

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

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Requester: @straykidsnerd255

Prompt: A fluffy, domestic imagine with Noé from Vanitas

Word Count: 0.7k

Fandom(s): The Case Study of Vanitas

Pairing(s): Noé Archiviste x Reader

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Female!Reader, Domestic AU

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Your morning routine begins with Noé.

You wake up wrapped tightly in his arms as his nose is buried in your hair. He’s still fast asleep. His white hair is mussed and unruly, not at all how he carefully styles it every morning when he actually wakes up. 

But Vanitas didn’t have anything planned today, so you had him all to yourself. 

It’s a pain to get out of his hold, but you’d been dating him for a year and known him even longer than that. Getting out of his bear hug was child’s play for you now. Putting your hands on his entwined arms, you push down gently. He shifts in his sleep but doesn’t awaken. 

But slowly… ever so slowly… his arms move down your waist until they get caught on your hips. You push a bit harder, but when Noé almost wakes up, you stop. 

So you shimmy your hips and push gently until you can awkwardly clamber out of his arms and stand upright. You replace your body with your pillow, and Noé is none the wiser. He rolls over in his sleep with an incoherent mumble. You spy Vanitas on the other bed of your shared hotel room, pitch-black hair sticking up in all directions as he sits up and glares around the room. 

Neither of the boys are particularly joyous when woken up in the morning. 

“What do you feel like for breakfast?” You whisper, and he grunts, lying back down and covering his head with the blanket. You can’t help but giggle but stifle the noise when Vanitas peeks his head out again and turns his nasty glare onto you. 

The next part of your morning routine is simple. You wash your face and hands and rifle quietly through your luggage for clothing for the day. You pick out a simple violet dress and matching shoes and change in the bathroom, tossing Noé’s shirt that he had lent you for sleeping onto the bed once you’re done. 

Paris is just beginning to wake up as you walk down the slowly brightening streets. The sun is just peeking over the horizon, but you don’t stop to admire it as you typically would. 

You’re on a mission. 

A mission to get breakfast back before the boys wake up. 

Well… wake up for real at least. 

There is a bakery near your hotel room, but you wanted to try one just down and across the road. The locals had raved about it when you talked to them last week. Though there is already a line forming before the doors have even opened. 

So you get in line and hope you can make it back in time before Vanitas and Noé wake up. 

It takes about an hour, but you get a box of pastries and tiny cakes, pay, and head back to the hotel room.

You open the door and find Noé standing there, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and his hair sticking up every which way. He still holds your pillow in his free hand and frowns when he spots you dressed and holding a pastry box in your hands. 

“Wassat?” He mumbles, and you laugh at his sleep-addled words. 

“Breakfast.” Now go get changed and you can have some.” You nudge gently and he visibly brightens when he smells the still-warm pastries in the box. 

It doesn’t take long for the scent to entice Vanitas out of bed either. As soon as you set the box down and go to check on your boyfriend, you see Vanitas moving around under the covers as if trying to hype himself up to get out of bed. 

Noé all but bounds out of the bathroom, dressed and ready for the day. He wraps his arms tightly around your middle and peppers you with kisses. You laugh and gently push him away before reaching behind you into the box and shoving a pastry into his mouth. He stops, chews once or twice, and absolutely melts with adoration. 

Looks like you mission is accomplished. 

[linkemon]

Qui vivra verra (Vanitas x Reader x Noé Archiviste)

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Other oneshots can be found here.

ᴍᴀɴᴏɴ, ᴀ ᴍᴀɪᴅ ᴡᴏʀᴋɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ [ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]'ꜱ ʀᴇꜱɪᴅᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴏʙꜱᴇʀᴠᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛꜱ ᴜɴꜰᴏʟᴅɪɴɢ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʜᴇʀ ᴍɪꜱᴛʀᴇꜱꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴡᴏ ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ ᴍᴇɴ ᴡʜᴏ ꜱᴜᴅᴅᴇɴʟʏ ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴇᴅ ɪɴ ʜᴇʀ ʟɪꜰᴇ, ʙʀɪɴɢɪɴɢ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇᴍ…

— Miss [Reader]! — Manon called, trying to sound discreet.  

She looked around at the crowd of shoppers, trying not to forget any bags. A hat, an umbrella, a new set of bows and more… She congratulated herself sarcastically on the last package she had left in the store. She didn’t have time for that now. A random carriage whizzed past her, nearly taking her life. The loud clatter of hooves on the cobblestone street mingled with the din. The maid anxiously made her way to a side street, wiping her brow. And, to make matters worse, she was hungry.  

This was how it had to end. She always fell for the idea that the young lady would only be gone for a moment this time. It was never a moment! She would take her eyes off her to take care of something and she would be gone. She liked her job but sometimes the running around in panic was too much for her. Of course, the person concerned always reassured her that she was fine but who knew what would happen next time? In Altus, no one would probably dare to threaten her but in Paris things were different.  

[Reader] worked as a sort of behind-the-scenes diplomat, traveling between Altus and Paris. She didn’t act officially like her cousin, Lord Ruthven. She threw banquets, introduced influential people and vampires, spread gossip and covered up the little things that got in the way of peace. Manon was well aware that her little lady, though she tried to stay within her safe circles, could one day find herself in danger. All because of her cousin, who had somehow enlisted her through her parents after his apprentices had failed him. She sensed that while [Reader] was very devoted to the cause (against her will but still), Lord August certainly wasn’t reciprocating. He never sent anyone to protect her, as he certainly could have done with his influence. It was true, though, that whenever anyone mentioned it, the little lady protested loudly, much to the maid’s chagrin.  

— Oh no — Manon swore not very quietly — it’s that quack again!

— Oh no, it's that witch again! — Vanitas mocked her.  

She could have expected that the young lady would somehow end up in his company. She had talked about him and his companion with count Parks Orlok's employees. While it was hard not to at least know the Archiviste family, Vanitas was something of an enigma to her. His whims contradicted the natural behaviour of people. The fact that he interfered in other people's affairs aroused reluctance.  

She looked Vanitas up and down. What did her little lady see in him? Black hair and blue eyes. He might be handsome but that was the end of Manon's list of positive traits. Not only was he human but also crazy!

— You could try to get along for once — [Reader] sighed.

The woman shivered slightly. A cold wind swept across the street. Vanitas wasted no time in taking off his black coat with a sweeping, exaggerated movement. He threw it over the lady's shoulders, giving her his trademark flirty smile. He then discreetly stuck his tongue out at the maid. If there were times when Manon had a sincere desire to use her vampire skills, this was one of them. She glanced at the young lady's gentle smile and, gritting her teeth, held back the imminent vision of murder.

— Where is Monsieur Archiviste? — asked the maid, looking toward the Hotel Chouchou.  

It wasn't a very subtle change of subject but she couldn't think of anything better.  

— Noé overslept. We had a rough night — the doctor said.  

They probably got into some trouble again. If she knew life, she'd hear about it somewhere soon.  

— Then we won’t wake him up. — [Reader] pulled the sealed envelopes out of her small bag. — I wanted to formally invite you two to the party.

[Reader]'s lack of use of the title monsieur did not escape Manon's notice. How much had she missed? After all, they hadn't known each other that long. She was most worried about them dragging [Reader] into their complicated affairs. The young lady's parents had placed their trust in her care for her. How could she possibly face them if she failed?  

— The last party we went to, ended in a scandal — laughed Vanitas.  

Manon felt her eye twitch involuntarily with anger. To be so familiar with her little lady…

— It won't be anything major. I'm inviting mostly humans and a few assimilated vampires. I don't think you'll get in trouble for it — the hostess assured.  

Of course, she wasn't going to make them realize what an honor it was to be invited. The maid sighed loudly to herself. They probably wouldn't realize it themselves.  

— Then we will definitely come!  

— Where are we going? — Noé’s sleepy voice reached the gathered ears.

Dressed entirely in white, except for a black shirt, he was blinding in the sunlight. The sun seemed to reflect off his impeccably clean top hat. Whenever Manon saw him next to the quack, she wondered how two such different people could possibly put up with each other.

Archiviste rubbed his sleepy eyes, curious about the situation. Murr jumped out from behind his legs, a cat as snow-white as his master. His thick paws allowed him to get in front of [Reader] in a few agile leaps. She took him in her arms, adjusted his purple bow and began to stroke him rhythmically.  

— Who is the most beautiful?

— Meow — Murr replied. Whether it was a question, an affirmation or a denial, there was no way to tell.  

This was the only part of the strange group that the maid had no objections to. Fortunately, he was just a cat and kept out of trouble.  

— Are you throwing a party? — Noé asked, reading the invitation.  

There was a glimmer of excitement in his eyes.

— Exactly. Vanitas said you'd come. I hope you'll confirm that. I'm sure you know a few people who'll be showing up. Dominique de Sade, first of all — [Reader] said.  

— Domi will be there? — Archiviste brightened visibly — and maybe tarte tatin?

— We'll add it to the menu just for you. — [Reader] smiled. — Now, if you'll excuse me, I think it's time for us to go. Otherwise, Manon's going to be crying her eyes out with impatience. — With that, she looked at the maid reproachfully.  

She sadly placed Murr on the pavement, handed Vanitas back his coat and turned back the way she had come.  

The young lady might have missed the googly eyes look Noé gave her as they left. Manon had lived long enough to know that it wasn’t just a vision of a future dessert.  

Manon remembered her first attempts at eavesdropping. At the very beginning of her job, when she hadn't yet fully understood how the world worked and had been reluctant to invade other people's privacy. It wasn't that the young lady didn't know her maid was listening to her conversations. She just assumed it was rare. Rarely than it actually was.

— Beautiful sunset, isn't it?  

— Oh! It's you...— [Reader] turned her head back to the Parisian view.  

Manon didn’t need to see young lady to hear in her voice that this wasn’t the man she expected to see here. It was Vanitas who was wandering around the high places. Uninvited, most of the time. He was particularly fond of the clock tower. It had been built near the estate long before the maid had started working here. The previous owners had neglected it and it had slowly fallen into disrepair. [Reader] had refused to have it renovated, saying she preferred it as it was. So the gray stone was covered in ivy and some of the stained glass had fallen out in the heavy winds. Fortunately, the guests always found it an interesting change, not thinking about it as a ruin.

— It’s certainly a perfect party weather — [Reader] said.

She swung her legs slowly over the precipice. The back of her heavy dress rested on the stone floor. It wasn't exactly a refined position to sit in. Especially for the hostess of the upcoming party.  

Noé joined her, keeping a respectful distance.  

— I came to thank you. — The man scratched the back of his neck in uncertainty.  

— Was the tart that tasty? — [Reader] joked.  

Several pieces were sent to the Chouchou Hotel a few days before the party.  

— No! I mean yes! That's not the point...— Archiviste was confused. — It's about how you, miss... I mean you... how you saved us last time.

So they didn't know each other that well yet, Manon decided. If he still wasn't comfortable enough to use only her first name, it wasn't a total tragedy. But she feared Vanitas had no such scruples.  

— It's nothing. I'm glad you made it out okay.

It was a situation that scared Manon. Not only had she lost sight of the young lady but she had also walked straight into danger. Of course, [Reader]'s vampire skills weren't just for show. The malnomen-infected patient had been defeated and cured before the disease turned him into a beast. However, from what the maid had managed to find out, it turned out that this wasn't always possible. Unrestrained bloodlust brought out the worst instincts.

There was a moment of silence. [Reader] gazed at Paris, illuminated by the golden glow. The workday was just ending. Parisians were closing their shops to go home. Except for the street lamps, who were slowly illuminating the area with hundreds of lights. A gentle wind caressed the crowns of small trees every now and then, heralding a clear night sky. Carriages sped here and there, carrying passengers. Several of them were approaching the residences. Ladies dressed in heavy and expensive outfits rode with gentlemen equipped with top hats and walking sticks.  

— I beg your pardon — Noé hesitated — but you look distressed.

His violet eyes expressed deep concern.  

— You can say that. — She began to pick at the end of her snow-white glove. — I wouldn't tell anyone that but you're a close friend of mine so... 

— A close friend? — the Archiviste asked.  

It was as if the information was surprising and yet appropriate. A small smile spread across his face. Manon could bet from his voice alone that he was blushing.  

— With my connections, it's hard to find friends who aren't interested solely in what I can give them. That's why I was so happy when I met you and Vanitas.  

The maid tilted her head thoughtfully. The young lady believed it deeply but she had seen her own way over the years. Putting aside the odd romantic twists, was this acquaintance truly selfless?  

— What’s the problem? — Noé asked.  

— There is someone who makes my heart beat faster with joy — the woman began.

— That's… that's wonderful — the Archiviste said quietly.  

One look at his face would have been enough to tell he didn't entirely think this was a great thing but [Reader] continued to stare out into the setting sun.  

—...but he's already in love with someone and even though I'm aware of it, I still delude myself that maybe I can change something — she sighed longingly. — I suppose I should want him to be happy but it weighs on my soul when I look at it.

— I wouldn't give up so easily if I were you. — The vampire grabbed her hand, as if that would emphasize the weight of his words. — Perhaps one day he will notice your feelings and understand them.

There was a moment of silence as the woman seemed to consider his words.  

— You know what? I think you're right. Thank you, Noé. — She gave him a gentle smile. — Oh, wait, I think you have some leftover tart here.

Archiviste could have sworn his heart stopped beating the moment her fingers rested near his lips. He stared into [Reader]'s face. For a moment she was close enough that he could count every speck of sunlight in her eyes. The sunset surrounded her in a gilded halo and the thought occurred to him that if angels really did exist somewhere, she must be one of them. He regretted not eating a dozen tarts to cover himself with more crumbs. Perhaps then they could stay in that position for just a second longer. But that was not to be. The silence was broken. 

Manon made sure her heavy boots were heard early enough. Long enough for the couple to move away from each other.  

— My lady, it’s time — the maid announced, glancing discreetly at the vampire.

— The guests will be here soon, it’s time for us to go — [Reader] said, standing up awkwardly, lost in thought.  

Noé remained in the clock tower for a long time.  

Manon sometimes regretted that her young lady was not in the same situation as Dominique de Sade. She, too, was burdened with a number of responsibilities due to her background. And yet, her family gave her choices in many matters. Although it must be admitted that her stubborn nature played a large role here. This was reflected in her outfit today. Even in such a situation, she refused to wear an evening gown, contenting herself with her ceremonial uniform.

The maid maneuvered deftly among the guests, passing glasses of champagne around the rose garden. She quietly downed one. She was surprised at how thirsty she was.  

— I thought you’d give up — Dominique said, taking a sip of her drink.  

— I could say the same about you. — [Reader] looked at the woman out of the corner of her eye.  

A soft laugh answered her, barely hidden by the lights of the lanterns. There was a nasty note to it, but what else could she expect?  

— I admit I was close to giving up but someone talked me out of it. — The hostess stared straight ahead.  

— Hmmm... I don't think it's a wise choice but I can't blame you for doing the exact same thing.  

It wasn't hard to guess that Dominique's chosen one was Noé. He was the only man she had allowed to be this close to her, outside of her family. It didn't take Manon long to find out that they had spent a lot of time together as children, along with their twin Louis.  

— What do you see in him? — De Sade tilted her head in thought.  

— He's like a storm — [Reader] replied after a moment. — Most people, when they see a storm, run away from it. Because it's strong. Violent. It means trouble. And yet there's something fascinating about it. You can try to run but sooner or later you'll run out of breath and then it'll catch up with you. The only problem with it is that it's unpredictable and you may not have time to enjoy it.  

Manon sighed quietly. So there was no turning back. If the young lady was able to admit it out loud, it had to be serious.  

— Some people prefer a breeze to storms. Because it's gentle. Even if it may seem like it's not present, it's still there. It cools you down on difficult days and everyone likes it. Its problem is how many fans it has. — Dominique finished her glass. — I wonder how you'll handle your storm...

— I thought you had sided with Jeanne long ago — [Reader] said.  

Her rival seemed to have Vanitas' heart in a tight grip. And interestingly, although, as Bourreau claimed, she didn't want him at all, she couldn't push him away either.

— Don't get me wrong. I'm not taking sides. Because to be honest... I hate both of you. I want to see who comes out on top in this fight. Because then... maybe there's still hope for someone like me...

Her gaze involuntarily wandered to Noé, who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere in the crowd. Manon knew that if her young lady hadn't been entirely aware of who the young de Sade's chosen one was up until now, she had to find out now.  

Dressed in white as always, he stood out from the other guests. The lanterns that had been placed that morning seemed to reflect their light off his clothes. The lights hanging from the trees only enhanced the effect. He wandered among the lush rose bushes, accosted by various guests one after another. With a polite smile, he nodded without interest, only to leave them a moment later. He was looking for someone. And it certainly wasn't Domi, who was staring at him. But once he came across her, he couldn't leave her.  

His real wanted woman was already far away. With a deft movement she put her glass on one of the empty trays and then slowly joined the dancers.  

Vanitas, as usual, was a stark contrast to his acquaintance. Dressed in navy blue and black, he melted into the darkness of the night. If it weren't for the lights, he would probably disappear completely, except for his oh-so-human blue eyes.  

— Excuse me! — [Reader] deftly took Vanitas’ hand just before the next dance began.  

Since Jeanne wasn't at the party, she could at least take advantage of it.  

— Oh! I've been deprived of my partner, what do I do now? — the man exclaimed dramatically, earning laughter from several guests around him.  

Soft piano music drifted through the garden again. The man pulled [Reader] gently toward him by the waist. At times like this, she could at least try to fool herself that she had a chance of winning. After all, he seemed to be smiling sincerely. His steps were light but confident. The soft jingle of his earring measured out the time. Strands of hair tied with a ribbon swirled with them, blocking her view every now and then.  

— You're quite the dancer. You must have charmed all my guests and I was supposed to be the star of the evening! — [Reader] said with mock sadness.  

— What can I do that everyone notices my genius and extraordinary beauty? — Vanitas rolled his eyes theatrically.  

He suddenly dipped her. For a moment she felt like she was going to fall but a strong hand caught her by the waist and lifted her back up. He smiled wickedly.  

— That was very mean, monsieur Vanitas.  

— All's fair in dance and war, right, modemoiselle [Reader]?  

— I'm pretty sure it's supposed to be love and war...  

— Perhaps. — Vanitas smiled mysteriously.

Did that sentence have a deeper meaning? Or was she just trying to find a second meaning in it? It was so hard to read anything from it.  

He came as close as he had ever been before. Only to pull away to a safe distance. He was definitely a storm. Unpredictable.  

— [Reader]! — Archiviste awkwardly pushed his way through the dancing couples.

The fleeting moment was like a soap bubble. It burst irrevocably under a gentle pressure.  

— Noé, didn’t anyone teach you any manners? — Vanitas asked sarcastically. — [Reader] is busy right now.

— We need to talk — the vampire stated firmly.  

He looked concerned. As if something was weighing on his heart. The woman looked at him, still spinning, although slower than before. If this was about matters of the heart, she didn't have the strength to listen to it. What else could it be about? She had finally had a good time this evening. She wanted to return to carefree oblivion.  

— Wait for your turn — replied Vanitas, dancing away with his partner.  

Manon put the tray of glasses aside as soon as she saw the young lady start toward a separate, secluded part of the garden. What could this Archiviste possibly want with her?  

The maid peered cautiously from behind the rosebushes. The young lady stood in semi-shadow, her shocked face a sign of trouble. That fact alone filled Manon with anger.  

—...because we wanted to get information about the next bearer of the curse. That was how it was at first but now I know you better and...

She wanted to say: Didn't I tell you, my lady? She had expected that it might come to this. However, her lady was very happy about this acquaintance and in this house there was not always room for free decisions. So she allowed her to make this mistake. Maybe this naive faith had infected her as well. The limit of selfish acquaintances had to end sometime. Or at least that's what she thought. Now she regretted not reacting earlier.  

— I was a fool to think that someone who didn't care about my status had finally appeared. — [Reader] wiped away a tear forming in the corner of her eye. — It always ends this way. — She looked up, sniffling. — But why when Vanitas had just...

The unfinished sentence hung in the thick air. Probably because the man in question had entered sight. He looked furious.  

— You always have to ruin everything, don’t you, Noé!? — he asked, words dripping with venom.  

— I didn't ruin anything. I just told the truth — the vampire stated firmly as the human grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

With his strength he could have easily thrown him off but he didn't. He just held the tugging hands in place.  

— You can't take advantage of others like that. — Anger flashed in Archiviste's eyes. — Not when she…

It was the image of jealousy. With good motives, Manon said. It was the jealousy of someone who wanted the best for the person they loved. But it didn't change the situation in any way. He had also cheated on the young lady.  

— We have reason to believe that the bearer of the curse is somewhere on the party grounds…— Vanitas began.  

— I don’t care — [Reader] said quietly.

— We’re trying to…— Noé joined in.  

— I don't care! — [Reader] shouted. — Get out of here, both of you!

Manon had had enough of this. The sight of her little lady falling to her knees in helplessness was enough. She sobbed bitterly. The heavy dress spilled out in a wave among the dark grass. She looked like a bright flower, ready to bloom in a garden full of roses. She wanted to shield her from this evil.  

The fact that the maid was partly the reason for the two intruders' visit tore at her insides. They had come with her in mind. Had she ever felt this angry before? Had she ever been this hungry? She had heard about the famous parade before. But it was one thing to hear it and another to experience it.  

Music surrounded her. So beautiful that she couldn't describe it in words. The notes flowed from every direction, urging her to do one thing.  

Kill them all!

Colourful figures were trailing one after another in a long procession. The twisted faces did not disgust her at all. They seemed to be urging her on, although they said nothing. A circus performer with balls, a shadow on stilts, a ballerina with a bunch of colorful balloons. Everyone held hands and danced.  

She watched them, fascinated. Glass grew from under her fingers. Crystal covered her toes. Were they shoes? They seemed to dig into her feet. Was it a cage? A massive structure surrounded her. It resembled a huge, ornate cloche. It suited her, she decided. Pretty flowers should stand under cloches. It was the only way to protect them from pests.  

She was both in the garden and at the merry parade. She wanted to go but something kept stopping her from grabbing the hand of anyone in the procession. She was furious. She could dance! All she had to do was touch the fingers… They ran away again. She shook her head. Was that blood? She was so hungry… Like she hadn’t eaten in ages. Screams appeared for a moment between the beautiful notes. The surroundings seemed to ripple and mix. She was here and there at the same time. Had some glass just broken? She wanted so badly to grab the hand and join the fun…  

— Manon, you have to snap out of this — the familiar voice seemed to come from far away. Someone was shaking her but she couldn’t even tell who.  

The falsetto appeared suddenly. The instruments seemed to be scattered under the pressure of something that could not be described. A strange light broke through the parade. As if someone had torn a curtain and let the morning into the room.  

— I give you back your true name. You are a Cendrillon, encased in crystal! — The voice seemed to echo. As if it were bouncing off a thousand mirrors and shattering each one.  

She was standing in the middle of an empty room. She was holding a glass slipper in her hand. The hazy hand tried to grab hers with the last of its strength. With all its strength, it struck the last of the mirrors with its shoe. The clatter echoed into nothingness and the indistinct figure disappeared.

—…she’ll be fine — came the words to Manon as she closed her tired eyes.  

The last thing she saw was a thick, leather-bound grimoire.  

— No going back to work! — [Reader] stated categorically.  

— You're exaggerating, miss! I've been sitting here too long — the maid said sulking.  

Lying in bed all week was exhausting. Especially when, from one day to the next, most of the responsibilities that had kept her busy were taken away.  

No shopping. No help with dressing or make-up. No arranging meetings, organising afternoon teas or even tea. Absolutely nothing. All in the name of health.  

— Vanitas said that everything was fine with me…  

— You’re listening to him now?! — the woman said indignantly.  

Manon laughed to herself. Maybe that quack was good for something after all. Finally.  

— You should enjoy this time off. The garden is in such a sorry state that it will take some time to fix it up. — [Reader] glanced out the window reflexively. — You'll get tired in time.

The maid's impressions of that unlucky night were only vague. Noé, Vanitas and [Reader] had much more to say. Fortunately, the guests never realized what had happened. A sectioned-off part of the garden separated them from the macabre spectacle.  

Her malnomen was ugly. What she believed. Fragments of something that looked like glass or maybe crystal, were still strewn among some of the rose bushes. Her unbridled bloodlust had nearly taken the lives of three people. And if it weren't for them, she certainly wouldn't have stopped there.  

— Miss, I'm really going crazy from sitting here...  

— Fine. I promise I'll assign you something tomorrow — the woman gave in, starting to read the novella she had under her arm.  

They sat in silence for a moment.  

— I’m sorry I didn’t say anything earlier…— Manon began.  

— Oh no! If you start apologizing for the same thing again, I'll actually fire you! — [Reader] threatened.  

Indeed, it wasn't the first time. Nor was she the only person to whom the apology was addressed. Although the maid had difficulty in uttering the apology addressed to Vanitas. Instead of gloating, however, he patted her childishly on the head and announced that he was, after all, a vampire doctor.

— Have you considered what I said? — Manon asked, looking at the romantic novella in [Reader]’s hands.  

— I don't know... Maybe we'll have the tea party next week, when you're fully back on your feet. I was really mad at them that night... but then again, seeing the curse up close, I can understand why they'd want to make sure they got to the bearers in time. Even if it was at my expense that time.

The reconciliation tea was a good idea. Or so the former curse bearer wanted to believe. Maybe it would help rebuild the relationships that had been based on misunderstandings. And maybe it would finally give [Reader] two honest friends to be around.  

— Sooo... which one do you like better now, my lady? — the maid asked teasingly.  

— Manon! I change my mind! I think you're completely healed after all. Time to get back to your duties.  

— Thank you very much, miss. — The woman smiled, rushing to her work clothes.  

— You're impossible...— [Reader] stated as she left the room. — As for your question...— She paused dramatically as her employee waited for an answer — it's a secret.— She put a finger to her lips, which was met with a loud groan of disappointment.

[simpforchuchu]

She’s gone.

Prompts: DAY 9 - cpr @febuwhump Characters: Noe x reader x platonic!Vanitas Fandom: Vanitas no carte Summary: Noe’s hardest day.

A/n for prompts: Hello guys! This is my first time trying a prompt challenge. I hope you like the short fics I wrote. I will finish them by writing some of the requests I have. I love you 💜

Sorry for the grammer or spelling mistakes.English is not my main language so...

Thank you and love you 🥰

Warnings: character death

“Noe! That’s enough! Stop!"

The silver-haired man looked at Vanitas as his friend grabbed his arm roughly. When he looked at the woman lying on the ground and under him, he came face to face with the truth he did not want to accept.

“She’s gone Noe, you must set her soul free.”

The young man had been performing CPR on his injured girlfriend for minutes. He didn't want to accept it. That she couldn't die.

But it was too late. Y/n, she wasn't breathing. Her heart was not beating.

“I'm sorry Noe.”

Noe slowly stood up when Vanitas called out once more. There was a strange feeling in his eyes. Vanitas couldn't understand what he was feeling.

The young man took his lover on the ground in his arms and started walking slowly. Vanitas didn't know where he was going, but he didn't want to stop him. He knew he wanted to say goodbye to Y/n for last time.

He looked behind him silently and wiped his watery eyes. Noe would never smile the same again.

[randomreadingtimewithtsuki]

Noé x reader

Reader works in a bridal shop. Her job helping brides pick dresses and accessories. As well as having (albeit older) coworkers who are all married. She is secretly very jealous and while she doesnt say anything, it's kinda obvious after a while that she really want to get married too. (Not just out of peer pressure but actual longing to have that emotional connection)

Hello! Thank you for requesting!

I am sorry for taking so long to write, thank you for your patience!

I tried a GN approach? I hope this worked out!

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• You worked on the fanciest store ever.

• One where many dreams started.

• A wedding shop

• Most employees were married or made peace with their lives as is or have a partner. 

• Except for you.

• At first it didn't bother you at all! You started young on this area

• You started as a helper - you picked up pins on the floor, handled them, cleaned the floor, fluffed the dress on display, took the dust out of the tuxes and such.

• Slowly you got knowledge on how to sell the clothes. You became a sales person.

• You also got a few sewing skills here and there - sometimes an urgent adjustment was needed!

• As time went by you saw all types of couples

• Happy ones, unhappy ones, bossy, dramatic, so many.

• Thanks to the skills developed over time, you managed to become a great salesperson, people loved you! You were honest, but kind, you were empathetic, but had your feet on the ground.

• Eventually you started to feel…. Like you were missing something.

• All those happy couples and parents, made you want to plan for your own party too.

• Secretly you would come up with decoration ideas, cakes, flowers and even the clothes itself.

• But you never tried the store's wardrobe though! 

• This feeling only got heavier as you saw your coworkers and friends getting partners, getting married and being… just happy with someone.

• You were not jealous, no. You just started wanting that lovely partnership, that sweet friendship, with someone.

• That someone being your current boyfriend, Noé.

• He was lovely, sweet and very caring! A bit airhead and naive.

• He would come by the store to see you. He would say how beautiful you would look dressed for a wedding.

• You always rolled your eyes and said the pretty one was him.

• He would giggle and always say you never knew how gorgeous you truly were.

• His compliments, visits, gifts and dates only made you want a fluffy married life so hard.

• But Noé is so oblivious that he wouldn't notice it on his own.

• You started dropping hints of how nice it would be to welcome home and be welcomed by someone you loved.

• How sweet it was to refer to one as " my spouse" 

• He always agreed, but never quite grasped what you meant.

• You had no courage to say your feelings out loud.

• That was when Vanitas was very convenient.

• In one of Noé's visits, the man heard you dropping hints at your silly boyfriend. He also heard it flying very very high by the vampire's head.

• But he did not have the time to explain what you meant there and then.

• How did you know? Well, Vanitas came in stormy and yelling and dragging your boyfriend away.

• But a few days later on the day you were supposed to close the shop, Noé appeared.

• It was already dark out, you were about to leave and lock the door, when you heard your name being shouted.

• You look back to see Noé panting, a bit bloody and blushing like mad.

• You were worried sick about him! So you rushed to help him.

• He did not let you talk, instead he just said " do you mean it?"

• You were so confused. Mean what?

• He explained that Vanitas told him what you were implying - you wanted to marry him. So he asked again, did you mean it?

• You blushed furiously and tried to convince him to talk about it some other time and tend to his injuries, but Noé refused.

• He said he had to know.

• You sighed and said yes. You did mean it, but there was no need to decide now.

• Well, the vampire did not think that way. Not at all.

• He took a deep breath and said he could not exactly give you the life you wanted.

• A sweet couple life, being home every night, walking around hand in hand, shopping and so on.

• But he could be by your side forever, he could love you for as long as death did you apart.

• You were had tears on your eyes.

• You smiled brightly despite the tears running down your face.

• The poor man was confused. Were you happy? Or not? It's not what you wanted. But he does love you.

• You took his offer.

• He looked awfully relieved, so relieved he fell on his knees.

• You helped him up again, you were both giggling.

• He looked at you and asked if you two could find something fancy for your wedding in the store.

• You smiled at him and assured Noé that you already had the perfect tux for him there.

• One you knew he would love and look even more handsome than he already is.

• He was excited to see it. He wanted to try it out asap.

• But you had to calm him down  - clothes were one of the many worries of a wedding and with your job, it would be easier.

• He blinked for a moment and suddenly looked startled.

• " Y/N! A ring! You need a ring! I proposed without one!"

• You giggled at how cute he could be.

• You tried your best to reassure him that he could find a ring later.

• Noé was beating himself up about it, because what kind of husband doesn't give a ring to their spouse?

• Needless to say after this day, you two spent most days planning out the wedding and sometimes dragging Vanitas along - like when Noé took him to help find a good ring for you.

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Thank you for reading! 

Please let me know what you think!

[onyxmilk]

THE CASE STUDY OF VANITAS MASTERLIST

Vanitas

"Bad Idea, Right?" - gn!reader (sfw)

Noé Archiviste

Dominique de Sade

Jeanne

Roland Fortis

Asolfo Granatum

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request Noé getting reduced to a teary-eyed, whimpering mess by his femdom s/o?

tags: bdsm, mistress/pet, bondage, noé bimbo aesthetic, f/m

Noé had never been drowned before, but he had to imagine this was what it was like.

The constant gasping for air that never quite filled his lungs. The struggle to keep focused on just keeping your head above. The moments of listlessness when your mind floats between trying to catch up and surrendering to the black. “Stay with me Noé.”

His head lulled back in a dim, empty headed sort of way. Like his brains are sloshing around in his skull for want of thoughts, as he obeyed his mistress. She doesn’t even need to tilt his head up with the tilt of her finger. He’d follow the sound of her voice anywhere.

“That’s it. Such a good boy.” Noé let out an opened mouth whine as she ran her thumb over his bottom lip. His mouth is open so he can try to get air into his lungs. Surely not to speak as he couldn’t think of words right now. All his mouth was good for was breathing, drooling, and servicing his mistress.

“You’ve done so well, my love. You’re always so obedient for me.”

‘Anything for you’ he wants to tell her, but all he can get out is a gurgle of a moan in appreciation.

“Oh, if only I could keep you like this forever. Lust drunk. Practically paralyzed with overstimulation. Just keep you here with me forever, tied up like this, blindfolded in the dark. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

‘Yes! Yes! Yes! Forever!’ Noé lifted up on his knees towards his mistress, as much as his binds would allow. Oh, how wonderful that would be indeed. To never have to fight monsters again. To never have to deal with liars. To never have to worry about people’s intentions, or false faces. To only be hurt when he asked for it, begged for it. To do nothing but live and love and serve his mistress for all eternity. He wanted to cry it sounded so perfect.

Noé wanted to actually cry when his mistress pushed him down. Back on his knees, sitting on his ankles, where he belonged. He should have known better. So stupid.

“Don’t say that!” His mistress snapped. Had he actually said that bit out loud? “You are not stupid. You, are my perfect, sweet Noé. Don’t ever forget that.”

He nuzzled eagerly into the hand that touched his cheek. A tear actually spilling out from under his blindfold but he couldn’t tell what it was from now. Desire, torment, relief. It all swirled around inside his body and empty head that he couldn’t make up from down. “Shall we make love now, my precious Noé?”

Then his world was righted again. Hyper focused. Noé nodded so hard that he might have given himself whiplash, but he didn't care. All of this had been leading up to this moment: release. The teasing. The binding. The sweet words and harsh cracks of her crop against his skin. All of it just for this.

He suddenly remembered how hard his cock was and how much it hurt. Noé whimpered. His thighs rubbing together to try and relieve some of the pressure. "Awww....I know honey. It must hurt now, doesn't it." He nodded. Whining out confirmation from his throat before he was panting in sharp breathes as she cupped him. He had been desperate for her touch, but now that he had it it was too much. "You want to cum, don't you Noé? Make you feel good."

He whimpered out something close to a yes again. His body quivering as he tries to stay still and not cum. He hadn't been given permission. But he wants so badly to fuck himself into her hand that it hurts almost as bad as his cock.

His world went tumbling when his mistress pushed him back. When had there been a pillow behind him? Was he on the bed? Noé expected the sharp bite of the floor against his back, but instead was met with soft linens. He moaned almost as loudly as when he was being touched. Surrounded by softness he melted into the bedding. What little of his senses fading away as he sunk deeper into the plush fabric.

“Stay with me Noé.” She repeated to him, and he was really trying.

His bed shifted. Her feet on either side of him as she stood over him. He couldn’t see it with the blindfold, but he could sense it. Her looming presence all consuming him. He whimpered to be dominated further by it. His mistress kneeled to straddle him and Noé hissed like the savage humans painted his species as as his erection brushed against the front of her. How the tables had turned in the story. The strong, fierce, blood crazy monster all but broken before his weak, defenseless, human mistress.

“I’m going to fuck you now Noé.” She told him while stroking his cock. Stroke was a strong word, however, as it was just her fingertips caressing him. “I’m going to fill myself with your cock and ride you. Use you for my pleasure.” ‘Use me! Use me!’ “You’re going to feel so good inside me. You always do. Don’t worry, it won’t be long. I’ve been so turned on watching you fall apart that I’ll be cumming very soon. Then, and only then, I’ll let you cum, my precious. Sounds like a deal?”

There was no sweeter deal that the devil could offer him. Noé mustered up all what little strength, mental capacity, and just plain voice he could to utter out one single word. “Yes.” It was all he could say. All he needed to. His mistress raised herself up and sunk down on his cock, and Noé screamed like he had been stabbed; instead of him being the one stabbing her.

His mistress was indeed wet. Drenched, actually. He took a small amount of comfort in knowing that she really had been turned on by him. Aroused by his presence. Desired him. It’s a subconscious thought at best, however, as all he can legitimately think about right now is the primal instinct to fuck & cum, but holding on to what little restraint he had left to not do so until his mistress told him.

“Almost….there…!”

Noé’s teeth grit. He could taste his own blood his jaw was locked so tight. He didn’t think he had it in him to hold on. He was crying, wailing, begging. Noé wasn’t sure what he was doing until he heard those wonderful words that would set him free. “Yes Noé! Yes! Cum from me! Give it to me my love!”

He came extremely hard. To the point that the darkness behind his blindfold was a moot point as his mental vision even darkened as he came and came for what seemed like hours.

When it was over, Noé realized that his mistress wasn’t on top of him anymore. He jerked up, or as much as his exhausted body could, but then a cool hand and a cool rag was placed on him. “Not too fast. We don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Noé sighed as he felt the rag wash over his body to clean him. His oversensitive, overstimulated body soaking in the coolness eagerly. His breath calming down. His mind coming back to him.

“I’m gonna take the blindfold off now. Close your eyes.”

He does, immediately. The covering is removed and Noé slowly opened his eyes. Vampire eyes were very sensitive. It’s why they used the blindfold in the first place. But he had to adjust to the light when they were done playing. His arms were next. Untethered behind his back now, and they fall forward limp into his lap.

“Are you alright?” Noé nodded. He still didn’t have the mental capacity to speak. His head lulled forward to rest on his mistress’s shoulder. Her arms coming up around him instantly. Smoothing his hair. “My sweet Noé….”

She continued to shower him with quiet, soft praise as his mind succumbed to black again. Only this time to sleep. He was exhausted. Sated. When he woke up he and his mistress would go back to the world, play their normal roles instead of the ones they played here. For now, he would hold on to the ones they had in here, in this room. Where he was her perfect, willing, obedient pet, and she would be the one to take care of him.

[onyxwafflez]

Rules

no nsfw unless they’re headcanons 

if you are going to request nsfw, make sure your blog isn’t ageless or on anon

don’t be weird

don’t sexualize minors on my page

do not copy or repost my writings as your own

read my carrd and the dni before interacting with me

How To Request

please provide a plot or prompt!

provide pronouns

indicate if you want it to be a oneshot, drabble, or headcanons 

put as much detail as you please! 

←

[dawn-moths]

Hi there! Saw requests were open so I hopped in.

Can I ask for both a Earl Gray and Milk Tea for Noè?

I just love the way you write him, he's so damn precious ❤❤

hello hello! absolutely! :) thank you so much for saying you like the way i write him 💕💕

tw: some suggestive content but nothing too explicit, vampires & blood drinking.

♡noe♡

earl grey tea: how do they court their s/o?

Oh my gosh Noe would be so good at courting you. He’s such a gentleman, would bring you flowers and always insist on walking you home. He’d take things slow, probably wait until the third date to even kiss you, wanting to show he respects you, that he’s not here to play games.

The night hours soon become your favorite, trading the sun’s warm rays for the silver sparkle of stars. When you’re with Noe, arms linked or hands interlocked, you never feel more safe, more loved. You two laugh together until you nearly cry, you could talk for hours and never get bored, you go out dancing in the pubs and the town square.

Being with him makes you feel alive, makes you feel like you could do anything. And, when it comes time to deliver you to your doorstep at the end of a long, eventful night, he gently takes your hand and presses a kiss to the back of it, saying he looks forward to the next time you two will get to meet.

You beckon him closer, as if to tell him a secret, and then, when he least expects it, you plant a peck to his cheek, trying to suppress a giggle as he becomes flustered, cheeks heating and wearing that adorable look of surprise.

Once he regains his composure, you assure him you’ll see him again soon, heading inside and up to your room, glancing at the window to still find him standing on the pavement below, smiling to himself like the luckiest man in the world.

milk tea: what are their kisses like?

Noe’s kisses start out gentle and chaste, savoring the soft press of your lips against his, but the moment you look up at him through your lashes, pupils blown wide with want, something in him snaps. Before long, he’s got your back pressed to the wall, or the mattress, or whatever the closest surface is. He’s licking into your mouth, hungry, starving to get another taste of you. Your next breath catches in your chest as his sharp incisors scrape over your pulse, sending a wave of goosebumps rising over your skin.

You can feel his breath on your neck, hot and panting, but he lingers there, hesitating as he feels himself salivate, using every ounce of willpower he has not to sink his fangs into your delicate flesh right then and there.

“It’s ok…” you’re whispering to him, the tender utterance barely heard through his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. You gently card your fingers through his silky, snowy locks, hoping to soothe the monster that dwells deep inside of him, now on the verge of breaking out. “It’s ok. I don’t mind…”

He realizes you’re giving him permission, that you trust him enough to allow him to break your skin and drink down the dark, warm iron of your blood.

So he does, only the urgency in which he’s just been caught in the throes of now begins to ebb. He’s back to taking his time, sucking dark bruises against your throat, causing your veins to fill with euphonium, lulling your body into a sated, relaxed state before he pierces your skin.

Every time you let him drink your blood, you feel the terrified thrill of it all, the adrenaline then fading into heavenly bliss.

Plus, he always makes sure to take such good care of you afterward, his precious, perfect girl. After all, he loves you more than anything.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

♡ send me a tea prompt + a character i write for ♡

[ranaitsan]

my second ruthven draw!!!

If you like it💕 you will sure like ❤my novel☕ read my novel in my blog😺👋👋

[fairy-writes]

Hey

Congratulations on a big figure, if you don't mind, I will become reader number 901

Can I ask you for an event Noe from vanitas no carte from - 14 “The universe loves a stubborn heart.”. I think this phrase is very suitable for him 🤔

THE UNIVERSE LOVES A STUBBORN HEART

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): The Case Study of Vanitas

Pairing(s): Noé Archiviste x Gender Neutral!Reader

Prompt: “The universe loves a stubborn heart.” (Dialogue Prompt #14)

Notes: This is before Noé and Reader get together :)

ALSO, FLORIOGRAPHY IS MY JAM

__________________________________________________________________________

He was back at it again.

The mysterious boy whose name you still didn’t know. 

He was back at your little flower shop, perusing the flowers with fingers holding his chin, violet eyes scanning the petals. He was your age and dressed immaculately in a pair of pressed white trousers that matched his hair, a black button-down, and a vest with a long white overcoat over his arm. 

He had been here for the last five days, sometimes with his raven-haired friend, who looked less than pleased to be there. Occasionally, he would have a little book in hand, flipping through the pages whenever he stumbled upon a flower he didn’t recognize. 

Every time you approached him, he’d get flustered and hide his book, saying he was “just looking for now” and didn’t need any help. 

Eventually, he approaches you, a question in his eyes and a friendly smile on his lips. 

“What do these flowers mean?” He asks, and you look up from your inventory book, taking in the small bouquet of flowers in his hand. 

Apple blossoms. Preference.

Pansies. You occupy my thoughts.

Together? Thinking of you.

“Apple blossoms mean preference. Pansies mean you occupy my thoughts. Together they mean thinking of you.” You explain, and the young man nods as he takes in the information. His smile turns warm.

“I’ll take them!” You smile and wrap the flowers up in a silken ribbon and some brown paper. 

“Are they for a special someone?” You ask, and his brain seems to stall before his cheeks flush, and he shrugs,

“Something like that.” He says as his fingers brush yours while taking the bouquet. You smile at him, and his cheeks darken slightly, 

“How much do I owe you?” He stutters, and your own smile widens,

“It’s on the house. Consider it a thank you for brightening my day.” You say, and he looks like he’s about to say something when his friend calls loudly from the door that he’s waiting to leave. 

The bouquet shows up on your flower shop porch a day later. Tied in the same silken ribbon and sitting pretty in a glass vase that looks like a swan. 

Was it from him?

Part of you hoped so.

It was safe to say you had a little crush. 

You didn’t see the young man for weeks after. But another bouquet shows up six days later. 

A gathering of lilacs, tulips, and buttercups.

Lilacs. “First love.”

Tulips. “I declare my love for you.”

Together they meant being in love for the first time.

You hoped it was him.

The young man shows up in your shop three weeks after purchasing the flowers and (hopefully) dropping them off on your doorstep. He looks sheepish, ruffling a hand through his alabaster strands and removing his white tophat. He sheds his long overcoat and leaves both his hat and coat on the new coat rack you had just installed. 

“Back again?” You say, and he freezes, almost tripping over his step.

“You remember me?” He asks, and you grin, 

“You are pretty memorable.” Is all you say. 

He meanders through the shop and picks out a few flowers before returning to the front counter with his choices. 

Buttercups. “You are radiant with charm.”

Cowslips. “Winning grace.”

Together they meant “Newfound affection.”

You hold back a flustered smile as you wrap up the flowers and hand them to him.

Only for him to hand them back.

You pause, confusion evident on your face, and the young man turns his head away to hide his flushed cheeks. 

“They’re for you. You know what they mean, right?” He mumbles, and your flustered smile erupts onto your face. 

“Yes. I know what they mean. But why?” You ask, and he turns to look at you, obviously fighting the blush warming his face. 

“I was hoping… well… I was hoping to take you out to dinner sometime… If you’ll let me.” He says, and you have to stop yourself from squealing. 

“I don’t even know your name.” You find yourself saying, and his eyes widen before he smacks his forehead. You flinch at the action and almost drop the flowers. 

“My name is Noé Archiviste. May I have your name?” He replies, and you bury your mouth in the flowers to hide the smile growing. You introduce yourself, and he smiles that smile that got your heart racing when you first saw him. 

“And what makes you think I’ll accept Mr. Noé Archiviste?” You tease, and his smile turns mischievous. 

“Well… I’ve heard that the universe loves a stubborn heart. And I would really really like to take you out somewhere. Even if it’s just a night on the town one time.” He says, extending a hand to you. 

You find yourself taking his hand, almost hiding your face in the flowers when he raises your hand to his lips and presses a gentle kiss to it. 

“How does tonight sound?” You say and he grins, 

“Perfect.”

[linkemon]

Vanitas x Reader x Noé Archiviste

Resztę oneshotów z tej i innych serii możesz przeczytać tutaj. Zajrzyj też na moje Ko-fi.

Some of these oneshots are already translated into English. You can find them here.

ᴘʀᴀᴄᴜᴊᴀ̨ᴄᴀ ᴡ ʀᴇᴢʏᴅᴇɴᴄᴊɪ [ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ] ᴘᴏᴋᴏᴊᴏ́ᴡᴋᴀ ᴍᴀɴᴏɴ ᴏʙsᴇʀᴡᴜᴊᴇ ᴡʏᴅᴀʀᴢᴇɴɪᴀ ʀᴏᴢɢʀʏᴡᴀᴊᴀ̨ᴄᴇ sɪᴇ̨ ᴅᴏᴋᴏᴌᴀ ᴊᴇᴊ ᴘᴀɴɪᴇɴᴋɪ ɪ ᴅᴡᴏ́ᴄʜ ᴅᴢɪᴡɴʏᴄʜ ᴍᴇ̨ᴢ̇ᴄᴢʏᴢɴ, ᴋᴛᴏ́ʀᴢʏ ɴᴀɢʟᴇ ᴘᴏᴊᴀᴡɪʟɪ sɪᴇ̨ ᴡ ᴊᴇᴊ ᴢ̇ʏᴄɪᴜ, ᴘʀᴢʏɴᴏsᴢᴀ̨ᴄ ᴢᴇ sᴏʙᴀ̨ ᴋᴌᴏᴘᴏᴛʏ.

ᴅᴏᴅᴀᴛᴋᴏᴡᴇ ɪɴғᴏʀᴍᴀᴄᴊᴇ:

ᴏɴᴇsʜᴏᴛ ᴊᴇsᴛ ᴘɪsᴀɴʏ ɴᴀ ᴘᴏᴅsᴛᴀᴡɪᴇ ᴘᴏʟsᴋɪᴇɢᴏ ᴡʏᴅᴀɴɪᴀ ᴍᴀɴɢɪ ᴡ ᴢᴡɪᴀ̨ᴢᴋᴜ ᴢ ᴛʏᴍ ᴘʀᴢʏᴊᴇ̨ᴌᴀᴍ ғʀᴀɴᴄᴜsᴋᴀ̨ ᴘɪsᴏᴡɴɪᴇ̨ ɪᴍɪᴏɴ, ɴᴀᴢᴡɪsᴋ, ɴᴀᴢᴡ ᴡᴌᴀsɴʏᴄʜ, ᴡsᴛᴀᴡᴇᴋ ɪᴛᴅ. ᴊᴀᴋ ɴᴀsɪ ᴛᴌᴜᴍᴀᴄᴢᴇ.

ᴍᴀʟɴᴏᴍᴇɴ ᴘʀᴢᴇᴅsᴛᴀᴡɪᴏɴʏ ᴡ sʜᴏᴄɪᴇ ᴢᴏsᴛᴀᴌ ᴡʏᴍʏśʟᴏɴʏ ɴᴀ ᴊᴇɢᴏ ᴘᴏᴛʀᴢᴇʙʏ ɪ ᴘᴏᴅᴀ̨ᴢ̇ᴀ ᴢᴀ ᴏɢᴏ́ʟɴʏᴍɪ ᴢᴀsᴀᴅᴀᴍɪ ɴᴀ ᴘᴏᴅsᴛᴀᴡɪᴇ ᴋᴛᴏ́ʀʏᴄʜ ᴊᴜɴ ᴍᴏᴄʜɪᴢᴜᴋɪ ᴛᴡᴏʀᴢʏᴌᴀ ᴋᴀᴢ̇ᴅᴀ̨ ᴢ ᴏᴅᴍɪᴀɴ ᴛᴇᴊ ᴄʜᴏʀᴏʙʏ ᴅᴏ ᴛᴇᴊ ᴘᴏʀʏ. ᴢᴏsᴛᴀᴌʏ ᴍɪ ᴅᴏsᴌᴏᴡɴɪᴇ ᴅᴡɪᴇ ʙᴀśɴɪᴇ ᴘᴇʀʀᴀᴜʟᴛᴀ, ᴋᴛᴏ́ʀᴇ ᴊᴇsᴢᴄᴢᴇ ᴡ sᴇʀɪɪ ɴɪᴇ ʙʏᴌʏ ᴜᴢ̇ʏᴛᴇ, ᴡɪᴇ̨ᴄ ʙʏᴌᴀᴍ sᴋᴀᴢᴀɴᴀ ɴᴀ ᴛᴀ̨ ɴᴀᴊʙᴀʀᴅᴢɪᴇᴊ sᴢᴛᴀᴍᴘᴏᴡᴀ̨ ᴢ ᴍᴏᴢ̇ʟɪᴡʏᴄʜ.

— Panienko [Reader]! — zawołała Manon, starając się brzmieć dyskretnie.  

Rozejrzała się w tłumie zakupowiczów, próbując nie zapomnieć żadnej torby. Kapelusz, parasolka, nowy zestaw kokard i jeszcze… Sarkastycznie pogratulowała sobie w myślach tego, że ostatnia paczka została w sklepie. Nie miała na to teraz czasu. Przypadkowa dorożka z rozpędem śmignęła tuż przed nią, prawie pozbawiając ją życia. Głośny stukot kopyt o brukowaną ulicę zmieszał się z panującym gwarem. Pokojówka niespokojnie przedarła się do bocznej uliczki, ocierając czoło. W dodatku jak na złość była głodna.  

Tak to właśnie musiało się skończyć. Zawsze nabierała się na to, że młoda panienka tym razem na pewno odchodzi tylko na chwilkę. To nigdy nie była chwilka! Spuszczała ją z oka, by cokolwiek załatwić, i już jej nie było. Lubiła swoją pracę, ale czasem to bieganie w panice ją przerastało. Oczywiście sama zainteresowana zawsze uspokajała ją, że przecież nic jej nie jest, ale kto tam mógł wiedzieć, co będzie za kolejnym razem? W Altus zapewne nikt nie odważyłby się jej zagrozić, ale w Paryżu sprawy miały się inaczej.  

[Reader] pracowała jako ktoś w rodzaju zakulisowego dyplomaty, podróżując między Altusem a Paryżem. Nie występowała oficjalnie jak jej kuzyn, lord Ruthven. Wyprawiała bankiety, zapoznawała ze sobą wpływowych ludzi i wampirów, a także rozsiewała plotki i tuszowała stojące na drodze do pokoju drobnostki. Manon doskonale zdawała sobie sprawę z tego, że jej panienka, choć starała się nie wychylać poza bezpieczne kręgi, mogła znaleźć się któregoś dnia w niebezpieczeństwie. Wszystko z powodu swojego kuzyna, który niejako zaprzągł ją do pracy poprzez jej rodziców zaraz po tym, jak zawiedli go jego uczniowie. Czuła, że choć [Reader] jest sprawie bardzo oddana (wbrew swej woli, ale jednak), lord August z pewnością tego nie odwzajemnia. Nigdy nie wysłał nikogo do ochrony, co z pewnością mógłby uczynić ze swoimi wpływami. Prawdą jednak było, że gdy tylko ktoś o tym wspominał, panienka głośno przeciwko temu protestowała, ku niezadowoleniu pokojówki.  

— O nie — zaklęła niezbyt cicho Manon — znowu ten konował!  

— O nie, to znowu ta wiedźma! — przedrzeźnił ją Vanitas.  

Mogła się spodziewać, że panienka jakimś cudem wyląduje w jego towarzystwie. Rozmawiała o nim i jego towarzyszu z pracownikami hrabiego Parksa Orloka. O ile trudno było przynajmniej nie kojarzyć rodu Archiviste, o tyle Vanitas był dla niej niejako zagadką. Jego zachcianki przeczyły naturalnym zachowaniom ludzi. Fakt, że mieszał się w nie swoje sprawy, wzbudzał niechęć.  

Zlustrowała Vanitasa od stóp do głów. Co też jej panienka w nim widziała? Czarne włosy i błękitne oczy. Może i był przystojny, ale na tym zdaniem Manon można było zakończyć listę pozytywnych cech. Nie dość, że człowiek, to jeszcze szalony!  

— Moglibyście choć raz spróbować się dogadać — westchnęła [Reader].  

Kobieta zatrzęsła się lekko. Zimny wiatr przetoczył się po ulicy. Vanitas nie tracił czasu i zamaszyście przesadnym ruchem zdjął z siebie czarny płaszcz. Zarzucił go na ramiona damy, posyłając firmowy flirciarski uśmiech. Zaraz potem dyskretnie wystawił język pokojówce. Jeśli były momenty, w których Manon miała szczerą ochotę skorzystać ze swoich wampirzych umiejętności, to był to właśnie jeden z nich. Rzuciła spojrzenie na delikatny uśmiech panienki i zgrzytając zębami, powstrzymała rychłą wizję morderstwa.  

— Gdzie monsieur Archiviste? — spytała pokojówka, spoglądając w kierunku hotelu Chouchou.  

Nie była to zbyt subtelna zmiana tematu, ale na nic lepszego nie wpadła.  

— Noé zaspał. Mieliśmy wczoraj ciężką noc — stwierdził lekarz.  

Zapewne znów wpakowali się w jakieś kłopoty. Jak znała życie, niedługo gdzieś o nich usłyszy.  

— W takim razie nie będziemy go budzić. — [Reader] wyjęła zapieczętowane koperty z niewielkiej torebki. — Chciałam oficjalnie zaprosić was na przyjęcie.  

Uwadze Manon nie umknął brak użycia tytułu monsieur. Ileż zdążyła przegapić? Przecież oni wszyscy nie znali się tak długo. Najbardziej martwiła się o to, że wciągną [Reader] w swoje skomplikowane sprawy. Rodzice panienki pokładali nadzieje w jej opiece nad nią. Jakże mogłaby się przed nimi stawić, gdyby zawiodła?  

— Ostatnia impreza, na jakiej byliśmy, skończyła się skandalem — zaśmiał się Vanitas.  

Manon poczuła, jak jej oko mimowolnie zadrżało ze złości. Tak się spoufalać z jej panienką…  

— To nie będzie nic wielkiego. Zapraszam głównie ludzi i kilkunastu zasymilowanych wampirów. Nie sądzę, żebyś mógł mieć z tego powodu kłopoty — zapewniła gospodyni.  

Oczywiście nie zamierzała ich uświadomić, jakim zaszczytem było to zaproszenie. Pokojówka westchnęła głośno w duchu. Zapewne sami się nie zorientują.  

— W takim razie przyjdziemy na pewno!  

— Dokąd idziemy? — Uszu zebranych dobiegł zaspany głos Noé.  

Ubrany cały w biel, nie licząc czarnej koszuli, wręcz oślepiał w blasku dnia. Słońce zdawało się odbijać od jego nienagannie czystego cylindra. Ilekroć Manon widziała go obok konowała, zastanawiała się, jakim cudem dwie tak różne osoby w ogóle ze sobą wytrzymują.  

Archiviste pocierał zaspane oczy, zaciekawiony sytuacją. Zza jego nóg wyskoczył Murr — równie śnieżnobiały jak jego pan kot. Grube łapki umożliwiły mu w kilku zręcznych susach znaleźć się przed [Reader]. Ta wzięła go na ręce, poprawiła fioletową kokardkę i zaczęła miarowo głaskać.  

— Kto jest najpiękniejszy?  

— Miau — odpowiedział Murr. Czy było to pytanie, potwierdzenie, czy zaprzeczenie, tego nie dało się stwierdzić.  

To była jedyna część tego dziwnego zespołu, co do której pokojówka nie miała żadnych zastrzeżeń. Był na szczęście tylko kotem i trzymał się z daleka od kłopotów.  

— Organizujesz przyjęcie? — upewnił się Noé, czytając zaproszenie.  

W jego oczach pojawił się blask ekscytacji.  

— Dokładnie. Vanitas powiedział, że przyjdziecie. Mam nadzieję, że to potwierdzisz. Na pewno znacie kilka osób, które się pojawią. Przede wszystkim Dominique de Sade — stwierdziła [Reader].  

— Będzie Domi? — Archiviste wyraźnie się rozpromienił. — A będzie może tarta tatin?  

— Dodamy ją do menu specjalnie z myślą o was. — [Reader] uśmiechnęła się. — A teraz wybaczcie, ale myślę, że pora na nas. Inaczej Manon wychodzi dziurę z niecierpliwości — to mówiąc, spojrzała karcąco na pokojówkę.  

Ze smutkiem odłożyła Murra na bruk, oddała płaszcz, po czym zawróciła w kierunku, z którego przybyła.  

Uwadze panienki mógł umknąć maślany wzrok rzucony przez Noégo, gdy odchodziły. Manon żyła wystarczająco długo, by wiedzieć, że nie spowodowała go jedynie wizja przyszłego deseru.  

***  

Manon pamiętała swoje pierwsze próby podsłuchu. Na samym początku pracy, gdy jeszcze nie do końca rozumiała, jak działa świat, i miała opory przed naruszaniem cudzej prywatności. To nie tak, że panienka nie wiedziała, że jej służąca nasłuchuje jej rozmów. Po prostu zakładała, że robi to rzadko. Rzadziej niż to odbywało się w rzeczywistości.  

— Piękny zachód słońca, prawda?  

— Och! To ty… — [Reader] odwróciła głowę z powrotem w stronę paryskiego widoku.  

Manon nie musiała widzieć, by słyszeć w głosie panienki, że nie tego mężczyznę oczekiwała tu zobaczyć. To Vanitas włóczył się po wysokich miejscach. Najczęściej nieproszony. Szczególnie upodobał sobie tę wieżę zegarową. Została zbudowana w pobliżu posiadłości na długo przed tym, jak pokojówka zaczęła tu pracować. Poprzedni właściciele nie dbali o nią i powoli popadała w ruinę. [Reader] odmówiła remontu, twierdząc, że woli ją w obecnym stanie. Tak więc szary kamień porastał bluszczem, a część witraży wypadła pod naporem silnych wichur. Na szczęście goście zawsze uznawali to za interesującą odmianę, nie zaś za zaniedbanie.  

— Z pewnością jest to idealna pogoda na przyjęcie — przytaknęła [Reader].  

Powoli machała nogami nad przepaścią. Tył ciężkiej sukni spoczywał na kamiennej podłodze. Nie była to zbytnio wytworna pozycja do siedzenia. Szczególnie dla gospodyni nadchodzącej zabawy.  

Noé dołączył do niej, zachowując stosowną odległość.  

— Przyszedłem podziękować. — Mężczyzna w niepewności podrapał się po karku.  

— Tarta była aż tak smaczna? — zażartowała [Reader].  

Kilka sztuk zostało wysłanych do hotelu Chouchou na kilka dni przed przyjęciem.  

— Nie! To znaczy tak! Nie o to chodzi… — zmieszał się Archiviste. — Chodzi o to, jak panienka… to znaczy ty… jak nas ostatnio uratowałaś.  

A więc jednak jeszcze nie znają się aż tak dobrze , stwierdziła Manon. Skoro wciąż nie czuł się na tyle komfortowo, by używać tylko imienia, nie było całkowitej tragedii. Obawiała się jednak, że Vanitas nie ma takich skrupułów.  

— To nic takiego. Cieszę się, że wyszliście z tego cało.  

To była sytuacja, po której Manon najadła się strachu. Nie dość, że spuściła panienkę z oka, to jeszcze ta wpakowała się prosto w niebezpieczeństwo. Oczywiście wampirze umiejętności [Reader] nie były tylko i wyłącznie na pokaz. Zarażony malnomenem chory został pokonany i uleczony zanim choroba zmieniła go w bestię. Jednak z tego, co udało się pokojówce dowiedzieć, wynikało, że nie zawsze się to udawało. Niepochamowana żądza krwi wywoływała najgorsze instynkty.  

Nastała chwila ciszy. [Reader] wpatrywała się w oświetlony złotym blaskiem Paryż. Dzień pracy właśnie się kończył. Paryżanie zamykali lokale, by móc wrócić do domów. Nie licząc ulicznych latarników, którzy powoli rozświetlali okolicę setkami świateł. Delikatny wiatr muskał raz za razem korony niewielkich drzewek, zwiastując czyste nocne niebo. Dorożki zaś pędziły to tu, to tam, rozwożąc pasażerów. Kilka z nich zbliżało się właśnie w stronę rezydencji. Przybrane w ciężkie i kosztowne kreacje damy jechały w towarzystwie zaopatrzonych w cylindry i laski dżentelmenów.  

— Proszę o wybaczenie — zawahał się Noé — ale wyglądasz na strapioną.  

Jego fiołkowe oczy wyrażały głęboką troskę.  

— Można tak powiedzieć. — Zaczęła skubać końcówkę śnieżnobiałej rękawiczki. — Nikomu bym tego nie powiedziała, ale jesteś moim bliskim przyjacielem, więc…  

— Bliskim przyjacielem? — upewnił się Archiviste.  

Zupełnie jakby ta informacja była zaskakująca, a jednocześnie właściwa. Mały uśmiech wykwitł na jego twarzy. Manon po samym głosie mogła założyć się, że się zarumienił.  

— Z moimi koligacjami ciężko znaleźć przyjaciół, którzy nie byliby zainteresowani tylko i wyłącznie koneksjami. Dlatego tak bardzo się ucieszyłam, kiedy poznałam ciebie i Vanitasa.  

Pokojówka przekrzywiła głowę w zamyśleniu. Panienka głęboko w to wierzyła, ale ona przez lata widziała swoje. Pomijając dziwne romantyczne zawirowania, czy ta znajomość na pewno była bezinteresowna?  

— W czym tkwi problem? — spytał Noé.  

— Jest ktoś, kto sprawia, że moje serce przyspiesza z radości — zaczęła kobieta.  

— To… to wspaniale — stwierdził cicho Archiviste.  

Jedno spojrzenie na jego twarz wystarczyłoby, by stwierdzić, że nie do końca uważa to za coś wspaniałego, jednak [Reader] wciąż wpatrywała się w zachodzące słońce.  

— …ale jest już w kimś zakochany. I choć jestem tego świadoma, wciąż łudzę się, że może coś zmienię — westchnęła tęsknie. — Pewnie powinnam chcieć jego szczęścia, ale ciężko mi na duszy, gdy na to patrzę.  

— Na twoim miejscu nie poddawałbym się tak łatwo. — Wampir złapał ją za dłoń, jakby to miało podkreślić wagę jego słów. — Być może któregoś dnia zauważy twoje uczucia i je zrozumie.  

Nastała chwila ciszy. Kobieta wydawała się rozważać jego słowa.  

— Wiesz co? Chyba masz rację. Dziękuję, Noé. — Posłała mu delikatny uśmiech. — Och, poczekaj, masz tu chyba resztkę tarty.  

Archiviste mógł przysiąc, że jego serce przestało bić w momencie, gdy palec spoczął w okolicy jego ust. Wpatrywał się w twarz [Reader]. Przez moment znalazła się na tyle blisko, że mógłby wyliczyć każdą plamkę słońca w jej oczach. Zachód otoczył ją pozłacaną aureolą i do głowy przyszła mu myśl, że jeśli gdzieś faktycznie istniały anioły, to musiała być jednym z nich. Żałował, że nie zjadł kilkunastu tart, by pokryć się większą ilością okruszków. Być może wtedy pozostaliby w tej pozycji choć o sekundę dłużej. Nie było im to jednak dane. Cisza została przerwana.  

Manon upewniła się, że jej ciężkie buty zostaną usłyszane odpowiednio wcześnie. Na tyle, by para zdążyła się od siebie odsunąć.  

— Panienko, już czas — oznajmiła pokojówka, zerkając dyskretnie w stronę wampira.  

— Goście zaraz się zjawią, pora na nas — stwierdziła [Reader], wstając niezbyt zgrabnie, pogrążona w myślach.  

Noé jeszcze przez długi czas pozostał na wieży zegarowej.  

***

Manon czasem żałowała, że jej panienka nie jest w takiej sytuacji, jak Dominique de Sade. Ona również była obciążona szeregiem obowiązków z racji swego pochodzenia. A jednak jej rodzina dawała jej możliwości wyboru w wielu sprawach. Choć przyznać trzeba, że uparty charakter odgrywał tu również dużą rolę. Odzwierciedlał to choćby jej dzisiejszy ubiór. Nawet w takiej sytuacji odmawiała ubioru wieczorowej sukni, zadowalając się swoim odświętnym mundurem.  

Pokojówka zgrabnie lawirowała między gośćmi, roznosząc kolejne kieliszki z szampanem w różanym ogrodzie. Wychyliła jednego po kryjomu. Sama dziwiła się, jak bardzo spragniona była.  

— Myślałam, że się poddasz. — Dominique upiła łyk napoju.  

— To samo mogłabym powiedzieć o tobie. — [Reader] spojrzała na kobietę kątem oka.  

Odpowiedział jej delikatny śmiech, ledwo skryty za światłami lampionów. Była w nim wredna nutka, lecz czegóż innego można się było tam spodziewać?  

— Przyznaję, że byłam bliska rezygnacji, ale ktoś odwiódł mnie od tej decyzji. — Gospodyni przyjęcia zapatrzyła się przed siebie.  

— Hmmm… Nie uważam tego za mądry wybór, ale nie mogę cię potępiać, robiąc dokładnie to samo.  

Nietrudno było się domyślić, że wybrankiem Dominique był Noé. Był to jedyny mężczyzna, którego dopuściła do siebie tak blisko, poza rodziną. Manon nawet nie potrzebowała zbyt długo szukać, by dowiedzieć się, że spędzali dużo czasu razem w dzieciństwie wraz z bliźniakiem Louisem.  

— Co takiego w nim widzisz? — De Sade przekrzywiła głowę w zastanowieniu.  

— Jest jak burza — odparła po chwili [Reader]. — Większość ludzi, gdy widzi burzę, ucieka od niej. Bo jest silna. Gwałtowna. Zwiastuje kłopoty. A jednak jest w niej coś fascynującego. Możesz próbować biec, ale prędzej czy później stracisz dech, a wtedy cię dopadnie. Jedyny problem z nią jest taki, że jest nieprzewidywalna i możesz nie zdążyć się nią nacieszyć.  

Manon westchnęła cicho. A więc jednak nie było odwrotu. Jeśli panienka była w stanie przyznać się do tego na głos, to musiało być poważne.  

— Niektórzy zamiast burz wolą bryzę. Bo jest delikatna. Nawet jeśli może się wydawać, że jej nie ma, to wciąż jest gdzieś obok. Ochładza w trudne dni i wszyscy ją lubią. Jej problemem jest to, jak wielu ma sympatyków. — Wychyliła kieliszek do końca. — Jestem ciekawa, jak poradzisz sobie ze swoją burzą…  

— Myślałam, że już dawno wzięłaś stronę Jeanne — stwierdziła [Reader].  

Jej rywalka zdawała się trzymać serce Vanitasa w mocnym uścisku. I co ciekawe, choć, jak twierdziła bourreau, wcale go nie chciała, nie potrafiła go również od siebie odepchnąć.  

— Nie zrozum mnie źle. Nie biorę niczyjej strony. Bo będąc szczera… to nienawidzę was obu. Chcę zobaczyć, kto wyjdzie zwycięsko z tego starcia. Bo wtedy… być może okaże się, że jest jeszcze nadzieja dla kogoś takiego, jak…  

Jej wzrok mimowolnie powędrował w stronę Noé, który jakby znikąd pojawił się w tłumie. Manon wiedziała, że jeśli jej panienka nie była całkiem świadoma, kto był wybrankiem młodej de Sade do tej pory, teraz musiała się zorientować.  

Odziany jak zawsze w biel, wyróżniał się na tle pozostałych gości. Porozstawiane tego poranka lampiony zdawały się odbijać blaskiem od jego ubrania. Światełka rozwieszone na drzewach jedynie wzmacniały efekt. Kręcił się między bujnymi krzakami róż, zaczepiany kolejno przez różnych gości. Z grzecznym uśmiechem kiwał głową bez zainteresowania, by za moment ich opuścić. Szukał kogoś. I z pewnością nie była to wpatrująca się w niego Domi. Gdy jednak już się na nią natknął, nie potrafił jej zostawić.  

Jego prawdziwa poszukiwana znajdowała się już daleko. Zgrabnym ruchem odłożyła kieliszek na jedną z wolnych tac, a potem niespiesznym krokiem dołączyła do tańczących.  

Vanitas jak zwykle stanowił dokładny kontrast do swojego znajomego. Odziany w granatowo-czarny strój, topił się w ciemnościach nocy. Gdyby nie światła, zapewne zniknąłby całkowicie, nie licząc jego tak ludzko błękitnych oczu.  

— Odbijany! — [Reader] zgrabnym ruchem przejęła dłoń Vanitasa tuż przed rozpoczęciem następnego tańca.  

Skoro Jeanne nie było na tym przyjęciu, mogła to przynajmniej wykorzystać.  

— Ach! Zostałem pozbawiony partnerki, co teraz zrobię? — zawołał dramatycznie mężczyzna, czym zyskał sobie śmiech kilku gości dookoła.  

Delikatna, grana na pianinie muzyka popłynęła znów przez ogród. Mężczyzna przyciągnął [Reader] delikatnie do siebie w talii. W momentach takich jak ten mogła przynajmniej próbować się oszukiwać, że ma szansę wygrać. W końcu zdawał się szczerze uśmiechać. Kroki były lekkie, ale pewne. Delikatny brzęk jego kolczyka miarowo odmierzał czas. Kosmyki włosów związane wstążką wirowały wraz z nimi, przesłaniając jej widok co jakiś czas.  

— Niezły z ciebie tancerz. Zauroczyłeś chyba wszystkich moich gości, a to ja miałam być gwiazdą wieczoru! — stwierdziła [Reader] z udawanym smutkiem.  

— Cóż mogę poradzić, że wszyscy zauważają mój geniusz i nieprzeciętną urodę? — Vanitas teatralnie przewrócił oczami.  

Niespodziewanie pochylił ją do tyłu. Przez moment miała wrażenie, że upadnie, ale silna dłoń podtrzymała ją w talii i uniosła z powrotem. Uśmiechnął się złośliwie.  

— To było bardzo wredne, monsieur Vanitas.  

— W tańcu jak na wojnie, wszystkie chwyty są dozwolone, czyż nie, modemoiselle [Reader]?  

— Jestem prawie pewna, że powinno być w miłości jak na wojnie …  

— Być może. — Vanitas uśmiechnął się tajemniczo.  

Czy to zdanie miało głębszy sens? Czy może tylko próbowała się w nim doszukać drugiego dna? Tak trudno było coś z niego wyczytać.  

Znalazł się tak blisko, jak nigdy dotąd. Tylko po to, by zaraz odsunąć się na bezpieczną odległość. Zdecydowanie był jak burza. Nieprzewidywalny.  

— [Reader]! — Archiviste niezdarnie przedarł się między tańczącymi parami.  

Ulotny moment był jak bańka mydlana. Pękł bezpowrotnie pod delikatnym naporem.  

— Noé, nikt cię nie nauczył manier? — spytał Vanitas z przekąsem. — [Reader] jest teraz zajęta.  

— Musimy porozmawiać — stwierdził stanowczo wampir.  

Wyglądał na przejętego. Jakby coś ciążyło mu na sercu. Kobieta przyjrzała mu się, wciąż wirując, choć już wolniej niż wcześniej. Jeśli to dotyczyło spraw sercowych, to nie miała siły tego słuchać. O cóż innego mogło chodzić? Wreszcie dobrze się bawiła tego wieczoru. Chciała wrócić do beztroskiego zapomnienia.  

— Zaczekaj na swoją kolej — odparł Vanitas, oddalając się z partnerką tanecznym krokiem.  

Manon odłożyła tacę z kieliszkami na bok, gdy tylko zobaczyła, jak panienka zaczęła zmierzać do wydzielonej, ustronnej części ogrodu. Czego mógł od niej chcieć ten Archiviste?  

***

Pokojówka wyjrzała ostrożnie zza krzaków róży. Panienka stała w półcieniu, a jej pełna szoku twarz nie zwiastowała niczego dobrego. Już sam ten fakt napełnił Manon gniewem.  

— …bo chcieliśmy pozyskać informacje o następnym nosicielu klątwy. Tak było na początku, ale teraz poznałem cię lepiej i…  

Chciała powiedzieć: A nie mówiłam? Spodziewała się, że może do tego dojść. Jednak panienka była bardzo szczęśliwa z powodu tej znajomości, a w tym domu nie zawsze było miejsce na swobodne decyzje. Więc pozwoliła jej na ten błąd. Może ta naiwna wiara udzieliła się również jej. Limit samolubnych znajomych musiał się kiedyś skończyć. A przynajmniej tak myślała. Teraz żałowała braku wcześniejszej reakcji.  

— Byłam głupia, łudząc się, że wreszcie pojawił się ktoś, kto miał gdzieś mój status. — [Reader] otarła łzę formującą się w kąciku oka. — Zawsze tak się kończy. — Wzniosła wzrok ku górze, pociągając nosem. — Tylko dlaczego akurat wtedy, kiedy Vanitas…  

Niedokończone zdanie zawisło w gęstym powietrzu. Zapewne dlatego, że omawiany mężczyzna pojawił się w zasięgu wzroku. Wyglądał na wściekłego.  

— Zawsze musisz wszystko psuć, co, Noé!? — spytał słowami ociekającymi jadem.  

— Niczego nie zepsułem. Ja tylko powiedziałem prawdę — stwierdził twardo wampir, gdy człowiek złapał go za kołnierz koszuli.  

Ze swoimi pokładami siły z pewnością mógł go łatwo zrzucić, jednak nie zrobił tego. Przytrzymał jedynie szarpiące go ręce w miejscu.  

— Nie możesz tak wykorzystywać innych. — Gniew jaśniał w oczach Archiviste. — Nie, kiedy ona cię…  

To był obraz zazdrości. Z dobrych pobudek , stwierdziła Manon. To była zazdrość kogoś, kto chciał dla ukochanej osoby jak najlepiej. Jednak nie zmieniało to w żaden sposób sytuacji. On również oszukał panienkę.  

— Mamy podstawy sądzić, że gdzieś na terenie przyjęcia jest nosiciel klątwy… — zaczął Vanitas.  

— Nie obchodzi mnie to — powiedziała cicho [Reader].  

— Próbujemy… — dołączył się Noé.  

— Nie obchodzi mnie to! — wykrzyczała [Reader]. — Wynoście się stąd, oboje!  

Manon miała tego serdecznie dosyć. Widok jej panienki padającej na kolana z bezsilności był wystarczający. Gorzko łkała. Ciężka suknia rozlała się falą pośród ciemnej trawy. Wyglądała jak jasny, gotowy do rozkwitu kwiat w ogrodzie pełnym róż. Chciała ją odgrodzić od tego zła.  

Fakt, że pokojówka po części była powodem wizyty tych dwóch intruzów, rozsadzał ją od środka. Przyszli tu z myślą o niej. Czy kiedykolwiek wcześniej czuła taką złość? Czy była tak bardzo głodna? Słyszała wcześniej o słynnej paradzie. Jednak czym innym było słyszeć, a czym innym doświadczyć.  

Zewsząd otaczała ją muzyka. Tak piękna, że nie mogła tego opisać słowami. Nuty płynęły z każdej strony, zachęcając do jednej rzeczy.  

Zabij ich wszystkich!  

Kolorowe postacie ciągnęły się jedna za drugą w długim korowodzie. Powykręcane twarze wcale jej nie brzydziły. Zdawały się ją namawiać, choć nic nie mówiły. Cyrkowiec z piłkami, cień na szczudłach, baletnica z pękiem kolorowych balonów. Wszyscy trzymali się za ręce i tańczyli.  

Patrzyła na nich zafascynowana. Spod jej palców wyrosło szkło. Palce u stóp pokrył kryształ. Czy to były buty? Wydawały się wżynać w stopy. Czy to była klatka? Jej panienkę otaczała potężna konstrukcja. Przypominała ogromny, zdobiony klosz. Pasuje , stwierdziła. Ładne kwiaty powinny stać pod kloszem. Tylko tak można było je uchronić przed szkodnikami.  

Była jednocześnie w ogrodzie i na wesołej paradzie. Chciała iść, ale coś ciągle powstrzymywało ją przed złapaniem ręki kogokolwiek z korowodu. Była wściekła. Przecież potrafi tańczyć! Wystarczy tylko, że dotknie palców… Znów uciekły. Potrząsnęła głową. Czy to była krew? Była tak bardzo głodna… Jakby nie jadła od wieków. Między pięknymi nutami na moment pojawiły się krzyki. Otoczenie zdawało się falować i mieszać. Była jednocześnie tu i tam. Czy właśnie pękło jakieś szkło? Tak bardzo chciała złapać rękę i dołączyć do zabawy…  

— Manon, musisz się z tego otrząsnąć. — Znajomy głos dobiegał jak gdyby z bardzo daleka. Ktoś nią potrząsał, ale nie była w stanie nawet powiedzieć kto.  

Fałsz pojawił się nagle. Instrumenty zdawały się pierzchać pod naporem czegoś, czego nie dało się opisać. Dziwne światło przedarło się wśród parady. Tak, jakby ktoś rozdarł zasłonę i wpuścił poranek do pokoju.  

— Zwracam ci twoje prawdziwe imię. Ty jesteś Cendrillon, zamknięta w krysztale! — Głos zdawał się roznosić echem. Jakby odbijał się od tysięcy luster i rozbijał każde z nich.  

Stała pośrodku pustej sali. W ręce trzymała szklany pantofelek. Mglista ręka ostatkiem sił próbowała złapać ją za dłoń. Z całej siły uderzyła butem w ostatnie z luster. Brzęk poniósł się w nicość, a niewyraźna postać zniknęła.  

— …nic jej nie będzie — dobiegło do Manon, gdy zamykała zmęczone oczy.  

Ostatnim, co widziała, był gruby, oprawiony w skórę grymuar.  

***

— Żadnego powrotu do pracy! — stwierdziła kategorycznie [Reader].  

— Przesadza panienka! Za długo tu już siedzę — naburmuszyła się pokojówka.  

Leżenie w łóżku przez cały tydzień było nużące. Szczególnie, gdy z dnia na dzień zostało się pozbawionym większości obowiązków, które jak dotąd dawały jej zajęcie.  

Żadnych zakupów. Żadnej pomocy przy ubiorze i makijażu. Żadnego umawiania spotkań, organizacji podwieczorków ani nawet herbatki. Absolutnie nic. Wszystko w imię zdrowia.  

— Vanitas mówił, że wszystko już ze mną w porządku…  

— Teraz go słuchasz?! — obruszyła się kobieta.  

Manon zaśmiała się pod nosem. Może jednak do czegoś się przydał ten konował. Nareszcie.  

— Powinnaś się nacieszyć tym wolnym. Ogród jest w tak opłakanym stanie, że trochę zajmie jego naprawa. — [Reader] odruchowo zerknęła przez okno. — Zdążysz jeszcze się zmęczyć.  

Wrażenia z tamtej pechowej nocy pokojówka pamiętała jedynie jako mgliste wspomnienia. Zdecydowanie więcej natomiast mieli do powiedzenia Noé, Vanitas i [Reader]. Na całe szczęście goście nigdy nie zorientowali się, co zaszło. Wydzielony fragment ogrodu oddzielił ich od makabrycznego przedstawienia.  

Jej malnomen był paskudny. W co wierzyła. Kawałki czegoś, co przypominało szkło, a może kryształ, walały się wciąż między niektórymi krzakami róż. Jej niepochamowana żądza krwi nieomal pozbawiła życia trzy osoby. A gdyby nie one, z pewnością by na tym nie poprzestała.  

— Panienko, ja naprawdę zwariuję od tego siedzenia…  

— Niech ci będzie. Obiecuję, że jutro coś ci przydzielę — poddała się kobieta, rozpoczynając lekturę nowelki, którą do tej pory miała pod pachą.  

Przez chwilę siedziały w ciszy.  

— Przepraszam, że nic wcześniej nie powiedziałam… — zaczęła Manon.  

— O nie! Jeszcze raz zaczniesz przepraszać za to samo i naprawdę cię zwolnię! — zagroziła [Reader].  

Istotnie, nie był to pierwszy raz. Nie była to również jedyna osoba, do której przeprosiny były skierowane. Choć pokojówce z trudem przeszły przez gardło te skierowane do Vanitasa. Ten jednak zamiast chełpić się, poklepał ją infantylnie po głowie i oznajmił, że w końcu jest lekarzem wampirów.  

— Przemyślała panienka to, co powiedziałam? — spytała Manon, patrząc na romantyczną nowelkę w dłoniach [Reader].  

— Sama nie wiem… Może wyprawimy ten podwieczorek w przyszłym tygodniu, jak już całkiem staniesz na nogi. Tamtego wieczoru byłam na nich naprawdę wściekła… ale z drugiej strony istotnie, widząc klątwę z bliska, jestem w stanie zrozumieć, dlaczego chcieliby za wszelką cenę mieć pewność, że dotrą do nosicieli na czas. Nawet jeśli wtedy odbyło się to moim kosztem.  

Pojednawcza herbatka była dobrym pomysłem. A przynajmniej tak chciała wierzyć była nosicielka klątwy. Może dzięki temu uda się zbudować od nowa relacje, które do tej pory były oparte na niedomówieniach. I może dzięki temu [Reader] wreszcie zyska dwójkę szczerych przyjaciół obok siebie.  

— Tooo… który z nich bardziej się panience teraz podoba? — spytała zaczepnie pokojówka.  

— Manon! Zmieniam zdanie! Myślę, że jednak jesteś już całkiem zdrowa. Pora wracać do obowiązków.  

— Pięknie panience dziękuję. — Kobieta uśmiechnęła się, rzucając się w stronę swojego pracowniczego ubioru.  

— Jesteś niemożliwa… — stwierdziła [Reader], wychodząc z pokoju. — A co do twojego pytania… — zrobiła dramatyczną pauzę, gdy jej pracownica wyczekiwała odpowiedzi — tajemnica. — Przyłożyła palec do ust, co spotkało się z głośnym jękiem zawodu.  

[koishiro]

can you do a noe archiveste or mood board from the case study of vanitas please?

ps i love your mood boards they're so cute i love them

Dating Noé Archiveste <3

=͟͟͞͞ ⌧ : aww thank you sm!!! 💜💟🫶